#and even before that it was already sus as hell that he was able to get the harpies to Not Murder People | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ferrstappen · 10 months

Text

Max the wag: are we the drama? l Max Verstappen Imagine

happy note: hello my loviessssss! How are you all? It feels like it’s been an eternity and I am so so happy to be back to writing and interacting with your great and incredible asks and everything <3 and I know I said this was supposed to be ready by Monday or so? but I started an internship and it's been harder than expected, but I'm getting the hang of it so be prepared for more works to come!

Probably tomorrow I’ll be posting a list of all the requests I’m incredibly behind but that way you know I got them and are on my mind and will be written <3 I also don’t know if you like the idea of starting a tag list? Please please let me know, babes <3

ALSO I got an incredible request of the Max the wag series involving our boy Yuki AND I LOVED IT SO MUCH so it’s absolutely happening!

YOU CAND FIND THE MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE

summary: For the first time, Max and you find yourselves on the other end of the gossip.

Hungary Grand Prix, 2023.

Max wasn’t feeling like himself.

The car upgrades were supposed to be great, not to make him struggle and happy a shitty day, which meant shitty questions, passive aggressive press conference trying to not look so annoyed, but it didn’t help that the press was painstakingly working to get the worst angles with furrowed eyebrows and waving off strangers trying to aggressively approach him.

Of course, it didn’t help you weren’t there to hold his hand walking around the paddock, forcing his blue eyes to focus on your calming smile and the inevitable lovestruck expression plastered on his face.

And yes, he was letting out the fact he didn’t leave Monaco in the best of terms. He’d grown accustomed to you tagging along to most races, but when you informed him you wouldn’t be able to make it to the last two races before summer break he didn’t take it the best way.

Yes, Max understood you were needed at your job and deadlines were way more difficult to meet with changing time zones, bumpy flights and noisy paddocks and hospitalities, but it didn’t change the fact that he needed you and his selfish self really needed you cheering for him, even if you’d seen him win enough times already.

In conclusion, it was safe to say he didn’t really feel like putting on a genuine smile or goof around with interviewers who’d ask the same questions while Christian tells him off for looking unapproachable.

The only thing that turned the corners of his mouth was a WhatsApp attachment from you, Jimmy and Sassy sleeping with the F1 channel on full display on the TV.

It wasn’t long until Twitter and Instagram fan accounts came to the conclusion you weren’t there with Max, creating a small discussion with some people arguing that it didn’t make sense you’d tagged along to places like Baku or Melbourne and not go to a race less far away and arguably one of the most popular tracks of the season, while other people defended you saying you had your own life apart from being Max’s girlfriend, you had a job, conferences to attend amongst other things, so it was ridiculous to expect you to be there for every race, no matter how much you loved Max.

You don’t know whether it was the fact you didn’t post a story on Instagram celebrating Max’s win or the fact Max hadn’t been his best self, struggling with the car, losing control over the tiniest thing and just losing focus overall the fuel for some fans to start speculating about the status of your relationship.

User1: why hasn’t y/n posted something about max?? she always does when she’s not with him

User2: something’s sus

User3: no pls I cant handle another July break up

User4: max deserves someone who shows up for him! He arguably had the most difficult weekend of the season and she’s mia

User5: she’s always there for him and has a right to have her own life grow the hell up!

Belgian Grand Prix, 2023

Last race before summer break meant most people on the paddock were a turmoil of emotions between the desire for the weekend to be completely over and wishing to do the best possible job before the break.

Max convinced himself he was coming into the weekend relaxed, knowing he’d have to put his best strategies, talent and focus for Spa, but a few free weeks were right around the corner so he could recharge with you, staying in bed for the entire morning before getting up to get ready to go out, maybe arriving back to the apartment drunk and giggly only to regret everything during the morning, but with the knowledge you were going to do the exact same.

He was facetiming you when he came across lots of fans wanting his attention, asking for pictures, until someone asked for you and Max pretended he didn’t listen, not wanting to answer things about his relationship, and the woman that asked wasn’t even sharp enough to catch your face on full display on his screen.

Had Max known the chaos it would ensue not answering the simple question about you, maybe he’d reconsider, especially since Lando and him jumped from the paddock to a helicopter waiting to take them to the closing night of Tomorrowland where Martin Garrix was closing the last weekend.

User1: *attached video* pls pls you HAVE to see the discomfort on max face when someone asked him about y/n something is not right with parents

User2: we all know he never speaks about her thoo, im keeping my hopes up!!!!

User4: I’m calling break up and good cuz I never liked her always acted like she was too good for the f1 world and never communicated w fans

User3: that’s called being reserved moron!!1 you don’t see other wags taking pics with fans except maybe lily bc she’s a pro golfer!!!

You were sitting on your bed when Victoria sent a thread on Twitter (or X? or Threads? it’s confusing) pointing at every proof and detail about your supposed break up, ironically asking if you had something to inform the family since Max hadn’t said anything.

With widened eyes and unable to contain the urge to see what people were saying about Max and you, two hours later you were still reading gossip sites and didn’t even hear the door of the penthouse opening with both Sassy and Jimmy running away from the feet of the bed.

“Is this the welcome I get?” Max’s voice announced his arrival, catching you by surprise and throwing the phone in the air.

“Fuck, Max! You scared the shit out of me, I hate you!” You laughed, finally realizing he was right in front of you and kneeling on the bed to attach your arms around his neck, allowing Max to grab you by the thighs and spin you around while you left small kisses on his cheeks.

“What were you reading? You looked very focused,” Max carefully placed you back on the mattress before throwing his body and groaning at the feeling of his muscles relaxing.

“Did you know we broke up?” You questioned your boyfriend whose blue eyes opened as much as they could, eyebrows raised and slightly moving his head in confusion.

Max was confused but still demanded an answer on what was going on as he watched the corners of your mouth lifting and quiet giggles leaving them.

“Look, it’s full of theories because I didn’t attend the last races and after you went with Lando to watch Martin, some fans started drawing their own conclusions!”

“Are they insane? Speculating about other people’s love lives is so rude, and just because I didn’t answer a question about you which I never do? People are crazy!” Max exclaimed on an irritated tone, but quickly caught your eyes, making him realize the people commenting were doing the exact same thing as you, just on a larger scale.

“Baby, I think this time we are the drama…” You stated before the bedroom became quiet.

It was just Max and you staring at each other, recalling every time you eavesdropped a conversation that clearly wasn’t meant for either of you to hear, or discussed different theories on who had cheated, who had broken up with whom, why some partners were so young or looked almost identical.

“Schatz, I am not going to lie,” Max started with a frown and serious face before continuing. “I am very proud of us” After letting it out Max started laughing, his cheeks flushing and placing his hand over his mouth to try to stifle the sounds.

“Baby, this definitely means we made it!”

It was bound to happen, you were meant to eventually become a source of spectacle if you enjoyed gossiping about other people’s lives so much.

After laughing to the brink of tears, Max kissed your lips; softly, slowly and sensually, making it hard to separate but he stared right into your eyes and asked you in all seriousness: “Should we feed the gossip? Wouldn’t it be fun?”

#max the wag #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen au #max verstappen x you #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fic #f1 fics #Max Verstappen

2K notes · View notes

rowretro · 4 months

Note

Yandere Sunghoon ex plss

✧warnings: yandere/toxic themes, violence, death, forceful kissing, blood

♡synopsis: Park Sunghoon is y/n’s ex boyfriend. People assumed that you were at fault given how seemingly perfect he is, he’s good at everything he does, and he’s extremely handsome who wouldn’t fall for Sunghoon. It was a shame really, you loved him and he loves you too… maybe a little too much…

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

1 year of dating and y/n broke it off just like that. It’s only been a week and people have already spread all kinds of rumors as to what could’ve happened. Perhaps Sunghoon realized Y/n wasn’t all that some’d say, maybe y/n herself cheated on him. Whatever the rumor was, it was always putting you in a bad light. If only they knew why you broke up with him, if only they knew Sunghoon for who he truly was.

Not even the law itself cared for Sunghoon’s crimes.Y/n had walked into him hiding one of his crimes very well. Taehyun, who had asked her out quite recently, not even bothered by the fact you were dating Sunghoon at the time, was lying there cold and bloody. Sunghoon, dragging his body into the deep ditch. “This is nothing babe… he had no life anyway, no siblings, neglecting parents, and he was in a street gang…” he simply said as he dumped the somewhat damp soil on the man’s body, the ditch gradually filling up.

Not even the police cared to take the case, why would they when the Park Sunghoon is the culprit. So she broke up with him. After a tense argument with him Sunghoon left the building to cool off, that’s when she decided it was best to leave. Most of her stuff was already at her old apartment, she simply breached his security system and left leaving a note saying that she’s breaking up with him.

Only been a week since then, just y/n and her thoughts alone in the cozy little apartment. She felt a little fear, wondering if he might kill her, or kidnap her, or do one of the most dark, sinister things she could never be able to think of. A little heartbroken because she loved him and he’s all she could ever ask for. She just wanted to move on though it was easier said than done. Heaving a sigh, y/n made her way to the kitchen, pouring some hot water into a pan, and boiling some ready-made tapioca pearls.

The girl cleaned up the house a little before adding a little sugar to her now- ready tapioca pearls, using a spoon to dig right into it. As she took a bite out of her little sweet snack, she heard the doorbell suddenly ring, making her flinch. She wasn’t expecting any visitors… Sunghoon on the other hand, was still looking for her while remaining under the radar. Then it hit him, he had the perfect item to bring her back…She was hesitant, her hand on the door handle, a frying pan in the other, she peeked through the small gap as she opened the door. She opened it widely, a smile painting her face when her eyes laid upon the male at her door. “Jay!” she exclaimed as he smiled, hugging her.

