#I CHOKED SCREAMED HOLLERED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muwapsturniolo · 6 days

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✯𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐃𝐢𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠✯

IN WHICH...Y/N meets a biker who gives her the best night of her life, and manages to turn her world upside down.

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!! drinking, public fondling, dom!Matt/asshole!Matt, spanking, choking, knife play, unprotected sex, slight predatorxprey concept, dumbification,, stomach buldging. If I forgot anything please let me know!!!

this is a long one so sorry not sorry <3

“I’m f-r-e-e fuck nigga free!”

My friends and I shout the lyrics to Glorilla's song at the top of our lungs as we fly down the street.

It was one of those nights where you feel like a teenager again, staying out late and sneaking out to go to parties to do lord knows what with your friends.

It was different in my case.

I was grown, 22 to be exact. I didn’t have to sneak out, I could walk out the door and not have to tell anyone where I was going.

“And I’m s- i- n -g- l- e again, outside hanging out the window with my ratchet ass friends!” Buddy stops at a light and I jump out of the car, immediately throwing it back. My girls scream and start recording me, making me act up even more.

We haven’t been out in a long time due to adulting. You know how it is, one of you is free while the other three have other things to do, and then you have to schedule two months out, only for someone else to cancel. it's the rare occurrence where our schedules finally sync up, and we decided to make the most of it, acting out like we have no type of decorum.

“At the red lights twerking on them headlights!”

I hop on the hood of the car and grind down.

“Bitch get in the car!” Buddy shouts while still recording me, her laughter louder than the music.

Suddenly the sound of revving engines makes all of us turn. A group of guys on bikes pull up next to us, clapping and revving their engines in encouragement. One of them takes off their helmet and puts it between his legs, licking his lips before smiling.

“You trynna ride sweetheart?”

I look back at my girls and they are vigorously nodding yes. I climb off the car and skip over to him, “ride what exactly?” He smirks and looks me up and down, “I was talking about my bike, but I could make the other situation happen too.” His answer makes me heat up, although it could be the three shots of Casamigos in my system.

He’s attractive, it wouldn’t hurt to have fun.

Live fast die young, right?

I say nothing as I walk around the bike and swing my leg over, pressing up against him as I wrap my arms around his torso. “You know how to ride?” I ask, taking the helmet from him.

“I’m in the front for a reason.” I can’t see his face but I can hear the smirk. “Bitch where are we going?” Buddy screams from the car. “Trail us! We’re gonna show you girls a good time!” One of the other guys shouts.

It seems like the light follows his words, switching from red to green instantly. The engines rev and soon we are flying down the streets of LA. He pops a wheelie making me scream in excitement and tighten my grip around him. The wind whips past us, the inches on my head flowing behind me.

I look to the side and see Buddy easily following along in her car, music still bumping loudly, filling up the abandoned streets.

It doesn’t take long until he slows down and pulls into a lot. The lot is filled with a bunch of bodies, bikes, and cars. People begin to hoot and holler seeing us pull in.

He parks his bike and climbs off before aiding me in doing the same. “What’s your name pretty girl?” He begins to help me take off the helmet.

“Y/n. You?”

“Matthew, but you can call me Matt.” He lightly squeezes my hip as he looks down at me. He's attractive, nice jawline, a beard, and tattoos going up and down his arm as well as his neck. His piercings fit his features perfectly. I usually wouldn’t go for the punk-looking dudes, it was something about him though.

“Well, thank you for the ride, Matt. You’re a great driver.”

“You’re a great rider, what else can you ride?” He shoots me a look, making me smack my lips and lightly push him. “Boy bye.” He laughs and keeps his grip on me.

“So what is this?” I ask looking around in curiosity. He lets go of me and begins to take his gloves off, “it’s a meet. A bunch of people round up and show off their bikes or cars. We do them every Friday.” I hum and continue to look around. I see my friends by the trunk of our car, sharing our bottle with the new people around us.

“So tell me something, you often get out of cars and shake your ass?”

“You often offer girls a ride?” I shoot back.

“Only the pretty ones.” He winks before grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him. “You’re staying with me for the night.” I quirk a brow at his statement.

“Am I?”

“Yeah, problem?” He seems secure in his words, like he’s daring me to tell him there is a problem.

“No”

“That’s what I thought. Let’s get your pretty ass to your friends.” He takes the lead, guiding me to clean white jeep.

“Girl I thought you were going to fall off when he popped that wheelie!” Lani exclaims. “The way I screamed when I saw that shit!” Mika adds. “I really thought your lashes were going to fly off.” Buddy finishes. I giggle at their over-exaggerated statements. Soon a drink is shoved into my hands, “drink up bitch!”

The night ensued, everyone having a good time. I mingled with a few people, attempting to learn about their bikes and cars. Everything honestly went in one ear and out the other. Matt kept me close, my back pressed to his front, both of his hands resting right on my hips. If it was any other guy, I would have been annoyed and pushed them away, but I’m not. My girls keep eyeing me, mouthing a “You ok?” occasionally. I respond back with a smile and a sip of my drink.

"You wanna get out of here?" His breath tickles my ear as he talks to me. I smirk and take another sip of my drink before turning around, "and go where?"

He gives me a look, "somewhere private." I feel his hands travel from my waist down to my ass, gripping the exposed flesh tightly. He softly kisses my neck, biting occasionally. I sigh out in relief, craning my neck as his beard tickles me.

"Come on sweetheart, you know you want to." He whispers in her ear before pulling away and giving her a look. She bites her lip and looks back at her friends before turning back to Matt. "let me tell my friends." He nods and watches as she scampers off towards the group of girls. She's soon skipping back with a wide mischievous smile on her face.

"Let's go."

Matt puts the helmet on her head and helps her onto the bike before climbing on himself. He starts the bike, revving the engine before pulling off.

Matt's going over the speed limit, pushing the gas to the max so he can get the girl behind him in his bed. Y/n holds on to him tightly, only loosening her grip when they arrive at a red light.

She's not sure how long it's going to take for them to arrive at their destination, so she decides to have some fun. She rests her hands on his thighs, rubbing them softly and allowing her nails to draw random shapes. Matt doesn't think anything of it, taking it as her relaxing at the light.

She slowly inches her right hand toward his crotch, palming him through the rough material. She bites her lip and smirks feeling him tense, noticing the way his hands grip the handlebars tightly. She decides to take it a step further and snakes her hand into his pants, wrapping her hand around the base and slowly jerking.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop." His threat is oddly calm, his voice not rising in any way. She takes the threats with a grain of salt, rubbing her thumb over his tip.

"Fuck this-" he mumbles to himself. He releases the brake and speeds off, ignoring the flashing of the red light camera.

Y/n gasps and snatches her hand out of his pants, going back to holding him tightly.

After ten minutes of running multiple red lights and speeding, the two arrive at a house, the garage opening as Matt presses a button on the bike.

The bike inches forward before Matt turns it off and kicks down the stand.

They climb off the bike and Matt aids her in taking off the helmet, dropping it to the floor. He's quick to yank her forward by her throat.

"You think you're funny touching me like that?"

"I think I'm hilarious ac-" A whimper of pain and pleasure tumbles from her mouth as Matt smacks her ass. She looks up at him with wide glossy eyes filled with lust, Matt returns the look, a devious smirk coating his face.

"Take your shorts off."

Just like before his voice held no room for defiance, it was a demand that she had to follow,

So she does just that.

She continues to stare at him as she unfastens her belt, dropping it to the cement floor of the garage. She unbuttons the acid wash denim and shimmies out of them, standing in front of Matt with nothing but a bright blue thong on her bottom half.

He quickly turns her around and bends her over the bike, knocking her legs apart. He runs his ring-clad hand over her ass, enjoying the way the soft skin feels.

He doesn't think twice before spanking her, enjoying the choked moan that falls from her mouth. He enjoys it so much that he does it over,

and over

and over.

25 smacks later, she's sniffling and clenching her legs shut, her wetness causing a tingle in between her folds. Matt stands behind her, admiring the number he did on her ass. The soft brown skin was forming purple and blue bruises, ring indentations clear as day. He allows his eyes to trail to the blue material being swallowed by her ass, noticing the change of color.

He pulls the thong to the side, watching as a thin string of her slick attaches itself to the lace material. He puts his index and middle finger together before gliding them through her folds, moving her slick around. Y/n whines softly, pushing herself back in an attempt to chase his fingers.

"Tsk tsk tsk, so eager." He shakes his head as he clicks his tongue, eyes still trained on her wet cunt. Suddenly Y/n is yanked upward by her hair, her body now flushed with Matts. He turns her head and brings her into a heated kiss, their tongues meshing together.

She hears a 'shink' and chooses to ignore it, thinking it was something in the garage. However, she was proven wrong when she felt something sharp and cold against her collarbone.

She freezes as Matt smirks against her lips, pulling away slowly. She looks down and her heart begins to race seeing the pocket knife. He slowly begins to drag the sharp object downward, ripping her shirt in the process. She gulps watching the fabric fall to the ground, her boobs bouncing as they release.

Her breathing speeds up as he circles her nipple with the knife, pressing it softly against her skin. Goosebumps rise along her body as she sharply inhales.

"You like it, I could see it in your eyes," he whispers as he watches the soft buds harden under the coldness of the knife. He quickly pulls it away and forces her back down onto the bike. He leans over her, one of his hands still wrapped in the blonde hair on her head. She trembles feeling the knife move with the curve of her ass. He chuckles feeling her flinch as he cuts the band of her thong. He catches the material before it falls, and holds it in front of her face.

"Look at that, you ruined them."

Before she could say anything, he shoves the wet material into her mouth. Her face burns in embarrassment as her leftover slick touches her tongue.

He drops to his knees and spreads her cheeks apart, his mouth watering as her lips spread. He wastes no time and dives in, licking and slurping through her folds. Y/n moans as her eyes flutter shut, enjoying the way his soft and warm tongue laps at her juices.

He flattens his tongue and moves it back and forth across her clit, his nose softly pressing against her entrance. "F-fuck Matt!" He pulls away from her, licking at his lips as he pushes two fingers into her.

His fingers stretch her out, providing some form of temporary relief, but it's not enough. "M-more, please I need more!" She begs pathetically.

"My fingers not enough for you sweetheart? You need my dick that bad?" She struggles to speak as he relentlessly pounds his finger into her tight cunt, occasionally curling them.

"No they're enough, you're just a greedy girl aren't you? Well, guess what?-" He adds a third finger into her cunt, not slowing down his handiwork by any means. "You're not getting my dick until you cum on all my fingers. So, I suggest you hurry up if you're that eager."

She whines knowing it's going to take awhile for her to reach any type of orgasm if it's just his fingers.

Matt's not dumb, he knows how to pleasure a woman, so he drops the switchblade and uses his free hand to draw endless figure eights' against her clit.

She throws her head back and lets out a deep moan, her walls squeezing down on his fingers. "That's it sweetheart, come on I know you're close." He moves both of his hands faster making Y/n's legs shake slightly.

His finger hits that special spot inside of her and she lets out a high-pitched moan, her whole body tensing up as she reaches her peak.

She's too busy trying to catch her breath, she doesn't even notice Matt undoing his pants and pulling them down.

Her head suddenly drops as Matt slides into her, knocking the air out of her lungs. He's big, stretching her out perfectly and hitting all the right spots. Matt wastes no time snapping his hips, her body lurching forward with each thrust.

She grips onto the bike, her palms becoming sweaty against the metal. Matt is relishing hearing her wheezes as his cock nudges against that sweet spot, his tip pressing tightly against her cervix in the process.

"Fuck!" she finally manages to shout, her eyes rolling back.

It's almost euphoric the way he's fucking her, almost too euphoric.

She reaches behind and tries to slow him down but it's no use. He grabs her arm and folds it to her back, using it to pull her back and meet his thrusts.

"Already falling apart?" He taunts, a laugh exiting his throat as he continues to thrust.

He watches the way she sucks him in, her walls eagerly clamping down and welcoming him,

like he was made for her

like she was his.

"Whos pussy is this?"

She's so caught up moaning and wheezing around the lace in her mouth, she doesn't hear the question. He slaps her ass making her walls squeeze him even more. He throws his head back, his rhythm breaking as he basks in the feeling.

"Answer the question sweetheart. Who's pussy is this?''

"Ymm-Speak up baby, I can't hear you." He removes her thong from her mouth and snaps his hips harsher than he has before making her squeal, "Yours! Oh fuck it's yours!" She sobs out, not being able to handle her current situation.

"Good girl."

He sneaks his hand down and begins to circle her clit once again.

Her eyes roll back as her whole body begins to shake violently, her second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. "You wanna cum? Hm? You wanna make a mess on me and my bike?"

She moans loudly in response, her body getting weaker from his harsh thrusts and her approaching orgasm.

"Go on, make a mess for me, make a mess all over me."

Her body goes limp as her juices splash all over him and the bike, falling to the concrete floor of the garage.

Matt pulls out of her, pulling her up by her hair. Her legs shake as he drags her over to a free space in the garage. He flips her around and pins her against the wall, the cold concrete aiding in helping the welts on her ass.

he takes a moment to examine her face.

Her makeup was messed up. Her eyeliner and mascara were running and making black tears down her cheeks. Her lashes were beginning to loosen as well, somehow managing to keep some attachment to her lids. Her lipgloss was smudged around her lips as well, some even on her chin.

He presses both his lips and body against hers, gripping her sides harshly. His hands travel to her ass, separating the skin from the wall and hoisting her up, both legs wrapping around his waist.

She throws her arms around his shoulders as he pushes himself into her. She struggles to kiss him back, her moans vibrating against his lips.

His fingers dig into her thighs, leaving crescent-shaped marks on the brown skin. He presses her even harder against the wall and proceeds to position his hips upward, using his as an opportunity to claim her.

He dives in on her neck, working diligently to leave the bruises on her skin. He trails the marks all the way to her collarbone, eventually stopping to admire his work.

His eyes burn bright, his pupils dilated as he watches the marks shine in the dim light, spelling out his name.

His eyes fall onto her breasts that are bouncing with each thrust. He takes one into his mouth, softly biting at her nipple and using his tongue to soothe it. Y/n throws her head back, ignoring the ache that follows when hitting the wall.

"Please! Oh go-shhit!" Matt moans and looks down at their intertwined bodies, watching the way her juices splash on his abdomen.

"That's it baby, let it all go." He coos as her trembling body collapses into him, her grip still tight on his shoulders. She tries to put her legs down but he keeps her locked in place,

"I'm not done with you yet princess."

He opens the garage door and quickly rushes to his room, not struggling one bit as her carries the girl in his arms. He slams his bedroom door and throws her on the bed, her body bouncing on the silk sheets.

He stands over her, watching her body occasionally twitch, her chest rising and falling quickly as she pants in a delirious state. Her cunt glimmers in the light, her wetness pulling him into a trance. He falls to his knees and begins to lap at her cunt once again. She arches her back, going cross-eyed at the overstimulation.

She whines and shakes her head, trying to push his head away. "N-no more." She slurs, her mind hazy from the three orgasms she's had.

He yanks her closer by her thighs, and flattens his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. He circles her clit before sucking on the sensitive bud.

Her manicured fingers find their way to his head, gripping the soft brown locks and yanking. Her mind and body are fighting, her mind telling her to stop him before she passes out, and her body telling her to keep experiencing the rhapsodic moment.

Matt closes his eyes as he breathes in the scent of her juices, lapping at her like a dehydrated dog. He could eat at her for hours, finding her sweeter and more delectable than others. Her moans and withering body fueling his appetite even more. he snakes his other hand down and wraps it around his base, jerking himself off.

He moves back to her clit as he inserts two of his finger, moaning at the way her walls clamp down around them. All it takes is a few pumps and the curling of the digits before she releases over his face.

He swallows everything she gives him, making sure not one drop escapes him.

She manages to weakly push him away, her legs clenching as she heaves.

She didn't think her night would turn out like this.

She knew they were going to have sex, maybe one or two rounds, but she didn't expect four orgasms. She didn't expect him to make her squirt either, she's only ever been able to squirt alone and using a vibrator.

She looks over her knees, watching as Matt rises to his feet, his lips and chin glimmering in her mess. He walks around the bed and that's when the girl notices something.

He's still hard.

He hasn't came once.

That's when it finally hits her, she isn't done until he is.

She doesn't know how much more she can take. She's already had four orgasms, if she has one more she's sure she's going to pass out.

She watches with hazy and glossed eyes as he crawls over her, his eyes zeroed in on her as if she were his prey.

And she was, she was the prey and he was the predator.

he leans closer, his breath fanning over her face.

"You're pretty when you cry."

He rubs his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the mixture of makeup and tears. Suddenly, that same hand is wrapped around her throat. It's not tight, but it's enough to establish dominance.

"You gonna give me one more?" She shakes her head, beginning to cry softly. He shakes his head, shushing her softly, "Nuh uh, none of that baby-" He kisses over her face, his other hand running up and down her side affectionately.

He rests his forehead against hers, his blue eyes dark and predatory.

"You wanna be a good girl for me right? You wanna be a good girl and make me proud?" She whines and looks away from him, not being able to handle his gaze.

"Hey, hey, look at me-there she is, my pretty girl." He smiles seeing her dilated pupils, a clear sign that he did exactly what he planned on doing,

Dumbing her down and making her submit.

"You're gonna be a good girl and ride me, hm?" She nods, not thinking clearly in the slightest. He chuckles and taps her face a bit harder than he should have before he kisses her forehead. He flips them over, his hands finding their way to her waist.

Seeing that her mind is a bit hazy, he aids her in sinking down on him, throwing his head back at the familiar feeling of her walls that he has quickly grown to love.

She begins to rock her hips, throwing her head back and mumbling to herself. "You can do better than that can't you?" Matt taunts as he starts to lift her up and down. She nods absentmindedly and does her best to bounce on his cock, wanting to please him, needing to please him.

Her movements quickly become sloppy and Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He plants both feet on the bed as he wraps his hand around her throat.

She gasps and lets out a choked sob as he begins to thrust upward, her nails digging into his chest. He watches the way her breasts bounce up and down, the way her jaw goes slack, and how her eyes roll back.

He grabs at her breast, twisting and tweaking her nipple.

His thighs become sore so he flips them over once again, missionary.

He throws her legs over his shoulder and re-wraps his hand around her throat. She lets out screams with each deep thrust he gives her, the bed banging against the wall. He notices the small bludge in her stomach and it drives him further.

He removes her legs from his shoulder and pushes them back to her head, his hips ricocheting off the back of her thighs.

Y/n screams go silent, her eyes rolling back and her jaw-dropping as he reaches deeper than he has the whole night.

"There it is, let go for me sweetheart." She lets out a bloodcurdling scream as she reaches her last orgasm of the night, her juices splashing all over Matt and herself. Matt gives 3 more deep thrusts before he stalls inside of her, painting her abused walls a nice shade of milky white.

Y/n lays there a sweaty panting mess, her eyes hallway closed as she remains limp. He looks down as he pulls out of her, the corner of his lips quirking seeing her flinch. he watches as his own seed spills out of her, falling onto the silk bedding beneath them.

