#and every time i sit down fully intending to be fucked up and evil i start drawing and it’s oops! all hugs

[xazse]

Notes: Sorry to everyone who was looking forward to Genshin stuff, I just had to write for Miguel he’s been plaguing my mind.

Pairings: Miguel X fem!reader

Tags: Thigh-fucking, Nipple-sucking, kinda-meanReader, SubMiguel, Neglected Miguel. If I forgot anything else please lmk

Sweet soft pecks on Miguel’s cheeks, even your feather light touches are driving him insane, you’ve purposely been avoiding him, depriving him: taking on missions nonstop so you can have him extra needy the next time he ducks into your apartment.

Just like these past few weeks constantly having him run in circles. ‘Oh you can see me next week,’ getting his hopes up then sending him that dreading message of ‘Oh I’m so sorry Miguel, we’ll have to cancel :(.’

You aren’t sorry one bit, not even a sorry bone in your soft body.

So when he does manage to get a slot in your oh so busy schedule, he’s planning to take full advantage of getting his fill of you for the weeks to come, where you’ll play him like a fiddle all over again.

“M’ sorry Miguel” you pout ever so fake, moving your lips to connect with the corner of his mouth over and over again. He can’t help when his facade of being angry starts to break down and he fully lets you in. Lacing his hands with yours and letting you guide him to the couch.

Softly sitting him down and propping down on his lap and swinging your legs up on the couch, you continue with your sweet ministrations, rubbing a hand up and down his chest: slow and sultry clearly trying to savor the moment for what it was.

His half lidded eyes are following your hands, intently following every move you make. When you grind your ass down on him particularly hard, he bucks his hips up groaning and letting his hard cock be known, just a bit of touching always has Miguel like this, always cooped up in his office tends to let him have no time for himself.

Your sly hands slide right under his white T-shirt, palms guiding all the way up to his nipples, you pinch one of them In-between your thumb and pointer finger causing another groan to slip past his lips and his hand to grip your waist with more force than he had intended.

“I’ve been neglecting you for a while now huh? No wonder you’re so sensitive” you emphasize while flicking both his nipples, he lets out a loud moan, oh if the others could hear how their leader sounded like a bitch in heat.

“I’ll take good care of you m’kay?“ he slowly nods covering his mouth, whilst you swirl his nipple within your fingers. “Here, hold your shirt” you move the bottom of his shirt towards his mouth and he obediently obeys, now you have a full view of his chest, darkened nipples on full display for your teasing.

You shift to pull his cock from its tight confines, spreading your legs and letting the sensitive thing rest inbetween your thighs, you go to stroke him, using his precum as lube, his breath hitches when your fingers dance around his tip.

“I’ll let you use my thighs for today baby, is that okay?” You stare at him with that evil convincing smile, he’s in no place to refuse your generous offer so he nods his head in defeat.

He watches as you slide your shorts up your thighs, pressing so nicely against the outline of your cunt, his cock twitches against you when you flex and tighten yourself around him.

You do something that entirely surprises him when you lean towards his chest and place your mouth on one of his nipples, he jumps but that earns him a good squeeze from your thighs, he finds himself not completely hating the feeling of your tongue flicking his nipple repeatedly.

He’s panting, and shifting his hips upward in a routine now: his shirt drenched in his own drool. Clearly enjoying all the pleasure you’re giving him. Not knowing what to do with his hands he moves one to grip your hair pushing you further against his nipple- a ploy to get you to give him even more and of course you do.

His cock is a beet red by now, covered in his cum, trying so hard to chase that orgasm that’s been building within him for weeks now, his strong thighs are practically bouncing you up and down rubbing against your clit every-time he comes down, now isn’t the time to be worried about your pleasure, you only want to focus on him but the growing pleasure is getting hard to disregard by the minute.

You hear a loud groan croak in the air and Miguel gripping your hair rather hard.

Thick spurts of his cum landing on you in globs, while he’s panting loudly in your ear trying to calm himself from his high.

Ignoring the wetness inbetween your cunt, you let go of his nipple with a lewd pop, and he buries his head into your neck. You oblige and rub his back while softly cooing at him that he did so good.