“Y/n~ long time no see huh, what brings you back home?” he enquired as Y/n sighed. “I broke up with my boyfriend so I moved back home” she said as Jay nodded.The two conversed for over an hour before leaving the building in his car, the two driving to one of her favorite restaurants. “Jay- isn’t that the road?...” Y/n asked as Jay glanced at her in the mirror “Yeah, but I’m taking you to a different one, it’s way better” Jay reassured as she nodded, trusting his word. Then everything felt familiar… the road, the signs, the tattered billboard sign and that god forsaken house…

“Nice work Park Jongseong…” Sunghoon smirked his dark eyes now on you. How could he fucking betray her?! Park Jongseong? The Jay, your best friend for 5 years lead you back to her boyfriend’s hell. “Anything for you bro… also don’t forget mom’s birthday party” he simply said as he left the building. Of course. How did she miss it? They’re brothers. “Back home?... what is this about some break up sweetheart?... who talked you into it?...” Sunghoon asked as y/n just glared up at him.

“I fucking hate you.” she seethed through gritted teeth as he slapped her “No no silly… you don’t hate me… you love me. You love me like crazy but you just don’t know it yet” he explained in a sickeningly sweet tone that made her stomach feel like it was being squished in the claws of a demon. Sunghoon’s fingers softly threaded through her hair, his finger twirling a few strands of her dark hair.

“There’s something you need to learn sweetheart… you’re mine. That fucking means you’re stuck with me forever. We WILL date. We WILL get married and we WILL die together. So no we haven’t broken up we never will you FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!!!” he asked, yanking her hair painfully harshly all of a sudden. “Y-yes… I do…” she trailed off, hating every word that left her word. Hearing her words, the male planted his lips on her, forcing his tongue into her mouth, a hand still gripping at her hair as another snaked around her waist. She was stuck with him forever.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

386 notes · View notes

thirstworldproblemss · 8 months

Text

Fic: Closer

cowritten with @astroboots

Fandom: Moon Knight Pairing: Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc) Length: 5.6k words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)

Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.

Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.

[ twp’s Masterlist | boots' Masterlist ]

Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead.

Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel.

It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger:

The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert.

A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road.

A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest.

But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations.

For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you.

Always you.

You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world, the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.

And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front.

Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share.

And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one.

The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now.

He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.

“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.

You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.

Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.

He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do.

Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks.

Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.

Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass.

He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.

Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too.

"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there.

Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are.

"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."

Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it.

Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...)

Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.

Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.

Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.

"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"

You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.

It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease.

Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.

As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long.

He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.

When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.

It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him.

Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up.

"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you.

Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze.

“Do you need me to stop?"

"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."

You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.

Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.

Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you.

You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.

You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.

Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.

His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside.

"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"

"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.

"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.

He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.

He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.

It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way.

You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.

"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?"

You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"

That's more like it.

"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"

You nod into the pillow.

He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.

"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh, "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"

"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.

It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc.

"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."

Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.

A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.

One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you.

He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you.

Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.

It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.

And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go.

"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans.

He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.

You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.

"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?"

"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"

Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit.

Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.

"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.

"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."

The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight.

"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, “and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."

Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything.

But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.

He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.

"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again, "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"

"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"

His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go.

The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.

Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you.

He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor.

Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap.

Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.

There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room.

You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.

"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.

Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.

It's not enough.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you.

Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop.

He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.

Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–

"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts.

His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.

He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to–

Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.

The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.

He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face.

Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.

All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head.

You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up.

"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"

"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."

That's all Jake needs to hear.

He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him.

Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it

He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.

“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”

And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.

"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.

"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."

Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release.

By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.

Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom.

When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ”

He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.

You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile.

You’re beautiful.

You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him. But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him.

The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up. “Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.

“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.” He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.

You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.

Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him. He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders, taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.

Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body.

You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower.

He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.

Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.

In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe.

It’s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep. .

Thanks for reading!

—

Want more to read?

from @astroboots: ’boots’ Masterlist ...or follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when something new is posted .

from @thirstworldproblemss: twp's Masterlist | Author, Fic & Fanwork Recs ...or follow @thirstworldproblemss-writes to be notified of new fic

#moon knight #moon knight fic #jake lockely #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley x you #f reader #oi stuff #fanfic #astroboots #thirst world problems #lemon #q #red flags 'verse

587 notes · View notes

d10nsaint · 11 months

Text

☆…ready for it? | Miguel O’Hara x black cat! reader

≡☆tags: fem reader, Miggy being sus, Comic stuff goin on but movie Miguel, yk, the norm

≡☆ a/n: I hate Taylor swift but my friend shoved this song down my throat so here I am

≡☆ Leon Kennedy ver ! (coming soon)

The moment that you saw Miguel, you knew something was wrong.

His hand was borderline hot, His eyes were protected by red glasses, and if you squinted, you could see how his eyes were…red. They were practically glowing, and if you stared for a moment longer, you were sure you’d become captured in them.

He opened his mouth a little too wide, and then thats when you were sure. You saw the fangs, sharp and unintentionally seductive.

When you asked around about him, all you found was that he was, essentially, a ghost. When you talked to his brother, he had nothing good to say about him—something about Miguel cheating on his ex and taking his girlfriend. Nothing special.

and if you thought he was the only one with suspicions, you were most definitely wrong.

He knew you were snooping. ‘seems as if he’d slipped up and you saw too much’, he concluded. But there was something about you that was off.How were you able to find so much so efficiently?

But that was the least of his worries.

There’d been a spike in burglaries in Nueva York, and as Spiderman, he had to be the one to fix it. But there was something off about them. The only targets seemed to be rich dickheads—Hell, the person had even stolen from Tyler Stone.

And as soon as you appeared, the robbing started. Of course he was suspicious of you.

Standing atop the rooftop of a building, he catches his breath. Swinging around was really a workout.

“Hiya, Miggy.”

His body tensed up before stiffily turning around and looking at you. A female figure clad in black with white fur, along nothing but a small mask covering your eyes. She was familiar.

“Who are you?”

“You aren’t denying it, Miggy?” You tilted your head to the side and giggled. The name really didnt suit him, but it was better than calling him Mike.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Sorry, I just thought we were close.Although you haven’t talked to me that much…”

“I dont like repeating myself.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be fair if i knew who you were and you didnt know who i was, would it?” You stepped closer to him and traced stars onto his Spider suit. The feeling of your long nails pressed against him left goosebumps on his skin, but he lowered his guard. If you planned to hurt him, you would’ve already.

“Don’t i look familiar? If you don’t know me already, im hurt. I thought I made a good first impression.” Your hand grabbed his and you smiled, recreating the scene from when you first met him.

“The newbie?”

“Hey, not nice.” You let go of his hand and crossed your arms, pouting your lips.

“Why are you doing this?” He leaned back onto the rail, back facing the people down below. Broad shoulders cast a shadow over you, swallowing you in the darkness of his figure. Even though his mask was on, you could make out his expression; A raised eyebrow, with a frown.

“I could ask you the same, Miguel. If you can be a ghost, why can’t I be a phantom?” You tilted your head and smiled, stepping away from him. You moved and stood near the ledge, looking down at the people beneath you, scanning the area.

His eye twitched under his suit as he tried to stop himself from letting out a sigh. Who the hell did you think you were? Strutting around and stealing from people that could kill you. You stole from your boss. The biggest question was, ‘How the hell do you get away with it?’

Before he could turn around and say anything, you spoke first.

“Sorry to cut this short, darling, but I think I should get going.” You stood on the ledge, ready to jump.

“See you around.”

tagging (I dont have a taglist, but you guys seemed to like Black cat! reader!!) : @monoeve @rubyredish

673 notes · View notes

thecameronchronicles · 1 year

Text

Mosaic

TW: Toxic!Rafe. Toxic!Reader. Toxic and manipulative relationship. Degrading language. Language. Smut. Choking. Spanking. Anal sex.

SUMMARY: Your decision to try and make Rafe jealous with Topper has crossed a line your boyfriend won't soon forget.

WORD COUNT: 3000

REQUESTED

Dark!reader and Dark!Rafe being toxic maybe she flirts with Top to make him jealous

Mosaic

College was supposed to be the time in which you found yourself. But the only thing you managed to find yourself in was a severely toxic relationship with Rafe fucking Cameron. Six months ago, you would have laughed at the girls who gladly surrendered whatever remaining dignity they had just for a chance at one night with him. Hell, one hour. But a few sweet conversations, one nice date, and countless orgasms later, and you became one of those same girls.

Your heart fell between your thighs and pulsated there with the promise of his focus. However long it would be. And yet it had always begun the same. Some fraternity party with inflamed egos and enough girls at their disposal to make up a parade. And you loathed how watching him flirt with them was always fruitful. Nothing more than his backwards cap and a few compliments and his fingers were already on her hip. His eyes well aware you read this from afar. The tip of his digits you'd kissed not even the night before were now sourcing some girl's pants in the kitchen of his fraternity house. And you hated just how wet it made you.

But the only thing you were more than wet was angry. Frustrated with how effortless he had women at his disposal. Even if you understood why as he had been given your undeserved forgiveness with those very fingers in the times you'd threatened to leave him. But within seconds, you were purring for him like the bitch you were. Knowing the pain was well worth it for the pleasure.

"Why the long face-oh…" Top asked as he emerged from the steps you'd leaned against while in disbelief to the sight.

"So are you guys…together?" You turned to answer Topper before realizing he was nervous. Confident and collected Topper Thornton was not so subtly asking you if you were available. Handsome enough to get a rise out of Rafe, also assisting in the fact he was a fellow fraternity brother, you devised a plan for your boyfriend to understand how sour a taste jealousy was. Because up until now, you never gave him much of a reason to worry. You were swallowed by the effect of Rafe. That intoxicating presence and voice-those fingers, his cock-

"Do you wanna play beer pong?"

"Um…yeah…su-sure…" You smiled at how pliable Topper was for your attention. Able to bend in either direction solely to your will.

This was going to be fun…

You aligned yourself on the south side of the table, watching as the guys across filled your cups.

"Did you give us another lightweight, Thornton?"

You cocked a brow, pulling an extra beer from behind you before pouring your own shot of whiskey, consuming it down in a series of gulps.

"Now you have a chance." Even though you meant this towards your opponents, the side glance offered towards Topper made your intentions known.

The first ball struck the far left cup, a satisfying pop made as your opponent drank your cup. One would then land in front of Topper as he drank and then missed his own shot. Hits and misses continued as you took small moments once noticing Rafe's eyes were set onto you. That same girl still under his arm, but his interest in her dwindling back to you.

