#because the companies could be leaving something out

[forbidden-sunlight]

A small piece inspired by fellow yandere writer @somerandomdere. If you’d like to read the original material, I will leave the link to it here. Special thanks to @yourdoorisunlocked and @f4turemom for their feedback!

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and ACTION!

warnings: delusional thoughts, stalking, obsessive behavior, gender-neutral!reader.

Imagine a yandere!actor who had gotten his foot in the door as a side character in a legal drama series at the same time you had made your own screen-writing debut. 

He had worked two part-time jobs and struggled financially until the producer for the show declared him to be perfect for the role he and three others had auditioned for. His manager was surprised that he had landed a part during his first year with the talent agency an old college buddy of his had recommended checking out. It was the producer who had introduced you to him, the rookie writer of the episode he debuted in. Contrary to his own humble beginnings, however, you came from a well-off family and you had landed the job through your father’s connections. 

Something that everyone despised you for, because you weren’t like them. They thought you didn’t work hard and had another person on the team write your scripts while you drank pina coladas by the poolside of your home in Beverly Hills and took all the credit. 

If that were truly the case, then why did you show up for each table reading and scribble down notes, whispering to your colleagues before sharing ideas with the director once the sessions were over? Or be seen at cast calls and left at the same time as the rest of the cast and crew? It was rare for anyone to find a good work ethic, let alone being completely committed to their craft and actually enjoying the whole process even if they made mistakes.

A networking system was vital in show business, sure, but what if your father had only provided you an opportunity to be introduced to the right people, and you put in the time and effort to prove that you had what it took to be under the spotlight.

Yandere!actor found out for himself when you offered to help him to go over his lines in the back booths of 24-hour diner when filming was done for the day. The red circles that the director made on the scripts where his speaking parts were in the areas he needed to improve on by the next session or else he’d be out of a job, deprived of a second chance to be on the big screen.

“See here where the bad guy is supposed to be standing after the evidence of their crime is being brought to light, fueled with anger and believing that they still did the right thing?” You said, tapping against the page. “Instead of looking at him in fear after he slams his hands against the witness stand, look at him in disgust and disbelief. Like how could someone who was your brother’s best friend, his partner at the company they started together, kill him for money that would get him out of the debt he owed to the crime boss. The camera will be on you during that scene, so your facial expressions will be crucial.”

“So, no tears of sadness?”

“That might be a bit overboard unless the director thinks it works for the scene. She’s kinda picky about characters staying in characters, proclaiming that without them that the plot would be ruined. I do agree, at least to that extent.” You smiled at him, flashing a thumbs-up. “You’ll do great though. I’m sure of it.”

Your confidence in his ability and advice saved his ass the following morning during shooting. The director approved the final scenes with a thumbs up, congratulating the staff on finishing the episode in a timely manner and ending the day early.

That was probably when yandere!actor realized there was something special about you.

The weekly viewer ratings for the episode you wrote skyrocketed to over 7 million, and it only increased whenever you were tasked with writing each upcoming episode, right until the season finale. The only thing he regretted was not asking for your phone number or email to stay in touch on the night before he had to return home.

Years passed, and he became a big star in action, horror, and romantic/comedy movies. He bought his groceries at an organic marketplace, had two properties in different cities, he wore designer clothes, and had a walk-in closet filled with shoes of his favorite brand. He was to leave for Italy in a week for another big picture to be filmed, a spy thriller.  You were supposed to be there too, and he could not wait to see you again even when the last time he worked with you was just a month ago on the set of that sci-fi epic in Sydney, Australia. The trailer is supposed to be premiering at San Diego Comic-Con but you wouldn’t be on the stage answering questions by his side. Just the director, producer, and his fellow co-star Michelle Wang that he’s been dating to promote the project. 

It’s really a shame that he can’t tell the director to sod off since he is the star of the movie, so of course he has to be there for the fans or else there would be some serious backlash on Instagram or Tik Tok. 

He just hoped that the new rumors on social media about you being in a long-term, romantic relationship with a stunt guy are false. After all, no one knew you like he did. And how he wished he realized that he fell in love with you sooner so that you wouldn’t be stolen by some nameless schmuck. How can you be an award-winning screenwriter and have almost no social media footprint for him to keep tabs on?

Taglist: @suiana @lu-zo-san @pinkgoldweebgirl @hotnbloodied @c4xcocoa @tonightwrites @facelessfionna @losersiren @sarcastic-cookie @sweetbatherodonkey @valeriinee @obsessedwithromance @diannaflight @cassanderasblog @ixchelhernandez4 @abelheilonwife @yandere-writer-momo @yandere-dark-cupid @persephone-kore-law @aiimee9 @reiivven @mochinon-yah @nunezs-stuff @slowlyswimmingmoon @dreamlessnight @ghostdoodlen @vivyolite

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #yandere!actor #yandere imagines #yandere imagines x reader #ns.fw #cw delusion #tw delusion #tw stalking #cw stalking #gender neutral reader #gn!reader

[charliemwrites]

Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison. 

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #hades and persephone inspired #soulmates #john soap mactavish #captain john mactavish #kate laswell

[stars1997]

Alone with you

Paring(s): Quinn Hughes x Fem! reader

Warnings: SMUT!!! (18+), car sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, mild hair pulling, desperate Quinn.

(Not edited)

Summary: The lake house has been packed with friends and family. Y/n and Quinn have not been able to have any alone time. The guys ask you to go and pick up some food and drinks for them. When you get back Quinn helps you unload the car. This then leads to you and Quinn in the backseat.

Authors note: thank you guys so much for voting. I will be holding another one soon. but here is the story you guys voted on!

____________________________

You have been staying at the lake house all summer. The whole summer the house has been packed with friends and family. You and Quinn have not been able to have any alone time together. Not even your room is free of people. Poor Luke has to sleep on an air mattress in your and Quinn’s room.

Every time that you do have some alone time together Quinn literally gets pulled away from you. Anytime that you have something planned the other guy’s somehow end up tagging along. You have a date planned, nope that has now become a group hang. Even if they don’t know they somehow find where you are.

You don’t really have a problem with it, the guys always include you in whatever they are pulling Quinn away for. You know that it’s been so long since the boys have gotten to hang out because of their schedules, so you always let them take Quinn away from you. sometimes it just gets frustrating.

_

“Guys I want to hang out with my girlfriend for a bit. Leave us alone.” Quinn says trying to push them away from us. The couch cushion next to you now occupied by Cole. You give him a smile and he’s quick to return it.

Jack grabs Quinn’s hand and try’s pulling him up off the couch.

“Don’t worry Quinn I’ll keep y/n company.” Trevor said as he sits down in between Cole and you.

“No, you won’t dick head. We need an even amount of people for the teams. Y/n can sit on the lounge chairs out there and she can watch you play.” Jack says giving his best puppy dog eyes.

“As long as he’s shirt less.” You say, giving him a smirk. He lets out a little laugh.

“I can be shirtless as well Y/n.” Trevor said, trying to remove his shirt but Luke was quick to pull it back down.

“Seriously dude you got to stop.” Quinn says. Luke gives him a pat on the back.

_

You guys were outside for three hours before the boys were done playing basketball and chose to go swimming instead. Quinn told them that he was going to go change into his bathing suit and that he would be right out.

“Y/n can you go to the store and get us some beers?” Trevor asked you as he takes off his shirts and tosses it onto one of the chairs next to the pool.

“Yeah, and some food too. like chips and dip.” Jack puts his hand on your shoulders.

“Why do I have to be the one that’s going?” You question them. They all look at each other and run and jump into the pool. You throw your hands up to protect yourself from the splash.

“Because we are all in the pool. We don’t want to get the car all wet.” Luke says. You shake your head at them and walk into the house to get your keys. You yell out the back door for them to text you what they want.

“Hey where are you going?” Quinn’s voice stopped you. You turn around to see him walking towards you.

“The Guys asked me to go and pick up some food and drinks for them.” He pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you.

“Do you want me to come with you?” His thumbs make circles on your back.

“No, its ok. But will you help me unload the car when I get back?” He nods his head, leaning into kiss you.

“It’s been so long baby. I need you so bad. All the guys have been such a huge cockblock, especially Luke because he’s staying in our room.” He try’s pulling you closer to him if that’s even possible. You could feel his boner pressing into your thigh, his swim shorts not doing much to hide it.

His forehead rests on your chest as he continues to hug you. You give him a kiss on the top of his head before you start to pull yourself away from him.

_

When you got back to the house you were quick to text Quinn. It didn’t take him long to meet you outside. He was very quick to unload the car, that it felt like you didn’t even bring anything in. You were still outside at the car closing all the doors when a pair of arms wrapped around you.

Quinn kissed your neck, sucking and biting at it. He turned you around so now your chests are touching. His lips quick to find yours. He pushes you back against the car, his lips still on yours.

“Surprisingly the one thing that we still haven’t crossed off are list, car sex.” He says his lips now on your neck again.

“Yeah, but here? I was thinking more of doing it in the parking garage after winning a game” You can feel his lips move into a smile against your neck.

“Who says that we can’t still do that. But the guys have been driving me crazy, I haven’t gotten a chance to even hang out with you alone for like more than an hour. Its driving me nuts not being able to be alone with you.” His hands run up and down your sides. He pushes his waist into yours.

Your hand reaches for the handle of the door behind you. A smile forms on Quinn’s face again. He’s quick to pull you away from the door, opening it so your able to climb in.

He turns to close the door, turning back to see that you have taken off your shorts and shirt. Leaving you in nothing but the bathing suit you had on underneath.

“Turn around for me baby.” You did as he said. Grabbing your hips and pulling you back into him, his boner now poking your thigh.

He pulls the bathing suit bottoms to the side. One of your hands on the arm rest the other on the window. He takes his cock in his hand, slapping it on your ass a few times before lining himself up.

“Fuck. God baby I’ve missed this it’s been too long. I think I’m going to get us a hotel for the weekend and just fuck you till your dumb.” He thrusts his cock into you hard and slow. His hand reaches around you to play with your clit.

“God Quinn. Please go faster.” Your breath fogs up the glass. The car already starting to feel a lot hotter than when you first got in.

“You’re doing so good for me.” He leans forward kissing your back. His hand still working your clit.

His thrusts pick up speed, the sound of his skin hitting your mixed with heavy breathing are the only thing you can hear. He moves his hand from your clit to grab a handful of your hair, pulling so your back is touching his chest. One of your hands on the head rest the other now on Quinn’s thigh.

Thankfully the house has a long driveway surrounded by trees so no one will be able to see what is going on. The car now moving along with Quinn’s thrusts.

“I’m going to cum. Be a good girl and cum with me.” You nod your head. Your grip on his thigh tightens. You let out a loud moan as your orgasm builds up. He brings your head back to his lips can latch onto your neck. He leaves marks along your neck as he continues to thrust into you.

“Quinn. Yes, keep going. I’m going to cum.” It didn’t take long for you to cum. Quinn’s following right behind yours. He lets out a grunt as he bottoms out, shooting his cum into you. He turns your head and kisses you hard on the lips.

“That’s my good girl. The guys are probably getting suspicious so we should head back inside.” You nod your head.

_

You and Quinn walked inside to see the guys already eating and drinking what you bought them.

“Guys we were just looking for you. we were planning on going to the diner down the road. Do you want to come?” Cole asks. You nod your head sure.

They guys were quick with getting dressed. Everyone making their way into the car. Quinn and you in the front seats the rest of the guys in the back.

“Is it just me or is it sort of muggy in here… wait is that ha handprint on the window?” Trevor says. You let out a little laugh.

“eeeewwww.” They guys all say at the same time when they realized.

#hockey smut #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes #qh43 #vancover canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n

[klemen-tine]

Blowing Raspberries Part 2

Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic

@jaythes1mp Finally the 2nd part is out! A bit short but I genuinely felt there wasn't much needed.

Part 1

TW: Child Neglect and just Yandere themes

Living full time with the Waynes was different. It shouldn’t be, because he’s lived here before. Even if it wasn’t permanent, he still knew the ins and outs of the manor and the daily lives of each member of this family. 

He watched the television numbly, feeling Dick’s fingers carding through his hair and twisting and twirling each lock. The difference was the Wayne family. Underneath the smiles and gentle gestures, Y/N could see the underlying desires and wants in each movement. A desire that Y/N has seen art collectors view paintings that are not in their collection. The want and need to have it with them at all times. 

Y/N could almost see it. In their eyes, he was no longer the brother that came and went, but now a piece of the collection that they had bought from the original collector. 

‘I’m being dramatic.’ Y/N thought, focusing back on the movie and trying to ease his fears about everything. Just because they bought the company,which he was still better about, does not mean they own him. They would never do that to him. 

He also believed that about them buying the company. 

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Dick asked, peering down at his older brother who was looking dazed. Y/N smiled, “Just thinking.” 

“About what? Maybe I can help.” Y/N smiled and Dick, and when Dick smiled back, there was absolutely no way that Dick could do that to him. 