#sub miguel o'hara #fem reader #miguel x you #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara smut #miguel o’hara smut

[spiderrrling]

can we have some cockwarming eddie please :)

you absolutely may, this ended up being way longer than i intended it to be

cw: cockwarming, teasing, hickeys, biting, orgasm denial

18+ minors do not engage

3k Follower Celebration!

Eddie’s hands were gripping firmly onto your hips, holding you fast in place and refusing to let you move. He had you sitting in his lap, your legs straddling him, your skirt hiked up around your legs and your soaked underwear pushed to the side as you had Eddie’s cock buried balls deep inside of you.

This wasn’t the first time you had done this, but you still got just as flustered every time sitting on his cock.

And Eddie just thought that you were the prettiest little thing, sitting in his lap, unable to speak as you were so filled up with him. He could sit there for hours admiring your face as it scrunched up whenever he moved slightly.

Having you in this position was intoxicating to him, you were close enough that you were breathing the same air. And it was so easy to tease you for hours upon hours with no end or release in sight.

Eddie loved the feeling of being inside of you, feeling your slick walls clenching around him was heavenly. The smell of your lavender shampoo mixing with your sweet perfume was intoxicating. You were his entire world, his moon and stars, there was nothing he would ever trade for this feeling.

Your face was pressed against the crook of his neck, desperate for any kind of friction, you would settle for just the slightest sense of relief. Your breathing was laboured and ragged, he had been teasing and riling you up for hours. And when you finally got to sink down on him, he had flashed you his wickedly evil grin and held you firmly in place. “Shhhhh, just wanna feel you for a minute.”

As much as he desperately wanted to lay you flat onto his bed, properly splay you out for him and fuck you until there were tears streaming from your eyes, there was pleasure in pushing you right up to the edge before stopping completely and letting you wind down again.

It turns out a minute was closer to an hour, your desperation growing with each second that ticked by. However in retaliation you had spent the better part of the last hour leaving countless hickeys along his neck. Painting his pale skin a million different shades of purple. Eddie always displayed them so proudly and you loved marking him up, so much that he would always joke that you might be a vampire.

You lifted your head from where you had been resting and leaned upwards slightly, rubbing your nose against his for a moment and Eddie responded by doing the same to you. Even in serious moments like this he was still able to be his silly goofy self.

You leaned in closer and brushed your lips over his ever so gently before pulling away and looking up into his soft brown doe eyes, silently pleading with him to give you what you so desperately wanted.

Eddie couldn’t help but oblige, using his hands to gently rock your hips forward ever so slightly, slowly helping you start to grind down on him. You were a little ashamed to be needing his help, but after the last hour your legs had gradually gone numb over the past hour from your position.

He pulled you forward more suddenly than you were expecting and a moan slipped past your lips, you were so weak for him at that moment. Complete putty in his hands as he manhandled you to exactly where he wanted. Eddie’s smirk only grew as he saw your reaction, he loved seeing you become messy and desperate for him.

You were so wet you were practically dripping onto his still jean clad thigh and the bedding beneath you. Your hands splayed flat against Eddie’s chest, feeling his rib cage slowly rise and fall as he started using you as his own little toy.

Eddie moved his hands from your waist and fully wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace up against his chest as he continued to rock your hips against his.

He didn’t need to say anything, the groans and moans that left his lips said it all. And it didn’t take long before either of you became desperate for the release that had been teased for so long.

Eddie was still controlling your movements, his fingers digging into your skin so hard you were convinced he was going to leave little oval bruises all over your body, not that you minded.

Eddie moved one of his hands between your legs, just barely letting his fingers apply the slightest amount of pressure to your clit through your ruined panites, only making you whimper louder into his ear.

He could tell you weren’t going to last long, he knew your body like the back of his hand, which he was absolutely planning on using to his advantage. He felt you starting to sporadically clench around him and he couldn’t do anything but let his head fall back, lips parted and the mention of your name spilling from them like a prayer.

You felt so good around him he knew it was only a matter of time if he didn’t stop you. And so he did, his arms catching you as you slumped against his chest. You had been so close, so desperate to finally feel your orgasm.

Eddie gripped your chin with his hand and kissed you fiercely, running his tongue over your bottom lip and biting down on it ever so slightly.

“What-” He finally said when he pulled away, acting oblivious. “I just want to feel you for a minute.”