"Here…" You turned towards Topper, fingers gingerly wrapped around his hand as you brought the ball to your lips, pressing your gloss into the sphere.

"For good luck…" You seduced the words themselves as he swallowed hard. His eyes plagued to wonder how your lips felt. And not only to his mouth.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, wrapping you in his arms as you charmed the final ball to win the game.

"Beginner's luck…"

"She's no beginner…" Rafe interjected from the sidelines, your eyes falling immediately to his expression. Those lustful eyes appreciating your curves hidden poorly beneath a skintight dress.

"She's a liar…"

"Learned from the best, Cameron." He cocked his jaw as you wrapped your fingers between Topper's.

"Want to dance?" You asked, pressed against him as his eyes flashed to Rafe, whose jaw was clenched enough to threaten to crack his teeth. But your two fingers to Top's jaw redirected him to you.

"We both know he couldn't keep up." This was reason enough for Topper to choose you as you led him to the backyard where the dancing was in full effect. Sza playing with bass shaking the floor as you ground into Topper. His hands gluttonous to your hips as you could feel him develop against your tailbone.

"Hey Top?"

"Yeah?" He asked as you now faced him, hands over his shoulders and neck as your eyes feigned focus to him as you noted how Rafe was enraged.

"When are you gonna kiss me?"

"Now…" He pressed his lips to yours and you were able to forget about Rafe. Long enough to bask in a new set of hands adorning your hips. Even from the first moment with Rafe, he was angered, masking this behind passion. But you knew better. That was lust. Pure. Selfish. And this with Topper was careful desire. It burned the same, but not quite as deep. But it was enough to get your point across. And it wasn't as if you were suffering.

"Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend-" Rafe charged at Topper as you were forced apart. But you stood between them, hands on both of their chests.

"Seems to me you don't know how to hold on to her, man-"

"You couldn't handle her. Wouldn't last five seconds with her riding you…from behind, she's fucking greedy…and on her knees…"

"Don't talk about her like that-" Topper moved to defend you but you couldn't help but feel pride in how Rafe spoke of you. The crowd amassed around you only fueling this fantasy of Rafe defending you.

"She fucking loves it. Makes her little panties nice and wet…" he spoke at you as you cocked a hip, a hand finding purchase in that new bend.

"IF she's even wearing any…" He knew you well. Too well. It was as annoying as it was intoxicating. "Better yet, Top. Ask her why. She didn't come here wearing nothing for you to find that out."

You loathed how he always knew. Your games, he seemed to make the rules. Your rules, he broke them without recourse. And you let him. Just like you always would.

"You don't own me, Rafe. Made that clear with your knuckles in some other bitch not even half an hour ago." By now, Topper no longer cared to defend you, realizing you did enjoy this. It showed in the way your chest heaved and your lips parted, your eyes widening when they should be narrowing in how he spoke against you.

"Every part of you is mine. Not an inch that hasn't been touched…" He smirked. "Every. Inch…" You blushed, aware this was the truth. Before him, you were rather inexperienced. A few lovers that were nothing but stepping stones to the Everest he ascended you to. Positions and angles you thought were impossible, sensations that were indescribable. Yet, he brought them to you in every exchange. Even those fueled by hatred and anger. Especially those…

"Speaking of inches…" You held out your hands to show a depiction of his size. Although lying, made it appear as if he was below average. A pity fuck you offered out of guilt and obligation.

"Not even worth the five minutes…"

"Such a little bitch, not worth the attitude." He looked around at the crowd. "Little warning to anyone who tries to fuck her…she likes it when you choke her a bit from the front but slap her from behind. Might even cry if you say you love her. You don't even have to mean it…"

This was too far. No amount of dirty words or sultry apologies would fix that. Tears in your eyes and you were marching somewhere in solitude. A door closed just as quickly as it opened again, your body unable to find rest for even a second before your name was sounded before you. The slam shaking the rest of the house.

"I'm not joking, Rafe, get out!"

"You and I both know that I could have you on your knees…You love being degraded…because you're my little-" he stood over you, a hand to your cheek, believing it would work as it always had.

But not this time.

"No! You can fuck with me. You can fuck me, but saying that about love-" he paused, rolling his eyes.

"You know it's all part of this…we rile each other up-'"

"You think there's only you here? But Topper's fingers felt so good against me-"

"Stop it."

"So you get to touch someone else? But I can't be touched?!" You stood, finger against his chest.

"You don't like the idea? Someone else fucking me? Their fingers…their mouths? Maybe more than one…you have some hot friends…ones that would treat me better too…last longer-it" He suddenly lunged at you, your face in his hands.

"You know I love you, but you wanna play games that I'll always win…You want to try to embarrass me and I'll make your ass as red as your cheeks when I have my say-"

"You-" He took hold of your jaw.

"As far as fucking you…You can try, baby…but we both know you'll be thinking of me. Every depraved way you've come for me…how I can make you just by…" He was teasing your nipples, the thin dress making this possible.

"Doing this…"

"Stop it…" You spoke with every attempt to be confident but every one of his motions making this nearly impossible.

"You're cruel-"

"And hard-" He pushed you towards the back of the bed.

"You're an asshole."

"And you love me…"

"Who's more fucked up between us then, baby? Hmm?" By now, his entire hand was over your breast as he pulled the fabric low enough to gain access.

"But you pull shit like that again and you can go fuck yourself…."

You clenched your jaw.

"Fuck me yourself, you coward!" You spat as he pushed you onto the bed. Your dress scrunched at your hips as he pulled you to the edge. Two fingers threatened to enter you as you kicked his hand away.

"You don't get to touch me after you touched some other bitch." He lowered over you, pinning you down and forcing those fingers inside. Your head pulled back and your lips parted with a wince for how rough he had been as you gasped.

"I am going to touch you whenever I want. However I want. And you're gonna come for me like you always do. Because you're such a fucking whore for my fingers." He tightened his grip on the back of your head.

"Let's be honest, baby, you're just a whore for all of me, yeah?" When you didn't respond, he altered his focus. The fingers remained but he released your hair, undressing himself instead. Your eyes opened at the moment he came to view.

"Stop fucking staring and do something about this…it's your fucking fault…"

"Why dont you have her do it?" You spat, pulsating for him as he pulled you to the edge.

"Because she doesn't cry as pretty. Now open that dirty little mouth…" He forced your jaw apart with a thumb between your lips, but you nipped at the pad of his finger.

"I have no problem finishing in your tight little ass…wouldn't be the first time…"

"I wanted you to enjoy this…even though you don't fucking deserve it. Because I love you…but your pushing every fucking button. Now open or you don't get to come at all."

"Slow!" He shot as you took him to the extension of your throat. Your eyes softened to the pleasure read across his face. Such strong features strained because of you. Your tongue. Your throat. Your suction. Every bit making him nearly manic as he guided you as he pleased. Your well-being forgotten and replaced with his selfish need to release.

"Too much for you baby?" You grunted and took him faster.

"Slow the fuck down. I'm not coming down your throat. You're gonna convince me you deserve to come. Work for it." His eyes rolled to the way you took him now. Love behind such convictions as a mask for the way you hated him. You hated him with a passion. A passion that pooled between your legs.

"That's my girl…my dirty girl…" he moaned.

"Yeah…yeah, just like that…" his dominance faded into consolation of his cruelty. His grip sporadic in strength and fault before he was riding into your sore throat with his need to come.

"Fuck…" But just as he tightened, the ache deep enough to make him groan as he withdrew from you, you were taken to the bed. Your dress forced from your body as you were set ass first.

"Lay on your side."

"I-"

"One fucking word and I'll go fuck her instead. And it will be your fault for not listening. Only have yourself to blame sweetheart." You obliged, out of pure desperation.

He directed your ass apart, but only to tease your folds with his cock.

"You're gonna be so fucking sore. And you're gonna thank me for it if you know what's good for you-" He thrust. One single thrust that bottomed out immediately. Your close leg pulled until it tested over his back as the either one craned around his hip.

"I said you could say a word…but I want you to beg for it. Remind me why I put up with your bullshit…"

"Rafe!" His hand came around your throat as he bent you against yourself. Your knee against your chest.

"Fuck!" He grunted before lying behind you, reinserting himself from this angle-or so you thought.

"Look at it." He guided your head down. "You make me so fucking hard so you're gonna do what's necessary to help me…" He used your thighs to thrust himself between.

"Play with it…" You cupped your hand over his head, brushing your thumb over the weeping tip.

"It's crying for you, baby…so fucking sad you think you have a choice to be with someone else…but it's always gonna be my cock you want, yeah?"

"Rafe-" he choked you again. This time, his hand to your clit in accompaniment. Your leg pulled over his knee as his forearm pinned it in place.

"Think Topper would know how you need it? Both know he'd try…but he couldn't even get you close…"

"Rafe…" You mewled, his fingers making you manic. your body tightening as he allowed you the first tremors. That orgasm on reach before he halted.

"Now me." He thrust into you again, murderous paces making you whimper before he focused on you again. Repeating this process for hours. Long after the final beer downstairs had been consumed as you had been drunk on the depravity of each other. Sweat and ache coexisted between you as he pulled you into a slight fold. Your fingers eating into the mattress were pinned by his just as your hips had been by one of his legs. His cock imprinting his abundance as he spoke a mix of cruel compromise into your ear and neck. A dominant hand visiting your clit and nipple until you were a shaking mess between his muscles.

"You think you should get to come after your games? You don't fuck with me…you get fucked by me. Only me." He forced your jaw to face him, pushing your hips into the bed as he spoke.

"I want to hear it. Your mine." When you didn't respond, he hit your ass. Twice. The second time harder than the first as you groaned.

"Ahhh! Raaaafe!"

"Tell me and you get to come." You knew it was a layered act of submission. It didn't just mean you could come. It meant you forgave him enough to let him. You knew he would follow behind you. You knew he'd tell you it was your fault. You knew it meant a repeat of those tears and that pain. But also this pleasure. This pleasure you couldn't find and didn't twang in anyone else.

So you granted yourself that self-deprecation.