“About this situation.” Dick looked confused momentarily, “What situation?” Y/N blinked in shock, digesting the words before slowly sitting up so he could face his brother, “This situation. Me being here indefinitely now, the family company is no longer mine…” 

Dick cocked his head to the side, “There’s nothing to think about though.” Y/N’s smile was tense as he processed what Dick said, “Yes. Yes, there is Dick.” Blue eyes continued to stare at him in confusion, “Like what?” 

“...Seriously?” Y/N sat up, and for a minute, he felt Dick’s hands tighten in his hair before they let go. Dick furrowed his brow before realization crashed into him, “Oh! You mean living here!” Before Y/N could say anything, Dick leaned against Y/N’s shoulder, “What’s there to think about? The only difference is that you are now living here 24/7.” 

Y/N chuckled, “Just because you guys bought the company doesn’t mean I live here.” Dick’s gaze turned cold before he began pouting, and Y/N had wondered if he momentarily hallucinated it. Dick let out a loud groan, “But you can’t leave! Y/N, what on earth are we going to do?” Y/N laughed, “The same you have always done, Dickie. Besides, for what it is worth, I’ll be here for a few more days.” Dick smiled up at him, “You better be. Dropping contact like that.” There was something dark in his voice that Y/N chalked up to him still being upset. 

Y/N continued to chuckle, his attention now returning back to the t.v. They watched it together for hours, browsing through different channels and watching different shows. It was just like when they were younger, Dick leaning against Y/N who flicked through the channels. Only now, there was an arm strategically looped with Y/N’s, and the man could feel the muscles underneath Dick’s skin that although weren’t flexed, they were a little tense. 

Almost like Dick was expecting Y/N to leave. It was kind of unsettling.

“Master Y/N, your father is on the phone.” Y/N looked up at Alfred with a confused look, “Okay, thank you Alfie.” Dick’s grip tightened momentarily before he released his hold and let Y/N get up from the couch. Alfred passed the phone to Y/N, and he had a moment of confusion as to why his father called the Wayne landline instead of Y/N’s phone 

“Hello?” 

‘Why the hell aren’t you picking up your phone?!’ Y/N pulled the phone away from the phone momentarily, letting his ears ring before placing the phone next to his other ear, “What are you talking about? You haven’t called.” 

‘Do not lie to me Y/N! I have been calling you for days, and I expect an answer!’ Y/N’s face morphed into confusion as he pulled out his phone and looked at his notifications, “Father, I am seeing no calls from you.” Y/N flicked through their messages, phone logs, even voicemail but there was nothing. 

He heard his father sigh irritably on the other side of the line, and Y/N fought back a shiver. Taking a deep breath, Y/N stilled his racing heart and continued the conversation, “Okay, since you have me on the phone, what is it that you wanted to talk about?” 

‘The bloody Waynes!’ There was no way Dick didn’t hear it, but a quick glance at the man and he was on his phone. Returning his attention to the call, Y/N’s father was still screeching and yelling about the family. 

‘-and you! You probably helped them out with that!’ 

“Me?!” 

‘Yes you! You don’t think I don’t know about you running to that manor whenever I am gone? Ridiculous! It is your fault the company was bought!’ Y/N felt heat rise to his cheeks and fire lit in his chest, “You were the one who signed the papers! How is it my fault?” 

‘You idiot! Do you think I had a choice?! If it weren’t for you, that company would still be mine!’ 

“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice?” Before he could answer, another person  joined in on the call, ‘Mr. L/N, to what do I owe the pleasure of you having called my manor phone?’

‘Mr.-Mr. Wayne.’

“Bruce?” He could hear the other hum, ‘Y/N, you can hop off. I need to talk to Mr. L/N.’ The heat in Y/N’s chest dimmed, and instead ice began to fill his veins, “Um, no it’s okay Bruce. I can talk to him–” 

‘Y/N.’ There’s a way he said it, one that left no room for arguments, that had Y/N blinking in shock. His body frozen and eyes wide, he pressed the button without really thinking about it. It wasn’t Bruce who said his name, but Batman. 

Y/N wanted to call back and tell Bruce off, but Alfred was quick to take the phone away and someone had grabbed his hand. He met the exhausted blue eyes of Tim,  and worry eclipsed his feeling of irritation at the sight of those bags under his eyes. 

“Oh my God, Tim! When was the last time you slept?” Y/N herded his younger brother to the couch where Dick was still sitting and gently plopped the teen between the two of them. Tim groaned, collapsing against Dick who wrapped his arms around his younger brother, “Wednesday.” 

“It's Sunday!” 

“Oh.” 

“What do you mean ‘oh.’” Y/N shook his head and did everything in his power to make Tim comfortable enough for him to get some sleep. Which wasn't hard. As soon as Y/N threw a blanket over his thin body, Tim had knocked out against Dick. Dick was content being a pillow for his younger brother, having his arm resting on Tim’s body as the other continued to sleep. 

Y/N hummed, smiling at his younger brothers and placing his phone call with his father on pause. 

++++

The strangeness of his current living situation wouldn’t come to light again until a few days later, when the bruises have turned yellow and the feeling of being restricted started feeling like a collar around the neck rather than iron bars. Y/Ns had tried, multiple times, to leave the manor. While he does see the manor as home, it doesn’t replace the other manor he grew up in. 

“I’m not a captive, I can go and I am going home.” He stared into Damian’s blazing green eyes, the youngest Wayne being the one to stand in the way of Y/N and the door. Damian’s face in a scowl and his arms crossed, he glared at his oldest brother. 

“You cannot.” His voice clipped and short, and Y/N wanted to roll his eyes, “Dami, why can’t I leave?” 

“Because you belong here. Everything you need is here.” 

“I understand that Dami, however the L/N Manor is also my home and I need to go back to it.” Damian shook his head, “No you don’t. This is your home.” It was like Y/N was talking to a parrot who kept repeating the same sentence over and over again. No matter the amount of reasoning or explanations given. He fought to bury his face in his hands, and instead he opted to suck on his cheek in irritation. 

“You’re making it sound like if I leave, then I am not coming back.” Damian’s green eyes steeled and his nose scrunched in a way to fight off a pout. Y/N furrowed his brow, wondering where this tantrum was coming from. Damian was above tantrums, finding them childish and pathetic, however he wasn’t above pouting. Y/N had gotten used to Damian’s pouting faces, and even  knew how to combat them. 

However, this whole thing was new. Not once has Damian ever fought this hard for Y/N to stay. 

“Damian, what is going on?” Y/N stared down at the boy, who looked like he had swallowed a lemon. He swiveled his head around when he heard footsteps approaching the foyer and sighed in relief that it was Alfred. 

“Alfie, what on earth is going on?” The old butler raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps we should have this conversation over some tea.” It was said in a tone that Y/N knew not to argue with, and he gave Damian one last glance before following the older man into the dining room where a tea set was ready for them. 

Y/N buried his head in his hands and groaned, “Alfie, what is going on in this household?” The near silent clink of a porcelain cup being placed in front of him had him reaching for the delicate handle. The butler sat next to Y/N, reaching for his own cup and taking a small inhale of the steam that was carrying the scent of oranges and chocolate, “They are being a bit difficult.” 

“A bit?” Y/N let out a chuckle and stared at Alfred in shock, “Dick is acting like I don’t have a manor to go back to, Tim is being Tim, Jason pretends he can’t read on his own and wants me there when he does decides to pick a book from the library, and now Dami.” Y/N tapped the table with his fingernail, feeling the frustration digging into his skin, “Bruce is the worst of them. Asking a wall to change colors is easier than asking Bruce to be honest.” 

Some part of Y/N was still bitter over Bruce acquiring the L/N family business, and he was trying desperately to understand it from that man’s perspective. Key word was ‘trying’ because he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Bruce knows how much that company means to Y/N, and how hard Y/N had worked for it. 

Sure, Bruce says he can still manage it, but it means nothing if the company is not his. He’d have to answer to Bruce and Tim. Just thinking about it pisses him off so much. 

Alfred nodded, “Oh trust me, I know. It seems they all inherited his stubbornness.” The manor’s residential grandfather figure understood each inhabitant perfectly, watching them grow up into the people they are today. 

Y/N groaned, sipping the hot tea and sighing as the liquid warmed his throat and chest, “Like, is all of this a joke?” Alfred rested a hand on his shoulder, and Y/N could see the apology in his eyes. He sighed heavily and returned his attention forward, tracing a finger around the rim of the tea cup and staring into his own reflection. 

It was all a joke. It had to be, right? “Y/N.” He looked up and Bruce was standing in the doorway. His expression relaxed, but Y/N has been around the man long enough to know that those tense shoulders are those prepared to give less than savory news. Alfred removed himself from the table, and Bruce took the seat next to Y/N. 

“How have you been adjusting?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, “There’s no adjusting Bruce. Every one of you is making it seem like I am going to stay forever.” Bruce gave him a sad smile, and Y/N glared at the look, “What?” 

“Y/N, your father sold the manor. There is no L/N estate anymore.” The floor feels as though it is opening up and about to swallow him whole. Y/N could feel his heart stop and the air leave his lungs like it was a punch. The world going blank and his eyes could only focus on the painting behind Bruce’s head. 

The manor was sold? His home, and everything in there, gone? Just like that? 

Faint memories of giggles and smiles filled his mind, his memory unable to conjure up the face of his mother but he remembers her laugh. Back when times were good and his father wasn’t an asshole. When he didn’t have to seek comfort in the arms of his neighbor and try and fill the hole in his chest with lost boys and girls that he sees as his siblings. 

All of it was gone. 

“-uca, I need you to breathe.” There’s a hand on his arm, the chair is no longer under him. Y/N can see blue eyes staring into his own as he began to realize that they were on the ground, sitting. Or, more like Y/N was sitting and Bruce is kneeling. His face pulled to the center of his face with worry, and Y/N is only now aware of how fast he is breathing. 

His hand reached towards his chest and clutched the fabric of his shirt, trying desperately to find something to cling onto as the air continued to get pulled out of his lungs. He couldn’t feel his legs or his other arm to be exact, and the when he tried to voice that all that came out were gasps. 

“Y/N, can you hear me?” A nod. 

“Good, I need you to find five things you can see. When you do, nod for me.” Easy, it was such as easy task but Y/N still found difficulty focusing his vision enough to see even at least three things. However, he finally found it and he nodded. Relief flooded over Bruce’s face, and he gave an encouraging smile, “Good. That’s amazing Y/N, now find four things you can hear.” 

That is how they spent their next few minutes, Bruce counting down the five senses while Y/N slowly came to his. Once he could feel the floor beneath him and more movement in his limbs, he sagged forward and into Bruce’s arms. 

“I need to call him. I need to call-” Bruce’ phone was already in his hands, and Y/N didn’t even question why it was Bruce’s phone and no his. 

He dialed a number he had memorized by heart and held the device close to ear. The damn thing didn’t even ring, ‘I’m sorry. The number you have dialed has either been disconnected or no longer exists–’ 

A sob on his lips as the weight of it all began crashing on him. The family company gone, the manor, and now this. It was like the universe wanted to take everything that made him a L/N  gone. 

“Y/N, I am sorry. I don’t know why he did that…” Bruce consoled the son that was never his. Always within arms reach and always a mile away. Always a brush on the fingertips but never in their hands. Until now. 

Finally, after so many years of waiting patiently for Y/N to see, here he is in his arms. Here is their strong oldest sibling crying in his father-figures arms because his real father wants nothing to do with him. It took some encouragement, but finally he was theirs.’ 

Bruce held him tight, his strong arms wrapped around those soldiers that carried too much, and blue eyes met green. Damian stood in front of the door and he watched the interaction take place. A nod to his son and the youngest was gone, without a doubt moving to go and tell the others of the news. 

It took ten minutes to get Y/N off the floor and onto the sofa in the lounge room, where Jason and Dick were waiting for him. After passing him to their waiting arms and better worded promises, Bruce carefully peeled himself away from the Y/N and began making his way back to his study. 

One thne doors were shut, he pulled out a phonme and began to a dial the most recent number. They picked up on the first ring and Bruce couldn’t help but to smile, “Mr. L/N, thank you for all you have done. Y/N is now in good hands.” 

“...My son–” 

“Will be happier. You have done your role, Mr. L/N.” He listened as the other seethed on the other side of the line, “Mr. Wayne–” 

“Rememer your side of the contract Mr. L/N. No more contact with Y/N, and you get to keep all this money you earned from selling both the business and the manor. You can continue to live out your days in Cabo, with your other family.” 

The line went silent, and when he head the shaky exhale, Bruce smiled victoriously, “Take care, Mr. L/N. For your sake, I hope we never speak again.” He hung up, and Bruce couldn’t help but to smile. Finally, after years of watching and waiting, it has finally all come togethe. The final link in the chain forY/N to remain here. 

It was hard getting Mr.L/N addicted to Cabo, and evern harder to get him to find someone worth marrying and staring a family with. However, it all paid off. The business was his, and Y/N will still manage that, and the L/N Manor is now Bruce’s which he’s not too sure what he’ll do with. 

Maybe a surprise gift for Y/N, but then again, that would mean Y/N would be leaving again. 

“Hey Bruce, we’re gonna watch a movie soon to help Y/N feel better. Did you wanna join?” Tim’s voice was muffled through the doors, but Bruce heard them nonetheless. He smiled as whe opened the door, “Sure, its important we are there for him during these times.” 