He so badly wants to scoop it up and push it back inside her. he already marked her in more ways than one, it wouldn't hurt to mark her in another,

Right?

He's snapped out of his thoughts by his door swinging open, his brother Chris standing in the doorway looking pissed off. "I should beat your ass for keeping me up."

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep Chris! We're done now so stop your bitching." Matt rolls his eyes as Chris slams the door. He hears a noise making him look back at Y/n.

She's asleep.

He chuckles knowing he truly pushed her to the limit. He climbs off the bed and rushes to his bathroom, cleaning himself up and slipping on a pair of boxers. He returns with a wet rag and cleans her up, slipping a clean shirt over her body.

He takes the sheets off the bed and throws them in his hamper, deciding to handle it later. He shuts off the lights and climbs into bed, grabbing his phone in the process. He checks his notifications and smirks when he comes across a particular one.

He mutes their conversation and throws his phone on the nightstand, ending the night with a smile on his face.

YUHHHHHHHHH!!!!! I DECIDED TO FEED YALL SUM GOOD CUZ I DONT BE POSTING FICS LIKE THAT SO I HOPE YALL ENJOY!!! LEMME KNOW IF YALL WANT A PART TWO!!!

XOXO PEACHES🍑

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dear-bunnyboo · 6 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 18+

important note: my face claim will be madison beer but you can imagine whoever you desire. also the songs mentioned are not all technically all madison’s i will be incorporating other songs from other artists.

all the pictures seen below are not mine, however they were edited by yours truly. credits to the owners.

this is my gift to you lovelies for patiently waiting for this chapter! A lot of important events in this chapter… including our very first smut of the series (I was blushing while writing this btw 🥵)

Y’all need Jesus after this fr.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader / Brief Ex!Jack Hughes x Singer!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s a busy week for you and Joe— from the VMAs to the Super Bow, you two can’t help but be shameless.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content, smut, cursing, fluff, mentions of injury, tackling, mentions of cheating ex, fluff, alcohol consumption, flirting, media, paparazzi, sexual tension, more smut, victory sex, hair pulling, soft dom!Joe, spitting, oral, choking, Joe motherfucking Burrow

If you are below the age of 18 and or you are not comfortable with the warnings above, please don’t read this!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐍𝐇𝐋 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Newark, New Jersey - Prudential Center

Flash, Flash, Flash

Flashing lights was all you could see. Each flash earned you a scream and or a holler from all directions— something you have grown accustomed to.

It was a beautiful Monday, a perfect day for the VMAs.

"Y/N!"

"Y/N, over here, darling!"

"Y/N, give us a smile please!"

"Look over here, Y/N"

"Y/N! Over here!"

As the bright lights of the red carpet dazzle your vision, you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of this very moment. Black and white dots now dancing in your eyes as you stayed smiling and posing for the cameras. The crimson carpet stretches before you like a river of greater opportunity, and you're about to dive right in. Your heart flutters in your chest, excitement and nervousness intertwined— you have attended in such events for years now, yet you still can't seem to get used to all the commotion whenever you were in attendance.

The red carpet is a stage in itself, where every step, every glance, every word must be perfectly measured. You reminded yourself to breathe, to savor the moment, to be present. Your a person of talent, passion, and strength, and tonight, You will shine in the spotlight, alongside the people who support you the most.

The camera flashes are like a relentless storm, and you try to maintain that poised smile, the one that you've mastered after the countless times you've stood in front of cameras. You know that every snapshot is a memory etched in time— which is why Y/BF/N dressed you up in the most beautiful dress. You were wearing a pink skin tight dress, a shimmering masterpiece of silk that feels like a second skin with a slit that goes up to your thigh.

Before you could move off of the red carpet, from your peripheral vision you see your best friend directing Joe to stand right next to you and surprisingly he did earning more flashes from the cameras in front of you and more screams from all around.

Joe's muscular arm instantly wrapped around your form, pulling you closer to him— you were practically glued next to him as he stared at the cameras up ahead.

"Joe!"

"Joe! Y/N!"

"Y/N! Joe! Over here!"

"Give a kiss for us!"

"One kiss!"

"Kiss her, Joe!"

Turning your head to look at the man who shouted the last request, you gave him a teasing wink earning a laugh from them. However, Joe had other plans— your boyfriend squeezed your waist causing you to turn and look at the tall man as he was already looking down at you with mischief written in his beautiful baby blue eyes.

"They are begging, lovebug." Joe whispers to you.

Without giving you much time to think about it— Joe gently grabbed your chin in his large hands of his and directed your face towards his, capturing your lips in his, kissing you shamelessly in from of the cameras that were now flashing twice as much as they cheered you two on.

Pulling back, your face was now red and you were pretty sure you could see Y/BF/N giggling at the sideline as she watches with a childlike look in her face.

You gave Joe a playful glare as he chuckled at the look on your face—the same look you gave him when he insisted on going as your date tonight. You were a bit hesitant to take him, not because of the media or the fans— you couldn't give a rats ass about them. It is because the biggest game of his life will be held this Sunday and you didn't want him to miss out on his training days which he ultimately did considering he is right next to you this very moment.

Standing right next to you was your rock, your boyfriend, the famous quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals who is missing the first day of training for the Super Bowl for you. His strong presence is reassuring, his hand warm as he caresses your back. He's here to support you whether you liked it or not, to share in this moment of triumph, and you are so grateful for that. You feel Joe's silent encouragement, his belief in you, and it fuels your confidence even more.

Walking into the grand entrance of the award show ceremony, You can feel the energy in the room, a palpable buzz of excitement and anticipation. The flashbulbs, once a storm on the red carpet, have now turned into a sea of stars among us. Upon entering, you and Joe were greeted by enthusiastic cheers and applause from the fans that are in attendance, and it's like a wave of affirmation washing over you.

Joe's charisma is in a whole other level— to the people who are just now seeing or meeting Joe, his aura is felt throughout. Joe's presence exuding confidence and charm. He's accustomed to the spotlight, but tonight, it's not just about you or Joe, it's about the both of you— this week is both your weeks.

As the two of you made your way further into the venue, you catch the admiring glances and smiles from fellow artists and industry insiders. It's a warm welcome, a validation of the hard work and passion that have led you to this moment. The whispers of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the symphony of anticipation in the air heighten the sense of importance.

Once you reached your seats, you were greeted by more familiar faces in the industry as you politely exchanged pleasantries, Your boyfriend watches you silently as you interacted with people and the way Joe looks at you is a mixture of pride and love, which is a source of strength, reminding you that you're not here alone. They would later turn to him and have the same reaction dawn on their face, it was a mixture of admiration, awe, and intimidation— it was an immediate reaction at this point.

Joe is just that... otherworldly.

The red carpet was a prelude, a dazzling introduction to the evening, but now you were inside, ready to take your seats. Your heart races with excitement, and you can't help but be grateful for the support, for the enthusiasm of those around you. It's a night to celebrate, a night to be recognized for the art you create, and you're eager to embrace every moment of it.

With Joe on your right and Y/BF/N on your left, you feel more at ease with both of them next to you. Your hand is intertwined with Joe's as he quietly looks around the room— a music award show was something he has never attended before and you are excited to take him to more as you watched the stage lights reflect in his crystal eyes.

The night went on, performance after performance were presented. You and Joe were enjoying yourself, watching as the first batch of award were given out— you were nominated to three categories tonight which just so happens to be the three biggest categories of the night

As the evening unfolds, you find yourself in a whirlwind of emotions.

"Here are the nominees for MTV VMAs, Song of the Year."

On cue the large screen in front played the video of the nominee for the category— once the video ended the presenter slowly opened the envelope on their hands, you sat in silence as you kept your composure while your hand grasps Joe's who placed a kiss on your ear before whispering your name as if he was announcing the winner himself.

"Reckless, Y/N Y/L/N!"

The applause, the cheers, and the joy of being recognized for your work are beyond your wildest dreams. You gave Y/BF/N a big hug before doing the same to your boyfriend who later places another kiss on your lips as the camera follows you towards the main stage.

You clutch the trophy in your hands, feeling its weight, both literal and symbolic— the hard work you have put yourself through after the incident with your ex boyfriend.

It was a blessing in disguise.

Not long after returning to your seat, you were yet called up on stage. The feeling of accomplishment overwhelming as you received yet another Moonman.

"The Album of the Year is— Teardrops! Y/N Y/L/N!"

The realization that you've won award after award is sinking in, and you can't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude—one more to go.

After receiving your second award of the night you were rushed immediately backstage for your performance, Y/BF/N already waiting for you with your performance outfit on hand. There were no words exchanged for you were running on borrowed time, your team running along with you as they followed you around as they touched up your make up and fixed your hair.

You headed towards the main stage to your position on the middle of the stage now wearing a little black number that ended mid thigh, hugging your body in the right places. Your dancers surrounding you as they take their places by you as well.

The beginning instrumental of I Did Something Bad started playing in your in-ear— the stage is set, bathed in an ethereal glow, and the audience hushes in anticipation. As the spotlight focuses on the center, there you stand, the pop star sensation, a vision in sequins and stardust. Your powerful voice, like a siren's call, weaves through the air, captivating every soul in the room.

The music surges, the melody infectious, and you danced with an effortless grace that mesmerizes the crowd. Your energy is infectious, igniting the atmosphere with every note. The lyrics are more than just words; they're a story, a journey, a reflection of your heart and soul— the anger and frustration you felt while you wrote the song resonating across the room.

In the front row, Joe watches with a mixture of admiration and love. His eyes are fixed on you, unwavering. Joe has witnessed your journey, the anxiety attacks, the crying, the writing and recording process, the late-night rehearsals, the raw determination, and it all culminates on this stage. He's not just a spectator; he's a witness to the magic you create.

The applause, the cheers, and the standing ovation that follows the performance are a testament to your artistry. You, with your boyfriend's unwavering support, has left an indelible mark on the hearts of those in the audience, reminding them of the power of music and the strength of love. It's a moment to be cherished, a performance that transcends the boundaries of the stage and touches the hearts of everyone in that room.

Once you've returned back to your seat still in your black ensemble, you shamelessly wrapped your arms around Joe's neck as he stood up for you— a warm smile on his face as he nonchalantly caress your body in front of everybody.

"My baby is amazing— so amazing." Joe praises as he helped you on your seat, his warm hand caressing your back while his piercing blue eyes remained on you, eyeing you up and down.

"Thank you, I had fun." you replied slightly out of breath as you gave him a peck on his awaiting lips.

The last award of the night was being presented as you leaned your head on Joe's shoulder, tired after your performance. The blonde places a kiss on your head as he continued to caress your exposed thigh as you waited for the winner to be announced.

"And the Artists of the Year goes to— Y/N Y/LN!"

The moment comes again as you're called up to receive another award. You step forward, and before you can even move another step up the stairs that led to the stairs, Joe leans in and plants a sweet kiss on your lips. It's a gesture of love, a quiet proclamation to the world that he's proud of you.

"Three for three, baby" he whispers against your lips earning a wink from you.

The audience erupts in applause and cheers, sharing in your joy— obviously enjoying the interaction between the two of you.

"Oh my goodness." you started as you reached the mic that was placed on the center stage. You looked at the trophy in your hands, you continued, "I am deeply honored and humbled to stand before you tonight as the recipient of the Artist of the Year award. This moment is not just about me; it's a celebration of the incredible journey we’ve all been on. I would not be here without the unwavering support of so many amazing people, and for that, I am profoundly grateful." you smiled.

"Thank you. To my fellow artists, your creativity and dedication continue to inspire me. This award is not just a recognition of my efforts, but a testament to the power of music in all its forms, and the profound impact it has on our lives. The path to this stage has been filled with highs and lows, challenges and triumphs. It's a journey that has taught me the power of perseverance, the importance of staying true to oneself, and the beauty of creating music that resonates with the heart and soul."

"I want to take a moment to express my gratitude to all those who have been a part of this journey. To my family, who believed in me from the very beginning and provided the love and encouragement that fueled my passion. To my incredible team, who worked tirelessly behind the scenes, helping me bring my vision to life. To the fans, who have been my source of inspiration and motivation every single day— to my best friend, Y/BF/N who is with me right now, thank you for literally everything."

"I also want to thank, number 9 over there." you started before stopping because of the cheers and screams after mentioning Joe who was watching you with a grin on his beautiful face, his eyes never ones leaving yours. "Thank you for taking care of me mentally and physically when I needed the most, I adore you so much it hurts." you moved an inch away from the mic heading back to your seat before deciding to return "Oh, and to the person who inspired my recent album— you know who you are. I literally wouldn't be here without you, so thank you." you smirked and winked at the camera

Once you returned to your seat, Joe placed another kiss on your head "You're trouble." he chuckled implying at the stunt you just pulled. "You love me." you said without thinking.

"That I do."

Your heart flutters with a newfound sense of accomplishment. It's not just about the trophies; it's about the love and support you have in your life. And each time Joe kisses you that night— it's a reminder that you two are in this journey together, celebrating each other's victories.

Los Angeles, California - SoFi Stadium

It is finally Sunday. Its officially the day of the Super Bowl and you simply cannot handle all the emotions that are flowing inside of you this very moment.

Everyone who is everyone is here in the stadium and the weight of today’s events is now dawning on you. The Bengals are yet again going against the Rams for the second time in the Super Bowl— a team they had lost to during their first Super Bowl game. It was the rematch Bengals fans have been waiting for.

You found yourself yet again in the suite where you were surrounded by a lot of Joe’s families and closest friends. Along with Y/BF/N who sat by your side, Your parents were given tickets by your boyfriend— seated next to your other side was your mom and dad who were busy laughing with Robin and Jim.

As you stand in the suite with your arms crossed to your chest, watching the lead-up to kick-off, your heart is a tempest of emotions. The air is charged with excitement, and the entire stadium is alive with anticipation.

Your boyfriend, the star quarterback— Joe Burrow, is at the center of it all. You can see him on the field, surrounded by his teammates, the embodiment of strength and determination. The weeks and months of preparation have all led to this one defining moment.

In just a few minutes, the American flag was brought out, signifying the beginning of the singing of the National Anthem. The National Anthem immediately resonates through the stadium, surrounding the stadium with careful melodies and vocals, and as the final notes echo, You can't help but feel a sense of pride and unity as the hairs on your arms stood up in both excitement and nervousness.

The crowd roars with fervor, and your heart instantly swells with hope.

Kick-off is a heart-pounding moment, and as the game unfolds, every play feels like a microcosm of destiny. With each snap, you can see the intensity in Joe’ eyes from where you were standing, the focus that's been a constant companion in the days leading up to this Super Bowl.

You were up on your feet the entire time, not taking a chance to sit as if you’d miss everything if you did. The sound of cheers and groans echoes in the stadium as the Halftime show started— you couldn’t even enjoy the performance, all you could think about was Joe.

You wanted him to win— he deserves to win.

The competition is fierce, and as the clock ticks away, your anxiety rises. Every throw, every rush, every tackle feels like a rollercoaster of emotions— Y/BF/N grabbing your hand in hers to stop you from potentially ripping your hair out from all the anxiety this stupid game was giving you.

You had a love and hate relationship with football— even more so now that your watching your boyfriend get tackled to the ground.

Then, it happens.

In the final moments of the game, with the score tied; 34-34— which got you gnawing on your lower lip. Joe takes the snap. He surveys the field, and as he releases the ball, time seems to slow down— everyone collectively held their breaths as you watched the ball as it spirals through the air, a graceful arc, and then— with a breathtaking touchdown, the stadium erupts in deafening cheers.

You watched as the rest of the team ran towards Joe as they celebrated on the center one the field— your vision starting to get blurry. It took you long to realize that you were indeed crying, a warm hand caressed your back— turning around you were met with Joe’s mom who was crying herself, she pulled you in for a hug as your family and Joe’s celebrated.

Joe has done it. The last touchdown. Your boyfriend has become the Super Bowl champion. You can hardly contain your joy, and tears of elation filled your eyes once more. The victory is not just his; it's a triumph of dedication, teamwork, and unwavering commitment. You know that this moment will be etched in his memory forever, and you couldn't be prouder. It's a celebration of dreams realized, of hard work paying off, and it's a testament to the power of never giving up. This is a moment we'll cherish for a lifetime, a moment that makes all the sacrifices and struggles worthwhile.

Later that evening you’ve found yourself snuggled in Joe’s side as he listened to Kid Cudi perform at the after party. You and Joe stood by the stage, his arms wrapped around you while you two bobbed your head to the beat— Y/BF/N was on the dance floor dancing her little heart out while both your parents and Joe’s parents already left an hour ago.

As the party roars around you, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming mix of excitement, joy, and anticipation coursing through in your veins. The Super Bowl win was not only a victory for Joe but the entire Bengals organization as well, who are all found in the room enjoying the party that’s being taken place.

It had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions throughout the game, but now, amidst the celebration, your attention was solely focused on Joe and his on you— you two couldn’t get your hands off of each other. The mixture of the adrenaline from the win and the slight buzz from the alcohol making the two of you bold— completely uncaring of the cameras that surrounded the the two of you.

“So, lovebug, I suppose my touchdown wasn't the only thing that left you breathless tonight.” Joe began, his smirk etching itself on his face as he looked down on you.

“Oh, please, Joe. Don't let that Super Bowl win get to your head. But I can't deny, you definitely scored some major points out there.” You rolled your eyes playfully at the blonde who simply chuckled.

Joe leaned towards you even closer, his lips now touching your ear, “Well, they say a victory is always sweeter when you have someone special to celebrate with. And speaking of sweet, you're looking absolutely irresistible tonight.”

Your eyes lightens at every word that came out of Joe’s mouth. “You know, I couldn't take my eyes off you the entire game. Every time I saw you in the suite cheering for me, it gave me the extra boost I needed. You're my lucky charm, babe.” he mutters kissing your cheek.

A playful twinkle in your eye shone against the colorful lights of the club as you looked up at your boyfriend, “Lucky charm? Well, don't go thinking I'll be letting you forget that easily, Mr. Superstar. But if I am your good luck charm, then I guess you owe me a victory dance, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. But let's save that victory dance for somewhere more private.” Joe smirks as he watched your brain short circuit— he wasn’t talking about dancing anymore that’s for sure.

With each passing moment, your playful banter and flirtatious glances intensified. The electricity between the two of you seemed to crackle in the air, heightening the already electric atmosphere of the party. As you moved through the crowd to get another drink, you couldn't resist stealing stolen moments with Joe—brief touches, whispers of affection, and mischievous grins exchanged from across the room.

Throughout the night, you found yourself falling even deeper in love, cherishing every stolen moment that reaffirmed their connection. It was a celebration of the Bengals’ success— Joe’s success. In that moment, as the two of you continued to flirt and revel in the team’s victory, you knew that love and football had collided to create a truly magical and unforgettable night.

Every interaction with Joe sent a thrill through your heart. You found herself becoming more aware of his presence, his touch, his infectious smile. The way he looked euphoric, lightly drenched in sweat and adrenaline, only added to the magnetism between you. You found yourself across the room from him— talking to your best friend, however, your eyes locked, speaking volumes without a single word being uttered. Each glance whispered promises of a future filled with shared victories, celebrations, and unwavering support.

The tension was palpable— it was suffocating you.