18+ Taglist; @uglypastels @obiwanakenobi @ghoulsgraveyardd @xbreezymeadowsxx @a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @meaganjm @ediemunsonswife36 @AMK0127Sadie @eddiemunsonbby @bloommieb @catastrofhe

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things angst #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn #joseph quinn smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie muntion x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanons #eddie the freak munson #stranger things season 4 #smut

[safetycar-restart]

you know everything showers? yk where you like wash your hair, shave everything,, like that good deep shower? yeah charles would absolutely hate it. like he understands the importance of ✨self care✨ and everything but he just haaaates being away from his mommy. so i imagine 9 times out of 10 when you take an everything shower charles ends up in the bathroom with you. he’ll just pull back the shower curtain so he can see you and just sit and talk. he’s just so clingy/needy that he simply needs to see you every chance he has.

Oh god i love this?? Needy Charles is so so good. We need to make a needy!driver tag so that we can talk about all the neediness we want (fuck it I’m doing that. We have a needy!driver tag now. Use this info for evil).

Of course Charles understands the importance of self care and feeling good. And of course he always wants his mommy to feel her best!!

The issue, however, is that the only time you really get for an everything shower is when you have a free evening or morning? Which means it’s when you have time for Charles?

Like maybe once a week you only work a half day? So like every Wednesday you come home at 1PM instead of 5PM and so every second Wednesday you’ll try to do an everything shower just cause it always leaves you feeling so nice.

The problem, however, is that Charles of course knows your schedule better than his own (seriously, on race weekends he won’t know when to be at media duties but he’ll know when you’re getting lunch with a friend), and so in his little mind, Wednesday=mommy time!! Wednesday afternoon is mommy time!! As far as he is concerned, he is fully booked from Wednesday 12:30pm onwards because his mommy is free and therefore he can be with you!!

So when you come home and he’s so excited and ready for nice long cuddles and chatting and maybe getting fucked and you go to the shower? He’s sad!! He’s a sad little one!!!

He used to feel so bad about that, because he knows you deserve the time to yourself and he’d never try to suggest that you shouldn’t have that time. But he also has absolutely no concept of personal space or time.

Yes you’re shaving your legs. So? He can join!! Yes you’re washing your hair. So? He can come with!!

He doesn’t want to ask though, because he thinks he might be too needy. He would never ever want to risk making his mommy unhappy with him.

He knows you enjoy doing those long showers and he would never say you shouldn’t have them (because in his opinion you should have everything you could ever want), but he just gets sad cause it’s time he could be with you?

So Charles, in true subby fashion, tends to just stand right outside the shower door. He doesn’t say anything, literally just stands there and listens to the shower and waits for you to be done. And the poor thing nearly starts crying multiple times because you’ll turn the shower off to shave your legs and massage in conditioner and then he’ll think you’re finished and get excited but then you turn the shower back on? He’s in tears!!! He has to wait even longer.

Maybe Wednesday he’s had a pretty bad day but he knows you want to take a long shower and so he tries not to act too upset but ends up sobbing when you go to fetch a spare towel for your shower. Because he doesn’t want to stop you, he wants to be good. But he needs his mommy.

Of course you stop and comfort him and intend to just not have a long shower today. That’s fine. If Charles needs you then of course you’ll stay with him.

Except he doesn’t want that, because he knows you love those showers and he doesn’t want to still you from them.

So you have a genius idea and tell him that he can come with and sit on the floor? Instantly he’s fully on board. So he sits down on the bath mat, talking to you and smiling and being so so happy.

It’s a little awkward for you at first cause there’s no way to look sexy while shaving or washing hair or exfoliating, but Charles doesn’t care at all? It’s not about that for him. He just wants to be close.

You think it’s a one time thing, but then the next time you go to take a long shower, Charles is right there again. He’s done it once and now he’s never gonna stop!! He’ll even help you by handing you products? And he asks if he can dry you off afterwards.

And honestly it becomes really nice? Charles tells you about his day and what’s been happening lately and what he wants to do later, just babbling away while you shower.

(By the way, you’ve now created a monster. Showering is now a two person activity. He hears the shower turn on and he’s running to come sit. Doesn’t matter if you’re all sweaty and gross from working out, he still comes in, then he’ll just ask how your workout was and what you did and if you’ve eaten enough afterwards. Showering now requires two people.)