He’s finally with his real family. The family he should have been with from the start. 

______________________________________________________

And Scene

@problematicreblogger

@kurai-hono-blog

@rosecentury

@jaythes1mp

#batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #batfam #bruce wayne #platonic batfam #platonic batman #batfam x male reader #yandere imagines #yandere #batfamily x reader #batfamily shenanigans #jason todd #dc robin #red hood #yandere dick grayson #yandere bruce wayne #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne

[pradaax]

Twisted

Song Mingi x Reader 18+

What could possibly go wrong with sleeping with your boss’ son?

Your red bottoms clacking as you entered the company, the stares didn't go unnoticed to you. You could say you always did enjoy a bit of attention.

You passed by the security and into the elevator. The doors opened showing the hallway that leads to the office of the man you weren't happy about seeing.

You didn't bother knocking and entered the office, there he was in the chair with his unbuttoned shirt with a girl in her bra and a drink in his hand. "Why are you here?" He clicked his tongue placing his drink down.

"Scram." You demanded your eyes bruised on the girl who started to pick up her clothes from the floor and ran out the office. You strolled up to the him. "Did he send you?"

You ignored him, your eyes running around the office room that smelt like cigarettes and sex. A disgust look took over your face when your eyes landed on him.

You worked for Mr Song, Mingi’s father. You were loyal to him, he was your role model and you were proud to work for a hard working man who worked so hard to build a company from nothing to where it was now. A big corporation in Seoul.

Mr Song was a gentleman but his son was a totally womaniser though that wasn't the only reason why you loathed him it was also the fact that whatever his father built would come down to the ground if Mingi stayed like this.

It was a well known fact that he would always bring in different women to the office almost everyday but no one dared to say anything because the man also had anger issues.

"You need to put a stop to this." You warned throwing the files you were holding on the oak brown desk. "The sales have dropped by 15% and Park’s corporation is no longer wanting to partner." He lazily opened one of the files, scanning it before looking back up you since you were still standing.

The hatred feeling between you two was mutual, you both didn't like each other or even handle being in each other's presence. Mingi didn't like the fact that his own father trusted you more than him or how he treated you as if you meant something more than him.

"This has nothing to do with me, numbers dropped before I was in charge." Mingi’s voice hit your ears and you almost wanted to laugh at the stupid mark he made.

“Stop fooling around, you’re the CEO of Song corporation now. Grow up, Mingi.” Your statement made him poke the inside of his cheek with his tongue and raise a brow. He stood up stepping towards you.

“You have some confidence on you, walking here telling me what to do and what now. I don’t know if you have been sucking my father’s cock but-”

The slap that had just landed on his face cut him off. He scoffed titling his head, his eyes not leaving yours as yours danced between his. Mingi had crossed the line. “Don’t ever say sick things.”

You turned to leave but the sudden grip on your wrist span you around. Your body was pressed against his one. You stared up at the taller male before you had the chance to say something, his slender fingers wrapped around your throw pushing you back to the couch.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your eyes widen as you fell on the couch, his fingers only tightening. Mingi leaned over, he was only inches away from your face. Anger in his eyes and the smell of whiskey was lingering around your nose.

“Should I be the last face you see?” A creepy smile making its way to his face. His eyes growing as your face turned red, he was crashing your windpipe. Your hands wrapped around his wrist trying to loosen his grip but that didn’t work and you took the opportunity to dig your nails into his neck too.

“G-Go to hell.” You managed to spit out, his eyes only darkening more. A wince leaving his mouth when your nails dag deeper.

The door opening caught both of your attention. San strolled in with a frown on his face and his hands in his pockets. “Did I walk in at the right or wrong time?”

Mingi’s grip loosened and he stood straight rubbing his neck. You coughed gasping for air, your throat suddenly dry.

“I won’t even ask.” San informed, you glared at the taller man in the room before standing up and heading to the door. “Yes go run to Mr Song.” Mingi’s voice was heard before you slammed the large wooden door close.

You pulled out the ringing phone and it was Mr Song. You put it on your ear hearing his cheerful voice.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“He’s out of control, Mr Song. Sales have dropped by 15% and the Parks no longer want to partner.”

“I will take care of him, go back to see him in 3 days.”

-

You took a deep breath before opening the large doors. It was night and no one was in the company besides some security who had let you know that Mingi was still in.

The office was dim and the chair was facing the city lights outside the large window. Mingi didn’t bother turning around. Your heels clacking in the silent room.

You bite your lip, this was a bit unusual. “Mingi?” He didn’t answer but you knew he was there, the chair might’ve had a long backrest but you could still see the man’s hair. You flicked the lamp near him on. You frowned moving even closer trying to see his face.

You almost gasped when his features came in sight. His lip was busted, a cut on his eyebrow and cheek and a light bruise around his eye. Mingi’s attention went on yours. He had a drink in his hand that he had now placed down and a bloody handkerchief.

“What happened to you?” You were now in front of him, looking down with concern drawn over your face. Your hand reaching out to the first aid kit next to him. You quickly pulled out alcohol wipes, you dapped it on the cut on his cheek making him wince. “Sorry.” You mumbled.

“Why would you get into a fight? The press conference is in a few days!” You stated purposely pressing hard on his cut. “He scratched my car, what did he expect?”

Your mouth almost fell open at the stupid excuse to start a fight. “Let me guess, I should see the other guy?” You glared at him, he let out a small laugh. It was your first time seeing him genuinely laugh making him bloom. “Read my mind.”

You started to clean the cut on his lip, the silence was comfortable for some reason. You felt his stare on you but you ignored that and continued with your task though shortly Mingi gently grabbed your wrist pushing your hand away.

Your eyes met and it felt like he had casted a spell on you. You didn’t realise how close you really were to him yet you didn’t move.

“If you stay that close, I’m going to kiss you.” He softly whispered, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you because he started leaning closer you stood still like you were waiting for your lips to connect with his plump ones.

Mingi grabbed the back of your head closing the gap between you two. The kiss was anything but sweet. The taste of metallic in your mouth due to the cut on his lip but that didn’t bother you.

With his free hand he wrapped it around your waist pulling you down on his lap. You could feel his bludge growing by the second under you. Your hands wrapped around his dark hair, lightly tugging on it as you started to sway your hips making him let out a groan. Mingi pulled away latching his mouth on your neck, planting soft kisses down your chest as he took your blazer off and pulled your dress down revealing your hard nipples.

His thumb teasingly circled your nipple causing a moan to escape. He grabbed your tit and his warm tongue danced around the nipple before sucking it.

“Oh god.” You murmured tugging more on his hair, you haven’t felt anything like this in a while. You felt the wetness between your legs and wanted more.

You stood up dropping to your knees and unbuttoned his pants, with his help they were pulled down. You bit your lip seeing how big he really is.

You grabbed his length in your hand and Mingi had a fistful of your hair pushing your head down. “Spit on it.” He ordered and you did as so but he took that chance to shove himself down your throat.

You started to bob your head, your mouth fully stuffed with his cock. “Taking it like a good girl.” He smirked when you looked up at his face, your cheeks were rosy, your brows pinched together and your hair was messy since he was still tugging on it.

Mingi grabs your arms pulling you up in a second, he stood up and pushed you down on his desk. He lifted your dress up and ripped your stocking.

He moved your panties to the side as he leaned over you. “So wet for me.” He whispered biting your neck. Mingi took out a condom from his drawer and put it on after ripping off the package.

“Don’t flatter yoursel-” A moan cut you off when he positioned himself to your entrance and with no warning slammed into you, stretching you out.

“F-Fuck you.” You mumbled digging your nails into his shoulders, his pace was nowhere near gentle. “I’m already doing the fucking, doll.” Mingi licked your lips, grinning hard seeing the mess you were and how you barely were able to form words.

“I think I like you better when you’re moaning more than talking.” He purred against your neck, his thrusts not dying down.

He kept abusing your insides over and over. His hands were running down your body. He stood straight placing your leg on his shoulder and holding onto your hips keeping you in place as he kept slamming into you like there’s no tomorrow.

“You have a pretty cunt for such a horrible bitch.” He groaned watching how his length was disappearing inside you.

You pulled out the middle finger for him, you felt light headed from all the pleasure and the heat rushed through your body. You arched your back when he started to rub your swollen clit.

With one thrust he pushed himself so deep inside you, both of your hips now touching. No one’s ever been that deep and you loved it. Your legs twitched and you released over his cock. He jerked inside you with a groan you knew he was done.

He pulled out throwing the condom in the trash under his desk. Mingi fixed himself up, you were still on the desk unable to move. “Did I fuck you that good?” He smiled proud of himself making you roll your eyes.

He suddenly carried you making your arms wrap around his neck. Mingi gently placed you on the couch and covered you with the blanket. You felt sleep taking over you even though you didn’t want to sleep here.

“I didn’t get into a fight. I was jumped by Mr Song’s guard. Funny how my father shows his love to his son, right?”

Twisted

#mingi x reader #mingi imagines #song mingi #mingi x you #mingi x y/n #ateez mingi #mingi smut #ateez fanfic #mingi ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #mingi scenarios

[railingsofsorrow]

old habits

a/n: in honour of cm:evolution new trailer that I saw emily holding a pack of cigarettes.

pairing: emily prentiss x f!bi!BAU!reader

warnings/content: exes with feelings trope; smoking; past relationships; discussion about marriage and family being overbearing; this is sad.

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[part 2] [part 3]

━━━━━━━━━

“you're back at it?”

emily's head tilted to watch you approach from her peripheral vision.

you watched as her grey strands fell from her shoulder as she turned her neck.

one of the best things emily did was let her hair take on her natural colour, instead of dying it black continuously. she's beautiful regardless, especially with messy hair and her sleepy face as soon as she wakes up— and now you're spiraling.

your brain seemed to forget that she's no longer your girlfriend and kept on hunting you with memories you can't get back to.

she was playing with the pack of cigarettes as she admitted out loud, “mhm. trying not to, but—”

“you're stressed.”

her lips quirked up and she looked up at you, a hint of a smile. it wasn't a happy one. “that's one way to put it.”

you looked down at your shoes as you leaned to where she was sitting. eye contact was something you couldn't hold for long, it was hard and awkward. it didn't used to be like that. you could stare at emily the entire day and not look away for a second.

“what's stressing you out?” your voice was slightly muffled by the collar of your coat. it was cold, you find it absurd how emily never even flinched at the wind. she had always been warmer than you but had the coldest hands on earth.

“just needed some fresh air.”

you offered her a blank look.

she closed the lid of the pack, leaving it aside before she spoke again. if she did that out of respect for you or if she didn't felt like smoking anymore, you didn't care. both were good reasons.

“what's stressing you out?” she threw back.

“my mom called.” you eyed her hand for a moment, wondering if they were still as cold as you remembered them to be. clearing your throat and shaking your head to deviate your thoughts to a better and solid place, you said, “she wants to know when I'm going to visit because, you know, uh... she wants to introduce me to someone.”

a beat.

“oh.” emily let out a forced chuckle. “she wants to set you up with a guy.”

“precisely.” which is what your mother always did, even after you introduced emily as your long term girlfriend. her calls were always about finding someone good for you while you were in a relationship.

it was frustrating but you could handle it since you were never at her place anymore. you visited, yes, but five times a year, maybe. never more than that. you never told her you and emily had broke up.

“and do you want it? to meet him?”

a scoff left your lips, “no. it will probably be some religious prick who will want to control my life like my dad controlled hers.”

“she must be crazy about the idea of planning your wedding.”

you nodded, staring distractedly into the horizon.

“probably,” you said, “but it's never happening, so.”

“why would you say that?” you could see her frown through her tone of voice. “it can still happen.”

you leaned back slightly, inhaling with your eyes closed. your nose was definitely pink and you were starting you feel your numbers become numb, but the night sky and the quietness made you enjoy the moment.

and the company, of course.

“i don't want to.”

“get married?” she had a puzzled look while she studied you. and you let her profile you in that moment, even if you despised when she did that. “you used to want it.”

there are some things that are better left unsaid. in order for you to end a cycle, you have to do something to move on. so you say things that need to be said and leave out the ones that will come to the surface later. the what ifs.

you blamed the moon for your choice or words next.

“i used to want it, yes. when I was with you.”

you ignored the deafening silence that installed itself between the two of you, deciding to bask in the rare peaceful moment without seeing dead bodies and without hunting serial killers.

“i didn't know that.” she surprised you by breaking the silence. you thought she would've just pretended you didn't say anything and move on.

move on.

why is it so hard?

“you thought about marrying me?”

yes, please, torture me like that, emily prentiss. you're awfully good at that.

“emily, I thought about everything with you.”

“why?” she sounded genuinely confused.

“because I loved you.” you said matter-of-fact. “and I... you know what? I'm gonna head back inside. it's freezing out here.” you abruptly cut the conversation short. otherwise you'd say something you'd regret later and all the moving on you did in the last few years would go down the drain. a moment didn't change anything.

emily's icy fingers held you by the elbow and your breath failed for a second.

“i'm sorry.”