And it continued suffocating you until you and Joe got back to your hotel suite.

Upon entering the room, you and Joe kept quiet— uncharacteristic for the both of you considering how much you two talk when you are together— yet it was quiet, it was painful.

You carefully removed your heels off your feet, leaving them bare as you crossed to the room towards the edge of the bed. You started removing the jewelry you were wearing, carefully and placing them on the bedside table.

It was still quiet.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You knew he was watching you— Joe was stood behind you, leaning against the wall as he eyed you from behind, watching your every move like a predator does to his prey. The heat from his gaze is something you could physically feel on you— but you remained unfazed while you continued removing your jewelry.

The sound of Joe walking towards you made you slightly jump in place, trying to keep your composure— you kept your back towards him.

Joe now stood right behind you, his tall stature towering you from behind as you removed your earrings, placing them on the bedside table along with the rest of your jewelry. You can feel the heat of his body from behind you as it radiated off of him like fire. Slowly, Joe’s fingers caressed your neck as he placed kisses on your neck. “We have a lot to celebrate, lovebug.” he whispered against your neck.

“What else is there to celebrate that is more important then you winning the Super Bowl?” you mangaged to breathe out as you leaned back closer to him as he played his fingers through your hair.

He moved closer and you felt yourself melt into him even more as he wrapped his arms around your waist before slowly dragging his large warm hands against your thighs. “First, our relationship being official— finally. Second, is for all the awards you won last Monday. And then we can celebrate for the Super Bowl.” Joe summarizes as he started nipping at the flesh of your neck.

You trembled from the feelings of desire coursing though your body as you continued listening to Joe who’s hands were now inside your dress, however, he simply continued caressing your thighs, teasing you. “How are we gonna celebrate then, Joey?” you released a shaky breath earning a chuckle from your boyfriend, his laugh feeling like vibrations from your back.

“Three celebrations— which means we can start with my fingers, then my mouth, then I’ll finish you off on my cock, how about that, huh?” You physically shook in response, struggling to get a word out.

Your hands pressed against the base of his forearms as Joe moved you with him to sit on the edge of the bed with you now placed on his lap, your back still pressed against his front.

“I asked you a question, lovebug.” Joe’s stern voice entered your ear as he playfully nipped at it causing you to clench your thighs together.

“I- I think I’d like that very much, Joey.” You managed to muster out as you closed your eyes, leaning your head back towards Joe’s shoulder while he continued to caress your body.

“Good girl.”

Good God, you were gonna pass out— you just unlocked Pandora’s box.

A surge of need and confidence surge in you, you turned around to face Joe slowly, now holding his gaze. Your eyes were dark with passion as you kissed him deeply, your tongues dancing together. Joe’s hands slid down your arms, over your breasts and back down to your waist.

His hands gripped your hips as he pulled you even closer to him. His tongue pushed deeper into your mouth as his lips crushed against yours. “Fuck, I wanted you the second your eyes caught mine when you were singing the National Anthem.” he confessed which shocked you considering that was the very first time you laid your eyes on each other— Joe wanted you from the get-go.

Joe broke away from the kiss only to stare into your eyes again. He looked deep into your eyes as if searching for something. He smiled as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, "I've been wanting you since the moment I saw you." Joe repeated once more as he saw your reaction to his statement— you felt your pussy throb in anticipation.

You bit your lip as you tried to compose yourself. "Well, we're not going to waste any time, are we?" you asked seductively as you looked up at Joe with doe eyes.

Joe chuckles darkly at your change in attitude, “No, we’re definitely not.”

Joe pushes your body down onto the bed as kneeled down between your parted legs. His baby blue eyes now darken with lust as he watches you— teasingly he kisses your thighs all the way back up to your lips as he rips your tight dress off your body, leaving you in your underwear that Joe immediately rips off of you as well.

“Joe! I liked that dress!” you gasped and lightly glared at the blonde.

“I’ll buy you a whole damn clothing store— don’t worry.” Joe grunts as he eyed your now naked body before undressing himself.

His hands caress your body as he moves them over your stomach and up to your breasts. Joe leans in and sucks on one of your nipples causing you to moan loudly. His hand moves to the other breast as he begins to squeeze it, pinching the hard nipple between his thumb and index finger. You squirm under him as you feel yourself dripping in anticipation.

Joe takes his hand away from your breast grabs your leg and lifts it up so that he can push your knees apart. You feel his hot breath on your pussy as he licks your clit. You moan loudly as you feel his tongue probe your pussy. His tongue flicks against your pussy lips causing you to shudder.

Joe uses two fingers to spread your pussy open as he begins to tongue fuck your pussy. The sensation is incredible as his tongue works its magic on your clit. You close your eyes as you begin to lose control. Your body shakes as you orgasm from his talented tongue. Joe moves his tongue out of your pussy as he looks up at you— watching you with narrowed eyes.

He smiles as he sees the look of pure ecstasy on your face. "You taste so good." he says as he moves his head back down to your pussy. Joe licks and sucks your pussy as his fingers slide inside of you.

He starts to finger fuck you as he licks your clit before spitting on it. He pulls his fingers out of your pussy and brings them to your mouth. "Taste how wet you are." he demands as he slides his fingers inside of your mouth. You suck on his fingers as you taste your own juices. You moan softly as you feel another orgasm building. Joe continues to lick your pussy as he slides a third finger into you.

He fucks you with his fingers slowly as he licks your pussy. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and slides them back inside of you. "You like that?" he asks as he fucks you faster. "Yes, please don't stop." you begged.

Joe smirked as he picks up the pace. You feel your orgasm coming closer as he fucks you harder. You grab hold of the sheets as your whole body begins to shake. Joe slows down as he feels you cumming.

You bite your lip as you feel your orgasm subsiding. Joe looks up at you as he continues to slowly finger fuck you. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks. "No, no, keep fucking me. I want more.” you reply.

You were addicted.

Joe climbs on top of you and kisses you deeply. You kiss him back as you feel his cock rubbing against your pussy. You wrap your legs around his waist as he pushes his cock deep inside of you. You moan as he enters you fully. Joe thrusts his cock in and out of your pussy. You wrap your arms around his neck as he fucks you. You moan loudly as you feel another orgasm building. Joe reaches down and rubs your clit as he fucks you.

"Oh god yes!" you scream as you explode in another orgasm. Joe continues to fuck you as you cum. You feel another orgasm approaching as Joe thrusts into you faster.

Joe didn’t give you enough time to think, he pulls his cock out of your pussy before he grabbed your legs and lifts them over his shoulders. You wrap your arms around his neck as he drives back into you. "Fuck me harder!" you demand. He rolls you over onto your stomach— He spreads your legs apart as he climbs between them. He pushes his cock back inside of you. You moan as he fucks you harder. “I love fucking you." he says as he thrust in you.

"Me too." You moaned as Joe continued to pound into you, drilling you down the bed. “Oh god! I'm gonna cum!" you scream as you explode in another orgasm as Joe finished in you as well.

Joe pulls his cock out of you before getting off of you to lay next to you. You look into his eyes as he smiles. "That was– crazy. You’re crazy" you giggled earning a laugh from your boyfriend who smiles as he wraps his arm around you.

“The whole hotel knows that now.” Joe stated almost smug.

“Joseph Lee Burrow!” You smacked his bare chest as he gave you another heartily laugh, gently tickling your sides. “I’m kidding— we have a private floor, baby.” Joe reassured you.

“You’re fucking shameless.”

“You and me both, pretty girl.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Three for One 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Tis the sleazins

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You keep the small lamp next to the bed on through the night. You slip into a shallow doze, aware of Ernie’s deep breaths and your ears' thrum in the silence of the room. After hours of this, you finally dip beneath the threshold of true sleep. The deep sort that blocks out even dreams. You are thoughtless in the void.

A swirling sensation comes over you. A subconscious dizziness that weighs down your body. The achy paralysis of an all consuming fatigue.

The layers of your unconscious slake away one by one. Your breathing picks up, your eyes roll beneath their lids, your body tingles as your senses return to you. Little by little, you float towards reality.

It’s as if you’re being tugged between two forces. The dregs of your exhaustion battle with a sharp plucking you can’t place. Your voice tickles your ears, bringing you closer to the world. Your lashes flutter as you moan, a tremor between your thighs as heat brews in your pelvis.

Your eyes snap open and your head pops up. You choke as your dry throat catches the scream that rises from your lungs. First at the memory of where you are, then at the sight of the body between your thighs. The shoulders that keep you splayed as he man bows his head to your cunt.

You try to holler but again it shrivels to a pathetic whine. His tongue smothers your resistance as he laps at your clit, swiping and suckling, playing with you expertly. You fall back and grasp the pillow, back arching instinctively into him.

He chuckles, the noise rippling into you as his fingertips brush up your thigh. Rubbing and tracing along the flesh, closer and closer to their price. Your gasp as he feels along your folds, gliding between them as he hums and tastes, drinking up the pleasure slickens your lips.

He rolls your bud between his teeth playful as he prods at your entrance. He pushes, threatening to slide inside, then pulls back, roving up between your folds and down again. He does this again and again, each time sending a tide rattling through you.

He snickers and pushes a single finger into you. Easily sliding into his lowest knuckle, curling his finger as he tests your limits. He extends his finger again, measuring your depth and eases it out. This time, he aligns two thick digits and shoves them into you, a fiery stretch radiating into your stomach.

There’s that stubborn voice telling you to push him away, to kick and hit, to do anything but let him keep going. You can’t. It’s delectable. The short trim of hair on his lip adds just enough friction to make you writhe. How can someone so repugnant make you feel so good? Almost as good as your pulse vibrator.

You swing your hand down and latch onto his hair. You fist the strands as you put your other palm to the shave sides. You buck your hips, trying to control his rhythm as he slides in and out of you. He snarls as he wiggles his head, purring as he laps you up.

You feel your orgasm twisting and twisting. The tension knots in your muscles and curls your toes. It has you quiver as you shove his head down and moan. Your walls squeeze his fingers as a gush flows out around his knuckles.

He snickers and keeps going. You puff and push on his head as his tending grows overbearing. You try to roll him away from you but he pins you flat. He rams in as deep as he can, pressing against the sensitive ridge just behind your entrance.

You squeal and shake. Oh god, it’s too much. You don’t even think it’s him. It’s just the effort. It’s been a while since you were with a man who did more than wander aimlessly around your cunt.

He seals his lips around your clit and sucks. The pressure is immaculate. It swells and your climax spills over again. You drag your hands away from his head and brace the bed. You get lost in the whirlwind of your own pleasure.

He pops his mouth off of you. You spasm as your head lolls. You look down at him, unable to close your legs as he stays nestled between them. His mustache glistens from your stolen delight.

“Like that, kitten?” He winks.

“Wha…” you garble and push yourself up on your elbows. He keeps his fingers in you, wiggle them until you squeak.

“Those other dicks won’t treat you like a nine course buffet,” he rocks his hand at an easy tempo, “mmmm,” his eyes flick down to your cunt as he watches himself finger you, “Merry fucking Christmas, huh?”

“Wh- where–” you can hardly think straight. Something’s off, something’s missing. Is this some demented dream?

You flinch as a beep comes from the other side of the door. He doesn’t react or stop. The mechanism whirs back and the door opens. You drop your head and hide under your arm in shame before you can see who it is.

“What the fuck?” The other man exclaims, “Lloyd, get off her–”

“Breakfast, most important meal of the day,” he chuckles as his breath dances over your cunt and he leans in again. Before he can meet your cunt, he’s pulled away, his hand ripped unceremoniously from between your legs.

“This isn’t what we agreed on,” Andy snarls.

“Keep saying it and I might fucking care,” Lloyd retorts.

You close your legs and bend them as you pull down your skirt. You push yourself up against the pillows, folding yourself as small as you can as you stare at the men’s shoulders. Andy has Lloyd by the front of his black turtleneck as Lloyd grips his forearms in turn.

Andy inhales deeply and lets it out through his nose. He peeks over at you as you put your palms to your cheeks. You give a sheepish look, averting your eyes to the bedspread.

“Outside.”

Andy tries to move Lloyd. He can’t. The men stare each other down. The latter scoffs and shoves the other’s hands off his collar. The part, squaring their shoulders and posturing like animals.

Not a word passes between them as Lloyd raises his two fingers, “let me just get cleaned up.”

He sucks his fingers clean and you grimace, turning your head to hide behind your eyelids. He snickers again and a sole scuff before footfalls trail out the door. Another deep breath and another pair of steps pace away. The door closes and you’re left to silent confusion.

You look around the room as more of the previous night pieces together. You bounce to the edge of the bed in a sudden panic as you look around. Ernie!

You hear a scratch, then another, and a puff of nostrils. You spin to face the small door on the opposite side of the room. You round the bed and turn the handle, finding both your dog and an en suite bathroom.

“Oh, Ern, thank god,” you bend to hug him around the neck. He smells like bacon. You stand as you pat his head; he must’ve been lured in by the delicious cured meat. “Silly.”

You drag your hand away and turn to the room. You look around as you consider your options. There aren’t many. That door is locked and the walls are soundproof. You’re not going to be saved by some miracle hero. You’re also not going to fight off three men for much longer. Not through brute strength.

Give a little, get a lot. This isn’t a typical fight. It’s three against one. You’re outnumbered. You can’t win alone, but you also won’t gain any allies. There is something they say about that; the enemy of my enemy…

You go to the tall wardrobe and open the door. You pick out a red sweater dress with bell sleeves that ends just across your thighs. With it, you take a pair of similarly coloured panties; a thong but the least skimpy of the collection. You also grab a pair of black knee socks to keep your toes warm.

Ernie goes to the door and lays down in front of it. He’s always your little guard. Wherever you are, he puts himself between you and any entrance. He’s like a furry knight.

You go into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. You flip on the light and take in the space. A typical bathroom; a shower with a completely transparent wall, shining counters, and a porcelain toilet beneath a silver set of shelves.

There’s a towel on the bar. You put the clothes on the closed toilet and undress. You crank on the shower and wait for the booth to fog up. You step inside and let the heat soak into you. It’s almost comforting, as much peace as you’ll find in this place.

You use that moment to think. You don’t have a clear plan. You can’t have one but you have an idea. As much as you can barely stand those men, they would say the same of each other. You can use that.

You use the body soap in the bottle with the cupcake as a cap. You smell like a candle as you rinse off. You turn off the flow of water and turn to the door. You push it open and step onto the mat, stopping short as you find someone waiting on the other side.

Andy sputters as his eyes rove up and down your body. You cross your arms, and hand over your pelvis as you gasp and shy away. He clears his throat and snatches the towel off the bar, holding it out as his eyes skim the ceiling.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to scare you–”

“It’s fine,” you assure him as you accept the towel and cover yourself. You gotta get your shit together. You have to let them think they have you cornered but you can’t really get yourself stuck. “I was just cleaning up, I’m sorry. I… I should’ve asked.”

“No, it’s okay,” he assures you, “I should be sorry. About Lloyd. He shouldn’t have… just barged in.”

“Oh, uh…” you look away. You’re genuinely embarrassed.

“He likes to do whatever he wants. Not anymore. I’ll make sure of that, honey. If he pulls anything, I want you to tell me, can you do that?”

You turn back to him. You meet his eyes. You see the strain around them. He’s fighting not to look down.

“Sure,” you agree.

“Good,” he says, “I…” He glances around, “I should let you get dressed. When you’re ready, you can come out and join us.”

“Okay,” you smile and sway back and forth, “Andy?”

He looks at you, his eyes alight, “yes, honey?”

“You said you won’t let them hurt me, right?”

He nods, his face softening, “I won’t.”

You let your lips tremble and squeeze the top of the towel, “promise?”

“I promise,” he assures you. “You’re precious to me. I…” he swallows, “I wouldn’t have done all this if you weren’t.”

“I… you’re right, it is a lot,” you go to the sink and look in the mirror before taking a bottle of expensive cream from the shelf over the toilet. You read the label, “you know, I could never afford this on my own. Ninety-five dollars an ounce.”

“I know,” he drones, “it’s why I got it for you.”

“You?” You hold onto the small tube as you peek at him.

“The others… they helped me get you. That’s it. Everything else, I did. For you.”

“That’s so sweet,” a tremor breaks through your voice, an unintended affect.

“Let me know if I missed anything,” he inches back slowly, “if you need… anything.”

“I will,” you turn back to your reflection. You know he doesn’t mean anything. If you asked him to take you home, you don’t think he’d listen.

You wait for him to go. You only realise when he’s gone that you really are shaking. You’re afraid. Even if these men are dumb, they scare you. You have to be very careful.

🎀

When you’re dressed, you find the door open, waiting for you. You go down the hall as you hear a commotion. Ernie’s paws tap on the floor as he wiggles in his pre-meal dance. He must be so hungry!

He drools as he threatens to jump up at Ransom who holds the open bag of kibble in his arms. You know by the torn top that it’s the very same from your cupboard. He fights to keep from spilling as he’s corned by the Saint Bernard.

“He’s going to bite me!” He yells.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Lloyd appears in the doorway, “you got one job, the dog food. So feed the damn dog.”

“You feed it,” Ransom slams the bag down on the table against the wall, “just watch your fingers.”

Ransom holds up his bandaged hand; Ernie’s work. You almost laugh. You’re proud of your boy.

“Ah, hello, pussy cat,” Lloyd turns his attention on you, “look who’s up from her cat nap.”

You blink at him dumbly. He smirks smugly and winks, pointing at you with two fingers. Those two fingers. You shudder.

“I can feed him,” you offer. “He needs a bowl.”

You head for the front room but Lloyd is quick to block you as he stretches his arm across the expanse of the hallway, “I’m still a bit peckish, can I get something to eat?”

You cringe and back up. Ransom comes closer as Ernie’s distracted by the bag of kibble, his nose pressed to the side. You gulp as the men zero in on you.

“She tastes like honey,” Lloyd comments, “you want some? I’ll bend her over and you can go through the back, huh?”

Ransom snickers as he steps up next to Lloyd, “how do you know?”

Lloyd growls and tilts his head, “how do you think?”

“How the fuck did you get away with that?”

“I didn’t,” Lloyd sneers, “Mr. Bossy Pants spoiled the meal.”

“Uh, oh, please, I… it’s Christmas,” you show your palms, “so I think we should, er–”

“It’s Christmas so why don’t you give us a present?” Ransom grins, “got a couple I can think of under that sweater.”

“I– but Andy–”

A sudden crash and scatter makes you all flinch. The men turn and you look between them to find Ernie tearing into the bag of kibble. You rush forward, elbowing the men as you race towards him. You pull him back by the collar, barely able to keep him from pigging out.

“Please, he needs a bowl,” you plead, “he’s on a controlled diet.”

“He’s a dog,” Lloyd sniffs.

“Yeah? And you gave him bacon!” You accuse.

“What’s going on?” Andy appears from the front room.

“Great,” Lloyd grumbles.

“Stupid dog,” Ransom snarls, “that’s what’s going on.”

“Honey,” Andy ignores them, rushing to you, “are you okay?”

“No,” you pout, “if he eats too much, he’ll be sick.”