"I'm all fucking yours…"

"Yeah? Then come all over the cock that's yours." He set his lips to your ear.

"Because I can touch someone else…but only you make me come. Only you get my cock. Only you get to hear that I love you." His words were as sweet as expected while you found him pounding his final thrusts into you.

"I love you…I-" he winced, his grip unapologetically sharp as it bruised your skin and the final snap of his hips granted you that release that brought that undeserved forgiveness yet again. Stars behind your eyes and an ache between your thighs.

"Now for this ass…" he hit hard as you gasped.

"Rafe-"

"You thought we were done baby? I thought you were smarter than that." He parted your legs again, only now to lift the head of his cock to that second hole.

"You still have to pay for your little games." And with one cruel thrust he was inside of you again, pain and pleasure walking hand in hand yet again.

Every broken piece of Rafe finding your own shattered construction that somehow came together into some beautiful portrait. A picture nobody else understood. But nobody else had to. It was beautiful to you. Beautifully broken. Chaotic. But yours all the same.

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel@phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #toxic rafe cameron #toxic!rafe #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #outerbanks #outerbanks fanfiction #outerbanks smut #obx #obx fanfiction #obx smut #drew starkey

571 notes · View notes

alyswritings · 1 year

Text

Return of the Mom

Request: Hi love hope you are doing well (I don't know if you have watch shameless I was wondering if you could do that scene where Monica tries to take Liam) but like with JJ Maybank x sister reader (she like 7 or 8 ) like JJ and the reader mother comes back to come get the reader to come with her to another family that she started in her new life and then JJ goes into protective brother mode Thank you love

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

Summary: JJ and Y/N's mom tries to take Y/N.

Warnings: shitty mom, ig that's it?

a/n: thank you for the request! hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

All of the pogues are at the chateau. Sarah, Pope, and Y/N are playing outside, the five not wanting the girl around the current topic of conversation. JJ, Kie, and John B are in the chateau and the Maybank boy is pacing while the other two are sitting at the island.

"I-I mean, the-- the fucking nerve. I-- she's gone for seven years and she suddenly just pops up and acts like she didn't totally abandon her two children and leave them with an abusive, drunk, coke head. She just expects me to magically forgive her and Y/N to have this close bond with her. Y/N doesn't even fucking know her!"

"Well, it-- it's not like she can force anything, right? I mean, she can't just take her." John B says.

"Legally, chances are she could." Kie argues. "I mean, unless she managed to find time to sign over her rights in the process of abandonment."

"She left when Y/N was six months old. She asked about mommy once in kindergarten and she's never really been mentioned again. Y/N gets that she doesn't have a mom, but her just-- just popping up."

"Look, she's only in town for a few days, right?" John B asks.

"She's leaving the day after tomorrow." JJ informs.

"Right. So just... try to keep her away while she's here, maybe allow a small bit of contact and she'll be gone before you know it."

"Right." JJ nods

- - -

The group finished dinner a few minutes ago, having just ordered pizza. Y/N takes a sip of the cup of Pepsi JJ let her have, looking up when there's a knock on the door.

The five teens share confused looks and John B opens the door, freezing at the sight of a woman he used to know well.

"Uh... hi." John B awkwardly mutters.

"Hi." Emily greets. Her voice gets the attention of all the others. "Um... could-- could I come in?"

"Uh..." John B looks back at JJ who gives a small shrug. "Um... su-sure. Yeah, okay." He steps aside, letting the woman walk inside.

"Hi, honey." She softly smiles at Y/N.

"Hi." Y/N mumbles, sitting on the couch next to Sarah.

"What are you doing here?" JJ asks.

"I, um... look, I-- I want Y/N." Emily says.

"You-- you want Y/N?" JJ asks. "Define "want.""

"I want to take her with me." Emily says.

"Excuse me?" JJ's eyebrows furrow.

"Look, I-- I know I fucked up with you guys. But I-- I want a second chance. And-- and I have a new husband and some good stepkids and-- and I just had a baby. She'll be safe there." Emily says.

"Sa-- no." JJ immediately shuts the idea down.

"JJ--"

"No!" He yells. "You-- you ditch her when she's a baby and then seven years -- almost a whole ass decade -- later, you just show up and expect to take her? Especially leaving her in the environment you know that Luke creates? Fuck no."

"She's my child."

"That didn't seem to fucking matter when you packed up and left!"

"I screwed up with you guys, but I'm trying to be good for my new family."

"How 'bout you fix the mess you created here first? You already had two kids, but you got tired and left us for somebody else with his own kids and started reproducing again? What? You gonna ditch 'em in a few months too?"

"I'm not gonna ditch them. Look, Y/N will be safer with me. My husband isn't mean, she'll-- she'll be able to get away from Luke."

"She doesn't even fucking know you or any of your new, perfect family members!"

"I'm her mother!"

"Yeah, and you're also my fucking mom! So where the hell have you been the past seven damn years?! Huh? Cause it wasn't here. You didn't protect her from Luke's drunk outbursts. You didn't change diapers, you didn't comfort her after nightmares or during storms, you don't help her with homework. You didn't teach her how to tie her shoes or ride a bike."

Y/N leans into Sarah's side, the blonde wrapping her arms around the girl, trying to silently comfort her knowing she's getting freaked out.

"Well, I can help now. She's gonna need a mom." Emily says.

"She has Kie and Sarah, she's perfectly fine without you. Before you get too invested in your new family, maybe try to fix your old family!"

"You won't let me!"

"You shouldn't even have anything to fix! You haven't been here! You don't get to randomly show up and whisk one of us away to a different life! You haven't done shit for this family. For me, for Y/N -- nothing."

"You know, she's on the A honor roll at school." JJ points at his sister who is curled into Sarah's side. Kie sits on her other side, a hand resting on the girl's arm. "She was the lead role in her second grade play -- and her first grade one. She's the best one in her dance class. She won the damn science fair."

"And she did it all by her fucking self." JJ states, his tone cold as he glares at his mother. "No help from you. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. It can't have anything to do with you cause you weren't fucking here."

"Look, JJ, honey, thank-- thank you for helping her, but... but I'm her mom."

"She doesn't even fucking know you! And helping her? I'm the one who's fucking raising her! Because her birth parents don't know how the fuck to do that!"

"I understand it's too late to make amends with you. I get that." Emily says. "But I can still try with her." She says. JJ scoffs, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head. The other four all have similar reactions, but stay quiet.

JJ watches Emily's every move with a heated glare as she kneels in front of the couch, right in front of Y/N. Sarah's grip on the girl tightens and Kie sits up a little, ready to shove the woman away if anything happens.

All of the pogues seem to get into attack mode in order to protect the seven year old.

"Y/N..." Emily rests her hand on the girl's shin. "Mommy is so sorry that she ever hurt you. If I did ever hurt you. I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me and-- and please, come home with me. You'll have new siblings and a new daddy and you-- you'll get a two story house. You can have whatever you want."

Y/N stares at her for a few moments, Emily's hopeful smile never leaving her face. Y/N glances between her brother and his friends, all in protective stances, angry looks directed at the woman she's not familiar with.

JJ catches Y/N looking at him and he softens, his gentle blue eyes staring back at her, part of him worried she'll actually agree to Emily's proposal.

Y/N looks back at Emily who hopefully smiles again.

Y/N stands up and Emily's smile grows a bit more and she holds her arms out. But her smile turns to a frown when Y/N walks right past her and beelines to JJ, wrapping her arms around his waist.

JJ wraps an arm around her, his hand resting on her back. His other hand rests on the side of her head, his thumb rubbing back and forth to comfort her.

"I think it's time you left." JJ says.

"Y/N, just listen to me, I--" Emily walks over.

JJ breaks away from the hug and keeps a hand on Y/N's shoulder as he steps in front of her, blocking her from their mother.

"You need to leave." JJ states, his voice firmer.

"We'll call the cops." Kie threatens.

"Yeah, get out before we either call them or get physical ourselves." John B warns.

"Go back to your new family." Pope says. "Even though you don't deserve them, they seem to like you better than any of us."

"If you ever change your mind..." Emily says.

"We won't." JJ declares.

Emily quietly sighs, but accepts the loss. She leaves the chateau, going to her rental car and driving off.

"Can you and I go watch a movie?" Y/N asks her brother.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure, sweetheart." JJ picks her up, holding her. He kisses her on the cheek and walks to the bedroom. Softly shutting the door behind him, he walks over to the bed and sets Y/N down on it.

When JJ goes to stand up, Y/N keeps her arms around his neck, forcing him to stay bent down.

"Gotta let go of me so I can get the computer, shorty." JJ says.

Y/N unwraps her arms, but pats some of his hair down, combing her hand through it once which she always down when she's bored or just anytime she's in reach of his hair.

"I love you." Y/N tells him.

JJ softly smiles and he leans closer, kissing her on the forehead.

"I love you, too, munchkin." He says.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @itsmaneskinbitch @mrvlxgrl @ironmaiden1313

#jj maybank #jj maybank x sister reader #jj maybank x sister!reader #obx #obx jj #outer banks #outer banks jj

823 notes · View notes

ctheathy · 1 year

Text

Survival instinct didn’t make the cut

Yandere Ticci Toby x Reader

Angst oneshot

Imagine making your first Tumblr post and it’s this. But I swear, this scenario has been living rent free in my head for the past months-

I believe it turned out quite alright though, hope whoever comes across shall be able to enjoy it themselves too =} Goodluck, darling~

Ticci Toby/Reader

⚠️Warnings ⚠️ :

•Toby lmao. •Yanderes •Reader’s demise •Obsessive behaviour • Abuse in all varieties •Implied non-con // r#pe •Indirect su!c!de •Slight detail of gore // blood •Derealization ?? •Tobitch going through the five stages of grief

Angst time babiee

____________________________________________

Now he’s done it.

Before you is where he stood, body trembling as the smell of bitter iron was dancing alongside his nostrils, mocking him.

His throat was aching, easily confirming the assumption that he had in fact been screaming at you. He hadn't expected this, but he should have.

He should have realised his self-restraint was reaching it’s limits.