#sub!charles #cl #soft soft vibes #f!reader #needy!driver tag

[pheonyxian]

Baldur's Gate 3 Sexless Any% Part 3

I think some of my mutuals are using this as an actual way of knowing what BG3 is actually about so I figured I'd use this edition to talk about the plot and npcs a bit. Might slow down or stop these at some point? I thought the original premise was funny but I don't know if it's liveblog an entire 100 hour game funny. Regardless feel free to block the tag I'm adding if you don't want to hear any future rambles. Do love/hate it when a game I didn't intend to like so much gets its grubby mind flayer tentacles wrapped around my brain so hard.

The OC PC: RPing through the game as my OC Ank. I wasn't sure if picking an oc with strong psychic powers would rub against the mind flayer plot but so far it's been a perfect choice. Ank is traditionally a villain but I'm not playing a villain for my first play through, so it's been fun to rp him in a scenario where he's g o o d and his life didn't take a turn for the worse. He's also traditionally blind, but obviously the game isn't set up for that. I was originally just imagining cutscenes playing out differently if sight was involved, but maybe it'll be more interesting to consider him in a pre-blinded state. I'm sure certain repeated actions in the ocular region won't have any u n f o r t u n a t e effects.

Mind Flayers: The setup for the plot is that mind flayers have infected you (and your companions, and a large number of npcs) with mind flayer parasites and you have to remove them before you turn into fully grown mind flayers. Except for some reason you haven't turned yet and you get cool psychic powers with them.

The Guardian: In addition to making your own character at start, you also can character create your "guardian." Everyone I know just hits the randomize button because they've already spent an hour fussing over every detail of their character, but I knew this was coming and already planned my guardian out. And uh, like I said, Ank's traditionally a villain and the only guardian-like character he's ever had is uh... I'm going to be honest with you, if the guardian turns out to be the big bad of the game that's going to be funny as all fuck. I'm sure there's very little chance of that though, it's not like there's anything evil about telling you to s h o v e w o r m s i n t o y o u r s k u l l.

Withers: Withers is more of a mechanic than a character. I do want to know his story though. He's an undead or lich or something who will revive dead characters (for a cost) hire generic undead companions (for a cost, I guess if you want to resign your poor companion's unfortunate fate) and change your cast (for the same cost as undead friends.) I guess money still has use in the afterlife. I haven't had to use his services yet but I've had a lot of close calls and dwindling Revivify scrolls so it's only a matter of time.

Volo: Just Gale but a bard. Not a playable character Bard mind you. At least not yet. I don't know what his deal is. He offered to extract the mind flayer parasites with a pair of needles which I almost agreed to to see if he'd actually poke Ank's eye out.

And updates on companion stories:

Shadowheart: Decided that after a week of traveling and nearly dying together it was appropriate to breach topics again. Pretty sure the game expected me to ask these immediately once the option was available but like I said, we respect boundaries in this house. Anyway, Shadowheart's a cleric of Shar, who by context I'm assuming is bad. The way she put her worship didn't sound that bad, about embracing the darkness as a way of stripping falsehoods, right up until she started talking about toppling governments and killing innocents, so I'm keeping her at a 2/10 for being batshit insane.

Also her magical artifact is required for keeping me alive and she stole it and do we really want the e v i l cleric to have that kind of p o w e r over M E?

Lae'zel: Lae'zel sits at the very strange crossroad of honorable and completely ruthless. She's totally fine with killing your enemies but you have to do it the right way, and b r a i n w o r m s isn't the right way. I'd say the right way is whatever works. 7/10

Gale: All of my attempts to pry into Gale's backstory (boundaries? what boundaries?) were foiled by poor dice rolls so no updates on his dark and traumatic past. I did give him two magical artifacts to slurp up because he looked like he was going to die of heat stroke at camp. I've been avoiding spoilers but I had heard that it's hilariously difficult to not accidentally romance Gale due to a bug, and the fact that you can start his romance path without realizing it. Thankfully Ank is smart enough to realize that when you cast spells together that makes the air smell like rosewater it's time to high tail it out of there. 2/10 as smooth as a slip n' slide.