“Aw, it’s okay,” he rubs you back through the sweater. You note how eager he is to touch you. “I’ll clean up, you get him in the kitchen.”

“I’ll go with her,” Lloyd offers, “there’s knives in there.”

“Ransom,” Andy grits and rescinds his hand as he turns to glare at Lloyd, “you can take her.”

The other two men stare each other down, just like before. That argument isn’t over and you’re not sure it ever will be. Whatever their plan is doesn’t seem to be going as they expected. You can only hope that it doesn’t.

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pinkanonwrites · 1 year

Note

Idea for a little angst. Leona has a nightmare about his s/o (fem or gn preferably) becoming an unfortunate victim to King’s Roar’s effect. Maybe having flashbacks to when he overblotted in a sense? Up to you!

Ohhhhhhh this is a PRIME angst prompt, thank you very much for this incredibly ouchie idea.

GN!Reader, ANGST, comfort

"Herbivore?"

In the center of Night Raven College's Spelldrive stadium, Leona stood alone. There was no grass beneath his feet crosshatched with play lines and goal marks, just cracked, dry soil. There were no cheers in the stands, no holler of food vendors or trumpet of pep bands, just a blistering, eerie silence. As the wind whistled through the empty field, little spirals of sand danced upon the breeze to land near his feet.

"Howl? Felmier?... Ruggie?"

No response.

He trod carefully across the arid dirt, moving towards the entrance of the field. Surely there he would find someone waiting, Ruggie or another Savanaclaw student or you, you had to be here somewhere. He was not afraid. he was not.

But dipping through the doorway and peering into one of the locker rooms revealed an equally eerie sight. No students, no coaches. Just heaps of dry, yellow sand. The alternate team's locker room revealed the same sight. So did the hallway out into the stadium entry, the vendor booths that lined the cobblestone path, the winding road leading back up to the school proper.

But along that road, facing away from him, finally he saw you.

"Herbivore!"

"...Why?"

Despite your distance, he could hear you perfectly. He tried to move towards you but it felt like her were wading through tar, each step a herculean effort. He tried to call for you again but found his voice dry and lifeless in his throat.

"I didn't ask to be here. I didn't know this would happen. But still... I just wanted to help. Why wouldn't you let me help?"

He was moving forward, he knew he was, so why did it seem like you were just as far away?

"This isn't even my home, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Is that so wrong? Why do you hate me so much?"

'I don't. I don't hate you. I never have, not really.' He tried to say, but the only noise he could make was a single choked rasp.

"Why would you do this to me? I just wanted to help."

He blinked. That's all he did, just a single blink. But suddenly he was upon you, crowding your space, a single clawed hand wrapped effortlessly around your neck. You didn't thrash, didn't scream, didn't make any attempt to pull away. Leona couldn't move either, frozen in time, watching in horror as the delicate skin around your neck began to flake and chip and dissolve to powdery sand. The tears in the corners of your eyes turned to dust before they could even roll down your cheeks.

"I JUST WANTED TO HELP!"

Leona jolted awake to blackness, the dull tick of an alarm clock sitting on his nightstand. He was coated in sweat, panting, throat dry and hoarse. He felt along the left side of his bed, palms thumping frantically over the blanket-clad shape sharing his space. The only one he'd allow to share his space.

"Hrrmph?- Ow, ow! Shit, Leona! You scared the hell out of me!" You grumbled, wrestling blindly out of your blanket to try and protect yourself from his swatting hands. You were here. Thank the seven, you were here. You were here, beside him, and he hadn't destroyed you. He hadn't ruined the one good thing that life had given him, not yet.

He hadn't, but he almost did. He almost did, some time ago.

The air was forced out of your body in a rushed whoof! as Leona bowled into you, draping himself entirely over your still sleep-addled form. Before you could protest or even question what was happening you felt the rasp of his sandy tongue against your temple, peppered kisses in between soothing licks. Was he... Grooming you? Leona never groomed you. He rarely even let himself be groomed by his own family. And yet here he was, pressing himself into you like he was afraid you were going to vanish from beneath his grasp.

"Herbivore... kitten..." He mumbled in between kisses, reverent, relieved. you let a hand come up to rest on his cheek and he stifled a sound that you could have sworn was a tiny sob.

"Hey, hey, I'm right here big cat. I'm not going anywhere. What's all this about?" You ran your thumb blindly back and forth over the curve of his cheekbone, and he melted weakly into the touch.

"...Right, right. You're not. Never go anywhere. I won't let you, not without me." Slowly the two of you sank back into the warmth of your shared mattress, Leona pressed against you like a second skin. "You're stuck with me now, aren't ya? Don't even think of... Of goin' anywhere."

As his words began to drift into exhausted mumbles you pressed yourself as close as you could into his warm side, letting him wrap an arm over your body and pull you into his embrace. You murmured a soft placation into his chest, hoping that whatever brought on this sudden influx of emotion out of your partner, it would be enough to soothe it.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #disney twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar imagines #leona kingscholar angst #my writing #angst #comfort #anon

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eskumii · 2 months

Note

Can you pls do platonic yandere sanemi x demon child reader (that is also tanjiros and nezukos younger sibling to)

soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!reader hcs [platonic]

TITLE: " TURBULENCE " — navi.

A/N: this contains huge manga spoilers in regards to sanemi's past/relationships!! also ,, ty for being patient annonie, if ur still there :') also i accidentally posted this b4 i finished it, so sorry if anyone saw that...

PAIRING: soft yandere!older brother figure!shinazugawa sanemi x child!demon!kamado!reader (platonic)

CHARACTERS: shinazugawa sanemi (21), reader (12), nezuko (14), tanjiro (16)

☆ sanemi hates demons.

☆ that much is clear from the spectacle he made of your older sister, nezuko, at the hashira's headquarters with that horrrible temper of his. needless to say, you don't like him at all and he clearly doesn't like you or your sister, either. it certainly doesn't help that master kagaya seems to have a sour sense of humor as you're now stuck with him as your babysitter.

☆ both tanjiro and nezuko vehemently object to master kagaya's orders. the servants of the residence had to literally rip you from the ironed grips of your older siblings, who were screaming bloody murder as if you'd be separated for the rest of eternity. they were certainly being a tad bit dramatic, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't just as upset.

☆ with the deal set in stone, however, sanemi drags you to his home as begrudgingly as humanly possible and condemns you to one of his spare bedrooms. apparently he lived alone (expected tbh) in a traditional style home, complete with the koi ponds and bamboo deer scares. it's nice, you'll give him that, but his nasty attitude doesn't seem to match the beauty of his residence.

☆ although your living conditions are less than ideal, you're old enough to know that staying under someone else's roof is almost never free. you try (keyword: try) to do what you can to help around the house but sanemi is constantly hollering at you to leave him alone or to not mess with his stuff.

☆ he insists you stay in your room and out of his way, but you still tail behind him from afar out of your debilitating boredom. if he notices, he says nothing, and simply ignores you as if you're not even there. at least when you were with tanjiro and nezuko there was always something to do—sanemi is so boring.

☆ sometimes sanemi gets really angry for seemingly no reason and at any given time. he'll storm outside and take it out on the poor practice dummies that litter his backyard, grunting in oblivious rage when he accidentally kicks one of their heads off. you're not sure what it is about you that makes him so angry; you've kind of already ruled it out as his perpetual state of being.

☆ and, well, sanemi doesn't... hate you. you remind him so much of his younger brother, genya, and most of his anger is only borne out of pain. as the eldest of the family he once knew, it's not like the instincts he acquired to take care of his siblings just went away. you simply remind him of who he used to be and the weaknesses that tore his family apart make him inexplicably angry.

☆ considering your resemblance to his late younger siblings (and genya), sanemi does get protective over you in his own ways. sometimes you meddle too close to the windows during the day, so he'll yell at you to move. or sometimes when you're scarfing down the raw meat he gives you, he yells at you to slow down lest you choke.

☆ it may seem like he's not paying attention to you at all, but he's always peeking at you with watchful eyes. he's notices that you like to watch him train but can't be out in the sun, so he hung up a blanket in the branches of a nearby tree without saying a word to you. you smile knowing that you're growing on him.

☆ during the evening, sanemi often catches you out in the garden picking flowers. usually he'd shrug his shoulders and turn his nose up, but he felt compelled to see what you were doing out there all the time. plus, he couldn't have you wandering out beyond the walls.

☆ "what're you doin', kid?" sanemi's booming voice scares you and you drop your basket of colorful flowers on the ground with a squeak. you scramble to gather them again and you're surprised to see a pair of scarred hands helping out, too.

☆ "i'm gonna make flower crowns for when tanjiro and nezuko get back." you answer once all the flowers are back in the basket. sanemi snorts. "flower crowns?"

☆ you nod. "yup! here, i'll show you how to make one." sanemi has zero time to refuse as you grab his hand and pull him down onto the grass with you. you take a length of string that you had stolen from one of his many rooms of junk and began to attach the flowers to it with a clever weaving pattern.

☆ sanemi is fuming in embarrassment as you eagerly teach him how to make a stupid flower crown. this is ridiculous. but why can't he just get up and leave? when you hand him the string of flowers to try it out for himself, your childish giggling is contagious as he fumbles clumsily and accidentally crushes the delicate stem in his callous grip.

☆ in the end, sanemi finds himself enjoying making flower crowns with you, but he threatens you violently with a ruffle of your hair should you tell anyone about it. he would never admit it but as he looks at the crudely made flower crown that you helped him with, he feels a distantly familiar feeling of warmth igniting in his heart again.

☆ the rest of the days you spend with sanemi begin to feel more pleasant than it did initially. sanemi no longer leaves you to your own devices, but instead tries to find things for you to do during the day when you can't go outside. he'll bring you puzzles and teach you how to read with children's folktales written on tarnished scrolls that he said he kept from his old family home.

☆ you're not sure what happened, but sanemi dotes on you now. once you had tripped and split your finger open, and sanemi rushed to your side like it had been your head. it healed within a few seconds, but sanemi still scolded you for walking around unsupervised.

☆ and when you get feverish due to your refusal of eating human flesh, which is often, sanemi tarries by your side day and night in order to make sure you're as comfortable as can be. cold, damp towels on your forehead, fresh raw meat at your bedside, and anything else you want, he gets for you. the worry etched into the lines of his forehead shows how much he cares about you.

☆ by the time tanjiro and nezuko return from their mission to collect you, sanemi doesn't even want to let you go. in fact, you've both grown attached to each other and while you're overjoyed to see your siblings again, sanemi has also become something like an older brother to you. you've grown to love the big residence and his presence.

☆ you're in tears as sanemi pats your head and smiles crookedly at you for what feels like the last time. you beg tanjiro to let you stay longer but he firmly tells you no. sanemi makes tanjiro promise that he'll take you to visit him or else he'll kill him (he's serious).

☆ when you inevitably depart from sanemi (tanjiro has to pry you away from him), he feels about as lonely as the day is long. the residence feels too big without you following behind him like his own shadow, and every time he turns a corner he half-expects to find you doing something to cause trouble.

☆ sanemi takes the flower crown you both made and seals it in a glass jar. he hopes that you'll visit again before it withers, or else he might just go out and find you himself.

#yandere x reader #yandere sanemi x reader #yandere sanemi #yandere demon slayer #yandere kny #yandere demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere hashira #platonic yandere

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love-lilly02 · 18 days

Text

The Challenge— Chapter 9

When you died, you were going to have an all white funeral.

It was something that had been decided by your entire family, not even by your agreement but by tradition. According to them, a funeral was a celebration, not an occasion to be sad.

When you joined the 141, they were required to ask how you wanted preparations to be set up, if there were any “special requests.”

Your mom answered that one for you.

Never in his life did Gaz actually assume he would show up to a funeral in white.

He almost thought he would have to do it.

“This is bull shit!”

Soap’s yell snaps Gaz out of his thoughts, and he looks back at where the man is sitting on the edge of his seat yelling at the others in the room. Specifically you, who’s sitting there half in tears. If your laughing or crying is still completely unknown to him. “That clue is bull shit and you know it.”

“I’m literally HANDING you the answer!!” You yell back at him, almost choking over both your words and laughter at the same time.

“NO. YOU ARENT. THAT ANSWER IS SO SHITTY A TOILET WOUKDNT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT!!!” Soap hollers back, and the rookies explode with laughter.

“ITS A FUCKING MOVE THEY DO!”

“I don’t know what the fuck a pas de deux is but it does NOT. EXIST.”

“Bitch i was one of these hoes for twelve years, I WOUKD KNOW”

And so it continues. It had started out with a simple game between the four of you, well, three considering Si opted out, but it quickly turned into a good natured screaming match over the game. Headbands always turned out like this though, at least whenever Soap played.

“Thirty seconds, suds.” Price grumbled from the couch, and you snapped your fingers quickly, trying to think of something to give him a hint.

“Fuck uhhh, okay The Nutcracker?”

“Actor?”

“No, no but you’re close. They move around a lot more?”

“A soldier.”

“No, damnit. Like, like— fuck, fuck!! Okay pink fluffy skirts-“

“DANCER!”

“Yes!!” You scream, and you both jump for joy. Everyone in the room cheers, and Gaz even notices Ghost crack a smile under his mask.

“Fuckin ‘Pas de Deux’ what kind of a clue is that” Soap grunts, knocking back another drink. You just roll your eyes, sighing loudly.

“It’s literally a dance move everyone knows. I could have said pirouette and you still wouldn’t catch on, I don’t see a difference.” The silent insult makes him chuckle, and Gaz’s smile widens.

“Lay offit ay? Not my fault nobody knows dance terms.”

“I actually knew that.” Gaz pipes up, and Ghost nods in agreement. “It is a pretty common dance move.”

You throw your hands in the air as if to say see fucker, I was right.

Soap just rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t know you danced,” Gaz said, lifting his drink to his lips. He tries to ignore the way your eyes follow the movement, or how it takes you a few seconds longer than usual to respond.

“Mhm. Did it with my sister for a while. Wasn’t very good, unfortunately.” Gaz nods, humming.

“When’d you quit?” He asks, pretending to swirl his drink around in the glass.

You eye him suspiciously, trying to blink through the haze the alcohol has made in your mind. “Few years back, round the same time I enlisted.”

Gaz nodded. It felt wrong, using you for information like this. But this had become more than just some challenge for him, it was genuine curiosity. Like there was a constant itch in the back of his mind that he couldn’t get to die down unless he got some answers.

Usually, Ghost was the tech person. He would be the one to hack cameras, snoop on people, be the physical stalker. The problem they all ran into, though, is that a lot of your life was online. You were the youngest of them all, younger than Gaz even, and while they gave you shit for it, it meant you were way more online than they were.

Because of that, they couldn’t rely on just your files to tell them everything. There was a world hidden somewhere in all your deleted accounts, messages encoded in emails and photos from after your graduation. Piecing them together was too big of a job for one man alone, especially men of their age.

So they didn’t do it alone.

It took your near death experience to make grown ass men to realize how fucking stupid they were being about this. Simon said it himself, the 141 didn’t operate by itself. It was a team. They were a team. They did things together, which meant they would get their answers together. It also meant they would get to share you at the same time, but that wasn’t a foreign concept to them.

And none of them really had an issue sharing with each other.

That night, after everyone else had turned in , Gaz got to work. He used the best lead of you he had (your beginning of the year photo for Junior year, taken just before everything disappeared) and worked his way down. He flew through all of your files, finding names, dates and addresses. Long ago he figured out that numbers were the most important thing in a task like this. Without them you could get nowhere. He followed paths he had taken dozens of times, different directions to get to the same conclusion. There wasn’t anything there. Just like you predicted, it all stopped at your junior year.

This time, though, that wasn’t what he was looking for.

Once he hit that wall again, He went back and retraced his steps. He included references to clubs in his search, finding every extra circular at your school and looking into their history. Nothing came up for a long, long time.

It was nearly sunrise before he found something. Normal people would have seen this and not batted an eye, but Gaz was too keen in his research to miss it.

In an article about your schools dance team, just a few months before graduation two names glared out on the screen at him. Your name, and someone else’s who rhymed quite well with yours. The gears spun in his head, and he laughed to himself in pure shock.

They were on a a wild goose chase for the wrong person.

It explained why he was physically unable to find anything on you, because he wasn’t even looking for you in the first damn place. He was tracking down your sister.

He took the two names and pasted them into his system, hitting enter on the keyboard.

Over three hundred search results came up, but only one caught his eye.

“Local College student gets killed in school shooting, family is left devastated.”

He might have to do a bit more digging than he thought.

Finding the photos was the easy part. Now that he knew who you were, they were everywhere. You really had gotten up to a lot behind their backs, you had at least tried out every club once and volunteered everywhere in your damn state. It was impressive that you managed to switch personalities so quickly, going from someone so loud and outgoing to… well, you. He knew hiding this much information wasn’t easy, having to go under an alias a few times to escape capture taught him that the hard way. But you did it with ease, as if you…

Oh.

He had to tell Price.

AN: if you can spot the audio reference and tell me which audio it comes from, who made it and give me a time stamp i’ll post the next chapter early (as in; as soon as i see the ask/comment)

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader

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suuuupernovaaa · 10 months

Text

Requested by anon. Hobie Brown x f!Reader. 'Open Arms' by SZA, Travis Scott.

I know this is all bad, but please, put a leash on me. Who needs self-esteem anyway?

Rated M. 18+. Mostly fluff.

Samantha's elbow, unbelievably sharp and bony, grinds into my side. I let out a yelp, and yank myself away from my best friend. "What the fuck, Sam?"

She's grinning at me, and then her gaze slips away, following something over my shoulder. I follow her eyeline and see him - Hobie Brown, walking towards us across the grassy lawn of the park. His guitar is strapped over his back and his hands are in the pocket of his studded leather vest. He's walking towards us and as his gaze meets mine, the corners of his mouth turn up just a little bit - which is a beaming smile for Hobie.

We've only just started dating. It's been three... dates, if you can call them that. The second date was helping Hobie and his friends paint a mural. The third was dinner, which I burnt, on the floor of my apartment, because I'm waiting for my new kitchen table to be delivered. The first, Hobie told me on the third date, was the time we ran into each other at the grocery store and he asked me on what I thought was our first date, but then learned was apparently our second.

Though I've dated plenty before, there is something distinct about Hobie. When I first met him, I assumed he was the kind of guy who could not settle down, who could not commit, and who wouldn't be interested in sharing his feelings with anyone.

You could have nearly knocked me over with a feather when, as we sat on the floor eating burnt roast chicken over my coffee table, Hobie looked me right into my eyes and told me he was feeling nervous every time he saw me.

"Dunno," he'd told me, "I just think... that you're special, Y/N. This is somethin' special, and I don't want to mess it up."

I nearly choked on my dry chicken, and the tears that gathered in my eyes as I took a sip of water. The truth was, since the moment I'd been introduced to Hobie Brown, I'd known I was in trouble. Everything about him screamed for me. I was obsessed. I was trying to play it cool, but hearing him call me special, call the budding relationship between us special, nearly sent me into a fit.

"Jesus," Hobie said, hitting my back gently. "You alright?"

I wiped the tears from my eyes and set my water down. "Yes. Sorry. Shit. I really like you, Hobie."