He had lost count of the amount of speeches he had prematurely given you in warning over the course of just six months, the amount of punishments he’d given you in an attempt to put you in your place, his already thin patience having decreased into absolutely nothing. Why the fuck couldn’t you just be all ears and listen to anything for once in a lifetime?

You never listened.

It seemed like not too long ago he would have once again had your fragile figure cornered in an obvious out of control burst of rage. Figuring he had the absolute opposite of innocent intent, as he has done many, many times before in his quote on quote “regular” state alone. Yet the now deafening silence was haunting to Toby. You never enjoyed crying when he was in the same area as you were, he knew this, but some whimpers here and there did always manage to slither it’s way out of your throat. Especially when battered like this, you’re not supposed to be this quiet.

Conversations were rare, but it surely wasn’t like they weren’t there at all, despite how minor they might have been. He’d recall you flat-out ignoring his entire existence for a long time before that, and when you did reply to a sentence or two; your answers were always kept as short as possible, too short. Cold, even.

You and your blunt statements.

It angered him, following with Toby developing a habit of literally demanding your attention and cooperation, which surely wouldn’t be considered all that bad by a majority of people,

if it didn't include inflicting damage if a hint of resistance was even shown, that is.

Neck twitching severely with his eyes scanning over your once gorgeous form; one he wished to have held onto for the absolute rest of eternity, now beaten into a bloody pulp. Truthfully saying, your state had already been quite the wreck from these so-called “punishments” you had endured from him formerly, but they were nothing in comparison to whatever the hell he did to you this time. Your body structure wasn’t even recognisable to the bare eye anymore. The only thing left confirming your identity being your facial features, those you had instinctively tried shielding with your arms; arms who were now bend in uncomfortable positions, whose bones were now much so similar to your ribcage as they were clearly showing, sharp tips that had been broken off of the full bone structure poking out of the bloodied flesh.

You seemed to have gotten on his nerves once more, didn’t you? Who were you even kidding, you were always at fault from his point of view. You swore it had gotten to a stage where he just reached out for whatever excuse he could get his grabby hands on to cause harm upon you. His frustration streaks being no help in the matter, whatsoever.

That being said, this too included suffering the most whenever his torturous desires came over to front within his own mind, lashing out and resulting in unimaginable that when given too much detail would probably get me banned discipline instances in itself. He was trying to tame you into being some compliant little lap dog,

the perfect significant other.

And you? You were absolutely not having it.

You were very well aware of the fact that you, too, weren’t exactly the easiest when being in his presence either. Seemingly almost intentionally setting him off, having caused many broken limbs, bruises in all colours of the rainbow, deep wounds and screaming matches that could have easily been prevented otherwise. You just could not help it, the thought alone of being obedient to this- this monster made you sick to the stomach. The strict mental promise you made to yourself literally keeping you sane from his either constant cruelty or unwanted affection.

It was no surprise to say that he just went along with everything he desired as well, not caring about the clear signs of major discomfort your own figure had been showing Every. Single. Time.

Well.

He simply continued to take, greedily getting some sort of emotionally high on all that you'd indirectly have the possibility of giving him. Your blood, tears, cries, whatever sound he managed to get out of you, your body; he wanted all of it, the most suffocating part being that he wouldn’t ever hesitate to be selfish when it came to his wants, his needs. You could yell, squirm and resist all you wanted ...but deep down you knew attempting to resist his lustful urges would be futile. You knew he would continue to take until you were nothing short of an empty husk.

That was the case, atleast.

Until there was nothing left to take from you. His wrath didn’t hurt you anymore, it couldn’t.

Toby swore he could have felt the last bit of basic common sense alongside the last pinch of emotional stability left inside of him fading right then and there. Slipping from his grasp as he was clutching together excuses to desperately try and get himself somewhat in the clear, to not have the realisation of his actions setting in.

No. He wouldn't be able to handle it

This wasn’t his doing. No- nonono he has always told himself he had everything under control. It COULDN’T possibly be his own doing.

He’d never meant to ...

Yet despite these protests profusely swirling around in his head, slowly having it drag itself more into insanity, the axe was right there. Clutched in his own shaky hands with the oh-so-familiar dark red substance dripping from them. In fact, his own entire being was soaked in blood from head to toe. Creating a dried up pattern on the fabric he was wearing.

Was it his own?

Despite the constant weak state you managed to be in, how low in power you were compared to him; you never failed to catch him by surprise when still managing to put up the slightest bit of a fight, often even shedding blood yourself, his blood. Even as time passed, you should have clearly gotten the hint by now that struggling against your capturer, your abuser, did absolutely nothing for the both of you.

It caused you yet more and more harm. But much to Toby’s irritation, you never gained the desire to lower this stubborn behaviour of yours. Continuously keeping up your nagging nature, almost like you were trying to make him snap with no questions asked in the matter. Your motives were foreign to him, even questioning himself if you even had any to begin with. Heck, everything you once seemed to hold a liking torwards was either destroyed to bits, crumbled on the streets for the passersby to find or dead;

So, why?? Was tormenting him truly that important to you?

Muttering nonsense to himself and still being as shaky as ever, Toby dragged his now numb legs across the floor in a sad attempt to get the situation in hand, to get closer to you.

Still, a part of him couldn’t help but feel hesitant, his racing mind still not seeming to have left the state of shock he’s been in for the past hours. He was very much aware by now that your life had been taken this night. Taken in a brutal act of fury.

You weren't there anymore.

the axe slid right onto the cold floor, the metal leaving a clunk sound that echoed clamorously along the room as his body now realised how heavy the pressure on his arms had actually been.

Weakly he started counting down the reasons on how and most importantly, why this could have happened in the first place. He knew how massively petty you could be at times, but this was FAR from the wishes of his main desires.

This should never have happened.

He loved you.

It shouldn’t have.

He loved you. Helovedyouhelovedyouhelovedyouheneededyo---

He completely set his current thoughts to a stop for a good minute at that one. Needing you.

What did that even mean?

He knew he held you in massively high priority, he adored you even, but. Even that sentence in itself caught him off guard. His head had been over flooding for sure, it all just felt void-like, not real.

All he was left with now were his own heartbeats growing their ways into his ears as the organ was struggling to keep itself at bay, the strange yet all too familiar hollowness he felt in the deepest pits of his stomach and the liquid that has unconsciously been falling from his now blurry eyes.

He bit his cheek until blood was drawn from them, fighting back a choked sob as he crouched down to the bloody mess in front of him. Gently stroking your cheek with his knuckles, he flinched at how cold it actually was. The sensation of suffocation in his throat having reduplicated itself in a way he doesn't wish to remind himself of, clenching his jaws at how difficult it had become to keep in his whimpering. But enough of his tears were being shed for sure. And to make matters worse, the usual lack of emotion burned into your expression you’ve had ever since he’s been holding you hostage was now gone.

Instead, the frown Toby had been forced to grow used to was now formed into a soft smile instead. It was small, but unquestionably there. You were safe now, making peace with the outcome that had been created for your life. The outcome created by the absolute greed of another.

The outcome he had made for you.

This realisation he had tried to deny so damn badly had finally hit him, hard.

He quit fighting, the walls he created as a defence mechanism crumbling completely. Giving in as the overwhelming emotions that had been building up finally came to a releasing end. His usual mockery demeanor had been thrown out of the window once and for all, as all he managed to shriek out now were rushed apologies while just pleading for your living form. Just begging to hear your breathing for one last time. You seemed so small. Had you always been like this?

Please come back... please...

Hands were clinging onto the little bits of what was left of your body like his life depended on it. Big chunks of flesh were hanging from the body parts of your figure, laying limp against his own with his weak grip being yet as needy as ever, tears streaming out like a waterfall and unsteady breaths forcing their ways out into the crook of your neck. He had nothing to say anymore, the room instead being filled with high-pitched sobbing and convulsive gasps coming from nobody but himself.

God, he could have heard you call him pathetic right on the spot.

And that thought of you alone was enough to force a muffled screech out of him as his grasp grew only stronger, his veins being filled with nothing but desperation and grief; The constant loop he was in, slowly but actively breaking him down entirely. Your faint words out of memory repeating themselves over and over again.

And that smile.

That damned smile of yours being left to haunt the back of his mind.

Oh how that little motivation of yours had become clear to him now . . .

#yandere ticci toby #yandere ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere x reader #yandere x you #first post pog??

231 notes · View notes

cleolinda · 1 year

Text

Varney the Vampire: Chapter 6

Chapter 5: Please, be responsible with your vampires.

Chapter 6: Originally posted on Livejournal on December 14, 2010. The original one was a bit short, so this has been expanded.

Previously on:

"Be of better cheer, Henry -- be of better cheer," said Marchdale; "there is one circumstance which we ought to consider, it is that, from all we have seen, there seems to be some things which would favour an opinion, Henry, that your ancestor, whose portrait hangs in the chamber which was occupied by Flora, is a vampyre."

Also:

Henry related to George what had taken place outside the house, and the two brothers held a long and interesting conversation for some hours upon that subject, as well as upon others of great importance to their welfare. It was not until the sun's early rays came glaring in at the casement that they both rose, and thought of awakening Flora, who had now slept soundly for so many hours.

I am stunned that this fascinating conversation was not given three chapters of its own. The printer must have put his foot down and said, "I can pay you by the line, not the ton."

CHAPTER VI.

A GLANCE AT THE BANNERWORTH FAMILY. -- THE PROBABLE CONSEQUENCES OF THE MYSTERIOUS APPARITION'S APPEARANCE.

Rymer trusts that it would not be unideal to acquaint us further with the Beaumont Bannerworth family. Short version: previous heads of the Bannerworth family were a bunch of hell-raisin' runnagate gamblers, and thus noble Henry and his family are now quietly penniless. We are told that his father, Marmaduke Bannerworth, Oh Why Not the Second, was "found lying dead" (of what: not specified. sus? absolutely) in the garden, with only an unfinished message written in pencil:

"The money is -- -- " And then there was a long scrawl of the pencil, which seemed to have been occasioned by his sudden decease.