“no, don't do that.” you begged, pulling your arm back and out of her reach. you'd done that before, you remembered how you ended up. you're not going back there again.

she let you go, folding her arms across her chest as if she felt cold for the first time that night. she eyed the pack of cigarettes, taking a minute to remind herself of the progress she made for not smoking in the past months.

and your voice rang through her head as walked back inside the building.

“it's not good for you.” you said one night when she thought you were sleeping. your arm wrapped around her middle and you tucked your nose in the crack of her neck. she leaned back immediately, her body finding the comfort in seek in your warm touch.

she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth and stared at it. “i know.”

you kissed the back of her shoulder, rubbing softly the side of her waist. “why'd you wake up? nightmare?”

“yeah, I didn't want to wake you up too.” she grimaced, turning her head so your eyes could meet. you gave her an eye roll.

“you didn't but you should. I don't like you alone with your mind catastrophizing everything.”

and look how she ended up.

lonely. with her mind catastrophizing everything.

━━━━━━━━━

a/n: i need to write some emily fluff....

#emily prentiss x reader #lesbian emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfic

[sadslay]

- NIGHT CLASS ⋆☆ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings — fluff because steve deserves happiness, light nsfw content, reader is a single mother?

an — i neeeeeded this out of my drafts, it has been here forever MONTHS

steve had been attending the hawkins community collage for a few weeks, taking a business class his father had insisted he take to ‘better his future at the family company’. steve had also been watching you from afar since the very first class, his eyes always drawn towards you when they should have been focused on the blackboard. he remembered you from high-school, and since then you had only gotten more beautiful, more matured, something about you had changed.

it was coming to the one month mark since steve had joined the class and he was trying to think of all the ways to talk to you. from what steve could gather, you were far too invested in the class to be paying attention to him. steve had been admiring you for some time now and tonight was finally the night he was going to talk to you, strike up conversation and finally get over his nerves.

you always sat in the second row, the closest seat to the door, and you were always the last to arrive and the first to leave. steve had always found you mysterious, even back in high-school, but now, you were all the more intriguing. steve had it all figured out, for today was the day he’d finally talk to you. he was going to stop you before you had disappeared into the hallway and he’d strike up some sort of conversation that he was one hundred percent certain would come naturally.

but as the teacher gave his final words for the lesson, you were already packing up your things and before steve could even rise to his feet you had disappeared into the hallway. as quickly as he could, steve shoved his notes and paperwork into his backpack and walked - very quickly, almost ran - into the hallway to find you rushing towards the door to the main street. steve walked outside to find you running towards the bus stop, only for the bus to be flying down the road, completely ignoring your calls.

steve wasn’t quite sure what had come over him but before he knew it, he was calling out to you. “did you need a ride?” as you spun around to face the voice that had just called out to you, your eyebrows pinched together. “da-did you need a ride?” steve repeated, rubbing the back of his neck as he stayed in his place.

there were meters between you and steve, meters of empty space as you stood in silence. “it’s okay.” you shrugged, looking back at the dimly lit bus stop. the next bus wasn’t for another hour, but you had waited for it before, it was no big deal. “the next bus shouldn’t take long.” you lied, unable to entirely see who was calling out to you.

“are you sure?” steve asked, stepping into the yellow glow of the street light.

“steve?” you queried, stepping a little further as you finally recognized his voice and face. “holy shit.” you giggled, stepping forward a few more feet to offer him a friendly smile. “you’re takin’ business?” you asked, now finally a few feet away from steve as he stood completely dumbfounded.

“ye-yeah.” he stammered, a weak laugh escaping his lips in hopes to avoid an awkward silence, but a silence ensued as steves laugh faded. “hey, did uh- did you still need that ride?” steve asked, vaguely pointing in the general direction of his car.

you smiled, weakly nodding, “i live on the other-side of town is that alright?” you asked, your eyebrows slightly pinching together as you realized it might be out of his way.

it was totally okay. “yeah,” steve scoffed, “s’fine.” he shrugged, a friendly smile ghosting over his lips as he began to search for his car keys in his pocket. “where abouts?”

“uh,” you hesitated for a moment almost embarrassed to tell him where you lived. “in the trailer park.” you spoke quietly, following steve to the car park.

⋆☆

steve had been watching the classroom door like a hawk. you had been on his mind for weeks now, but more so now then ever. as of the moment, you were two minutes late and the professor was beginning to start the class, and steve was beginning to get worried. maybe you had missed the bus? maybe you we-

“sorry im late.” you apologized, walking into the class - looking tired and unprepared- before talking a seat beside steve. “did i miss much?” you asked in a hushed whisper as you began to pull out your notes from previous classes.

“no.” steve replied, warmly smiling as he watched you frantically pull out books and pages of work. “hey are yo-”

“mr. harrington do i need to remind you that this class is for people who actually intend on paying attention and being present.” the professor spoke, causing at least a dozen pair of eyes to look in steves directly.

steve nodded, giving the teacher an enthusiastic thumbs up before turning his attention to the notes. you smiled as you watched steve tap his fingers on his desk. you took a pen out of your bag and began to write a note on your pad of paper.

‘sorry i got you in trouble :)’

you handed him the note then turned you attention to the professor as he wrote the class plan on the blackboard. steve smiled as he read your note before shoving it into his pocket. as he turned his attention back to the professor, listening to their boring dull voice drone on, steve began to think of all the ways he could talk to you again and before he knew it, the class was almost over. he had wasted the entire class daydreaming about you, and all the ways he could ask you out. with five minutes left until the end of the class, steve began to construct his question, putting all of his thought and creativity into it.

steve tore the corner of his page before resting the small triangle of paper on the corner of your desk. you looked at steve as a smile began to creep onto your lips before taking the note, unfolding the delicate paper to read, ‘did you want to grab something to eat afterwards?’

shit. your smile quickly faded into a frown as you turned the small piece of paper over before you began to write a response. steve saw you place the paper on his desk, causing his breath to hitch. he unfolded the paper and saw one word.

‘raincheck?’

steve weakly, no, pathetically smiled before turning back to the professor. you had rejected him, by now steve has gotten used to the rejection of the people he often sought out romantically but this one was different, this rejection hurt. it also was not the last rejection. over the coming weeks steve had asked you a number of times to go out for dinner, a movie, even a study session but you always had an excuse. more often then not they sounded genuine, but it didn’t help the fact that every time you asked for a rain check, it felt like a kick in the guts for steve.

it was getting close to the end of the first semester, in fact it was halloween night and steve was still having little luck in wooing you. everyone within the class had gotten dressed up in celebration, most of the people were in fact attending a variety of parties after the class had finished, which left everyone in a good mood. steve had been watching you all class. he couldn’t quite figure out what your costume was meant to be, but that didn’t matter, you were utterly gorgeous.

you were wearing a cream silk dress matched with fishnet stockings and an old pair of doc martins. you and steve hadn’t spoken for a few weeks now, your interactions becoming increasingly awkward with the growing amount of rejections but that didn’t stop steve from trying think of a creative way to compliment your costume but he had gotten lost in his own world and before he knew it, the professor had dismissed everyone.

shoving his things into his bag, steve made his way outside. you were most likely already gone and far out of steves reach so he headed towards the parking lot with his head hung low, but as he reached his car, he heard your voice, causing his head to bounce up.

“fuck!” you cursed, watching the bus drive down the poorly lit street. “fuck!” you repeated, kicking a few loose stone that innocently laid on the pavement.

steve stood by his car, watching you closely as you kicked the ground and cursed. “need a ride?” steve yelled out, his arm resting on the top of his car as he opened his driver door.

turning around, you saw steve looking at you helplessly. you felt terrible using him for a ride but yet again you had missed the bus, and you were desperate. “are you sure?” you asked, beginning to walk closer to steve to avoid shouting across the parking lot.

“i wouldn’t be askin’ if i wasn’t.” steve joked weakly, his soul still admittedly a little defeated after your repeated rejections.

you offer steve a warm smile before wandering towards his car. steve got into the drivers seat and started the car as you pulled open the front passenger door, throwing your bag in the backseat before sitting in the front seat by his side.

“thank you.” you hummed, beginning to buckle in your seatbelt as steve pulled out of his parking spot.

“anytime.” steve grinned, hoping that things no longer had to be awkward between the two of you. he looked across at you briefly, noticing your dressed had hiked up, exposing most of your thighs before focusing back on the road. “neat costume.” he complimented.

letting out a soft laugh you asked, “you know who i am?”

“uh,” steve awkwardly laughed before bluntly replying, “no. but, you still look hot.” he smirked, turning out of the parking lot and onto the main street which led right into the centre of town.

a laugh erupted from your stomach before you began to evaluate steves costume, finding some familiarity in its design. “and who are you meant to be? hans solo?” you giggled.

“yes.” he answered immediately, almost excited you had correctly guessed his costume. “a few years back me and dustin,” he paused for a moment, realising you might not know who dustin henderson was before continuing, “some kid i used to baby sit went as hans solo and luke skywalker.” steve chuckled, remembering the night fondly.

for a brief moment you laughed along together, almost like none of that awkward tension had ever existed, but at your laughter faded you found yourself staring a steve a little longer then you should have which led you to blurt out, “did you wanna grab something to eat?”

steve wasn’t entirely sure he had heard you correctly. “dinner?” he repeated, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked across at you before focusing back on the road.

“ya-yeah.” you shrugged.

“sure, yeah totally.” he replied enthusiastically, ecstatic that you were finally asking him.

“something low key though.” you quickly added. “no enzo’s or uh-” you paused for a moment, trying to think of any other nice restaurants in town but nothing came to mind.

“no enzo’s.” steve repeated sarcastically, making you smile before he took a right turn. “low key, i promise.”

⋆☆

“i really needed this.” you hummed, picking up a few fries from the brown paper bag sitting between you and steve. “m’thank you.” you mumbled, your mouth full of food as you let out a soft giggle.

“anytime.” steve smiled, watching you as you grabbed another handful of shoe string fries. “so what finally changed your mind?” he asked, taking a sip of a brown bubbly soda from the red and white styrofoam cup. your eyebrows pinched together, confused by what steve meant. “s’just you’ve said no to getting dinner with me for ‘bout a week now.” steve weakly joked, trying not to sound too hurt by your previous rejections.

“uhm.” you frowned, finishing your mouthful of food before looking at steve with your full attention. “i was worried i’d scare you away.”

“scare me away?” he nervously laughed, knowing that there was nothing in this world that would scare him away. “trust me, if anyone were to do the scarin’ it’d be me.”

you let out a weak chuckle, amused by steves attempts to try make you feel better. “no.” you spoke softly, combing a piece of hair behind your ear as you whispered, “i’ve got a kid.” steve remained silent, completely and utterly dumbfounded by this minuscule piece of information. news like that had often spread like wildfire in hawkins, so to see steve sitting in front of you like a deer in head lights had told you that he was one of the few people that didn’t know. “please say something.” you spoke quietly.

“a kid.” steve repeated, his brain desperately trying to process the new information. “a kid?” he repeated, this time sounding more like a question.

you nodded, “some guy knocked me up the end of senior year, he skipped town once he found out ‘nd i’ve been on my own ever since.” you explained, weakly shrugging your shoulders as you continued to watch steve.

“wow.” he breathed. you wiped your greasy fingers on a brown napkin before noticing steved furrowed eyebrows. “why’d you think that would scare me?” he asked.

you shrugged, most guys you had mentioned this little piece of information to would bolt at the first opportunity. “most guys get freaked out.” you explained, now preparing yourself for an unbelievable amount of questions about your situation.

“whats their name?” he asked.

you were a little startled at steve unerving calmness, but you cautiously answered. “ashley. after my grandmother.” you paused for a moment to look at steve who was patiently waiting for you to continue. “she actually helped me throughout my pregnancy.”

steve put his styrofoam cup in his cup holder. “i bet shes adorable.” he smiled.

“she is!” you grinned, grabbing your purse from your bag and showing steve the small polaroid of you and your daughter on her first birthday. “i need to get a new photo, shes grown up so much.” you thought out loud.

a silence fell between you and steve as you shoved your purse into your backpack. there was something about steve that made you so comfortable around him, it wasn’t often that you found a guy from hawkins that was this genuine and accepting.

“so what happened to that guy?” steve asked quietly, very clearly asking with caution.

“he ran off.” you shrugged. “haven’t been with anyone since.” you giggled, taking a sip from your drink. steve just about choked on air making your giggle turn into a belly laugh. “shit sorry. to much information.”

he shook his head, managing to cough out, “no, no.” once steve had composed himself and your laugh as simmered down he looked over at you.

“sorry, i haven’t really done this since high school.” you added shyly.

“done what?”

“gone on a date? or whatever we’re calling this.” you spoke slowly, trying to avoid more embarrassment.

steve smiled, now realizing you were just nervous. “we can call it whatever you want.” he spoke barely above a whisper.

the air was thick and the corners of the windows were slowly beginning to fog. you and steve stared at each other, the tension between you was undeniable as your body instinctively moved in a little closer.