We smiled at each other like two idiots who were bound to fall in love.

As he walks toward me in the park, I'm smiling like that again. I can feel Sam rolling her eyes next to me. "Oh, my god, are you going to fuck him in front of everyone here?"

I shrug, and elbow her back. "If he asks."

She shoves me. "I gotta run. See you tonight?"

"What's tonight?" Hobie asks as he reaches us, and Sam begins her departure.

"See you!" I holler. "Sam is going to help me put together my table and chairs. She's handy."

"I mean this in the most pro-feminist, anti-sexist way possible, but you've got a man now. I can put together your furniture," Hobie says with a teasing grin, and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. "Or, I can bring you a pizza after you work. Christen the new table."

I press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Perfect. Around 8? Shouldn't take us too long."

It's embarrassing, how I melt in this man's arms. When he mentions Christening the kitchen table, I don't think of eating food there. I think of myself, laid back, legs spread, Hobie between them...

But pizza with Hobie and my best friend is good, too. Jesus, I need to pull myself together, hold on to my dignity and self-respect as long as I can.

Hobie dips me backwards a little bit, and presses a firm kiss to my mouth, letting his lips linger on mine for a long time. My head is spinning when he finally sets me upright again. "Maybe once Sam leaves, we can Christen the table another way," he whispers, and a shiver runs up my spine.

I don't really need self-respect, do I?

#Hobie brown #Hobie brown x reader #Hobie brown fic #Hobie brown x you #Hobie brown fluff

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sprout-fics · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day Five: Debris, Pinned Down, "It's Broken."

(John 'Soap' MacTavish x GN! Reader)

(Whumptober Masterlist TBA)

Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: 1.1k Tags: Blood/Injury, Whump, Near Death Experiences, Hurt/Comfort, Broken Bones, Trapped, Death all but certain scenario Warnings: Explicit Mention of Injury/Gore A/N: This is all I currently have written for Whumptober! I'll be unable to continue due to my schedule, but thank you for tuning in!

The world is still roaring when you come back to your senses.

Curled up on your side, you lay against the rough ground, a scattering of debris sprinkled over your form from the explosion gone off much too soon. The building still creaks and shudders as it settles, layers of plaster and brick trembling into an unsteady dormancy that could shift at any moment. There’s brick dust caught in your lungs. You choke on it, splutter as you push yourself up onto your forearms, wave an arm to try and clear the haze of dust in order to spot your teammate.

Soap hadn’t pushed the trigger. You know that. It must have been an enemy that got too close to one of the packages, tripped the C4 and sent part of the building folding before you and Soap were clear. He’d never ever do this until you were both at a safe distance. You could tell that alone from the way he pushed you, just a few feet closer to the door, not clear yet, but in hopes it might give you just a few more feet to scramble to safety.

“Soap!!” You call hoarsely, throat scraping with grit. You can hardly see anything through the settling dust, and as you sway to a stand there’s bits and pieces of debris that roll off your form. You’re coated in a thick layer of dust, but ultimately unharmed. Not injured, as far as you can tell, as you paw across your legs, arms, and kit. Maybe a few scrapes and some bruises. Nothing broken. Nothing bleeding.

“Soap!!” You call again, louder now, worried at the silence of the Scot. It’s not like him to be this quiet, especially in a circumstance such as this, and the more you think on it the deeper the yawning pit of fear seems to open in your stomach.

There’s a gasp, a groan then, somewhere into the dusty shadows of the building, and instantly your flashlight is in hand, sweeping through the beige cloud of smog in search of your partner.

“H-here-” He wheezes, and something inside you trembles at that, at the fact his voice sounds so weak.

A few steps in and a form becomes apparent under the illumination of your torch, at the edge of a mound of rubble.

Trapped.

“Soap!!” You gasp, racing forward, falling to your knees beside him. He’s laying on his stomach, coated in dust and blinking under the beam of light. You can see a blooming bruise behind his ear, eyes squinting and chest straining with uneven breaths. His arms are free, but when your light sweeps across his legs you see one free…

…and the other pinned at a horrible, grotesque ankle under a mangled piece of stone.

“I-I can’t-” He tries, gloved fingers clawing the gritty floor as he attempts to drag himself forward, only to succumb to a cry of pain.

“Stop, stop, stop.” You babble, planting your torch on your kit so both your hands are free. “Don’t move. You’re caught.”

A body rolling shudder thrums through Soap, hunching his shoulders and ducking his head as the pain multiplies.

“A-aye, it’s broken. I can feel it.” He groans, fingers curling into fists as he tries to breathe. “Shite…”

Your hands flutter over the debris, trying to gauge if you can move it, this rubble as large as you are. Maybe you can rock it just enough to get him free-

Yet when you push against it, try to lift it, Soap screams.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You pant, straining harder as you heave the thing up an inch, and Soap controls himself just enough to scoot forward and inch before your strength fails and the stone falls back into place. Soap screams again- a bellow of pain as the weight returns to his broken leg.

“Stop, STOP!” He hollers, fist pounding the ground. “Dinnea touch it, might unsettle the whole building, bring it down on top o’ us.”

You return to his side, press on your radio and call for help, only to get static in return. Soap grasps one of your hands in a white-knuckle grip as he gasps and dry heaves into the dirt, face down, pinned.

“Stay with me, Soap. We’re going to get you free.” You tell him, petting at his mohawk, and he cranes his pale face at an angle to offer you an unsteady smile, eyes clouded with pain.

“Could think of worse people to be stuck with.” He offers, words trembling as he swallows down the hurt radiating from his leg.

You return his smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Trying to sweet talk me, sergeant?”

“Maybe.” He attempts to shrug, eyes glancing from your hand to your eyes once more, a crooked smile on his lips. “...Is it working?”

You reach down and stroke a hand across his sweaty brow. Soap shivers, eyes fluttering.

“Maybe.” You confess. “Try again when we’re both alive and out of here.”

Soap feigns a pouting little huff, but it’s eclipsed by a groan of pain. You feel your face fall, look once more to the rubble you can’t budge. There’s a garbled response on the radio telling you a team is on the way, and both you and Soap sigh in relief-

-Until you hear shouts and gunfire.

Soap processes it faster than you do, body broken but mind still sharp. He thumps you across your kit with his fist, brow drawn tight with seriousness.

“Go.” He rasps. “They’re searching for us. They’ll kill us both like this.”

It takes you even longer to understand his words, frozen, holding his loosening hand.

“I’m not leaving you.” You tell him numbly, eyes wide and body frozen in shock. Soap’s frown only deepens, and he makes a half hearted push at you to encourage you to go.

“I’m not getting out. Not like this. Leave me. Go.”

Leave him, leave him to die a dishonorable death, killed as he’s prone so you can escape. Leave him after he pushed you to safety, after he saved your life. Leave him knowing he wants to go home.

“The hell you aren’t.” You snarl abruptly, leaning over him waspishly, shoulders rising in defense, anger pulsing lightning hot through your blood as the gunfire draws closer. You tear your hand from his, fumble and replace it with your sidearm, which Soap holds in a death grip.

You reach for your weapon and move so you straddle the small of his spine, a knee raised to plant your aim. Unmoving, unbudgeable, a wall of defense as you crouch over him protectively. Snarling, biting, you refuse to leave his side even as you shut off your flashlight, throw yourselves to darkness and listen to the incoming footsteps.

“We hold here.”

#soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #whumptober 2023

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kometqh · 11 months

Text

Return pt.2

╰┈➤ Ethan Landry x Female Reader

╰┈➤ Warnings: mentions of murder, blood, cursing, breakup, angst turned to fluff, ghostface! au, not explicitly following the events of the movie (Scream 6), alcohol, mean and sad ethan :(

╰┈➤ Summary: Ethan has to break up with Y/n, but regrets it instantly. Why? Because to him, she's the love of his life.

╰┈➤ Word count: 3,609k

╰┈➤ Part one

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

He'd done this before; same thing over and over. One victim after another. Something in him twisted and churned at the stranger's screams, their begging, their cries, but a more cruel, a more violent part of Ethan supressed that twinge of guilt. It's not like he could do anything anyway – his dad would skin him, and his sister would take it upon herself to make his life more miserable.

"Please no! Stop I beg you." A voice screeched in his ear, begging for mercy, bloodied hands grasping his own. They were in hysterics, using all their strength against him but to no avail. His mind was elsewhere, the screams becoming white noise as he continued to drive the knife up. Agonisingly slow, too. He could feel the skin cut beneath his fingers, the blade never stopping. "I don't want to die..."

Their voice became all but a whisper, their hands losing the strength they had just a moment ago. He chuckled quietly, before abruptly pulling the knife out, his chuckling turning into a full-blown laughter as they screamed, body twitching against the wall behind them.

"I'll make it quick buttercup, yeah? Would you like that?" He whispered into their ear, holding the knife too close to their neck for comfort. He could feel them tremble, even in their half-passed out state, their fear too overwhelming. A slight nod followed shortly after his words, and he tutted in disapproval, moving away to take in the sight, his work.

"Please- if you're going to kill me, do it quick!" They exclaimed.

"So much demand from someone in your position..." He wasn't impressed, nor was he content. He didn't like being told what to do unless it was coming from Y/n. Speaking of which, he looked around the room for something. A clock.

"Shit."

His eyes caught sight of the moving handle, it was coming close to 8pm, in 15 minutes he was supposed to meet Chad.

"Look buttercup, I would love to drag this out, but I'm running low on time-" He muttered, more to himself really, whilst flipping the blade in his gloved hand, the sound of his footsteps bouncing off the walls as he stomped towards his victim – a fellow student – plunging the knife into their chest repeatedly, choked stutters and gagging resonating within the room, followed by pure silence just a few short moments after.

"Fuck."

He wiped his knife clean on their clothes, turning to a window. His bag was there waiting for him, ready with his awfully stupid costume that Chad would force him to wear later on.

He heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head, muttering curse words under his nose as he awkwardly exited through the window and onto a rusty staircase.

Taking his mask off, Ethan inhaled a deep breath of air, shoving the damned thing back into his bag and instead placing on the wretched cardboard cut-out.

What even was it? He had no idea.

Down below, his bicycle was waiting for him, luckily it hadn't been stolen by some drunkard. Everyone seemed to be drunk and gone by this time, celebrating Halloween.

His feet moved quickly, the tyres spinning aggressively as he swerved to the left, narrowly avoiding a car. "Watch where you're driving dickhead!" He shouted, flipping the driver off in a fit of rage. After a couple of minutes, he could see heaps of students cluttering the streets, all dressed in silly, sexy or actually well-done costumes.

Some hollered at him as he hurried past, others swore as he swerved, his eyes finally settling on the half-naked figure of Chad, sported in some shorts and a cowboy hat, waiting outside their shared dorm building.

"Ethan what the fuck?!" Chad shouted, prolonging the 'fuck', flailing his arms in the air as he approached the teen, "You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago! Where were you?" He continued, his arm wrapping around Ethan's neck as the boy put his bike away.

"Sorry Chad, I was in the - uhm, library?" Ethan said slowly, though it sounded more like a question rather than a statement. It wasn't questioned by Chad though, who seemed like he already had a few too many drinks for the hour it was. He was already swaying as he walked alongside Ethan, tripping over his own feet - earning a few giggles from passing ladies - winking and blowing kisses, flashing his pearly-white teeth in a boxy grin.

In all honesty, Ethan didn't expect to get away with his lie so easily, but Chad was such a frat boy he couldn't keep his hands off alcohol until they got to the party. He let out a relieved sigh as he heard music blasting out of a specific home - the 'go to' for everyone.

There wasn't a single week without at least one party, and that added onto the ease Ethan felt any time he had to go and slash someone up.

Because nobody would even notice he was gone. Not even the people that called themselves his 'friends'.

Okay - that wasn't the whole truth. There was one person that truly did care for him. A small smile tugged at his lips as he thought of her - her beautiful, soft and shiny hair, that smile that made her look like an angel sent by God himself - no, not even that, she is a literal Goddess - he thought, those little crinkles under her eyes as she smiled, the few tiniest freckles scattered across her cheeks. The way she would always lead him to the dance floor, enticing him, bringing a smile of his own to his face. His heart pounded, no, it clawed at his chest whenever she was around. She was his whole world, and she held his heart in her grasp. He was at her mercy.

But their relationship wouldn't last.

As much as Ethan loved Y/n, he would eventually be forced to kill her. She was heavily associated with the 'Core Four', as Chad liked to call it, being present at the Woodsboro event. She was there when his brother was brutally slayed by none other than Sam Carpenter.

A string of curse words fought to escape his mouth, but he fought against it as Chad pulled at his bicep, leading him away to a group of dancing girls - who in his mind - were the most awkward dancers possible.

"Ladies, meet my bro Ethan." Chad introduced, slinging one arm around Ethan's shoulder and the other around a blonde girl's waist, "Ethan, these are my classmates. They're all gorgeous aren't they?"

Ethan grinned at the group, doing his utmost best to look sweet, innocent and convincing. Chad wasn't aware of his current relationship status, and that was okay. Neither Ethan nor Y/n were bothered enough to tell anyone; they'd figure it out on their own.

"Hey there, nice to meet you guys!" He shouted over the music, lightly nodding in greeting as his cardboard helmet slid down and blocked his vision. He was about to move it out of the way, but a smaller hand did the job for him. He looked to his side, and was met with a big cheeky grin. The one he adored.

"Y/n? It's good to see you!" Chad erupted, arms raising high as he embraced her in a suffocating hug. Ethan's heart twitched, his stomach twisted with a tinge of jealousy. He did not like the sight of Chad acting all touchy with his girl - did he need to do so?

The answer was a simple no.

Y/n's hands awkwardly patted Chad's back, her eyes nervously moving from the other girls to Ethan's, though his seemed to have a darker look in them - he wasn't happy, "Alright Chad I think that's enough." She said quickly, clearing her throat whilst backing away from the taller male, and joining Ethan at his side.

She turned to Ethan, her gaze meeting his lovingly, "Hello stranger."

"Hey there, fancy seeing you here." Ethan said, clearly pleased as he bit his lip lightly, his hand itching to reach out for her own, and it would have if it wasn't for another body crashing into Y/n's back, arms slinging over her shoulders as lips entered Ethan's vision, a sloppy wet kiss was planted on Y/n's face.

"Mindy?! Ewww your breath stinks!" Y/n exclaimed exaggeratedly, fanning the space before her face as she moved her head away. Mindy chuckled at that, attempting to gift her with another kiss whilst fluttering her eyelashes and puckering her lips in, what she thought was, a seductive manner, "Oh come on! My kisses can't be that bad!"

Ethan looked to her, a questioning eyebrow raised, "Are you sure?" He scratched the back of his head, purposefully looked around the room to imply Mindy was, in fact, a bad kisser. Though he couldn't know really. The girl in question smacked the back of his head, a nasty snarl gracing her features, rolling her eyes in the process, "Thanks Ethan. At least I can pull the ladies, unlike someone..." A couple of 'oohs' and 'ahhh's' left the small group, and Ethan could almost feel the sting - only he didn't, because in his mind he did pull the best girl possible.

And she was standing at his side, stifling a couple of giggles.

"Come on Y/n, let's get some drinks." Mindy said, taking a hold of Y/n's hand as she lead her away.

Ethan shook his head and chuckled, sending a slight wave at Y/n, who had turned back to say something, but was far too gone to be heard. He reached into his pocket, fished out his phone, and was greeted with the sight of two missed calls from his sister - Quinn. He sighed heavily and excused himself from the group, making his way outside as he attempted to ring her back.

The phone rang for a long while, and Ethan was growing agitated the longer it took.

"Ethan? Why didn't you answer?" Quinn's annoyed voice rang through Ethan's ear.

Clicking his tongue, he retorted, "I told you I will be busy. I'm at a party, why are you calling me?"

"You need to break up with that bitch. Plans have changed." Her tone was cold, and Ethan let out a scoff at the insult. How dare she insult the one girl he cared about?

"Me and dad decided to let her live," She took a pause, awaiting any sort of reaction from her brother, but was greeted with pue silence as he anticipated her words, "If you break up with her, we won't kill her. We will only go after Sam, Tara, Chad and Mindy. Though I can't promise you that she won't be injured during the process."

"And if I don't? Maybe she can still be an asset." He argued, directing his attention at a stray rock on the side of the pavement, kicking it, "Then I will personally ensure she is gone. We need you to stay focused, Ethan." Quinn's voice sounded harsh, and it sent a chill down his spine, his eyes widening in horror. He never believed her threats were real; up until now. But she was giving him a choice.

"Ethan? Did you hear me?"

He took a moment to say anything, his attention shifting to how rapidly his heart was beating, how he suddenly felt so warm and self-aware, he felt as though he could feel every sensation on his body - from that miniscule itch on his thigh to the way his hair began to stick to his forehead unbrearingly.

"You'll let her live? If I break up with her?" He asked, swallowing down the invisible lump that had formed in his throat. He's never felt this way. What was it? Anxiety? Fear? Over the phone he could hear a male voice call for Quinn, and he visibly cringed, "I am very serious Eth. You think I wouldn't be up for the task?" She questioned, taking a puff of air, "Dad's getting impatient, and I'm being kind by giving you a choice. So act fast."

And with that, she hung up the phone.

His arm fell limp, and the blood pumping through his veins deafened him. His thoughts raced one hundred miles per hour, and yet did not come up with a single answer or solution to his predicament.

His sister, his own flesh and blood, was threatening what he deemed the 'love of his life', but was giving him the chance to save her life? He definitely needed a moment to think that one over.

A few minutes went by, the music coming from within the house never stopped. It worked as background noise as he pondered, talking under his breath about all the possibilities and pacing around, clearly anxious. Could he get out of this one? Was breaking up with Y/n really the ultimate choice?

He felt like falling in through the earth, down into its very core so that he did not have to make such a choice. He wasn't stupid though - he knew if he suddenly disappeared, that Quinn wouldn't hesitate for even a second - and Y/n's life would be in grave danger.

He couldn't let her do that. If anything, he would break up with Y/n, break her heart and have it crumble to pieces just to ensure her safety.

"What's got your pants in a twist cupcake?" A soft voice asked behind him, at first he was slightly startled, but then realised who it was. His damnation, "Y/n? I thought you were busy partying?" He exclaimed, hand gripping his chest as a nervous, toothy grin creeped up his cheeks.

The girl in front of him swayed a little, hands interlocked behind her back as she looked up, "Well I was, but you were gone for so long I started to think you snuck off."

He chuckled, shaking his head in denial.

"No, I wouldn't of left you here, alone." He said quietly, looking straight into her eyes cutely, "Chad would do anything for a chance with a girl as pretty as you." Ethan continued, now shuffling closer and closer, until their torso's were just a mere inch away from touching - so close he could see that dusty pink colour decorate her cheeks. That really did do a number on him.

"Well, luckily for you, Chad isn't my type," A small smile tugged at her soft lips, and she fought hard to contain it as she spoke, moving her hand to trail her fingers down his chest, keeping her gaze locked on it, "My type are sweet, cute, nerdy boys, with adorable brown puppy eyes and soft curly hair. Specifically, brunettes." She shifted her gaze, now looking into his wide eyes, the street lights reflecting in her pupils.