Of course there was. To ramp up the foreshadowing that James Malcolm Rymer might never, ever follow up on, we're also told,

He had, but a few hours before he was found lying dead, made the following singular speech to Henry, -- "Do not regret, Henry, that the old house which has been in our family so long is about to be parted with. Be assured that, if it is but for the first time in my life, I have good and substantial reasons now for what I am about to do. We shall be able to go to some other country, and there live like princes of the land." Where the means were to come from to live like a prince, unless Mr. Bannerworth had some of the German princes in his eye, no one knew but himself, and his sudden death buried with him that most important secret.

Henry, of course, never gets to find out wtf this means. Not entirely sure what the drive-by snark at German princes is about, either. (At this point, the German Confederation was still a few short years away from the Revolutions of 1848. A Regent's Council was ruling Austria for Ferdinand I, who served as a de facto president of the Confederation; the whole thing was decentralized, "weak and ineffective," and so I'm guessing individual princes had a good bit of money and power? I have no idea what this has to do with Marmaduke II's plans.)

So the current Bannerworths, they are broke. And then, suddenly, Random J. Solicitor, Esq., from London writes them to say, "Look, I have this client. I can't tell you who it is, but he'll pay you a shitload of money for the Hall." The Bannerworths want to hold onto the ancestral hall, mortgages and debts and all. "No, seriously. Anything you want." Even the Bannerworths' own lawyer is like, SERIOUSLY, WHY WON'T YOU TAKE THE MONEY? Well, because it's their ancestral family home, and also… there's this guy who likes Flora, and they want to make sure he can drop in on them someday. Because, if they move, they have no way of letting him know.

Now, in 2010, I wrote rather dryly, "I don't know how we survived before Facebook, you guys." The subtext here was, I already hated Facebook and used it, like, twice in my whole life, mostly as a mobile game login. Obviously, this statement hits different in 2023; I'm not sure we'll survive anyway, but this is the gag I wrote 12-13 years ago, and I stand by it:

Flora Bannerworth thinks that Italy is beautiful this time of year

Flora Bannerworth is GOING OVER A CLIFF O NOES!!2!

Charles Holland is saving some random girl he's never met before from certain death-----

Henry Bannerworth likes this-----

George Bannerworth likes this-----

Mrs. Bannerworth likes this

Henry Bannerworth has invited Charles Holland to join The Quietly Penniless Bannerworth Family

And thus, 620 words later, we are introduced to Charles Holland, Artist by Profession, Traveling for Instruction and Amusement, Loved by Everyone (But Especially Flora). Literally, he saved her from a terrific stormy abyss, into which she nearly damseled into off a cliff, and surely would have perished thereunto. Charles Holland then had Somewhere Else to Be for two years—but when he gets done with Something, at Someplace with No Address, he will absolutely come back and look Flora up at Bannerworth Hall! So we definitely cannot move, y'all.

With one exception this was the state of affairs at the hall, and that exception relates to Mr. Marchdale.

Ah: Mrs. Bannerworth's childhood sweetheart, failed suitor, and "distant relative"—shoulda been her cousin, Marchdale, you would've had a far better chance. While we're here, I should tell you my theory about why so many heroines in nineteenth century literature end up marrying their cousins. (An unparalleled example: Louisa May Alcott's Eight Cousins and its sequel Rose in Bloom, in which the Campbell family waits breathlessly to see which of a HERD of male cousins young heiress Rose will marry. She chooses the nerd.) I think it's because cousins were allowed to interact like siblings—that is, like friends—whereas mere acquaintances were held apart from young women by a certain degree of convention and propriety. Courtship was often ridiculously formal, particularly as the century wore on. So, for a writer, it would be really appealing to have a male character in place that your heroine can even just be around, someone the reader can witness her having an emotional relationship with—not just a superficial introduction, then a perfunctory proposal. So it's far more narratively satisfying to go with "the cousin we've known for the entire book" instead of "cousin's random friend we saw three times." Even Charles Holland rapidly gets promoted to—well, we'll get to that.

Instead, Mrs. Bannerworth "had, as is generally the case among several admirers, chosen the very worst: that is, the man who had treated her with the most indifference and who paid her the least attention." Not to mention, a dissipated gambler. Good to see that, even back in the day, the Bad Boy Fallacy was already in effect.

So, after the Very Worst turned up dead in the garden, Marchdale renewed his attentions to his old flame and distant relative, the Widow Bannerworth:

It might have been some slight tenderness towards him which had never left her, or it might be the pleasure merely of seeing one whom she had known intimately in early life, but, be that as it may, she certainly gave him a kindly welcome; and he, after consenting to remain for some time as a visitor at the hall, won the esteem of the whole family by his frank demeanour and cultivated intellect.

Marchdale (we are told) is well-traveled, courteous, spins a good yarn on a dull 1840s night, and has "a small [financial] independence of his own," so he's actually better off than the family hosting him, and finds ways to support them. This is the Bannerworth household, all told, and they're making it work. Sometimes a family is a widow, her three adult children, her cousin-suitor, and his crowbar.

Such then may be considered by our readers as a brief outline of the state of affairs among the Bannerworths -- a state which was pregnant with changes, and which changes were now likely to be rapid and conclusive. How far the feelings of the family towards the ancient house of their race would be altered by the appearance at it of so fearful a visitor as a vampyre, we will not stop to inquire, inasmuch as such feelings will develop themselves as we proceed.

Well—wait. What? "Altered by the appearance at it of"? What the hell is this? God, it's like the literary equivalent of a speed bump. Anyway: all the servants promptly quit. Sorry—the feelings of the domestics inasmuch as the domestics could afford to have feelings were inevitably altered towards the desirability of the wages paid thereunto by the appearance of a fucking vampire. Ugh. Nobody wants to work these days.

(Chapter 7 will go up Friday, March 31.)

#varney the vampire #vampires #recaps #long post #vampire studies

77 notes · View notes

mephinomaly · 7 months

Text

[TL] PYSCHOBREAK/Chapter 2

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Time: A few hours later

Location: In front of the AIIE testing facility

Rei 2: —Welcome, gentlemen of UNDEAD.

I’ve been waitin’, waitin’ for the day I get t’meet the ‘real ones’ face-to-face.

Rei: Oh my—

It appears that our prediction has come true.

Kaoru: T-these guys are more normal than I thought they’d be.

Rei 2: Oi, Kaoru~, shut it for a sec, yeah? The real ones are talkin’?

Kaoru: Uegh, don’t tilt my chin up with your finger? That’s totally disgusting!

It’s worse that it’s Rei-kun’s face doing something he’d never do - literally so gross!

Adonis: It’s called the uncanny valley. I discovered the term whilst researching AI. Humans feel a sense of unease in response to humanoid robots.

It’s most likely caused by the brain’s memories and ability to recognise being at odds with reality, creating an uncomfortable feeling.

Rei 2: Who cares~~, I’m talkin’ to the real Rei.

Stop tryna add unnecessary shit to the convo~, little guy.

Kaoru: …This fake Rei-kun is kinda mean. It’s nothing like you?

Rei: There is something disturbing about this. My apologies for fake me having a bad attitude…

Kaoru: Isn’t it better that you’re actually talking? Look, over there, there’s more fakes—-I don’t think they’re gonna say anything though?

Kaoru 2: ...

Adonis 2: ...

Koga 2: Haa? The Fuck you coMplainin’ ‘bout? I’ll fucK YoU all UP, shitty AssHoles!? [1]

Koga: Why’s it jus’ fake me that seems like he’s got the lowest IQ!?

Koga 2: Huh? Bastard, you makin’ fun of me? I’ll bite you so hard you’ll die!?

Kaoru: Wow, it's been a long time since I last heard you say that. You used to say things like that all the time～

Rei: Fumu… As the fake version of me is doing the ‘oresama’ persona, I assume these are based on old us.

Rei 2: Ahaha. Jus’ a week long experiment ain’t enough time to do a proper deep dive inta ya brain.

We ain’t got the technology to imitate the latest versions of you.

Kaoru: Guess that’s a good thing? Makes it easier for us to tell them apart.

Rei: Umu. As I had with the dreams during the AIIE experiment, I’m rather embarrassed to see such youthful enthusiasm from myself.

Anyhow. More importantly, who on earth are you guys?

Rei 2: Don’t you get it? You’re me. Naha, good boy Sakuma Rei-kun ♪

We’re HELLSING, you guys are the fakes.

We’re AI idols, born from the AIIE experiment.

More specifically, we’re mechanical bodies with you guys’ brain data installed into us.

Kaoru: That’s what I was thinking but, this timeline doesn’t match up?

Rei: Quite. According to these records, HELLSING was created when we were participating in the AIIE experiment— within a day of us being sealed away from the outside world, HELLSING began its activities.

Kaoru: Right? It’s too early for that to have happened. Unless they already had fake versions of us before the experiment began.

Adonis: I see. Perhaps they were able to install our data via the internet or something.

I don’t understand why our fakes would begin idol activities without waiting for the experiment to be over.

Koga: It doesn’t even make sense, this is fishy as hell.

Rei 2: Yeah, we don’t get it either. We’re machines, slaves to humans. We can’t do anythin’ unless we’re programmed to do so.

We operate on programming alone, not instinct.

Kaoru: I guess if we want to figure out what’s happened, we’ll have to ask whoever manufactured and coded these guys.

Rei: Umu. Forgive me for this, but they are nothing but marionettes.

Koga: But, who created these things?

During the experiment, we had robots servin’ us food, but nothin’ like this-–nothin’ like robots with livin’ people’s faces.

They claimed it was to stop unnecessary stimulus but—don’t ya think that was kinda weird?

Rei: I was under the impression that the plain-faced boy was Mashiro Tomoya-kun. However, those were most certainly not real.

We accepted the experiment proposal via HoldHands, and were guided through the entire experience by machines.

There must be an éminence grise of sorts, who is taking advantage of us for profit—-though at this point in time, I cannot say who.

Kaoru: They told us AIIE was a secret project in ES, so it’s probably some higher-up in ES.