“i really want to kiss you.” you whispered, trying to hide your smiled as you blushed profusely.

steve moved in a little closer, his lips hovering over yours. he didn’t intend on teasing, or keep you waiting, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever be this close to you again and he needed a moment to admire and memorize every little detail about your face. but after what felt like a dreaded eternity, his lips finally connected with yours. at first he was soft, not going too fast but when your hands grasped onto his chest, he just about died.

and seconds later, kissing you with every fibre in his body, steve had one hand planted on your waist while the other held onto your cheek, pulling you closer. everything had happened so quickly, you almost didn’t realize when steve had pulled you onto his lap. feeling more and more desperate with every passing second, steve leant upwards, kissing you like it was his only purpose on this earth. you fumbled against steve as your fingers entangled themselves in his - perfect - hair.

steves hands inched their way up your thighs, his hands rubbing against the rough denim covering your warm skin. “this is moving so fast.” you moaned into his lips, your heavy breathing filling the small space of the car.

“muh- mah-maybe yeah.” steve breathed, his forehead resting against yours as your chests heaved.

you let out a soft giggle, your eyes wandering down to steves lips. “yeah, but fuck it anyways right?” you breathed, your hips wriggling with impatience.

“right.”

your lips almost instantly reconnected, hungrier and more passionate then the last kiss you had exchanged. soft moans and whimpers left your lips as steves hands attached themselves to your hips, guiding them. steve was hot to the touch. as his fingers slid beneath the thin cotton of your shirt, they warmed your skin instantly. slowly, your hands slid down from steves hair to grasp onto his belt, the very action causing a whimper to erupt from his throat. smiling into the kiss, your hands began to fiddle with the cool metal belt clasp. the windows of the car began to fog up, you we’re almost certain you could feel the car moving.

“ah,” a whiny moan fell from your lips as you continued grinding down onto steves lap. “are we rea-uh really doin’ this?” you asked, slowing your movements to create a euphoric sensation in your stomach.

“oh god-” steve whimpered, his head falling back as your hands grasped onto steves neck, your thumb gently rubbing his warm skin. “pla-uh i really hope so.” he breathed, his breath erratic like a panting dog as his hands slide down from your torso to the meat of your ass.

your mouth dropped open as your head fell back, the sensation of steves lips sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck driving you insane. “why, uh,” your hands slid up into steves hair, bunching it in your fists and your senses became overwhelmed. “why don’t we-uh go inside?” you giggled.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things 2 #stranger things au #steve harrington #steve stranger things #fan fic author #aot fanfiction #ao3 #fan fiction #fluff #spotify #smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n fluff #pregnant #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington needs a hug #steve harrington one shot #stranger things one shot #stranger things steve

[vickyvicarious]

Oh yes, the feeling that you have to rely to the creeper who you loathe so much that you have come to hate even the rooms he resides in, that he's not the scariest thing in your life, that you have to run to his arms for safety. Horror! Dracula claiming him was the high point of the entry (than the almost-bite)

Honestly, yeah. The dynamics between Dracula and Jonathan are so scary, to the point that all the supernatural events are the cherry on top rather than the main course, as far as the horror of this section goes.

Dracula does so much manipulation here, holds so many different kinds of power over Jonathan, and multiple levels of each too. He's got physical power - both in the sense of the castle being a prison, and in the sense of his incredible strength. He's got social power - as a noble, and as a client/boss. He's got monetary power over Jonathan too, able to potentially make or ruin his career. He has so much control over Jonathan's ability to express himself - he's the only company available to him, he's forcing him to keep up a pretense of friendship, he's limiting and controlling his communication with others. Jonathan has no escape: he can't go out of the castle because he's locked in, he can't go many places inside the castle because he's locked out of them, and now he can't leave the rooms Dracula wants him in because otherwise the vampire ladies will get him, and within those rooms there is nowhere safe from Dracula himself. Jonathan has seemingly no action he can take: if he sneaks around behind Dracula's back, a greater threat awaits. If he acts openly, Dracula's own threat may become realized. If he doesn't act at all, he's doomed. If he acts at all, he's doomed. If he trusts Dracula, he's doomed. If he doesn't trust Dracula, he's doomed.

Of course, the supernatural elements are the mechanics by which Dracula increases the stakes, the threats underlying the charming veneer. Specifically, the introduction of the vampire women is what puts Jonathan in this seemingly inescapable box, and one with potential threats to something even greater than his life.

But Dracula's playing this Bluebeard role and could have done so with some more mundane threat as well, without changing too terribly much about his own actions. Where he's scariest (at least to me) is in these interactions with Jonathan, in these manipulative webs and traps he lays out in his words, in the way he pushes so many boundaries until they're forced to collapse or warp under the pressure. Jonathan's privacy keeps getting worn away. Dracula's speech and touch get more familiar and more possessive. He started out the first night blaming Jonathan for the things he did himself ('oh, why did you make your conversation so interesting we had to stay up all night?') and escalates until now he's making Jonathan be the one to act, and to suffer the consequences: whether in forcing him to lie to his loved ones, or in dangling the bait of sleeping outside his room and then only barely saving him when he does. And Jonathan has no real choice but to act. To fail to do so, in one way or another, would mean giving up all hope at escape or likely even survival. But because he has to act, he winds up feeling complicit. He ends up in situations where Dracula thanks him, forgives him, saves him. It keeps putting them on seemingly the same side, with Jonathan in a lesser/reliant role. And that's all a huge lie, at its core. But in a very real way, it's true too, to an extent. More and more, he's getting layers of resistance scraped away, and having to seek safety from Dracula now is so, so horrifying. In many ways all he truly has left is his will to live, his internal determination to resist - and now he's been given powerful incentive not to trust in that latter part too much. It's absolutely brutal.

He's walking a wire that just keeps getting thinner and thinner. All he can possibly do is try to keep this balancing act going, and hope for something to change that will give him more options down the line.

#dracula daily #jonathan harker #count dracula #rikiteekeetavee #replies #dracula claiming him was nearly the worst part of the entry. but for me jonathan's thoughts about it after the fact are even worse. #and it's not nearly rock bottom yet!

[powerpuffobsession]

The whole Eden Lucifer-Adam-Lilith-Eve situation is kinda creepy. I see serious groomer undertones in it, given the difference in Lucifer's and humans' life experience (and to extent, maturity) at the moment

Imagine that you are an adult experienced angel who is present during the making of Eden and the birth of first humans. You also apparently want a wife. And to be a part in creation of Eden. What do you do? Find some female angel to marry and live your life with? Find an actually helpful way of working alongside elder angels?

Nope, instead you meddle with the lives of newborn and inexperienced humans in the most destructive way possible.

You could have helped them sort out their disagreements and actually taught them proper ways to behave. But you don't. You groom the naive female human into trusting you and then you encourage her cheating on the male human, causing trauma and insecurities to corrupt his personality in his first few years of living (the most influential in shaping a person's mentality). Thus you become partly responsible for the vengeful monster he will become in the future

More than that, you take away the female human's chance to live safely in paradise or on earth. Because of aiding you in your not-so-well-thought-out-plan (she didnt have any other choice, you and the male human were the only company she had), she is doomed to be allowed to only live in hell the rest of her life. And you knew that no one in heaven was going to give her the benefit of the doubt

As icing on the cake, you don't stop just on grooming and encouraging cheating, you don't leave the male human alone after you've already did him dirty and abandoned him... you come back and corrupt his new wife for some unclear reason (because your "whimsical" ideas of how you'd do a project elder angels know better how to carry out, are never even elaborated upon).

As a result, you doom not only these three babies in adult bodies but also the entire humanity to a terrifying life of fighting sinful outbursts, suffering, surviving, dying and risking ending up in hell where they'll be suffering for an eternity

I'm not sure if writers will ever hold Lucifer accountable for all this in a proper way. Probably not. But thinking about how much he fucked over first three humans makes me wish more depression on him

At this point, Lilith leaving Lucifer is not surprising. Imagine if after maturing and gaining life experience (and already giving birth to Charlie) she realized how her husband was practically using her. That could be why she left after doing her job of raising Charlie until she became an adult that can survive on her own

(I mean, it could be true if hazbin hotel was good at having the characters live through consequences of their actions and not just making Adam a scapegoat who is supposedly like Stella v 2.0 - evil ever since he was born and already inventing patriarchy with his very first breath. Like, all humans are selfish jerks when they are newborn - that's what parenting is for, shaping something more pleasant out of all that selfishness) (notice how the writing only focuses on how Adam was "bad" back in Eden)

(That also gives me a reason to judge angels in general - just a few narrative details really show how little they cared about the first humans' wellbeing and future. It's their fault too that Lilith ended up in hell and had to make some sort of deal to get a chance to visit her home/ Adam became an immature mentally unstable murderer/ and Eve... dunno, we haven't seen her yet)

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel eve #hazbin hotel

[moneymartin]

・❥・- just for you.

summary: kate takes her anger out on you after a hard loss. (more gentle tho cause she doesn’t have the heart to hurt you 😞😞😞) + lil bit of aftercare at the end ;3

warnings: 18+ ASFUCK! SMUT MDNI! strap on use… lol

RPF!

a/n: ik i been lacking recently but i’ve grown some more motivation to do something since i’m kinda stuck at home. also almost broke my arm yesterday hahah 🥸 also not much dialogue tbh i’ve never been good at that cuz i dont talk to ppl 😭 AND i didn’t know how to end sozzzzzz!!!!

it was the toughest lost of kate’s college career, especially considering the fact that it was her last year at UOI. the only thing she wanted was to have the championship title, just once. but the team couldn’t do it.

you saw her put all her blood sweat and tears onto that court. the way she tried to make as many shots, as many blocks as she could, and as many fouls as she could draw. the way you watched her cry while she walked into the tunnel absolutely broke you.

when she got home the air between you two grew extremely thick. you couldn’t tell if she was angry or even over it at all. she wasn’t crying, just real quiet. and being the good girlfriend you were, you didn’t bother to push any of her buttons, no matter how much you wanted to just keep her company.

kate would either be sitting on the couch, on her phone, continuously walking around the apartment, sitting in random spots on the floor, in the kitchen. she’d be anywhere and everywhere. all she wanted to do was get her mind off of it, for a little bit.

“are you okay?” you speak amidst the quiet environment that had been lingering for god knows how many hours. you didn’t try to speak either because it felt like she’d just ignore you or give you a nasty look cause she wasn’t feeling so good about it. “i’m fine.” kate murmurs and looks up at you from the clasped hands on her face. the tone she gives you makes it known that she isn’t.

“yeah, right.” a scoff leaves from your lips and the mood changes almost immediately. your eyes dart towards kate and the look that she’s giving you makes it feel like a million daggers are being dug into your back. her face stiffens up and so does your body when you realize that she’s 100% angry.

you know that it isn’t your fault, but now it really feels like it was. “do you think that’s funny or something?” when you hear that, it’s obvious that you’ve fucked up. you can’t muster up anything in response cause you know that it’ll make it worse. not for her, but for you.

but there’s just something about kate that drives you insane when she’s fired up.

“no.” you swallow.

“exactly! don’t fuckin’ go around and laugh about it, if it isn’t funny! are we clear?”

she grunts and lets out a heavy breath when you stand there all quiet and unresponsive. she hates that. its the one thing that makes kate tick the most, other than losing a game that important to her. “answer me.”

you don’t respond. and the look of anger on kate’s face grows much more apparent. “c’mon!” she groans and quickly slides off of the bed. her fingers grip at the collar of your shirt, her rapid breaths brushing harshly against your face.

she tugs your body up against hers and a small whine escapes from in between your lips. kate is giving those eyes that make you shiver all over the place. “y- yes, we’re clear…” you choke out and look away. you can’t stand seeing her angry but its also the fact that it turns you on too.

your voice makes it seem like you aren’t very sincere about saying that though, and that makes her tick even more. kate’s teeth grit together and a sharp breath makes its way through them, her fingers inching closer towards the waistband of your jeans.

“yeah? you sure?” kate teases and starts to unbutton them. her voice deepens and the cold air that meets your now exposed skin makes the shivers feel more like a billion daggers going through your body. her hands cup your waist, a newfound lust taking over the look in kate’s eyes. “doesn’t seem so sincere…” she husks out.

“i mean it! god, you can’t believe me even when i mean it the most.” you sigh and stare at the jeans puddling around your feet. when you bend over to pick them back up and put them on again, kate’s fingers wrap around your sleeve and she pulls you up, drawing a quiet ‘tsk’ sound from your mouth. “just… let me fuck your brains out until i get you to really mean it.”

she tugs you up against her again, her front subtly grinding against yours. and now you can actually feel it. her stupid fucking strap. your eyes dart towards hers momentarily before they inch away. the embarrassment you feel is incredibly strong. you’re wet, and now you can’t even look her in the eyes.

before you even get a chance to speak, kate’s hand falls on the dip of your back and you’re face first into the foot of the mattress. the side of your head presses against it again to get a breather, the sound of kate unzipping her jeans rapidly, and the tip of the strap making contact with your body.

one of her hands grabs both of yours and pins them backwards, the other hand trailing up and down your body and towards the waistband of your panties. in one swift movement, they’re off and on the floor. you have no clue where, but they’re somewhere in that room. as much as you’re trying to resist, you can’t

“c’mon, baby. don’t fight it, please.” kate pleads and leans over your body to bury her face into your neck. her teeth dig into the side of it and you let out a wince, struggling to move your hands while she keeps them in a lock. kate’s breath tickles at your skin while she pulls away, the hand she has on your waist moving away to line herself up with your entrance.

she doesn’t even give you a warning before she slides in. the only thing that makes it known that you’re getting absolutely filled up is the groan kate lets out when she goes in all the way. you let out a huge whimper and eventually start to feel it. “fuck!… oh my god.” you babble and feel kate leaning toward your face again, her breathing hitting your skin, leaving behind dark marks on the base of your neck.

the more you moan and whine into the sheets, the more it fuels her to keep going. she thrusts into you as hard as she can, her hand letting go of the two she’s been holding, and yanks at your hair to pull your head up. “you fuckin’ feel that, baby? that’s all for you.” kate grunts, smashing her lips against yours and pulling your hair again. “just for you..” a hurried ‘mhm’ escapes your lips, your voice left limited.

your whimpers mix into the kiss as you constantly punch at the bed the harder she drives into you. her teeth tug at your bottom lip and your head moves away the more you feel yourself start to sweat uncontrollably. hair sticks to the side of your head and to your forehead, kate gently brushing them out of your face to keep that prolonged eye contact.