That light dusty pink colour from earlier? It now turned into a full-blown crimson blush paired with a wide smile.

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Why do you ask?" She looked at him once more, chewing lightly on her bottom lip, her blush intensifying further as she had indeed been called out.

"You're blushing. So much. It's quite cute actually." Ethan teased, his hand slowly moving to grip hers, sliding down to interlock their fingers together, "I think we should get out of here." At that, his heart picked up the pace, and nervosity took over him. Should he do it now? Maybe that'll be for the best.

His mind rushed as Y/n pulled him along, into the crowded streets and through dark alleys. Their breaths matching in pace and heartbeats matching in rhythms, their hands interlocked and feet moving synchronically.

Cars honked at them, street lights flickered and light rain pattered down, drowning out anything but each other's presence. Ethan kept trying to think of the right things to say, but her presence overwhelmed him, tugging painfully at his heartstrings. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving her. But he had to, for her safety. And so, his mind made the unconscious choice to let her go.

Even if it hurt.

It would be like acting, he told himself. His ears could barely process the words she was saying, the blood pumping through his head deafening him. He was getting anxious and fidgety.

His footsteps came to a slow stop in an alley, his hand pulling her backwards. Her breath hitched, and she gazed lovingly into his eyes, but he could see the growing worry. How am I going to do this? He restrained a smile, and blinked away the tears that threatened to gather in his eyes, not looking at her, but rather off to the side.

"Eth? What is it?" She asked worriedly. He could hear her laboured breathing, and gulped down the lump that formed in his throat.

"I don't know if this is a good idea..." Ethan's eyes met hers, his heart beating loud against his ribcage. He fought hard against his urges to grab her hand from his shoulder, place a gentle kiss on it before embracing her and muttering sweet nothings and reassurances into her ear, that she shouldn't worry and it didn't matter.

"You know what I mean," He continued, taking a deep breath, maintaining eye contact, "Us. This isn't working out."

He shook his head, seamlessly trying to rid his head of those thoughts, but to no avail. His heart panged with guilt at the sigh she let out, "Why are you doing this?"

"We both know this isn't working. It'll only end in us both getting hurt," He paused, taking a deep breath, an attempt to calm his racing heart before he blurted out, "I don't love you."

He put on a stoic face, letting go of her hand. Putting much needed distance between them. If he didn't, this simple task would become much harder.

"W-what do you mean? Just two days ago you were on about how you can't stand being away from me! What happened? What changed your mind?" A light smirk tugged at his lips, his nerves taking over every cell in his body - he was scared, terrified. That smirk was quickly wiped off as he saw the pain in her eyes - the one thing he never thought he'd be the cause of.

"Why are you doing this Eth?"

"I have to. It's best if we stop whatever this is."

"How do you know? Are you really thinking about what's best for me?" At that, his anger took over.

He was doing all this just to protect her. He was being selfless, and all that she was doing was making his life more difficult. He hated (loved) how she questioned his choices, never went down without a fight. His vein was visible on the side of his temple, and his teeth grinded on each other.

"Stop making this so difficult! I am doing what is best for me!" He shouted, breathing heavily, feeling his face became hot to the touch, he pointed to himself, but stuttered his words out as his hand almost slapped hers, "I-I don't give a fuck about what you want! Okay? This is over, we are over." Upon saying so, another lump formed in his throat. He wanted to take his words back so so bad. But how could he?

She nodded her head at him, and pushed past him, bumping shoulders. His eyes caught sight of the first few tears, and his heart shred into bits.

"Y/n! Wait!" He shouted after her, following in her footsteps, but she ignored him as though he didn't exist, "Come back!" With that, she entered the crowded streets and disappeared, from both his sight and his life.

"No no no. What the fuck do I do? What the fuck did I do?!" He questioned himself, one hand gripping and tugging harshly at his hair, the other dragging over his face, and he wished this was all some sort of a sick dream.

He couldn't believe he just did that - abandoned the love of his life and watched her walk away. It's for the best. He shook his head, slapping himself lightly before rushing into the crowds, in hopes of catching up to her.

'She must have gone back to the party, right?' He thought, looking ahead into the crowd. Hoping to catch up. His legs carried him, they ran, and his mind pleaded whatever God was above them, whatever fate chose this. The house party wasn't too far, as the pair hadn't gotten far before he made his declaration. Within 15 minutes he was there, his height bringing an advantage to his speed. He pushed through and into the house, looking around in a panic.

"Where is she?"

Sweaty bodies and spilling drinks blocked the path, hands raised in the air and swaying to the sound of music. Ethan received a couple of (accidental) slaps to the face, which helped sober him up a little from his panicked state. He had reached the kitchen, an island decorated with red solo cups and empty bottles of all kinds of alcohol, stood in the middle. And on the other side of it was Y/n, busy talking to Tara and Chad, her lips trembling and hands shakily bringing an alcohol-filled cup up.

His heart broke into a million pieces, just at the sight of what he had caused. Was begging her for her forgiveness now a bad idea? Probably. He listened to his better judgement, swallowing the lump in his throat harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did so. His hand wiped the forming tears away and he walked away, breaths heavy and trembling as his heart shook. He couldn't sabotage her safety - one which should have been guaranteed the moment those words left Quinn's lips. Though, his sister was renowned for being an immensely good liar - only that part seemed to escape his mind.

I just wanted to say a quick thank you, I am so grateful for anyone who has read Return, I'm thankful that you all enjoyed it and I really hope Before You is up to your guys expectations <3 For those who have read the pre-edited version, this new one has a few minor but important changes. Thank you for whoever reads this <3 - kometqh

Tags: @netey6m

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry fluff #fluff #angst #ethan landry angst #scream six #horror #gore #ghostface #Halloween #scream 2023 #scream imagine #scream franchise #scream movies

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luvyeni · 1 year

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Hello! I hope everything is going well for you~

Can I request a Chenle smut, where maybe the reader is like 3-6 months older than him. The Dreamies and another group of her friends are playing truth or dare. The reader picks truth and is asked if she would ever date someone younger than her. The reader can respond with no, I prefer my men older and more experienced in the “sensual” department. She says that younger guys are inexperienced.

After her it’s Chenle’s turn, he gets dared for 10 minutes in the closet with the reader and he goes in with every intention of proving a point. Maybe cockwarm and him talking very dirty to the reader, he has her beg for it. Mean Dom Chenle can make an appearance.

TRUTH OR DARE; ZHONG CHENLE

pairings. meandom!chenle x older!reader

wc. 0.8k

warnings. cockwarming, clit play, nipple play,degradation, choking, dirty talk, slapping

i hope you like it <3

chenle shows you he's more experienced than you think.

—

"sit." lily drunkenly pulled you down into the circle. "what are you guys doing?" you questioned. "truth or dare." haechan took a sip of his drink. "is this high school?" you scoffed. "just sit and play the game , stop being so stuck up." chenle said. "shut up." you sat down. "how about you go first missy , truth or dare?" jaemin said.

"fine." you took a sip of your drink , "truth." chenle scoffed. "of course." you rolled your eyes. "fuck you." haechan sense the tension between you two , smirking an idea cooking in his head. "would you date a guy younger than you?" you shook your head. "absolutely not." chenle sat up. "why not?"

"because i like my guys to be more experienced in certain areas that only older guys are." you said. "meaning?" jeno spoke up. "sex , younger guys are more inexperienced than older guys." you explained. "bullshit." chenle said. "there are plenty of younger guy's who are more experienced."

"who?" you quirked your eyebrow up. "you? i doubt it." everyone bursted into laughter — not chenle , he was pissed , blood boiling , wanting nothing more than to put you back into your place. everybody had their chances , then it finally got to chenle. "truth or dare chenle."

"dare." he said , staring you down , "i got this." haechan said , watching him. "i dare you to go into the closet with the person of your choice , for 10 minutes." chenle stood up , standing over your body. "what?" you said. "get up." he said. "why would i- i said get up." he pulled you up , dragging you towards the closet , the group behind you cheering and hollering as the door closed behind you.

"i told you- hmph! " he shut you up , grabbing your throat , pulling you into a rough kiss. "someone really needs to teach you to shut that mouth of yours up." he squeezed , cutting your breathing off a bit , making you whimper. "moaning already , this turning you on?" he scoffed. "i knew it , just another slut." he grabbed your jaw.

"take your panties off , now." he order , you were shocked at how demanding he was. "are you dumb , take your panties off." you pulled your panties down. "skirt to." you pulled your shirt over your head , throwing it to the floor. "no bra?" he scoffed , taking his pants off , sitting down on the floor , his cock straining against his boxer.

"sit." you found yourself submitting faster than you ever did , straddling his thigh. "you're gonna sit on my cock slut." he pushed his underwear down enough to pull his hard cock out , jerking himself off some. "sh..shit." he lifted you up by your waist , hovering you over his cock, his tip poking your entrance. "fu..fuck me please — oh fuck!" you screamed as he slammed you down.

"sh..shit , you're so fucking tight." he groaned , you tried to rock your hips , his hand coming up to your hair , yanking it. "did i say move your fucking hips?" you moaned. "n..no." he yanked it again. "then don't move slut , just sit on my cock." his hands came down to toy with your nipples. "pl..please." you begged. "such -shit- a fucking whore , i thought younger guys weren't experienced enough." he scoffed. "here you are begging for me , a younger guy to fuck you." he bucked up into you once.

"o..oh fuck, you're so big." you moaned , holding on to his shoulder. "god , you're such a slut." he groaned. "fucking clenching around my cock , just from sitting on it and , a little dirty talk , gonna cum?" he reached in between your bodies , rubbing your clit. "sh..shit , i need to move." tears , running down your face.

"so fucking useless , crying because can't even make yourself cum." he slapped your clit , you yelped , jolting forwards. "pl..please move." he slapped your ass. "move." you were practically sobbing , as you began to rock your hips. "come on slut , we don't have time , fucking move faster." you moved faster , he bit his lip , throwing his head back. "fu..fuck look at you , bounce on my cock like a bitch in heat." he groaned. "sh..shit." he slapped your ass.

"ch..chenle , -fuck- im gonna cum." he thrusted up into you. "are you now -sh..shit- you said all that out there , made a fucking fool out of me , maybe i should stop here , leave you a horny , teary eyed mess." you shook your head. "n..no please." you begged. "calm down , slut , i'll let you cum." he trusted up , hitting your spot. "cum for me slut." his hand came up to you throat , squeezing it , the lack of oxygen , made your orgasm 10x times intense. "shit! "your legs shook as you came.

"times up , put your clothes back on and come out." he huffed , picking up your panties. "im keeping these." he handed you your shirt. "but you didn't get to cum." he smirked. "you really think im done with you." he squeezed your ass , you whined.

"i'm gonna show you just how experienced i am."

©️LUVYENI

#chenle imagines #chenle smut #chenle scenarios #zhong chenle x reader #zhong chenle smut #chenle hard thoughts #chenle hard hours #chenle fic #nct smut #nct fic #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct dream x reader #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct x reader

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 months

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Hmmm I’m bored and I’m a sucker for parallels and first and lasts so I did a collection of first and last moments for every major relationship Katniss had throughout the series. 🤍🤍🤍

Peeta

The mayor finishes the dreary Treaty of Treason and motions for Peeta and me to shake hands. His are as solid and warm as those loaves of bread. Peeta looks me right in the eye and gives my hand what I think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it’s just a nervous spasm.

We turn back to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

Oh, well, I think. There will be twenty-four of us. Odds are someone else will kill him before I do.

Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.

So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?”

I tell him, “Real.”

Haymitch

Now I am truly in danger of crying, but fortunately Haymitch chooses this time to come staggering across the stage to congratulate me. “Look at her. Look at this one!” he hollers, throwing an arm around my shoulders. He’s surprisingly strong for such a wreck. “I like her!” His breath reeks of liquor and it’s been a long time since he’s bathed. “Lots of . . . ” He can’t think of the word for a while. “Spunk!” he says triumphantly. “More than you!” he releases me and starts for the front of the stage. “More than you!” he shouts, pointing directly into a camera.

Is he addressing the audience or is he so drunk he might actually be taunting the Capitol? I’ll never know because just as he’s opening his mouth to continue, Haymitch plummets off the stage and knocks himself unconscious.

He’s disgusting, but I’m grateful. With every camera gleefully trained on him, I have just enough time to release the small, choked sound in my throat and compose myself.

Like a good mentor, Haymitch makes me eat a sandwich and then pretends he believes I’m asleep for the rest of the trip. He busies himself going through every compartment on the hovercraft, finding the liquor, and stowing it in his bag. It’s night when we land on the green of the Victor’s Village. Half of the houses have lights in the windows, including Haymitch’s and mine. Not Peeta’s. Someone has built a fire in my kitchen. I sit in the rocker before it, clutching my mother’s letter.

“Well, see you tomorrow,” says Haymitch.

As the clinking of his bag of liquor bottles fades away, I whisper, “I doubt it.”

Gale

In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be myself. Gale. I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my pace quickening as I climb the hills to our place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry “bushes protects it from unwanted eyes. The sight of him waiting there brings on a smile. Gale says I never smile except in the woods.

“Hey, Catnip,” says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I’d said Catnip.

We stand there, face-to-face, not meeting each other’s eyes. “You didn’t come see me in the hospital.” He doesn’t answer, so finally I just say it. “Was it your bomb?”

“I don’t know. Neither does Beetee,” he says. “Does it matter? You’ll always be thinking about it.”

He waits for me to deny it; I want to deny it, but it’s true. Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel the heat of the flames. And I will never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer.

“That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family,” he says. “Shoot straight, okay?” He touches my cheek and leaves.

Finnick

The crunching hits my ear before I even know he’s beside me, and when I turn my head, Finnick Odair’s famous sea green eyes “are only inches from mine. He pops a sugar cube in his mouth and leans against my horse.

“Hello, Katniss,” he says, as if we’ve known each other for years, when in fact we’ve never met.

“Hello, Finnick,” I say, just as casually, although I’m feeling uncomfortable at his closeness, especially since he’s got so much bare skin exposed.

“Want a sugar cube?” he says, offering his hand, which is piled high. “They’re supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They’ve got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I . . . well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick.”

Far below, I can just make out Finnick, struggling to hang on as three mutts tear at him. As one yanks back his head to take the death bite, something bizarre happens. It’s as if I’m Finnick, watching images of my life flash by. The mast of a boat, a silver parachute, Mags laughing, a pink sky, Beetee’s trident, Annie in her wedding dress, waves breaking over rocks. Then it’s over.

Johanna

Johanna Mason. […] She ruffles up her spiky hair and rolls her wide-set brown eyes. “Isn’t my costume awful? My stylist’s the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I’d gotten Cinna. You look fantastic.”

Girl talk. That thing I’ve always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. “Yeah, he’s been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet.” Velvet. The only fabric I could think of off the top of my head.

“I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back,” says Johanna.

I bet you did, I think. With a few inches of my flesh.

“I made it for you. Something to put in your drawer.” I place it in her hands. “Smell it.”

She lifts the bundle to her nose and takes a tentative sniff. “Smells like home.” Tears flood her eyes.

“That’s what I was hoping. You being from Seven and all,” I say. “Remember when we met? You were a tree. Well, briefly.”

Suddenly, she has my wrist in an iron grip. “You have to kill him, Katniss.”

“Don’t worry.” I resist the temptation to wrench my arm free.

“Swear it. On something you care about,” she hisses.

“I swear it. On my life.” But she doesn’t let go of my arm.

“On your family’s life,” she insists.

“On my family’s life,” I repeat. I guess my concern for my own survival isn’t compelling enough. She lets go and I rub my wrist. “Why do you think I’m going, anyway, brainless?”

That makes her smile a little. “I just needed to hear it.” She presses the bundle of pine needles to her nose and closes her eyes.

Prim

“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice.

“And nothing like myself,” I say. I hug her, because I know these next few hours will be terrible for her. Her first reaping. She’s about as safe as you can get, since she’s only entered once. I wouldn’t let her take out any tesserae. But she’s worried about me. That the unthinkable might happen.

I protect Prim in every way I can, but I’m powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she’s in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face. I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm. “Tuck your tail in, little duck,” I say, smoothing the blouse back in place.

Prim giggles and gives me a small “Quack.”

“Quack yourself,” I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me.

First I get a glimpse of the blond braid down her back. Then, as she yanks off her coat to cover a wailing child, I notice the duck tail formed by her untucked shirt. I have the same reaction I did the day Effie Trinket called her name at the reaping. At least, I must go limp, because I find myself at the base of the flagpole, unable to account for the last few seconds. Then I am pushing through the crowd, just as I did before. Trying to shout her name above the roar. I’m almost there, almost to the barricade, when I think she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name.

And that’s when the rest of the parachutes go off.

The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat. “No, Katniss! No! You can’t go!”

But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she’ll be lost as well. “Prim, let go!” And finally she does.

#thg #hunger games #Katniss everdeen #bookcomb ♥️🔎#Peeta mellark #everlark #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #gale hawthorne #primrose everdeen #johanna mason

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suicidalslasher · 2 years

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𝑪𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 - 𝑺𝒕𝒖 𝑴 & 𝑩𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑳.

Warnings: female reader, pronouns used are she&her. Degradation, oral, (f on m) dirty talk & face slapping, cheating,,, uhhhh, I think that's it....?? Not much of a smut, more a blurb than anything else. 🤷‍♀️

Again, I might add more but as y'all know already, I'm horrid when it comes to full, length fics and writing a properly well written ending so….. lmao. We'll see.

All the stories I write are mainly just PWP. 🤷‍♀️ Enjoy, though! ;)

"You don't deserve to feel this good, you know that? You are nothing to me expect a hole to spill my cum into." The man's words cut her deeper than the knife he had pierced into her earlier within the night. Her eyes stung with tears and she gasped, choking back a sob.

One of which she isn't too sure whether or not it was because the words that had slipped past his lips or due to how good she was feeling with his cock being buried inside of her, all the way into her guts, the way he had promised he'd do if she didn't behave.

"Say it," he spat as he then lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair, causing her mouth to suddenly fall more open into a wider 'o' shape, a squeak loudly escaping the back of her throat.

"Tell me you don't deserve me. You don't deserve this cock. You are nothing. Nothing but a needy, little bitch, fucking her best friend's boyfriend. You are fucking worthless, you mean nothing to me expect when I want something to fuck. Isn't that right? How would Sidney feel if she knew her best friend and boyfriend were fucking each other's brains out behind closed doors?"

(Y/N) grabbed the nearest pillow and placed the small plush object into her mouth as she bit down onto it, holding back the screams she very much wanted to holler out.

"How would Stu feel, (Y/N)? Knowing his girlfriend was backing her ass up on his best friend's cock. You think he'd be upset with you or do you think he'd join in on the fun?"

Before she could even begin to question what he meant by that, and why she'd be worried about what Stu thought (knowing damn well he had been fucking Tatum on the side), the door flew open and there the man stood with his head tilted aside and his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

She half expected for Stu to yell, 'what the fuck is going on here?!' instead, however, he shook his head and dropped a bag down by his feet as he strutted in, kicking the door behind him with the heel of his boot.