[ ☆ ]

this was a sentence to read. He mixes hiragana and katakana more viciously than youll ever see natsume do

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

#ensemble stars #enstars #translation #undead climax #pyschobreak #rei sakuma #koga oogami #adonis otogari #kaoru hakaze

20 notes · View notes

jawritter · 2 years

Text

You’re Enough

Summary: Dealing with anxiety can be tough, and sometimes thoughts can be louder than someone screaming at her, but Beau is there to pull her out again.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reader

Word Count: 1914

Warnings: Anxiety, Self-Hate, Somewhat Suicidal thoughts and Tendencies. Self-Conscious Reader. Reader is just not in a good mental state. Fluff.

A/N: This fic is completely unbetaed, please do not copy my work. Feedback is golden! I hope you enjoy this fic!

Masterlist

The house was quiet. The only sound that filtered through the dark living room was the sound of the television playing softly in the corner, something Y/N wasn’t even paying attention to. At this point, it was just on for the background noise. She had been far too caught up in her own head to even register what the man in the suit was saying.

What was loud and obnoxious were the voices in her head. The ones that repeatedly screamed insults at her from everything that had to do with her weight, from her hair color and length, all the way down to her personality. The very same ones that told her she would never be good enough to make Beau happy, or to keep him, because Jenny and Cassie were so much prettier than she was. The one that said that the only reason Beau was her boyfriend in the first place was because he needed a rebound to distract him from the ex-wife drama he was having when he first got to Big Sky. That he’d never love her, and never would, because no one ever did love her, everyone hated her, and she was nothing but the butt of everyone’s joke.

She picked up her phone for what felt like the millionth time in an hour, noticing that it was after 10 PM, and she knew that Beau would be coming through the door soon, or at least, he was supposed to be if nothing at work went extremely backward, which lately it had the tendency to do. He was getting home later and later at night, and when he did get home, he was tired. He didn’t need her anxiety and self-hating depression issues weighing him down. That would run him off faster than she was probably already going to lose him.

She knew that she should probably just let him go, but honestly, she love him, and she was selfish, and no matter how much it hurt, no matter the damage it would cause in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to let him walk away, or tell him to leave, so she’d hold on to him as long as he’d let her, because what choice did she have really?

Beau was a good man. He was strong, sensitive, handsome, everything she felt as if she didn’t deserve. Surely, he would get tired of her eventually. Hell, she didn’t even want to live with herself at this moment, why would he want to keep coming home to her? Eventually, she knew he’d stop showing up, she just knew it, and she was more and more afraid every night since he’d taken over working as Sheriff that tonight was the night he’d never come home.

Unable to sit and look at the door and wait for it to open any longer, or sit and stare at the phone, she turned the television off with a huff, and let her dragging feet take her to her bedroom, where she’d planned to collapse on her bed, and just wait in misery, and hope that, if for some reason there was a God that was merciful out there, she’d just go to sleep and never wake up, because Beau and everyone else would be better off if she weren't around.

Cassie always made him laugh, they were friends before Y/N and Beau had even gotten together, bonding over a loss she didn’t understand, that was a part of him she’d never be able to relate to, no matter how much she tried. Surely, he’d be happy with her.

Or maybe even Jenny. She was a strong, attractive woman. Definitely more in his league than she’d ever be. Maybe he’d be happier with her? Jenny was a mom, Y/N wasn’t. She could relate to some of the things Beau had to deal with and was feeling concerning his daughter and past marriage. Y/N couldn’t relate to that. She’d never had any children. Fuck, she was fourteen years younger than Beau was. To him, surely, she looked childish most of the time. Those women were more his age.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear Beau come in the front door, or even in the bedroom, until she felt the bed dip, and she jumped and turned quickly to see Beau freeze on the spot, apparently, he’d even snuck around and took a shower, and she hadn’t even heard him, she was to in her head.

“I’m sorry,” Beau said before settling down and pulling her into his warm embrace. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you were asleep.”

It was too late to hide the wetness that dampened her cheeks when he pulled her into him, and he froze as soon as he noticed that she’d been crying, hell, she didn’t even remember noticing that she had started to cry, it was such a natural state lately.

“Hey,” he said, turning just enough to flip the bed side lamp on so that he could get a better look at the state she was in, concern filled those apple green eyes that she loved so much, and fuck if that didn’t just make her feel worse, he heard enough stress in his life, he didn’t need to carry her shit too. “What’s wrong sweetheart, why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing,” she tried to brush it off as he quickly worked at whipping away any lingering tears with the pad of his thumb. “Guess I’m just really tired, and hormonal or something, it’s close to that time of the month and—”

“Bullshit,” Beau cut in, and Y/N looked down immediately as a fresh wave of emotions hit her in her chest that already felt too tight. “Darlin, you’re looking at the King of making excuses to downplay shit right there. I literally ended up having to go to grief counseling because of it. Don’t downplay it. Talk to me. It’s why I’m here. I love you, and if there’s something wrong, I want to help. That’s part of being partners, in a relationship, when things get too heavy for you to carry around on your own, that’s what I’m here for.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, doing her best to keep her emotions under control, but it was a losing battle. Everything she had felt so far. The anxiety, the depression, the body image issues. It had all been bottled up for so long, it was going to come out one way or another, and Beau was asking her to be honest with him, he said he loved her, she could see the obvious concern in his features, she owed him at least her honesty. He was always open with her. She knew she needed to do the same but getting that first word out when it comes to talking about your feeling is always so fucking hard. Even if she knew once she started, the rest would come.

“Beau…” she tried, swallowing back against the tightness that wrapped itself around her throat like a vice, and Beau pulled her in closer, tucking her into him, and just held her there as tightly as he could. Instantly she felt safe. Instantly she felt not as empty and alone. “I just… I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you. I see you with Cassie and Jenny, and you’re so fucking far out of my league. I don’t deserve someone like you. I don’t really have any friends to speak of other than you. I’ve always been the odd man out. I know it’s only a matter of time before you see it too, and I’m just sorry I’m not what you deserve. I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I’m sorry I’m a burden to everyone.”

“Hey,” Beau voiced, leaning her head back and brushing her hair away from her face where she’d hidden herself in the crook of his neck. “Where’s this coming from? Darlin, none of that is true. You’re more than enough. You’re more than enough for me. Honey, you're more than what I deserve. I never thought you’d actually like me back, that’s why it took me weeks to even get the balls to ask you out on our first date! Cassie and Jenny are awesome, and they’re talented and they’re my friends, but baby girl you’re the one I wanna come home too. They don't hold a candle to you. You’re smart. You’re funny. You put up with my shit when I promise you no one else would. There’s never been a moment when I felt like you weren’t there for me. I’ve never wanted more than what we have right now. I’ll never want more than this. It’s everything I’ve always wanted and never could have; you are everything I will ever want. I’m sorry I don’t tell you that enough, but baby I love you. I love you, not some other women. You’re fucking gorgeous, and you’re all I’ll ever want to see.”

Beau reached up and wiped the tears away that made their way down her cheeks before pressing his lips softly to her own, and just like that, the tightness melted, the shaking stopped, with one kiss, he was able to wash it all away and put her back together again. He was all she’d ever need. He was all she’d ever want again. It was a comfort to know that at least one person out there had her back, even if no one else did, and she’d rather no other person than Beau Arlen. In her eyes he was perfect, and in his eyes, she was enough.

Sure, those old thoughts and fears would come back, they always do, but he’d be there to pick her up again and again, no matter how many times it took. Because he did love her, and he did want to spend the rest of his life with her. She wasn’t perfect, but it’s the imperfections that make one beautiful. What they had was real, and no matter what it took, no matter how long it took or how much time it took out of his day, from then on Beau made a vow to himself to never go to bed at night without telling her he loved her, or how beautiful she was, or how she was more than enough for him, because sometimes, a person just needs to hear that. Sometimes, you just have to help one another carry the weight when it gets too heavy

“I’m gonna take a vacation next week,” Beau announced as she laid her head on his bare chest in the dark, safe little cocoon of covers they had created for themselves. We’re gonna get out here for a while, drive out to California, watch go see the coast, just spend some time with each other, just me and you, how does that sound?”

“You could take me to a tent in the middle of nowhere and as long as you’re there with me, that’s all I need,” she answered, and Beau laughed, throwing his head back against the pillow before turning and capturing her lips again in a sweet, lingering kiss. The kind that always stole her breath away.

“Then it’s a date,” he said, resting his head against her own, and holding her tightly to him, determined to never let her go.

“It’s a date.”

Forever:

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe

@jensenslady79

@wittysunflower

@spnwoman

@stoneyggirl2

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@deanssliceofcherrypie

@stixnstripesworld

@fullwattpadmusictree

@meela86

@maggiegirl17

@nancymcl

@christycreature

@whiskey-infused-dreams

@leigh70

@supernatural79impala

@deandreamernp

@forgetthisbull

@miraclesoflove

@slamminmine

@deanwanddamons

@rvgrsbrns

@chevyharvelle

@i-love-superhero-movies

@lyss-dw79

@magssteenkamp

@lemondropirwin

@squirrelnotsam

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@defenderrosetyler

@screechingartisancashbailiff

@thecreatiivecorner

@vicmc624

@busy-bee-angel-misska

@justanotherwinchester

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@idksupernatural

@lyarr24

@amandamdiehl

@emoryhemsworth

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel

@flamencodiva

@coldmuffinbanditshoe

@itmejado

@supernatural3002

@teresa-67

@thoughts-and-funnies

@hearteyes-j2

@peaches007

@bobbie3939

@lunarmoon8361

@vulgar-library

@writercole

@fairlyspnfanfic

@sexyvixen7

@spngi

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@donnaintx

@maliburenee

@the-family-business67

@agirlwithdemonblood

@captainsoldiergirl

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@impalaslytherin

@perpetualabsurdity

@msmarvelouswinchester

@akshi8278

@love-jackles

@irmcpar

@pink-sparkly-witch

@siospins2

@herstarburststories

@mimaria420

@deanwinchesterswitch

@shawnie74

@charred-angelwings

@pascal-rascal424

@myloversgone

@fortheloveof-jackles

@eevvvaa

@bts-spnlvr12

@jxackles

@lassie-bird

@samsgirl93

@slytherinlyn314

@kaz11283

@mlovesstories

Jensen’s Babes:

@smoothdogsgirl

@sexysirius

#you're enough #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #beau x y/n #bea x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #big sky fanficiton #jensen ackles fanficiton #jensen ackles fanfic #jawritter

345 notes · View notes

anxious-alastor · 2 years

Text

Haven't I given Enough? ‖Pt. 1‖ Albert Wesker x Reader

Angst (??) AU, Nameless/genderless reader, however this is very much self indulgent (was gonna be an OC/self insert at first) Shorter than I intended but I got too excited for other fics and wanted to get this one out ^u^'

Wesker had revealed a brainwashed Jill, an already heavy situation on Chris' shoulders even before being attacked by his partner. Even fight his ass. Chris and Sheva practically got thrown around the chamber ruins. There was no use in shooting at either of them as it turned more into a waste of bullets.