“you’re so beautiful, i swear.”

“hmphh—! you’re going too-“

you get cut off the second you feel the turns in your stomach and the blood rush to your face. that familiar feeling burns brightly in your belly and the knot that had been there forever finally becomes undone. you end up finishing, the overwhelming sensation dying down almost instantly.

kate rolls off of you and notices the water buildup in your eyes, her thumbs running across the bottom of them to wipe them away. she lets out a small sigh and scoots a little bit closer to you, eyeing down the hickeys she left on your skin. “i’m sorry, baby.” she whispers softly and cups your face with her palms.

her lips connect onto your neck and she peppers gentle kisses all over each hickey. the contrast from her rough nature to eventually turning into that natural soft, sweet woman you fell in love with the second she sees you like this. “let me fix you a warm bath, okay? for the troubles.” she whispers in between smooches, her hand snaking up your shirt, and her nails dragging softly against your back.

“duh. you know just how i like it.”

“why would i not.” she lets out a scoff and pulls away quickly, a small smile crossing her face when you agree. “was that a scoff?” you mutter and raise your eyebrows. hers do too, and her lips narrow into a straight line. “what about it?”

well, that was the small thing that got you here in the first place.

#be gentle abt this one i know it lowk sucks #kate martin #kate martin x reader #wcbb x you #wbb x reader #wcbb x reader

[daistea]

regarding the possessive obsessive bf mithrun i imagine its to be expected that someone who hasnt had any desires for ?? years would get kinda intense abt the things theyre cultivating the ability to feel desire for !

RIGHT?? take my hand, walk into the light with me..

//Spoilers

Honestly, I headcanon that he was like that before the dungeon too. To an extent. There’s this post I like that implies that Mithrun didn’t actually truly love the elf girl from before, he just wanted to possess her because, you know, insecurity and complexes and brother issues.

He wanted to be loved, to possess, to feel worthy. I think that definitely could lead into possessiveness.

the most gorgeous boy in the world 🫣 kiss kiss smooch smooch, my little walking red flag

Anyway, post-demon those feelings go away. He still has emotions and a personality obviously. There’s still glimpses of who he was, but he doesn’t care about the old insecurities. They’re not there anymore. The inferiority complex is gone. He’s just Mithrun, demon killing machine, living only for one thing. I mean it’s canon that he’s already obsessive.

(I know the word ‘obsessed’ being used here is probably just translation liberties, but the idea still remains. If it’s genuinely ‘obsessed’ in Japanese though, I’ll be very pleased.)

I do think it’s possible to have a relationship with him at this point, but it won’t be conventional— that’s true of any relationship with him at any point in his life though. You’ll always be second. He’s not as invested, not as possessive, but I do think that’s just a natural part of his personality as well and it would still pop up on occasion.

THE MOST EVEN GORGEOUSER BOY IN THE WORLD 🥺 kiss kiss smooch smooch

Post-canon Mithrun has decided to live, to help make the broth in a stew or soup, to find use in himself. Yay!

I like the idea of Mithrun deciding to spend his life with someone simply because he enjoys their company, but my favorite thought is him developing a new desire— it’s not a simple desire for a relationship, though. It’s a desire for you. It’s very specific.

When Mithrun develops a new desire, he can’t ignore it. He needs it. He needs every ounce of it. If this desire is for a specific person, then he wants every ounce of them. This possessiveness doesn’t necessarily come from insecurity or inferiority like it used to. It’s from desperation and excitement. He trusts you. If he gets jealous it’s not because he thinks you’re going to cheat, it’s because he sees it and thinks, “They’re mine. Nobody else is allowed to have them.” It’s offensive that someone would even try to take you from him.

He wants his desire close to him. He’s clingy. He’s absolutely shameless. He doesn’t hide his feelings, but he doesn’t really say them out loud either, that’s just not how he rolls. He shows his feelings through actions. Are those actions genuinely unhinged sometimes? Yes.

You’ve got a friend who’s kinda worried that this elf guy is getting too attached? Mithrun has Cithis brain wash your friend into supporting your relationship so they don’t try to get in the way. Is that morally wrong? Don’t care didn’t ask

You want to do something very dangerous? Too bad, you’re getting tied to a chair so you can’t leave. Kick and scream all you want, he’s not risking losing you.

And he does it all with a straight face and no dramatics, too. They’re very normal things for him to do, obviously.

He’s very normal about you, obviously.

He wants every bit of your attention, every touch, every second, every year you have to offer. Does he say that out loud? No. But he wants it.

And when Mithrun actually wants something, he’s going to meticulously tear apart the stars one by one to get it. He hasn’t really wanted anything in 40-ish years. Doesn’t he deserve it?

#sighs dreamily #mithrun #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #asks #mithrun x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #mithrun of the house of kerensil #my writing #reader insert

[alpydk]

To @auroraesmeraldarose - I said I would write something romantic for you so here it is. With only a sprinkling of angst (because I just can't help it) - I present to you:

The List.

Romance/Angst/Mostly comfort (I hope) - 1397 words Gale x Tav (They/Them no description) - SFW

Gale had watched for some time how Tav had scribbled on the notepad before gazing into the campfire as if searching for the answers buried in the ashes. Their head would lift only to fall again, a word being written, then erased. It reminded him of his own days with a mostly drunk glass of red wine and a quill in hand, trying to come up with the next line of poetry that cause the lover to fall to their knees for him.

He slowly approached, his heart increasing its pace with the apprehension of what was to come. He enjoyed Tav’s company, always feeling he was learning something new. Being seen for who I am. Tav was a good person, one that had helped, listened to everyone, cared more than anyone he had ever met before, and despite the more pronounced ache he felt whenever he was near them, he fought through it for the quiet moments alone with them. He remembered the night channelling the weave, the way their hands had brushed up against one another, the way he had felt their longing, and the image of a tender kiss placed on his lips. Is this love? No, not for me. It can’t be.  

He swallowed nervously before he spoke. “My friend, may I ask what it is you are writing?”

Tav jumped a little, surprised by Gale’s sudden words, and placed the paper face down onto their lap. “This? Nothing… nothing at all.”

Gale nodded his head and took a small step back, trying not to acknowledge the feeling of rejection that was surfacing beneath his pleasant expression. “Ah, my apologies then. I will leave you to your thoughts.” He turned to go back to his tent as he heard the hesitant voice behind him.

“No…” Tav pushed their hair back and relaxed their shoulders. “Join me, please.”

Gale tried to hide his enthusiasm at this simple gesture. He was aware his year alone had made him too eager for basic conversation and he’d now got into a habit of remaining distant with people. Part of him was aware his social skills had diminished, and another part didn’t want him to form connections based on his own dwindling condition. He placed himself next to Tav, keeping a respectable distance and ignoring the dull thrum of the orb excited at the prospects.

Tav lowered their head, a soft smile masked by the focus of turning over the pages and looking at the cluttered mess on the paper. “I don’t think you would want to help me so much if you knew what it was I was writing.”

Gale placed a comforting hand on Tav’s arm, feeling the delicate cotton of the shirt under his palm. Warmth rose in his cheeks, and he silently cursed his body for betraying him. A glade of calm and tranquillity. “Well, let me be the one to decide upon that. As you know, I’m quite the connoisseur of the literary arts. Even Volo’s poetry has not turned me away from reading or writing.”

Tav chuckled at his response. “You know how tomorrow we are going to the Goblin Camp? There’s a real chance we might not…” They danced around the words, trying not to appear insensitive but ultimately giving up. “We might die.”

“Hm.” Gale understood perfectly why Tav was struggling and why they hadn’t initially wanted to discuss this with him. Talking about potential death with someone destined to die was not the easiest of conversations to have. How could they even relate to his situation? “So, you are writing your last wishes, I assume?”

Tav wordlessly handed over the paper and Gale held it towards the firelight, trying to make out the scrawl in front of him. The handwriting was unique to say the least, but the out of context words made it all even more peculiar. Stars…. Hollyphant…. Falling… “Tav, I may be able to decipher some of the most ancient of texts, but I must say, this has me baffled.”

Their voice was quiet as they replied, embarrassed by the list that lay between them. “It’s a bucket list.”

“But my dear, I have little doubt that you will survive the days to come. Why create something like this?” A small part of him felt heartbroken to even think of Tav’s death as imminent and yet a part of him was curious. What dreams lay in his friend’s mind? Could any of them ever hold a small place for me?

“I wish I had your optimism. No, I’m making it because all this-“ They gestured to their head, the tadpole writhing within. “-It just reminds me that life isn’t as long as it was before. That each day moments go by that I should have seized. From the big things, like travelling and love…” They looked over at him with a softness in their eyes that made him wish he could just kiss them there and then. “…To the little things, like watching the stars at night, or giving a gift to a friend.”

Gale looked curiously at the list, trying to make out more of the words. Falling in… “You’ve done none of these things before?”

Tav shook their head. “Time just seems to escape me. We have so few stars in the city and if I’m honest, I’ve never had many friends.”

“Hm, that I can unfortunately relate to. Might I offer a suggestion, though?” He moved closer to them, his heart thumping, his mind rushing through various scenarios over various outcomes. Kiss them. It’s too soon. Wind your fingers in between theirs. Hold them and never let go. Love them. Falling in love…

“And what might that be? Compare notes? I can assure you; my list will be longer and more pathetic.”

He placed his hand over theirs, trying to act casual and not bring attention to the vulnerable state he was putting his body in at this moment; the orb screaming into his system at the proximity of another person after so long. “No, my dear, let me have the list. Think of it as a gift, a puzzle that I can work on during the long nights. And from there, maybe I can assist you with the rest of your wishes.”

Tav smiled, scratching off a line from the paper. “I guess that makes it one wish fulfilled, then.”

Gazing at each other, they both seemed to become lost in one another’s eyes, an unknown energy pulling them together that neither wanted to fight against. Tav brought their hand to Gale’s face, both coming together wishing to make the previously imagined kiss a reality. He could feel the heat of Tav’s breath upon his lips, smell the earth and pine from their clothes, and in that moment, he wanted them. He wanted nothing more than to feel those lips upon his and lose himself in them.

It started with a pinching in his hand but slowly grew; the orb letting both be aware of its presence and Gale was forced to pull himself back, attempting to make his body relax from the tension. He looked at Tav, his deep brown eyes apologetic, a feeling as if he had been misleading them. I’m sorry for what I am.

Tav brought their hand away as Gale had flinched backwards in clear pain. “Are you okay?”

“Do not concern yourself with me. It’s just with my condition…” He sighed deeply, wishing it didn’t have to be this way.

“I understand.”

Tav pulled themselves close to him, so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, still touching, but no longer as intimately. He gazed at them as they looked up towards the sky, and he traced the line of their neck up to their jaw, imagining gentle kisses being placed and their hair draped over his face as he nuzzled into them.

“I suppose this is another I can cross off already.”

Gale drew his attention from his friend, instead following their line-of-sight upwards. The sky was clear of clouds, allowing the stars to shine down on them brightly and they sat for some time in silence, enjoying the quiet moment together.

Eventually, sleep beckoned and Tav retired to their tent, leaving Gale alone under the night sky with his thoughts. I could create stars like this for you… I would become a star for you.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #galemance #im sorry if there is angst #i tried #really i did

[oftenwantedafton]

the new hire | steve raglan x female reader

rating |explicit

part 5/?

words | 5k

cw | dom/sub, oral sex

ao3 link

Three more nights at Freddy’s.

Three uneventful evenings, three boring shifts where you sit and stare at the monitors in the security office and see nothing unusual. You know you should feel grateful that there are no intruders. No sign of the rabbit.

No sign of Steve Raglan, either. It still hasn’t occurred to you that those two might be linked. For now, they are separate phenomena.

Friday morning you return home from work and shower and lie in bed, willing your eyes to shut. Sleep is still evading you, even though you’re tired. Your phone rings and it startles you. You rarely got calls. You have no friends. Few living relatives, and those few don’t care to contact you.