That said, I don't know if it's been patched yet, but according to the internet there's like a 50/50 chance the game thinks we've already banged. Tbd on that one. Sexless any% is slowly turning into Oops! Fucked Everyone thanks purely on technicalities.

Astarion: Based on the way people talk about him I genuinely thought the pompous personality was just a facade and that he'll eventually tip his hand and reveal he's been evil this entire time. But honestly based the bits of backstory he's (refreshingly, compared to the rest of these idiots) given out I think he's just the guy who, once given the keys to power, will drive right off sanity road. Regardless, he used to serve an abusive vampire lord so I guess we're going vampire hunting in the future. 10/10 bad influence gay best friend who tells you to chug and shove parasites up your eyes.

Wyll: Wyll is a warlock who serves a fiend that forces him to hunt down and kill demons, which sounds like a fine deal until some tricky wordplay came in. After refusing to kill Karlach (Tiefling, not demon) his patron changed him into a Tiefling too. Honestly? Upgrade. 6/10 nice guy but surrounded by more colorful characters.

Karlach: Ok here’s why Karlach is a 10/10 character even without taking sex appeal into consideration. She’s a Tiefling who served in some demonic war against her will and had her heart replaced with an infernal engine that constantly burns her and anyone she touches with searing hot pain. Despite this she has constant big sister energy and her biggest complaint is how touch starved she is. I don’t even care if it comes bundled with a sex scene, Karlach is getting a goddamn hug before the credits roll.

#BG3 sexless any percent liveblog #if you know my character Ank though please do read this one #He’s having a time

[mumblesplash]

you ever do that thing where you laugh so hard you kinda have to just fall onto the nearest person you know won’t let you drop to the floor

#tim drake #conner kent #dc #superboy #red robin #realistically given the way i draw tim i don’t think he can possibly be taller than 5’4” #i have no control of this my subconscious art brain has decided he’s simply Tiny #i also think of kon as super tall so that isn’t helping but still #i never learn my lesson every time i’m not doing great emotionally i’m like ok i am going to make angsty art bc that’s a thing people do #and every time i sit down fully intending to be fucked up and evil i start drawing and it’s oops! all hugs #i just cannot make vent art my brain just goes ‘no wallowing!!’ and smacks the angst out of my hands #on the bright side if you ever see me posting angst it means i’m definitely not sad

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

I posted 2,754 times in 2021

210 posts created (8%)

2544 posts reblogged (92%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 12.1 posts.

I added 1,136 tags in 2021

#tma original - 171 posts

#from the depths of the dragon's hoard - 167 posts

#one piece - 114 posts

#akagami no shanks - 104 posts

#one piece x reader - 102 posts

#shanks - 101 posts

#one piece imagine - 98 posts

#akagami no shanks x reader - 97 posts

#shanks x reader - 94 posts

#akagami no shanks imagine - 88 posts

Longest Tag: 66 characters

#how dar you tumblr artist making me attracted to a cat gremlin man

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Imagine starting a party tradition for the whitebeard pirates

On an uninhabited tropical island

Ace: *having a good time with his friends*

You: *sits near by and starts carving into a pineapple with a knife*

Ace: what are are you doing?

You: don't look you'll ruin the joke, give me a minute

Ace: okay then *goes back to chatting with one of his crew mates*

Ten minutes later

You: *imitating marco's voice* hey Ace, who am I-yoi? *Holds the pineapple carved in the likeness of Marco the phoenix in front of your face*

Ace: *chokes on his drink* holy shit (y/n)

You: watch your profanity yoi

Ace: *leans too far back in his chair as he laughs and falls*

You: *still holding the pineapple up, you lean over him* what is the matter Ace-yoi?

Ace: *still laughing* please stop! It hurts *holds his stomach to try and ease the pain*

You: do you need a doctor yoi?*tilts your head and the pineapple to the side*

Ace: *laughing but now in tears* I'm gonna kill you, please stop!

Marco: (y/n) what are you doing to Ace?

You: *not breaking character or lowering the pineapple you look at Marco* I think something is wrong with Ace yoi.

Thatch: *starts laughing* (y/n) you evil genius.

Marco: I don't sound like that

You: *turns to whitebeard* what do you think, pops yoi?