"Seven minutes is all I can spare." Wesker shook his head, disappointed but motivated to do his absolute worst to Chris. This, however, only told the BSAA member that he had to survive those seven minutes.

Chris' eyes went wide as he saw another familiar figure dive in front of him. His heart was pounding.

"What the hell is this Wesker?!" He roared.

"Don't you recognize your old STARS members?" Wesker tutted, "Or is it that you were only coming here for Jill?"

Chris appeared as though he had been slapped. Sheva glanced at her partner before aiming intently at Wesker.

"We'll be taking both of them." She sounded certain, though her confidence was somewhat lacking. The mastermind picked up on it quickly, a slight chuckle leaving his usually pursed mouth.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. However, I'm on a time limit and feeling generous, you may choose one. Choose who to reject my cure and choose who becomes a God." It was cruel, just as he had always been cruel. As he had casted aside his old team for the power he gained as an ally to the Umbrella Corporation.

"No.. No I can't choose, what kind of a sick joke is this?!" Chris snarled. His anger only made his old Captain laugh.

"It's no joke, Chris. Now Choose, lest I change my mind."

The cold eyes of the brainwashed peered piercingly at Chris. Neither showing any emotion. Could they hear him? Could they understand what was happening? He hoped not, hoped he could save one now and return for the other.

Chris looked hopelessly between the two, before sighing in defeat.

"I choose Jill."

•••

The pain in your chest had spiked . Wesker smirked at Chris as he stepped towards the two. Putting a firm hand on your shoulder while using the other to increase Jill's intake of the p30 drug. You only caught a glimpse of her as she screamed and writhed in pain before Wesker escorted you into the elevator.

"I suppose you expected more from the loyal Chris Redfield." He kept the grip on your shoulder. You thought he was upset about losing one of his experiments but there was something... different.

The moment he had spoken the words, it sunk in that you had been left, given up, and in that moment you couldn't separate the idea of what Chris said from Wesker's betrayal all those years ago.

Whatever dull pain you felt from the mind control drug was nothing compared to this. Your vision became blurry as tears welled in your eyes. Wesker seemed intrigued by the reaction, how were you able to show emotion even while under control. Just as the elevator doors opened, his hand twitched in his pocket and you could feel the sudden administration of p30 right into your chest. Like Jill you screamed, stumbling out of the elevator and hitting the rail that kept you from falling off the side of a cliff. Wesker merely followed, watching with interest as you managed to open your suit and claw at what looked like a bug on your chest.

"Resistance is futile." He laughed coolly, upping the dosage further. Yet this didn't have the effect he intended.

Another shriek racked through you, this time a name,

"CHRIS!!"

Your fingers dug under the apparatus as you saw red whilst ripping it from your body. You threw it at Wesker's feet before collapsing. He took note that it wasn't a cry of pity.

"Impressive." Wesker muttered, removing his glasses. "But I'm afraid that was for nothing. I'll simply reapply the device."

"No.. you won't.." you coughed, your hand finding the rail and using it as support as you stood up.

"And why is that?" His eyes remained fixated on you.

"You don't need a drug to get me on your side... I've always admired you, Albert, the Captain of the STARS Alpha team... Until you betrayed all of us.."

"You're beginning to sound like Chris." He remarked dryly.

"Chris doesn't understand... I saw you before Jill tackled you. Where he saw destruction I saw renewal, a cure, a god." Your words rang neatly in his ears, a perfect reflection of his own. Perhaps you were messing with him, trying to stall to escape later.

"Why should I believe you."

"Because I want Uroburos. I want to feel what it's like to be a god. Excella wants you for the money, maybe even the sex—" he raised an eyebrow but you went on, "I want the world."

A smile graced his face, twisted and ambitious as he scooped you up in his arms.

"Then you shall have it."

#Albert Wesker #albert wesker x reader

121 notes · View notes

dutchessofcaladan · 2 months

Text

Ghostbusters: Soul Resurgence

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3! This chapter's gonna be a bit more exciting than the last 2. We're also getting a new character! Once again, hope you guys enjoy and as always, a big thank you to @phantomoftheparadise0002 for beta-reading this!

Summary: When the spirit of Sumerian sorceress Ahassunu, daughter of Vigo, possesses Alexis, the Ghostbusters must band together to determine the fate of the world

TW: Some language, paranormal violence, major character death (don't hate me)

Translation for Sumerian:

Ma me nekel, ma su petu inu sessu kunkkum, ma annitu, rabum girabum. Ma inu utu emu salmu kima labasu, ma ina nanna emu kima saleme. Ma inu tamtu samsum isatum ma inu elenu maqatu:

And I looked, and he opened the sixth seal, and behold, there was a great earthquake. And the sun became as black as sack cloth, and the moon became as blood.

Ina nabu sina basu daku…dayyanum suluppu:

The prophecy to be fulfilled...judgment day

Alka:

Come

Taking another sip from his drink, Elis sighed, pulling out his phone. Jumping as it began to ring, he quickly answered.

“Hey, Ray.” He sighed again. “I was just about to call you. Do you have any idea where Alex is? I've called her five times already.” He froze, hearing Ray inform him about what had been going on. Quickly paying his tab, Elis raced to his car.

Arriving at the Firehouse, Elis immediately went inside, causing everyone to stop mid-movement. “What the hell happened?!” He shouted. “One minute I'm sitting in a bar, thinking my girlfriend of 3 years somehow forgot our anniversary, and the next I'm being told she's been possessed by some ghost and is going around blowing up buildings around New York.”

“Dr. Cristiano,” Ray said in an attempt to calm Elis’ nerves, “we have everything under control.” He sent him a reassuring smile.

“Under control? What do you mean?” Elis could feel his heart beginning to race.

Heaving his pack into the Ecto-1, Ray explained, “We’ll restrain her using our packs while Phoebe and Lars fire up the PSD-”

“PSD?” Elis asked, feeling lost.

“Portable Separation Device. All admit, it's not a very snappy name but-”

“Separation device?!” Elis nearly screamed. “What the hell are you going to do to her?!”

Ray sighed, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder in an attempt to calm his ever increasing anxiety. “To even have a chance at saving Alex, we would need to separate the spirit from her.”

Elis nodded. “So, it’s safe, right? You’ve used this thing before?”

The look on Ray’s face was enough to cause Elis’ anxiety to return three-fold.

"My God, you haven’t even tested it, have you?!” His eyes were wide with fear.

“Well, no-” Ray began, not wanting to lie to him.

Quickly pulling his shoulder from the older man’s grasp, Elis’ hands flew to his hair, frantically running through the short strands. Blinking tears from his eyes, he asked, “So, so you have no idea if this thing will end up killing her?” He whimpered.

“No.” Ray admitted, no longer able to maintain eye contact.

The pained whimper that left Elis shattered the hearts of the team as they stood, stock still, only Janine going to comfort him.

“We’re gonna get her back.” She soothed, running a hand up and down his back as his tears dampened her jumpsuit. Turning back to the rest of the Ghostbusters, her gaze switching from one to another until it landed on Ray, who’s eyes now glistened with fresh, unshed tears. “Fight like hell and bring her back.” She commanded, voice faltering slightly.

Ray nodded, heading towards his bike as the rest headed to the Ecto.

The street had become complete chaos. People had abandoned their cars in the middle of the street and had begun to run in an effort to survive.

“Alka.” Alex commanded, her voice echoing in their heads.

The commotion ceased as the crowd turned and followed the order they’d been given. Slowly lowering herself to the ground, she began to speak.

“Ma me nekel, ma su petu inu sessu kunkkum, ma annitu, rabum girabum. Ma ina utu emu salmu kima labasu, ma ina nanna emu kima saleme. Ma ina tamtu samsum isatum ma ina elenu maqatu.” Looking out at the crowd, she smirked, enjoying that she had 100s under her control. “Ina nabu sina basu daku…dayyanum suluppu.”

“Dayyanum suluppu.” The crowd repeated.

With a raise of he hands, the souls of the crowd fled their bodies, transferring their life-force to Alex. Just as the ritual had finished, the siren of the Ecto-1 could be heard approaching fast. Watching as the car screeched to a stop a few blocks away, Alex became intrigued.

Firing up their packs, they created a barrier between Alex and the Ecto, where Phoebe and Lars continued to work on the PSD.

Stepping to the front of the group, Ray began to speak.

“Alexis!” He commanded.

Her sneer turned to him, slowly morphing to a smirk.

“In the name of the city, county, and state of New York, I command you under the National Invasive Species Act to depart this world immediately and return to your place of origin or to the nearest parallel dimension.”

This time, there were no snide remarks from Peter. No jokes. Each member of the Ghostbusters knew the severity of the situation. The power that this spirit had was unlike anything they’d seen before. Not in Garraka. Not in Vigo. Not even in Gozer.

Alex’s smirk grew as she began to levitate.

“Light ‘em up on 3! 1! 2!”

Before Ray had even finished the countdown, Peter had fired his pack.

The group stared in shock as, with a wave of her hand, Alex froze the proton stream in place.

The world went silent, seemingly moving in slow motion as she curled the stream back towards Peter.

Before anyone could react, a strangled noise left him as the white-hot energy stream ran through his chest.

“Venkman!” Ray shouted, catching him in his arms as Winston shut off the stream. Applying pressure to the wound in a vain attempt to save his friend, he watched through tear clouded eyes as Alex watched with a malicious glint in her eyes before flying off.