You answer and you know, before he even speaks, that it’s Steve on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello. It’s me. Just checking in,” he says, using that same deceptively cheerful tone he’d had when you’d first met in his office. “Doesn’t sound like I’ve woken you up.” You doubt he’d feel remorse if he had. “How have things been going at Freddy’s?”

You sit up, your fingers fussing with the comforter. You can’t imagine he’d call just to shoot the breeze. So what did he want now? “Everything has been quiet.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. Listen, you’ll need to swing by the office to collect your wages today. I am booked solid for the weekend and won’t be able to stop by like I did last time.”

“Um…okay.” You wonder what’s going to be keeping the social worker so occupied. Of course it’s none of your business, but still. The lack of attention you’ve received these last few nights has been unpleasant. Even Raglan’s strange company is better than none.

You squint at the alarm clock beside the bed. It’s not even nine yet. “I guess I could just head on over now.” You fling the blanket back, preparing to slide out of bed.

“No, that won’t do. I’ve got a full schedule of clients to see today, and you need to get some rest before your shift tonight. Can’t expect you to function properly without it. It’s really best if you came later. Say, around six?”

You can’t imagine that it will be that big of a deal to hand you cash. That should take all of several seconds. But of course he’s going to make this complicated. “Doesn’t the office close at five?”

The friendly tone slips a bit. He doesn’t like being questioned like this. You know it. You know better than to argue. You wonder if you don’t secretly enjoying bringing out the darker side of him. Spread over his lap. God, you’d been absolutely soaked…“Yes, it does. Which is why you’ll be arriving after hours. I’ll be getting caught up on paperwork until then.”

“How am I going to get into the office?”

A heavy, exasperated sigh. “I’ll let you in, obviously. Be prompt. I’m not going to stand at the door waiting forever.”

“Okay. I’ll be there at six.”

“Excellent. See you then. Sweet dreams,” he adds, and those two rough words make you feel warm and aching all over again.

***

If you have any sweet dreams, you don’t recall them.

You debate about getting dressed for work before heading back to the DSS office. You’ll have several hours to kill. Maybe you could come back home and squeak in another nap. In the end, you decide to wear something casual. It’s not like you were going for a job interview. You’re not trying to impress Steve.

Except that’s not entirely true, is it? Because you spend a little longer getting ready, making sure your appearance is tidy, applying light makeup and body spray and earrings. You choose a v neck tee that clings to your figure, draped over dark wash jeans and you tell yourself, as you look in the mirror, that you are strictly going there to collect your pay, and that is all. There’s no reason to expect anything else might happen.

You hate how you have butterflies in your stomach. You hate that you’re so eager to see the older man, so eager to please him. By the time you leave your apartment, your anxiety is through the roof.

There are still cars in the parking lot when you arrive, so apparently the social worker isn’t the only straggler in the building. Not a lot, though; it was Friday night, after all.

The entrance to the office is framed in glass. You can see the tall man waiting for you on the other side, arms folded. You check your watch. You’re on time. A little early, even. Which meant he’d been waiting early, too. Anticipating…what, you don’t know.

There’s a bruise on your hip from your last encounter with this man; a bruise on your soul and you don’t know which is worse, the physical harm or the emotional manipulation. Why do you crave him so much?

Raglan opens the door once you reach it, the narrow wedge you’re allotted no longer surprising you. You brush past him, eyes downcast, that brief touch of his body against yours like lighting a match, heat blooming. You hear the snap of the door being locked behind you and then without a word he begins walking down the hall, leaving you to catch up.

When you reach Steve’s office he shuts the door behind you. He could have already handed to the cash and been done with you. So why bring you here? Why shut that solid wood barrier?

He drops into the leather chair behind the desk, much as he had in the cloth one in the security office, with that same careless abandon. The seat rotates back and forth and you wonder if he ever just spins around like a child would, just for fun. There are little details in the room that you hadn’t noticed the first time you’d been here. The many framed awards lining the walls. The wire rabbit with its slotted ribs to organize and tuck mail into. A map of the local district and some generic looking nature scene that was probably mass produced, something the company had provided. There’s an eyeglass case and some change and a set of car keys on the desk, the rabbit’s foot now a familiar sight. A lot of keys on that ring. Some of them for Freddy’s, most likely.

Raglan runs his index and middle fingers over his moustache, then strokes the facial hair covering his chin. Whiter there than other places. He looks at you like he might a puzzle piece, trying to discern where you fit in, which way he needs to align you to make you slot properly into whatever grand design he’s orchestrating; his secret, meant for none but him alone to enjoy.

The money is curled in his other fist. You notice it now, when he relaxes his grip and reveals it. You imagine it is warm from his body heat. He stretches the arm out and you walk towards it. His wrist turns and the bills land in a pile on the carpet. You descend to your knees, reaching again, but his foot shifts and swiftly covers the currency, leaving your fingers empty. Your lashes lift and you see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Your hand curls around his calf. You press your lips to the inside of one knee. His breath hitches.

You stare up at him. Still wrapped around one leg, still watching him warily. Wanting. Waiting. His hand reaches for you face, fingers curling under your chin. Thumb spread over your lips and then speared between, pushing past your lips and teeth and stopping when he’s nestled against your tongue. Your eyes linked as you suck that digit, curling around it with the wet muscle and stroking, clutching it against your palate, feeling creases and whorls, joint and nail bed. Discovering the taste of the currency he’d clutched, that odd metallic flavor sunk into cotton and linen blended threads.

It’s not enough, you want to taste more of him, reaching for the button fastening his shirt sleeve. A small alarmed sound when you succeed, catching another glimpse of that pink scar you thought you’d seen during your interview. Was he ashamed of it? You don’t mind it, tongue darting out to lick along the pulse there, and the sound he makes, that deep groan, echoes in your core.

“Stand up.”

Your mouth abandons his skin. You frown a question at the older man. You’d thought he wanted you at his feet, on the floor, between his legs, worshipping at what dwells at the apex of them.

“Up,” he grates again, and you hastily comply.

“Why didn’t you wear something easier to remove?” The chair creaks as he leans forward, fingers at the button fly of your denim. “Surely you had some inkling…” The zipper is yanked down and his fingers curl around the waistband, dragging the jeans down until they’re resting midway across your thighs. “The scent of your depraved fantasies…oh.” A little huff of surprise when he shoves the hem of your shirt up and you scramble to hold it out of the way—why had you worn something so awkward, honestly—and he sees the discoloration he’s left. The ecchymosis has faded a bit, shifting from dark blue and purple to a fainter shade of maroon. He strokes over that bruised patch of flesh with a soft caress, completely ignoring the lace panties you’ve chosen to wear (yes, you’d had an inkling, as he’d called it, hopeful and lusting but you don’t want to admit it, not to yourself nor to him) keeping his attention solely focused on that injury he’d previously inflicted.

Then he kisses the spot and you think you might just die then, just spontaneously combust, because it’s so awkwardly tender and so near the area you really want his mouth at, feeling that brush of facial hair stroking your mound, between your thighs. He pulls at the damaged skin with his mouth, sucking, and a fresh sting erupts there while his fingers curl around and knead one cheek, another reminder of where he’s been before, meting punishment to balance the pleasure he’s about to gift you now.

The crotch of your panties is dragged to one side—a tight strain, the fabric isn’t very giving—wedging against your groin, digging into the crease while his tongue delves over the exposed pink flesh, the tip curling and thrusting between legs you wish you could part better, but you’re restricted by those stupid jeans you’d decided to wear that he clearly has no intention of removing further. So you stand on legs that are already trembling like a newborn foal’s, this older man seated in front of you with his nose digging into your mound and his tongue trying to collect whatever essence it can, scraping and prodding while the beard you’d imagined to be coarse and abrasive is instead a soft textured brush that only heightens everything. His glasses are knocked askew and you pull them off with your free hand, setting them on the desk beside you, the other still occupied with keeping the hem of your shirt out of the social worker’s way, letting you see the glory of him ravaging your cunt even in this limited fashion and it’s the single most erotic thing you’ve ever seen or felt in your life.

You’re touching his hair now, sifting through the layers, and you realize it is many, many colors, not simply gray and white but every shade in between, silky ribbons shading from dark to light, stormy sky to bright daybreak. The fervor with which he consumes you only intensifies, sending your hurtling through the path of ultimate bliss, your twitching bud finally surrendering to the relentless lashes of Steve’s tongue. You cum in his mouth and you hear the strangled inhale through his nostrils, your body mashed against his face, the fingers on his head cupping and shoving him closer and closer. A hum of sound and the hand on your ass tightens and the hypersensitivity that makes you want to recoil and push him back for respite transcends into something else. He’s got you there again, right on the brink, and you bite your tongue to stifle the wail when you climax a second time, still unsure if anyone else is left in the office to hear you.

Raglan eventually moves away, slouching against the back of the leather chair, looking disheveled and this, this is what you had envisioned when you’d called him, asking him to come to the restaurant that night. Climbing out of bed, hair tousled, clothes rumpled, that careful, neat appearance suddenly wild and raw and natural. You’re still trembling, still caught in the turbulent throes post orgasm, managing to lean over and capture his lips and he allows it, allows you to smooth back the slightly curled lock of hair that’s descended across his forehead, lap at the damp mouth that tastes familiar, like your own sex, while you reach down for his crotch and find him hard and straining.

Your descent to your knees is less than graceful—your thighs are still effectively shackled—but you manage the task, just as you manage to open his fly and shove the waistband of his briefs down. There is a lot there for your mouth, for your throat; daunting, but you’re determined. You want to take this man apart, enjoying this sudden shift in power, where he’s allowing you to direct the course of every action. You tease a few licks before you properly take his cock in your mouth and suck and the noise this elicits is one you know you’re going to savor again later, when you’re alone and you remember this, a backdrop for self pleasure. It’s a needy sort of whimper, a surprised sort of pleading sound. You can feel the tremors wracking his thighs already. He’s not going to last long. Your mouth is as relentless as his own had been, working up and down, straining with a lewd, wet slap each time he collides further and further back. He spills so deeply in your throat you don’t even taste it at first, until the pulsing head rests on the base of your tongue, when he jerks your head back so he can see your depravity, blown pupils meeting blown pupils, white cum still staining your red mouth and that breathy little moan hummed through his lips betraying just how much he’d enjoyed it.

You swallow the rest of his load down—bitter, as you’d known it would be—and sit back on your heels, realizing the two of you are still panting, still struggling to recover. You watch him shove himself back into his pants and you take that as a signal that you’re to do the same, grabbing up the cash you can finally reach off the carpet—and damn if that doesn’t make you feel like more of a whore than collecting your wages at the diner ever had, like he’d insinuated—before you push yourself upright, shimmying back into your jeans after tugging the crotch of your panties back towards the middle where it belongs.

You have absolutely no idea what to do now. He had started this, whatever this was, and you’d finished it, and now you’re struggling not to feel used and empty. In the heat of the moment everything had been perfect, but now you want all of that stupid, sappy stuff that you believe should come after intimacy. You want cuddles and pillow talk and of course this is hardly the time or the place for that. This isn’t anything even remotely resembling something like that; it’s not a relationship, not anything really, just the release of pent up tension between the two of you, but you stare at his face and you crave those lips and you want his arms around you. You know he’s going to tell you to leave and you’ll do it because he told you to but you wish, for one silly little moment, that he’d request the opposite instead. Ask me to stay. Tell me you want more. I want more than this.

Raglan’s refastened his shirt sleeve and slid those ill fitting glasses back into place and he almost resembles his usual tidy self. Some of his hair is still mussed and your fingers itch to help straighten it (or better yet make it messier) but you resist the urge. It had been okay, before. You know it wouldn’t be now.

“I have to finish my work. You should try to take a nap before your shift.” His voice is quiet. He’s not meeting your eyes. You follow him out of his office. Everyone must be gone now. It’s dimly lit and quiet.

There are a million things you want to say as you wait for him to unlock the door. Instead you remain silent. You force yourself to walk away, knowing he’s watching every step you take.

***

You don’t sleep.

Can’t, not after what’s happened in the career counselor’s office. His mouth on you. Your mouth on him. Taking each other apart. Those memories alone are going to be enough to fuel your next rounds of self pleasure for a long time.

The first hour of your shift passes without incident.

Then you see movement on one of the screens. Not the rabbit. A human. Male. Dressed in dark clothing. It looks like he’s climbed in through some vent on the outside.

The security door is unlocked, as Steve had instructed. You’re already dialing his number, keeping a wary eye on the stranger. He’s brought a flashlight, shining the beam around. Thief? Thrill seeker? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

The phone keeps ringing. Come on, Steve. Nothing. You redial in case you’ve hit the wrong numbers, even though you’re certain they’d been correct. Even try the office, thinking maybe he’d fallen asleep at his desk. No answer, just voicemail.

Police, then. You don’t have any other choice. You’ll deal with the consequences later. Surely pissing off Steve couldn’t be worse than letting this guy do whatever it was he was planning on doing.

You lift the receiver again and hear nothing. No dial tone. Complete silence. The phone is no longer working.

The threads of panic that had begun to squirm through you earlier now writhe, demanding attention. You don’t even have any kind of a weapon to defend yourself.

You should really lock the door. Again, Steve be damned.