Whitebeard: *turns his head and snorts*

Marco: ha ha have you had your fun (y/n)?

You: *lowers the pineapple* yes

Marco: are you done?

You: yes *goes and carves the marco pineapple into a drink cup, fill it with juice, put a straw in it, and you give it to Ace*

Ace: *tears still running down his face* oh thanks, what I always wanted, a fruit Marco.

Thatch: can I have a fruit Marco, too?

You: sure *ends up carving everyone a marco fruit*

Next party

Whitebeard: (y/n) I'd like a marco pineapple again

You: on it pops *pops open your switch blade*

381 notes • Posted 2021-05-03 19:01:20 GMT

#4

Imagine Shanks deciding to let you join the crew after realizing you are quite funny

Massive Sea king: *raises itself out of the water and stares down at the red force

Shanks and Benn: *stunned silent*

You: oh what fresh fuckery is this

Shanks: *thinks that's the greatest thing he's heard all week and fully intends to incorporate it in his vernacular*

On the Moby dick with Shanks and, whitebeard and his crew.

Whitebeard and Shanks: *exchanging information and small talk over a cup of sake*

Teach: *talking shit about Shanks under his breath with his crew mates, but loud enough for everyone to hear* I bet his dick is a different shade that the rest of his skin.

Shanks and whitebeard: *hear him but elect to ignore it*

You: *overhears and loudly retorts* yeah, it's every shade of your mother's lipstick.

Shanks: *chokes on his drink* (y/n)!

Whitebeard: *has the sake come out his nose* garahrahrahrah you picked a feisty one

Shanks: I haven't decided on whether or not they can stay yet

Whitebeard: oh sure, if you don't want em I'll take em. They're perfect for keeping my boys on their toes.

Shanks: I didn't say I was willing to let them go.

Whitebeard: garahrahrahrah, I suppose that's fair.

sabaody archipelago at Shakky's bar

Some random lady: *whining about her husband*

You: *annoyed with her* will you shut the fuck up?

Some random lady: you obviously don't have a husband

You: yeah, that's why I'm gonna fuck your's now instead.

Benn: *looks over at Shanks* can we please keep them?

Shanks: *sighs* yeah

Benn: congratulations (y/n), you're officially a member of the red haired pirates

You: fuck yeah!

384 notes • Posted 2021-06-14 19:02:21 GMT

#3

Imagine learning Karl is very weak to signs of affection part 1

Karl: *has been working on some designs for hours*

You: *enters the room* Karl

Karl: I'm busy

You: I know darling, you skipped lunch so I thought I'd bring you some snacks and something to drink. *Puts a tray of food and a mason jar of water with a lid and a napkin*

Karl: why the mason jar?

You: it's the only container we have with a lid, I wanted to make sure your drink was in a container with a lid so it didn't spill and ruin your designs. *Puts your hands on his shoulder* please make sure to take a break and you stretch so you don't hurt yourself.

Karl: *blushing* alright.

You: dinner is at five thirty, see you then. *Gives him a kiss on his temple and leaves*

Karl: *pulls the brim of his hat over his face* they'll be the death of me.

That night

Karl: *returns to work after dinner*

You: *notices the factory has gotten pretty cold so you throw a blanket in the dryer and starts making hot cocoa*

Ten minutes later

You: *drapes the warm blanket around Karl's shoulders and puts a cup of cocoa next to him before leaving the room*

Karl: *didn't notice how cold he had gotten so he pulls the blankets tighter around himself* I've worked long enough *gets up and goes to the rooms you've made into living quarters to find you cleaning the kitchen and he stands behind you just watching you*

You: *turns around and jumps when you see him* sweet heart you scared me. Can I get you something?

Karl: I'm calling it a night, why don't you join me?

You: sure, give me a minute to wash my hands.

Karl: *flops down on the couch with his hot cocoa*

You: *wipes your hands* can I sit in your lap this time?

Karl: what?

You: can I sit in your lap to share the blanket?

Karl: *his voice cracks* sure *adjusts himself on the couch so you both can put you feet up*

You: *slides into his lap and takes ahold of one of his hands, pulls it into your lap, and begins to gentle massage lotion into it*

Karl: what are you doing?