"You told me I'd get to go first," he frowned, folding his arms across his chest. Billy shrugged as he still continued to move his lower half, rocking his hips as he thrusts deeper into the girl beneath him.

Stu scoffed and rolled his eyes, flipping the bird toward Billy before he focused his attention onto the girl he loves dearly.

"Hi, baby," he greeted as he then walked over to where his girlfriend was before he bent forward to press a tender and loving kiss to her forehead.

"You feeling good? Billy making my baby girl feel okay?" And okay, this had to be the weirdest fucking thing ever but oh my God... she was more turned on than she had been before. Weakly, she nods and throws the pillow she had been biting into aside so she could speak properly.

"Y-Yeah," she stammers, breathing ragged and heavy as she tries to gather her words together.

"W-What's going on?" She questioned as she licked her lips, hoping that this was reality and not one of those dreams she had been having for the past few months.

"Isn't this what you've always wanted? For the both of us to fuck you like there's no tomorrow? Have you seeing stars and rearrange your guts?" Stu asked as he then snickered, hand coming up as he presses the palm of it against (Y/N)'s cheek, giving her a playful pinch with his index finger and thumb.

"You're so cute when you are confused, baby. How about you open that mouth for me, though? Lemme see that pretty tongue on the slit of my cock before I fuck that throat of yours."

Nodding now eagerly, almost way too desperately, she opens her mouth as wide as she can and watches how Stu, in one swift movement, undoes his belt and the zipper of his jeans before pulling them (and his boxers) down to his ankles.

The tip of his cock had already been wet with precum and as he guides his shaft into her wet, warm and wanting mouth, the taste of salt splashes across her tongue and she groans in pleasure, bliss flooding through her like a waterfall. Billy’s cock was also practically being flooded with her juices.

She made a mental note to wash the duvet comforter once the night was over and the sun had risen, and well, y'know... once her guts had been completely rearranged and her pussy had been fully abused by two.

As Billy continued to fuck into her, the noises of her arousal grew louder, echoing against the walls were the sounds of how wet her pussy was and Billy’s genitals clapping against her ass.

“Always such a tight fucking cunt,” Billy groaned as he had now dropped his hand down, letting her hair be free from his grip as he then dug his nails into her hips.

“How’s her mouth feel, Stu? She being a good cockslut for you?” Stu groaned in approval as he nodded his head. He licks his lips before replying, “Yeah, she’s got such a good, hot fucking mouth on her.” He said as if it were a matter of fact.

(According to Billy and Stu — it was.)

“You want to have a turn at her? I did promise, after all..”

“Well, she is MY girlfriend too, so I would reckon that I could and would be able to fuck her,” Stu replied in a snarky manner. Billy laughed as he slowly pulled out, his cock covered in juices as he did so.

“What a sight — nothing like seeing your come, covering my cock completely. Want a taste of yourself, baby?" He purred.

(Y/N) nodded as she wrapped her mouth around the crown of his cock, pushing herself down onto his length as she hollows in her cheeks, being the good whore that she was.

Her tongue laps up and down his shaft and she practically glows with happiness when she hears - from both men - how good of a girl she is and how hot she is with a mouthful of cock.

"Alright, baby, let Stu have at that cunt, yeah?"

(Y/N) pulls away, saliva dripping down her chin and she looks absolutely fucking out of it -- Billy and Stu love it more than anything else in the world.

Her hair was a mess, her cheeks were flushed with heat and her eyes were groggy and droopy, exhaustion clearly sneaking up on her. Though, the boys knew better than to stop right now.

They wanted to fucking ruin her. They wanted to have her limping for days, wanted her to feel where their cocks had ruined her insides when she moved.

"If you're a good girl and make me cum, maybe Billy will tear that little asshole of yours up, would you like that?" Stu asked as he inserted his cock into her desperate, eager and wanting hole, a longing moan erupting from the back of her throat as she nods rapidly, more saliva dropping from her mouth.

"Fuck, yes. I want the both of you inside of me." She begged.

"Ah, ah... Have to make me cum first, understand?" Stu said as he then grabbed a handful of his girlfriend's hair, pulling her back as his hips bucked into her, cock going deeper inside her as he began to rock his hips.

"Oh, fuck," she groaned, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure that began to pool in the heat of her stomach.

"She really does know how to take a cock, doesn't she, Stu?"

"That she does, Billy. Speaking of which, how about she sucks off yours? She is quite beautiful with a cock being slammed down her throat, after all."

"Don't have to tell me twice. Open that pretty mouth of yours up, bitch. Going to have you gagging around me," Billy waited until her mouth was open and wide before he thrusts his hardening member down her throat, doing exactly as he had said he was going to do.

"That's it, gag on this fat, fucking cock, you whore," He spat as he raised the palm of his hand and slapped her cheek.

"What I say earlier, huh? You don't deserve to feel this good. Don't deserve to feel this good by two cocks. Such a pathetic little needy bitch you are, (Y/N)." Billy groaned as he moved his cock in and out of her warm and wet mouth, groaning a string of curse words as he fucked her throat.

"Gonna cum down that throat and make you swallow every last drop of it." He said, and all (Y/N) could do was nod. Well, the best she could given the fact her hair was still being held by Stu's fist.

"Yeah, fuck.... keep talking to her like she's a worthless whore," Stu said from above, voice breaking as he spoke which only meant he was close to an orgasm.

"Gonna have me coming in no time and then we can ruin both of her holes." Stu said.

"That's what you'd like, isn't it, (Y/N)? Is she worthy of that though, Stu? Does she deserve a cock in her pussy and in that tight asshole of hers?"

"I'm not sure...." Stu answered as he bit his bottom lip, eyes closing as he inhales a deep breath, his body growing hot as his cock twitched, begging to spill out its seed into the girl before him.

"Though, I must say I'm curious if she can handle it," He said after a moment. "I'm sure the bitch can," Billy said, licking his lips. "And even if she can't, she'll learn how to adjust, won't you?"

For obvious reasons, (Y/N) said nothing. She just concentrated on making Billy feel good while thrusting backward on Stu's cock, eager to make both of them let loose.

" 'm going to come," announced Stu as he finally let go of her hair and placed his hands on her hips, fingernails digging into her skin as he groaned her name over and over, like a broken record. Finally, he spills his seed deep inside of her, making the girl nearly scream out in pure bliss.

She couldn't, however, because before she knew it, her mouth was being filled up with Billy's cum, nearly drowning her in it. She chokes slightly, blinking back tears but does exactly as he wanted - she swallows every last drop, even lapping up the tip of his cock with her tongue, getting that very last drop into her mouth.

"Fucking hell.... such a good girl," Billy complimented. Stu nodded in agreement as he slowly pulled out. He couldn't help but coo at the sight when he sat back against the bed.

He smiled fondly as he leaned forward, only to lift his hand and slap her ass, making her yelp in response. (Y/N)'s pussy was leaking with cum, dripping all over the bed comforter.

"Well, she did what you asked." Stu giggled. "And I suppose she did make me cum, too...... So, guess that means we're going to ruin those little holes, hm?" Stu stood up just to get on eye level with his girlfriend, placing his hand on her cheek, thumb brushing ever so softly against her skin.

"You ready for round two, baby girl?"

She was in for a long fucking night... She smiled, though, and nodded as she muttered; 'yes, please.'

The boys turned to look at each other, copy-catting the other one's smirk. They then turned to (Y/N), chuckling deeply together.

"She's such a good whore, isn't she?"

"Certified freak, I'd say."

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rookthorne · 6 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝

The night from hell had only begun when you started seeing a shadow observing you; appearing in the corner of your vision as you partied and rounded up the stragglers to herd them out the door. You didn’t know that what lay ahead was a nightmare dreamed up from the depths of your worst fears, nor did you know that the night would be stained red by the hands of someone you couldn’t even fathom could stalk the earth. You weren’t sure what would be better — becoming one of the fallen that painted the walls red to escape what awaited you, or rolling over and baring your throat in a plea for mercy. There were no Gods to save you, nor knights in shining armour — if you were going to make it out alive, you would for damn sure have to fight for it.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Serial Killer!Winter Soldier x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 5.1k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — Angst, DARK THEMES, DEAD DOVE, degradation and humiliation, depersonalisation, stalking/predatory behaviour, graphic depiction of background/side character death, gore and violence, panic attacks, physical violence and threats, coercion, choking, gagging/use of restraints, implied stockholm syndrome, ambiguous ending

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 — Y'all can thank the pictures circulating of Seb as Ghostface for this. — There are TWO acts in this fic: the first encompasses Terrorised and Bloodied, the second is full of the theme of Alone and Dead.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒓 — I have never seen Scream - the final idea for this happened in a dream of mine, so any similarities are entirely unintentional.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — HERE

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 — @duckybarnes1917

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 — @rookthorne's Fright Night — Masterlist — @sebastianstanbingo 𝗕𝟯 — Serial Killer — Masterlist — @anyfandomdarkbingo 𝗚𝟰 — "You're a monster!" — Masterlist — @halloweenhorrorbingo One Night Murder Spree — Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Trick or treaters had flocked to your best friend’s door for hours on end, each small child and teenager as impressive with their costumes as the last.

The moon was high in the sky at this point, and you were growing tired every passing minute while your friends continued to carry on with their partying – loud and reckless, as always.

Alcohol had been sloshed all over the floor and food was scattered over counters and benches. “You’d think they would clean up after themselves,” you grumbled, staring at the mess that once resembled a kitchen. “But no. Of course not.”

They carried on, hollering and whooping as they downed shots like hangovers weren’t a thing. One of them choked on a mouthful and sprayed it all over their plus one, making you wince in sympathy.

“Seriously, man!” he yelled over the music, and he stormed towards the kitchen, when he spotted you watching from the doorway. “Where’s the–”

“Upstairs, second door on the left,” you said quickly, pointing up the staircase. “Help yourself to towels.” He stomped off up the stairs without another word, leaving his friends behind. You caught your best friend’s gaze in the crowd and rolled your eyes.

The music pounded through the walls and floor of the two storey home; windows rattled with the deep bass and the very foundations seemed to be trembling with the sheer amount of people partying in the common areas.

You walked through the crowds to get closer to your best friend when the hairs on the nape of your neck stood on end, and the unmistakable feeling of being watched overtook every last one of your senses. As your heart raced and the music dulled to background noise, you looked around the room for the source of unease, when your gaze landed on a figure outside. They were standing right next to the window.

“What the-” You blinked, desperate to clear your vision or see if it was a figment of your lack of sleep, and the figure was gone, vanished. “It was only a tree, or something,” you muttered tiredly, and you rubbed your eyes.

The memory of always seeing a shadowy figure through the windows of your own home and out of the corner of your eyes flashed to the forefront of your mind, but you pushed them away – it wasn’t possible that they were connected, you were just tired, you reasoned.

Just as you reached your best friend, there was a loud pounding on the front door.

“Police,” a deep voice called, muffled by the barrier. You looked to your friend and then hurried to the door, opening it to find a lone officer in uniform, his badge shining from the light that flooded the entry. “Evening, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and looked around the entryway of the home. “Is this your residence?”

You blinked and then shook your head. The officer had striking blue eyes, and under his hat was straw blonde hair – he was handsome, too. “No, sir.”

The badge on his chest was one of a Captain and with the inscription of ‘S. Rogers’ you assumed he was a high ranking, decorated officer. That was why he was looking at the entryway, you thought.

It was then his eyes landed on the security panel, and they narrowed. Something stirred in your gut at the action. He opened his mouth to speak, “We’ve had some noise complaints. It would be best if you wrapped this up and made the owner of the residence aware.”

“Okay,” you said simply, watching his face as he nodded once. “We’ll wrap up. Have a nice evening, officer.”

He tipped his hat in farewell and walked back down the path to his cruiser, and as he walked, he talked into a radio on his shoulder. You watched his mouth move, but from his profile you could not even guess what he had said.

“That was… Weird,” you said quietly, watching his silhouette. The officer slipped into the driver’s seat of his cruiser, and took off.

You shrugged your shoulders to shake off that insistent crawl of your skin of being watched, and you turned to the partygoers, all of which were staring at you. “You heard him, time to head home.” The lot of them groaned and whined as they shuffled out the door to their rides home.

When the last straggler walked down the path and towards an awaiting car, you shut the door with a heavy sigh and turned to face your best friend and the few of the group that had been invited to stay. All three of them and your best friend stretched in place while you looked at the clock. It was well past midnight now, and you groaned before you rubbed your eyes. “I’m beat. I’m going to sleep, I suggest you do, too.”

They shrugged and you walked to the stairs, when you saw the figure in the window again. You watched as whoever it was tilted their head, and turned to stalk off, out of sight. “Sooner I sleep, the better.”

Warmth engulfed you as you curled up under the covers of your bed for the night, and you burrowed into the comfort as you closed your eyes, listening to the sound of your friends mucking around downstairs.

It could have been minutes or hours when you awoke next to the sound of your phone vibrating incessantly. You fumbled for the device, only to see the screen was black with the occasional glitch – like an old VCR. “The fuck?”

The screen flashed to life and a message pinged, making you let out a harsh breath. There were no words, just an attachment, and the photo showed the window that was just behind you. It was an unlisted number. Shivers wracked your spine and you looked frantically over your shoulder, when a rock hit the glass, splintering it and bouncing off with a ping.

You jumped to your feet and turned the torch of your phone on, but you didn’t dare near the window to see who, or what, it was that threw the rock. “What the-” Lights flickered on and off through the whole house, sparking and humming with electricity, before they exploded.

Darkness flooded your vision and you could hear your friends shuffling and stirring from their slumber, none the wiser for what lurked – what you had seen.

“What’s going on?” someone said from the shadows. A flashlight lit up and the beam of light hit the ceiling as the shuffling got louder. “What’s happened?”

You backed up against the wall of the bedroom and your hands shook. “I don’t know,” you hissed. “Someone’s here, though–I saw someone in the window earlier.”

There was a quiet gasp and you saw a shadow move from a sleeping bag to come into the light – it was your best friend. “Did you call the cops?”

“No–I was just about to when-”

“I would not do that, if I were you.” The voice was tinny and warped through the speaker of your phone. Everyone jumped and screamed around you as you hurled the phone across the room, watching it hit the drywall and land on the floor with a dull thud. “Now, that was not very nice, was it? That is your first strike.” Complete silence echoed for a few beats, then, “For that, you will watch a friend of yours bounce off of the wall–just like your phone, princess.”

The phone’s screen flashed and turned red. Something akin to terror settled heavy in your stomach and it froze you in place while your best friend rushed to pick up the device. “What the fuck–?”

A crackle of static came from your phone, before, “If only you did not ignore my gifts, I found them just for you. I knew you would like them,” the voice hissed, exasperated and angry. You blinked and then gasped harshly – presents, wrapped in red, had been showing up at your door for months now, and you had just left them or tossed them.

“I thought that was-” Your lips trembled and your hands shook from the fear coursing through you. “I thought they weren’t-”

“You thought they were not for you, princess?” The voice asked. “I know you are smarter than that. You are not at the top of your class from sucking cock.”

“Who is this psycho?” your best friend hissed through their teeth.

You shook your head, staring wide-eyed at the phone in their hand. “I don’t-”

“Where is your guest?” It was mocking, and you gritted your teeth to bite your tongue from screaming, instead you stared around at your friends, confused. “Aw. Do not tell me you have forgotten the guest you sent to clean himself up, princess. You have not seen him since he walked up those stairs, have you?”

“Oh, no,” a voice breathed, and someone moved. Your phone was in your hand then, the device hot, as though you’d left it on for hours. A shadow of a friend bolted past you, and you hastened to catch them.

“Stop! Stop, we have to stick together,” you rushed.

By some miracle, they nodded their silent agreement, and you led the way to the bathroom; hands still trembling with adrenaline. You could hear the others behind you, shuffling their feet over the floorboards as they followed.

Your toes touched something thick and wet, and you pointed the torch of your phone down. A puddle of blood pooled and trailed from the same bathroom that the guest would have entered to clean themselves up earlier.

With a shaky breath, you reached your hand out to the doorknob of the bathroom door, and you gripped the cold metal in your hand.

“Wait, wait,” someone said, and you stopped to look over your shoulder. “What if whoever it is, is in there? What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, “But we need to see what’s happened to them–it’s obvious whoever it is is toying with us. For all we know it’s a prank.” With that, you pushed the door open, just as the lights overhead flickered – the only room without an exploded bulb.

The light illuminated a foot, clad in a black boot, hanging over the edge of the bath, and the shower curtain was covered in the spray of blood. The tiles of the bathroom floor, once white, were crimson and black with arterial spray.

Your stomach clenched and you gagged over the pungent and overwhelming smell of iron in the air.

Two of your friends shrieked and ran back down the hall to the bedroom, while your best friend stood with you and looked over your shoulder at the scene. You could hear their breath shake with the hitch in their throat.

The circular mirror above the sink had been mostly untouched by the spray, but there were words written on the glass with the guest’s blood. Your mouth worked silently over the words as disbelief clouded your sense of perception, “I’m watching you, princess.”

“Who the fuck did this?” your best friend asked aloud, but you couldn’t find the words to answer as they gestured to the body in the bathtub. “Are they even–?”

You glanced at the bathtub with a sickening realisation – the kind that settled heavily in your stomach and made your limbs feel like lead as you took two steps forward. A sharp gasp caught in your throat at the sight; he was laying on his back, vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling while his skin was mottled grey and red. His throat was slit jaggedly, and the wound wept steadily down his neck and shoulders and onto the porcelain.

He was in a bath of his own blood.

“We need to get out of here,” you whispered shakily, unable to tear your eyes from the blank stare that only hours ago had been so full of exasperation, even anger. “Now. We need to run.”

“Good luck with that,” a deep voice rasped behind you, and then a piercing scream cut through the silence of the house. You spun around to see a shadow of a man holding one of your friends in a headlock, ignorant of the struggle they were putting against the restraint. “You cannot run from me. You cannot hide, either, princess. Now your friends must pay the price for your selfishness.”

Time slowed down as your mouth opened around a scream.

The stranger, shadowed and silhouetted by the window behind him, bodily threw his quarry, your friend, to the wall with as little as a grunt of effort. Their head bounced off of the drywall, leaving behind a dent in the plaster as they crumpled to the floor, silent and deathly still.

“I warned you that I would do that,” the stranger said, a slight hint of amusement in his voice. “Now it is your turn.” As he spoke, he pointed at your best friend, a manic glint in his eyes.

You noticed that his face, what was visible of it behind the curtain of dark hair and black mask, at least, was streaked with kohl and blood. There was no way to tell whether the blood was from your friends that no doubt laid lifeless behind him, or whether you were part of a sickening spree.

Every instinct screamed for you to run, but what he warned of rang true – there was no way to outrun him within the house. Heavy boots thudded on the wood and you winced as the toe of one connected with the temple of the friend strewn over the floor – they didn’t even stir, and their chest wasn’t rising and falling with breath.

You opened your mouth to yell, to shout out for help, but you stumbled in your haste to get away. “Do not go anywhere,” he rasped, getting nearer. “I have worked too hard for you to run. The others were not like you.” Horror washed over you and consumed you whole, just as he said, “They were dead before they realised–I know you would be perfect.”