You stand, intending to do just that. From the distance you hear the sound of glass shattering. Shit. Not just a casual explorer, then.

The lights go out.

You’d completely forgotten about the warning you’d been issued about how the electricity tended to be fickle. You normally just switch it on at the start of your shift and back off again before you leave. The office is completely dark. No more monitors. The emergency lighting in the hallway glows red. You’ll have to reset the breaker if you want full power restored. Which means leaving the office. That pitch dark room you no longer want to hide in.

Another crash. This sounded like something heavy. Metal striking another object. You’re still hovering in the open doorway. The switch for the power isn’t that far away. You could make it there and back again, surely. You take a step forward, your fingers still hooked around the doorframe. Another step. Now you hold only air. You keep walking. Your chest feels tight. It hurts trying to breathe so shallowly. You try to keep your tred light. It couldn’t be much farther. Just a few more steps. You think you can make out the shape of it, the box jutting out from the wall.

You’re not alone in the hallway.

The intruder has found his way here. He starts towards you and you jerk to a halt, taking a step back.

From the depths of the service room, the figure of the decaying rabbit animatronic emerges.

You don’t see the silver eyes. Its back is to you, facing the other man. You hear the sound of something striking the mascot, the clatter of that object as it hits the floor. The human male’s body is lifted and flung against the nearest wall. You can hear bones snapping.

You’ve lost your footing in your haste to back up. You scrabble backward on hands and feet, the soles of your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. You’re no longer trying to quiet your breathing. It comes and goes in a harsh, desperate whine. The rabbit’s bulk does nothing to slow it down. It’s right in front of you. Those strange glowing eyes focused on this vulnerable prey. You can hear it breathing, a dry, rusty sort of drag. There’s a roaring sound in your ears. It’s getting harder and harder to see, to focus. You’re blacking out. Darkness.

***

You awaken to feel something cool and wet being pressed against your forehead.

You blink rapidly, struggling to get your bearings. You’re no longer in the restaurant. You’re in a car. Steve Raglan’s car.

There’s a blue flashing light nearby. Police cruiser? You catch a glimpse of blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The young female officer gets behind the wheel of the vehicle and drives away, the tires screeching as she peels out of the parking lot.

“What…”

“You’re okay. Look at me.”

You try to focus on the social worker’s features. His hair looks a little damp. He’s still dressed in his office attire. “What happened?” You lick your lips. They’re so dry. You can barely get the words out.

“Someone broke into Freddy’s. The police just escorted them away.”

“I didn’t call them.”

“I know. I did.”

“I tried to call you. There was no answer. I even tried the office. Then the phone went dead.”

“The line was cut.”

“By that man?”

“Yes.”

“So how did you call the police?”

“I didn’t call from Freddy’s. I called the police as soon as there was no answer here. I knew something was wrong.”

“You’ve never called me at work.” You frown, shaking your head. Things still seemed fuzzy. You feel like you’re missing pieces of the puzzle. “What did that guy want, anyway?”

“That’s for the authorities to sort out.”

“Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

Steve stares at you for long moments. “I was unavailable.”

“At midnight? What were you doing?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“I could have gotten hurt. Seriously hurt. You realize that, right? This is so asinine. You’ve got me guarding this place with no training, no weapons, you tell me just to call you when I need you, and when I needed you, you weren’t there.” The words spill out in a rush. Fear and anger, betrayal and hurt coursing through you.

“I apologize.”

“You apologize? No, that’s not good enough, that’s—” He cuts you off by leaning over to kiss you. Your brain short circuits instantly. Why does he always feel so good? “You can’t just do that and expect it to make everything okay,” you manage when you part for air.

“It makes it better though, doesn’t it?”

Kiss it and make it better, Daddy. Oh, fuck. How can you be thinking about sex at a time like this?

“Where did you find me?”

“The hallway in the back. Why?”

“The rabbit was there again. It was fighting with the man. I think it was trying to help me. Don’t tell me I didn’t see it. It was there. I heard it breathing.”

“The animatronics don’t breathe. They’re not alive.” His voice is surprisingly gentle and patient, as if he’s explaining to a child how the Easter bunny isn’t real.

“This one is,” you insist stubbornly. “You can think I’m delusional. I know what I saw. Something is happening here.”

The older man turns his attention to the steering wheel, reaching to turn the key in the ignition. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day, I think. I’m taking you home.”

“What? My shift isn’t over.” You look at the digital display that glows green on the vehicle’s dashboard. It’s barely two.

“You won’t be docked for not completing the shift.”

“I’m capable of driving myself home.”

“I’m taking you,” he repeats, the firm disciplinary tone taking hold once more.

“I don’t want to leave my car here.”

“No one is going to touch it. The police are keeping watch for the rest of the night in case the intruder had an accomplice. They’ll be doing frequent patrol sweeps to make certain.”

“There wasn’t anyone else. Just him.”

“That you saw, until the power went out and you lost the monitors.”

You fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of a comeback. “Do you ever sleep? How come you’re always so wide awake in the middle of the night?”

He glances over at you and smirks, flicking a finger over the tip of his nose before returning to view the road. It’s deserted at this hour. “Coffee. I tried to tell you.”

“It tastes awful.” You’ve never admitted it out loud before.

“I never said it doesn’t. It’s much like alcohol in that regard. It has to be tempered to make it palatable.”

“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” you realize out loud.

“I’m not taking you to your place. I’m taking you to mine.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

“Any more complaints?”

“No.” You stare hard out the window. You hadn’t been expecting this. Any of this. How was it possible for this man to keep disarming you at every turn?

“Good.”

A house. He lives in a house, you silently answer the question you’d wondered previously. Two stories. Two car garage that he neglects to use, pulling into the driveway. You realize suddenly you’ve never once asked if he was married or had children. You’d just assumed.

Just assumed he was alone and waiting for you to fall, quite literally, into his lap.

It seems like a big living space for one person, but you don’t dare question it. You follow him meekly inside. He tosses the keys onto a table by the door, flicking on the lightswitch and then turning the deadbolt.

So far today you’ve gotten eaten out in the career counselor’s office, sucked his dick, almost gotten hurt by a trespasser at your job, possibly rescued? by a monster rabbit that doesn’t really exist and now you were in said career counselor’s home. All in the span of less than twelve hours. Unbelievable.

“I’m sure you’re ready to knock out. The master bedroom’s up here,” he invites, ascending the nearby stairs.

“What, I’m not going to spend the night on the couch?”

“You’re getting awfully mouthy. I’m not certain I like this new brashness,” he tosses over his shoulder as he continues climbing the stairs.

“You liked the mouthiness earlier,” you mutter softly, thinking he won’t hear you.

“I can see I’ve been too lenient.”

Oh, he’d heard.

You both reach the top of the stairs and he leans, reaching around you to flip the hall lights back off. Suddenly you’re in the dark again. Listening to breathing.

His hand finds yours. You’re pulled into one of the nearby rooms and a lightswitch is flipped, partially alleviating the tense moment. You watch him rummage in a dresser for a shirt, tossing it at you and pointing as you hastily clutch it to your chest. “Bathroom’s that way. Get changed.”

As if you’d want to sleep in the security uniform, especially after being on the floor of the restaurant. You wouldn’t mind a bath or a shower but you think that’s asking for too much. You duck into the other room and quickly get changed. It’s just an undershirt, solid white. You stare at yourself in the mirror. What, exactly, are you doing? Spending the night at this man’s house. In his bed.

You run your tongue over your teeth. You want to brush them. “Hey, Steve, is there a spare toothbrush? I don’t want to rummage through your stuff.” You open the door to find him standing just outside. Your mouth goes dry again. Fuck, you want him so bad it hurts.

“Here.” He steps inside, crowding you slightly against the sink as he reaches to open the medicine cabinet, withdrawing what you’d requested. “Don’t squeeze the toothpaste in the middle. I hate that.”

You glance, bemused, at the tube with its neat, empty curl at the end. “What will happen if I do?” You murmur.

“Don’t tempt me.” His hand grazes your ass and then he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You don’t spend too long cleaning your teeth. There’s too much want in you, want for what’s behind that closed door. You open it and find him waiting his turn, leaning against the wall. You discover the comforter and top sheet are now pulled back. Slate gray. Masculine. You have pastel pink at home. Full. Not a King size like this. Luxurious. How many thread count in these sheets? Your head sinks into the pillow. Perfect. Not too firm, not too soft.

Steve exits the bathroom. Watches you get comfortable. Sits on the other side of the mattress and reaches for the light. Darkness again. You hear the sounds of fabric shifting as he gets undressed. You wonder why he doesn’t want you seeing him bare. Are there more scars? The springs creak as he changes positions, standing again to remove his pants. Back down, now lying beside you.

Your face turns in his direction. Your heart is pounding. His arm reaches, dragging you against him. Spoons laid together. His breath by your ear. “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

You don’t want to behave. You want to turn over and touch and taste. But you obey. You close your eyes and try to soothe your racing pulse. You concentrate on the crisp feel of the bed linens beneath you and Raglan’s warm arms around you and you find yourself enveloped in slumber.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #william afton smut #divider @cafekitsune

[seirei-bh]

Some thoughts about Jason's route in future chapters

One of the things I like most about Jason's route is how different it looks like it's going to be.

I'm doing Jason, Thomas and Amanda's routes. At the moment I love all three for particular reasons, and although we don't know what will happen in future chapters, at least with Thomas and Amanda I've a certain feeling of stability because I know that I'll see them often in future chapters and I can more or less figure out how it will flow my Sucrettes' relationship with them once the romance is established. I think that, barring the drama that may happen when they find out that we were dating our married boss at our previous company, our relationship with most routes will be pretty sweet and secure.

Not with Jason.

And that also fascinates me.

On the one hand it is true that it can be frustrating, since we will have very little time with him in each chapter compared to the other routes, but on the other hand, with Jason there is always the mystery of: how will happen this interaction with him in this chapter? Where will we find him? Will we have the chance to be alone with him soon? What will happen if we flirt with him in front of our co-workers and someone notices what is happening between the two of us?

And it will also be a very difficult relationship to carry on. With the other routes you at least have the peace of mind that you will be able to see your crush during work hours, and you will be able to tell others about your relationship without fear of being judged, except in the case of Devon, since he's your boss, and maybe Roy if Brune is still in love with him after their breakup or if you get in the middle of their relationship when they're still dating, but we still don't know what option of both will have with that omg, but still most routes you could have a normal relationship, however with Jason it will have to be a secret relationship for sure (as happened with Rayan Zaidi in UL), but how can you hide it? During how much time? And what will happen when our colleagues and our boss find out about everything? Will they be angry at you, thinking you're a traitor or will they think you're a victim blind of love that Jason is trying to manipulate? Will Devon, Roy or Elenda tell Sucrette some bitter hidden truth about Jason and will that maybe cause her and Jason to have a big confrontation? Could Sucrette perhaps leave or lose her job because of this or will she decide to stay in it despite everything and regain the trust of her colleagues again? And would Jason be able to somehow betray us in our relationship or manipulate us into doing something that harms Devenementiel or will he keep his feelings of rivalry/hate between companies separate from his feelings for our Sucrette? How will Jason and Sucrette be able to have a stable relationship and also continue to be rivals in their work without one thing influencing the other?

There are so many possibilities. Without a doubt, in his route the drama is served.

And oh boy, I'm here eating popcorn and so ready to enjoy watching the world burn.

#the devil doesn't bargain #jason mendal #mcl jason #my candy love new gen #mcl #mclng #cdm #cdm jason #amour sucre #my candy love

[mytalkingraccoon]

so based on my extremely limited research the only vegan leather that is biodegradeable is the pineapple leather and im STILL not sure if thats just propaganda or not

#leather #pineapple #pleather #greenwashing #vegan leather #environmetalists #environment #its really annoying because there was a bunch of other types i saw #and they were either obviously made out of plastic or they didnt disclose the ingredients #and thats shady as fuck #which is why i have my doubts about the pineapple #because the companies could be leaving something out #so for now im not purchasing anything leather #let alone plastic shit that just flakes off

[terrorbirb]

I'm bored at work so I'm seeing if I should report my old company for violating labor standards.

#totes bro #im so close but it is so obvious it would be me because i used to complain about this all the time #they dont inform their immigrant workers of their rights and so they dont like understand how their timecard works #and thr company advises them to take the least expensive insurance policy because they 'are healthy and don't need it' #but i know one couple wants fertility treatments but couldnt afford it because of that #they dont have the required posters #they also knowingly continue osha violations which i held a meeting over and was told this doesnt apply to us #which uhm it says it does on the Web site so i disagree #all of this is like why i left and what caused me to leave #and literally lying to me and another guy that we would get promotions for the work we did #and then they hired someone else to do the job making our promotions unnecessary and they were like hmmmm sorry #idk they like got a ton worse and i think the president got more reactionary which caused this #not sure how many of these count but thats not for me to decide anyway #oh and cleanliness standards but i actually fixed a lot of those..... fulfilling the role that promotion role that was promised #my coworkers here are like 'absolutely report the hell out of that place' because we do code violations lol #every time i say something they go 'that could be a violation :)' #they paid someone on a salary basis when they were under the salary pay and therefore should have gotten overtime