You: you work with your hands all day, let me take care of them for you. Plus I like the way they feel in my hands. *Gives his knuckles a kiss*

Karl: *having an internal error 404*

You: Karl?... Karl, hey! ... Karl you still in there?....*straddles his lap and cups his chin in your hands to tilt his head back to get a closer look to see if he has a concussion*

Karl: I'm fine!!

You: oh that's a relief, I was worried there for a minute.

Karl: * grumbles* you worry too much

459 notes • Posted 2021-06-05 19:00:55 GMT

#2

Imagine Karl learning you speak German the hard way

Author's note: I took German in highschool and college so I'm rusty at German so I had to look up a few things. If they're not correct, sorry, send me the proper thing and I'll fix it.

Part 2

Edit: everything has been fixed, anything that's not right has most likely been left on purpose. Thank you for the fixes @sweetwizardheart

The first week of knowing Karl

Karl: I asked for the fucking Phillips head not the flat head! *Throws the screw driver across the room*

You: *yelps in surprise*

Karl: *grumbles* Du bist für nichts zu gebrauchen (you are useless)

You: I'm sorry, I'm still learning please be patient with me. *Gets the proper screw driver and puts the one he threw back in it's original spot*

A month later

You: I made sandwiches for lunch! *hands him his plate*

Karl: *takes a big bite* es ist lecker, mein Schatz (it's delicious, my treasure)

You: *stares at him for a second*

Karl: it's alright

You: oh wonderful

Three months later

You and Karl: *on the couch in front of a flaming trash can, cuddling for warmth*

Karl: *his arm around you, and his hand running up and down your arm* (y/n)

You: *looks up at him* yes?

Karl: ich liebe dich, Schöne (I love you, beautiful)

You: *genuinely surprised* what?

Karl: it's nothing forget I said anything

Six month later

You: *infinitely more comfortable with Karl* I take it you'll need the eight millimeter wrench?

Karl: *on a rolling board under a machine* no, the ten millimeter

You: *hands him the wrench but drops it*

Karl: Arschgeige! (Literally means ass violin, but it's a rude outdated way of saying someone is an asshole)

You: *slams your foot down on the rolling creeper, right between his thighs, his testicles practically on your toes, and you pull him out from under the machine* Pass auf, Junge. (Means "watch out, boy" but in this case it's used as a warning)

Karl: Du kannst Deutsch! (You can speak German)

You: die ganze zeit (the entire time) *pushes him back under the machine and leaves*

Karl: *scrambling to get out from under the machine* wait! Warte! Liebling komm zurück! (Wait, darling, come back!)

You: *already in the elevator*

Duke: *hears Karl running after you and is absolutely delighted by the drama* oh my, what's going on?

You: Karl's a dick *exits the elevator on the top floor*

Karl: *floats up on a gear* where is (y/n)?

Duke: what did you do, I don't think I've ever seen them this mad before

Karl: I've been speaking my mind out loud in German, and it turns out they speak it as well.

Duke: I can sell you a box of chocolates and a bottle of champagne for three thousand lei

Karl: *sighs and reaches for his wallet* make it three bottles, and do you have any condoms

Duke: getting a little a head of yourself, don't you think?

Karl: do you have em or not?

Duke: yes *gives him the goods* good luck Lord Heisenberg. It's best to just apologize for whatever you did

Karl: yeah yeah, thank you.

469 notes • Posted 2021-06-25 19:02:50 GMT

#1

Imagine the nickname the red haired pirates gave you making its way onto your wanted poster

Shank: welcome to the crew princess *ruffles your hair*

You: that's not my name

Shanks: too bad *sticks his tongue out at you*

During a fight

You: *is cornered by several marines*

Benn: hang on princess, I'm coming! *comes to your rescue* four men against one woman! You boys ought to be ashamed of yourself!

When you receive your first wanted poster

You: no! No!

Shanks: what's wrong

You: this is your fault

Shanks: what I do?

You: this! *Holds up your poster for him to see*

Shanks: *snorts* oh my god

You: shut up!

Benn: *just woke up from a nap* what's going on?

Shanks: our little princess got their first wanted poster?

Benn: oh, really what's your bounty?

Shanks: six hundred million berries

Benn: damn princess, for a first time bounty that's up there.

Shanks: but wait it gets better, get a load of this *holds the poster up for him to see*

Benn: *bursts out laughing* can we frame that?