“Fuck, run!” A hand grabbed your elbow, and pulled. “Run!”

The comparison of yours and your best friend’s footsteps on the stairs were like a hare being chased by a patient wolf; rampant and fast-paced skitters, to the slow, steady beat of the wolf’s.

“What about the others!” you yelled.

A deep, sinister laugh echoed down the stairwell. “No longer with us, princess,” he warned, the click of metal loud over his footsteps. “When will you learn that it is going to be just the two of us?”

You were yanked to the side, towards the front door of the home, when a whoosh of air went past your elbow. A glint of bright, clean metal was all you could see before you gasped in horror as your best friend fell to the floor. “No!”

“What the hell,” they gritted out, hands desperately trying to staunch the bleeding from their leg. A blade handle stuck out at a jaunted angle from their thigh while blood pooled below them. “You-”

“That is much better,” he huffed, and he stalked towards you. The boots he wore slapped over the wet floor; splatters of blood flicking in his stride.

You only had eyes for the rabid killer that neared, but you heard a whimper and moan of pain, then the shuffling of clothes.

“Run, get out of here,” your best friend rasped. The pallor of their face made you whimper as you looked between them and the approaching murderer. “Go, please–please go, get out,” they begged, their voice weak.

The toe of a black boot connected with their ribs and they groaned with pain, and you jumped. “I hit an artery,” he said blithely, like it was a simple fact that would not change your life as you knew it. “They will not be with us for much longer.”

“You fucking what!” you shrieked, gaping at the intruder. Terror seized your heart when he advanced faster, that glint of manic energy now flared to a furious anger. The air in your lungs swooped and vanished as he seized your throat, choking you with a strong, cold hand. “Let me go-” You grunted when your back hit a wall, and your head slammed against glass, a photo frame; a family portrait now covered in blood. “You psycho! Let go of me!”

His head tilted to the side. “Such a spirited one.” His voice was muffled by the black mask that covered the bottom half of his face. “You will be perfect–absolutely perfect, and I have high hopes of you.”

With him standing so close, you could smell the ichor and mess that covered the black, tactical leather vest he wore, and the canvas tactical pants covering his legs were splattered with something. The mask shone in the streaked moonlight with the blood of his victims, and his hair was matted with fluids you would not dare to utter. His lank, dark hair fell to his jaw, and when he exhaled, the strands that covered the slits in his mask blew outwards.

“Fuck you,” you spat, baring your teeth with the effort of your struggle. “Fuck you.”

There was a low, menacing chuckle before you felt the hand around your throat squeeze – the pressure tight and unyielding. “I will break you down, princess. I have the patience to do so, and I will take great pleasure in watching you fracture–do not worry.”

Your vision swam as you choked and gasped for air, but your lungs could not pull any through his grip.

“Sleep,” he growled, his face inching closer. “Do not make me snap your pretty neck, princess.”

A wretched, mournful sob fell from your lips, and you coughed while the edges of your vision darkened. In a last bid to find some salvation, you glanced down at the floor, where your best friend would have laid, but they were slumped on their side – eyes vacant and blank, surrounded by a pool of their own blood.

“No,” you whispered, hands scrabbling at your assailant’s leather covered arm. “No, no- Please!”

“I said sleep,” he snarled, and he pushed against your throat harder, squeezing tighter than a vice. Darkness filled your vision, swirling like the sea. “That is it, princess. Go. You will need it for what I plan for you.”

The last thing you saw as you were swept away, choking from the lack of air, was a set of icey, stone-grey eyes, filled with malice and a sweeping sense of victory. “You are mine, and mine alone.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolute and utter shock of being drenched with ice cold water. The cry of shock caught in your throat and you choked on it, tasting blood and god knows what else on your teeth and tongue. Your eyes burned and struggled to focus as the water dripped from your lashes and onto your cheeks.

A dark, rasped laugh echoed from behind you, and you made to twist and face it, but you could not move.

Ropes bound you to the chair you were sitting on. Your ankles, knees and thighs, your middle, and your arms were chafed and red from the fibres. A zip tie was cinched around your wrists and to the back of the chair so tightly, that you could barely feel your fingers.

“Hello.” The voice was muffled, but still sickly sweet with malice and a sense of twisted triumph. “It is nice of you to finally join me, princess.”

“You sick bastard.” The words felt catastrophically inadequate to the rage you felt, but with very little else at your disposal, you felt like words were the last weapon you had at your arsenal. “What do you want from me?”

A hand, of cold and shining metal, squeezed your shoulder. “I want you. I have watched you for a long time now–I have waited for the right moment to make you mine.” There was a swelling silence before he spoke again, and you prayed that he would have just stayed silent. “You were one of the few I chose, and the only one that survived. The others… They were weak, pitiful in the end.”

Chilled terror encapsulated you whole, turning your blood to ice and your muscles to rigid blocks, akin to an iceberg. The fear ran deep and consumed you as that same hand gestured to the wall in front of you, and you blinked as you turned your head to look.

Pictures – all manners of polaroids and stills from surveillance footage were pinned and stuck to the wall, all looped and connected with black string and red writing that scratched and tore at the pieces of paper. The resemblance to being written in blood wasn’t lost on you, and it made your heart beat faster with the implication.

All the bodies of your friends flashed in your mind. How this stranger had killed them off with as little care but high finesse screamed serial killer. The matter of fact statement that you were one of the few, but the only one to survive, lent credit to that observation.

The ironic truth of your obsession with true crime documentaries, and being part of one, was also not lost on you.

His voice, still raspy, spoke again. “I have worked tirelessly these past few months to obtain you–my ultimate prize, my trophy. Did you not wonder why an officer of such high rank knocked on your door? How you were left alone, ripe for me to strike?”

The decorated officer with blond hair and blue eyes flashed in your mind’s eye with his question, and your breath hitched. Your suspicion was right, your gut instinct was right. “How-”

“He is my…” He paused, as though searching for the right word. “He is an accomplice of mine.”

A deafening silence echoed off the walls of your ‘cell’ – the walls of solid brick and pipes gave the illusion of some kind of basement, and the singular light that swung above your head flickered and hummed. Shadows danced over the pictures of you and your friends, warping the memories you once held so dear.

The friends, all of them that were in those photos, now laid dead; bled dry or broken beyond healing.

You hiccuped and exhaled shakily, glancing around the room as the panic that once simmered roared to life. “I–”

“You were so brave before, princess,” he cooed, tipping your chin up with his index finger. “Where has all of your fight gone, hmm? I could not have broken such a spirited one so easily.”

Your eyes tracked his movement as he moved to stand in front of you, and you took him in. Dark hair hung limply around his pale face, framing the skeletal, gaunt cheekbones and brows above the black mask. His eyes were a haunting grey – dark and murky with the deeds he had committed and the ones he planned to commit.

The thought of what he could have planned for you made you shudder and ball your hands into fists.

“You killed all of them–my friends,” you hissed, baring your teeth. “All of them are dead. You fucking killed them, slaughtered them like animals, you monster! That’s what you are, a fucking monster!”

A cold palm connected with your cheek, and you shrieked with pain as your head snapped to the side.

“Watch your tongue, girl.” The same hand that slapped you, grabbed a hold of your cheeks with a thumb and index finger and squeezed – tight enough to no doubt leave a bruise. You whimpered quietly and stared into his face, so ghastly pale; clean of blood and muck. “It would be unwise to make me angry, princess. You do not want to make me mad, do you? I cannot control myself when-”

“No,” you whimpered, blinking fast to clear the tears from your vision. A single tear escaped and tracked down your stinging cheek.

He clicked his tongue as he watched it fall until it rolled down your neck, and he used a thumb to wipe it away. “So pretty when you cry, princess. If only it was over something else. Do not get me wrong,” he said, standing tall once more. “I would make it happen, if I did not have a slither of consciousness.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, as though he found the concept of such a thing amusing. “Or the motivation of finally having you–calling you mine.”

You watched as he stepped back and sat himself down on a chair in the corner, shrouded in shadow. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees so his metal hand shone in the dull light from overhead. “That is my endgame, princess. And, whether you like it or not, you will be mine.”

“I won’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “You won’t have me, ever. Not now, not ever.”

Cold laughter came from the same shadow that he had perched himself in. “You are very funny.” His face came out of the shadows and you stared into his cold, piercing eyes as he tilted his head. “You think you have a choice.”

Fear froze your heart as you watched him slink back into the shadows. “You can’t keep me!” you shouted, pulling at the ropes. “You can’t! Someone will look for me, you won’t-”

“You are all alone, princess.” Metal shone from the shadow and you realised it was a blade of a knife. “No one will come, and no one can hear you.” The blade flew in the air, once, twice. “As of midnight, you have been declared dead. Cold and lifeless–deceased and in a morgue,” he hissed.

“What?” you croaked.

He stood again, flipping the knife as his boots thudded over the cement floor. “No one will come for you. You are dead, you do not exist,” he growled. “You are mine–mine to keep, mine to use. The sooner you accept this, the easier it will be, and the less you will be hurt.”

“Fuck,” you rasped, speechless from horror. You glanced around the room fitfully, searching for something to get you out and release the hold this murderer had on you. “No, no, no–”

“I assure you,” he said, folding his arms across his chest as he stood right in front of you, and you looked up into those eyes you had already grown to hate, to fear. “There is no way to escape from me, girl. This is a hell of your own making, and you will not win. You will beg. You will throw tantrums.”

You watched as he uncrossed his arms and he gestured wildly with his hands; one of flesh and bone, one of shining, cold metal. It was a haunting sight.

“There will be no ending to this where you escape–at least, alive. You will be mine, whether I have to break you down or kill you myself–but that would be an awful waste.” He cupped your jaw in his right hand and brushed his callused, bloodied thumb over your bottom lip. “I would rather you stayed alive. A trophy like you deserves to be shown, and proudly.”

His face neared yours and he moved his hand from your jaw to your chin, and gripped it tightly. “And I will also assure you, princess, that I have every intention of showing off what is mine.”

Words failed you; your heart seized, then shattered in your ribcage. A broken sob fell from your lips.

A loud, harsh sigh blew the strands of hair away from his mask. “Quiet.” The command was followed by a pat to your cheek, the sting of his palm on your already sensitive skin made you wince. “I have work to do, princess. Your friends made an awful mess.”

You watched him walk away. The sway of his shoulders and the set of his posture screamed of a silent threat you could not put into words, but it made your very bones shiver with fear.

“Oh,” he said suddenly, turning to face you in the doorway. “You may call me Sir, or Soldat. The choice is yours. Anything else will land you a punishment.”

“Fuck you,” you sneered, tears freely streaming down your face now. “I won’t call you shit but the murderer you are!”

Soldat hung his head and then stalked back, brandishing a black strip of cloth that appeared from nowhere. “First lesson begins now. Open your mouth, or I will do it for you.”

“No-” Your protest was cut off with a squeak as Soldat seized your jaw and pried it open, the force of his grip brutal and inescapable. The black cloth was stuffed roughly into your mouth, and he let go of your jaw to tie it tightly around the back of your head. “Hmph!”

“Keep quiet,” he growled, staring into your eyes with such fury you felt your insides quiver with the fear it imposed. “I will not tell you again or I will take your tongue. Do not make me angry, princess.”

You blinked and shrunk back from the threat, nodding meekly.

“Good,” he said, and he turned to walk away again, but paused. “I will be back later to bathe and clean you from all that blood. I cannot stand the sight of my precious girl covered in filth.”

His shadow disappeared down the hall and his footsteps quietened the further he walked away.

Your breath came in shallow pants as you sat there, blinking and trembling, desperately trying to take in what you had been through.

The pictures on the wall glared at you, like you should have known you were being watched. Memories of your best friend and the coffee dates you shared; the time your friend surprised you with a bear on your birthday; walks in the park with your family and then your friends, each one shot from a distance.

In every single shot, your face had been crystal clear – the intended target while everyone else fell like dominoes around you.

You whimpered and shook your head, desperate to clear the panicked fog from your mind, but that only made it worse. A gut-wrenching sob shook your whole body, and you couldn’t hold the fear back any longer.

The muffled wails that tore from your throat only echoed off of the walls of your confinement, never escaping to reach those outside – if there even were people out there. You had no idea, and your grief for such tragedy and loss broke you down, tearing and shattering your foundations and beliefs to their core.

No one was coming to save you.

You were dead, a lone entity, locked in a chamber and at the mercy of a murderer. It would be easy to give in, you guessed, but the fire of spite burned brighter than any star.

But for now, you allowed the shock and terror to rule your body, using it as a vessel to escape the deep, deep trenches of your psyche.

You would fight, and by all that you had, you were determined to win.

don't look at me like that, I know this is fucked up. 😅

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #rookthorne's works

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joelswritingmistress · 6 months

Text

Last Halloween: Chapter 18

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Warning: Violence, angst

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

The man in the skeleton mask held you firmly in place upon helping you back to your feet. Your hands were held behind your back and each time you tried to wriggle free it left an ache in your wrists.

"Let her go!" Joel shouted from his position on the ground as he struggled against the other assailant. When he got in one good swing, connecting with the witch mask, the third man ran in to join his buddy.

You watched in horror as the two of them took turns landing punched on Joel's body and face. No matter how loud you shrieked, begging for them to stop, they continued on.

Joel managed to fight back at first but the two of them wore him down, double-teaming the beating with ease. The man holding you back laughed wickedly in your ear as you cried.

"Stop it!" You hollered so shrill that your voice cracked and squeaked. You did everything you could to get out of the stranger's grasps but his strength was too great, even when you got in a backwards head-butt to his mouth.

"That's enough, Vic," the witch muffled through the mask, staring down at Joel on the ground.

"What the fuck is the matter with you!" Vic rushed up to him, putting the face his mask against his friend's. "Don't use my fuckin' name."

"I'm sorry." The man put his hands up. "Let's go. Let's get out of here."

The both looked down at Joel on the ground from behind their masks.

"No, we ain't done yet," Vic said.

"You're gonna kill him," the witch chimed in.

"Leave him alone!" You screamed again. Your eyes burned with tears. Seeing Joel bloody and battered on the ground was too much for you to take.

"She called the cops," the skeleton shouted over your shoulder. "Let's just get out of here."

Vic, a menacing shape behind his pumpkin mask, stood over Joel, contemplating what to do next. When he heard sirens in the distance, his posture changed from confident to anxiously alert.

"Let's get out of here," the witch said again, prompting a grunt from behind the pumpkin mask.

Vic then slowly walked up to you, making you turn your head as the foamy texture of the mask grazed your face. You closed your eyes and more tears rolled down you face.

"If you tell the cops about this fuckin' idiot saying my name, I'll fuckin' kill you. I got no problem with that."

You kept your eyes shut and face looking away to not give him the satisfaction.

"You hear me?" He asked, and then shouted in your face to make you jump. "Do you hear me!?"

Your lips were trembling but your red-rimmed eyes stared back into the triangular, black pits on the outside of the mask. Despite the position you were in you didn't bow down to him.

"Fuck you," you whispered, which somehow felt more powerful than a yell. You added, "Vic," to the end of the sentence and it immediately caused him to raise his hand and make you flinch, though his palm didn't come down across your face.

A rumble of laughter came through his chest, satisfied by your reaction and he edged backwards, signaling for his friends to follow him. When the skeleton released you, you rushed up to Joel who laid in the fetal position in the grass.

"Joel," you got down on the ground beside him and touched his already-swollen face. "Joel, talk to me if you can. Joel!"

He raised a hand to touch yours with his eyes closed and coughed, spitting blood everywhere as he did.

When the police cars finally flew down the driveway you couldn't reel in the hysterics you were in. Trying to give a statement was nearly impossible as you choked on your words and tears continued to stream the length of your face.

Steve rushed up to where you were with another office, who radioed for an ambulance. When he hugged you, you let him.

"Tell me what happened," he begged, "Please."

You pulled back, still sobbing and tried to calm yourself enough to speak clearly. "Vic." You sniffed in. "It was him. Him and two other guys in masks. They tried to kill him, Steve. Vic would have killed him."

You dropped back to the ground beside Joel despite being asked to stand back.

"Joel, I'm sorry," you cried, touching his face again. "I'm sorry. I love you, I really do. I'm sorry."

You held his hand and only backed away when the paramedics arrived to load him into the ambulance.

"We're going to arrest him for this," Steve told you as you rushed into the back of the ambulance to be with Joel.

With your hair hanging down on both sides of you face, you looked down toward your feet as an EMT put a blanket around your shoulders.

"I'll believe that when it happens."

"We're following you to the hospital to get a statement," Steve told you. "We've been out looking for Champagne all afternoon. No one could find him after the incident at the junkyard."

You lifted your eyes to meet Steve's and then the door closed to secure the ambulance shut. He continued to look at you through the glass before the vehicle drove away with the sirens blaring.

Joel laid on a stretcher beside you with his eyes closed, though he managed to link his first two fingers with your hand.

"Is he going to be okay?" You asked.

The man tending to his injuries glanced over at you. "We're getting him to the hospital as fast as we can. I don't know if there is internal bleeding." His eyes met yours from over the top of his medical mask, "We're going to get there as fast as we can."

...

Sitting in the waiting room was torture to your heart and soul. The medical staff had practically forced you to be away from Joel, and you finally complied when they told you his health depended on them getting him the proper care he needed.

As promised, Steve and, thankfully, Officer Tate were made aware of your location and came to get more details of what happened.

"A brick crashed though the front window," you began, reiterating every detail you could remember. "There were three of them, they all had masks on. One was a pumpkin mask, the other a witch and a skeleton."

"Did they take the masks off?" Steve asked, beginning to scribble in a small notepad from his shirt pocket.

"No."

"How are certain it was Vic?"

You looked him directly in the eyes. "Because one of the guys addressed him as Vic. And he got really pissed off and told his friend not to address him by name. And he also told me if I gave you that information that he would kill me." You added, "And I know the sound of his voice."

"We have the whole 9-1-1 call on file," Officer Tate informed you. "So we're going to revisit the audio."

"Tell me this asshole isn't going to get away with this," you begged in a shaky, quiet voice. "Because he had some bullshit mask on."

"He's not going to walk. We have a task force out there looking for him right now," Steve informed you.

"Oh do you?" You asked in a cold tone, "Because in my experience in this town, they'll locate him and let him go. Maybe give him a medal for being Joel half to death." Your anger morphed into an overwhelming sadness that brought you to tears again.

Officer Tate put a hand on your back as you put a hand over your eyes.

"This sucks when you can't even get the protection you need from the police."

"We're on your side," Officer Tate assured you.

"I know you are," you said, lifting your eyes to meet hers. "It's the rest of them that I don't trust." You looked back to Steve now who you half-expected to be staring at you with a glare in his eyes. He wasn't.

Steve squatted down to be level with your eyes in the chair where you says. "Look. I've been a jerk in the past and I know I've been bitter since you broke up with me." He briefly eyed Officer Tate but quickly looked back to you. "But I'm a good cop. I took this job to make our community better; safer. I will do everything to get this guy and bring him down."

You sniffed in and dried your eyes. "Yeah? Prove it."

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 19

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