Shanks: you bet your sweet bippy we will.

In a fight against the marines

Smoker: so you must be princess of the red haired pirates

You: *furious* that's not my name! It's a nickname they call me!

Smoker: excuse me?

You: my name isn't princess, if I tell you my name can you get the damn poster fixed? My captain and crew have been giving me hell about it.

Smoker: I can do that

A week later

You: *receives a new poster with your preferred name on it, goes to shanks and slaps it on the table in front of him* read it and weep

Shanks: *looks at the poster* no! They changed it!

You: Smoker kept his word, I stand by my opinion that he's one of the only reliable Marines.

Shanks: I'll get it changed back

A week later

Shanks: *had his meeting with the five elder celestial dragons*

You: *receives a new poster with the name princess on it again* Shanks! What did you do!

Shanks: I asked the five elders to change it back and not allow it to be changed again

You: why!

Shanks: because you're our princess

480 notes • Posted 2021-06-27 19:02:26 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[patd--phan]

Wanna Be Yours

Pairing: Dadsbestfriend! Bucky (mid/late 40s) x reader (in early/mid twenties)

Summary: Y/N surprises bucky on a business trip and he promises to be hers.

Warnings: SMUTTY stuff (18+ only pleasee), unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (m receiving), riding, teasing, significant age gap, reader takes charge, “Doll/sweets/baby/sweetheart”, some cute ass shit at the beginning and end tho

WC: about 3K im sorry I was really H*rny yesterday and I was unable to do anything about it as i was stuck in the car all damn day

Note: So I was really h*rny yesterday and this happened lol I’m sorry. Loosely based on the song wanna be yours-arctic monkeys. Also this will probably be the only smut I ever write bc I don’t wanna become an 18+ blog or make anyone uncomfortable (not that 18+ blogs are bad tho lemme set that straight, most of my fav blogs are)

PS thank you for the love on my first ever fic with Peter Parker x reader, it made me so happy that ppl didn’t think I suck lol ( and i guess i lied saying i would probably never write another one shot lol)

You do NOT have my permission to repost this anywhere, I will come for u if you plagiarize ok bye

It was no secret that Bucky liked to be in charge in the bedroom, and you had absolutely no problem with that. After all, he was older and more experienced; he knew how to make your body sing. But this week you were craving something a little different. Bucky had been away on a business trip all weekend and you really missed him, not just the sex (but I mean…) but just cuddling and talking to him about your day; you were feeling clingy. You decide to text bucky even though you knew he couldn’t answer right away because he was currently in a meeting.

Y/N: I mis youu :( when will you be back tomorrow?

You just wandered around your apartment for the next 20 minutes, casually checking your phone about every 30 seconds just in case bucky was able to sneak in a text. He finally replied after 30 minutes, right as his meeting was ending at 3.

Bucky: Hey doll, I miss you too <3

Bucky: unfortunately one of the investors this morning had to push their meeting to late tomorrow afternoon, so I’m not gonna be home until very late tomorrow night :(

Y/N: dammit :(

Y/N: well good luck at the pitch meeting tomorrow, I love and miss you <3

Bucky: don’t gimme that pout I know your making doll, ill see you tonight on facetime! :)

Y/N: haha u know me so well, and yes you’ll see me tonight ;) (but I still miss u)

Bucky: I know doll I hate it too, see you tonight. Love you <3

Y/n: love you too <3

You didn’t know if you could go until late Monday without seeing bucky. As you laid on the couch smiling sadly about missing your love, an idea popped into your head. He was only two and a half hours away, and he wouldn’t be back at his hotel for another 4 hours at least. Fuck it, you were gonna go drive to his hotel and surprise him. You couldn’t be away so long, you felt super clingy this weekend and you needed to be on top of with him.

You quickly ran around your apartment, packing an overnight bag and you saw the package that arrived earlier on your floor that you completely forgot about because you couldn’t stop thinking of Bucky. You remembered its contents e(a completely evil lingerie set) and threw it in the bag with a smirk on your face.

The drive to Bucky’s hotel felt like forever and you had to remind yourself to stop speeding because you were so excited. When you finally got to his hotel, you had to convince the manager to give you a key to his room, proving that you were the man’s girlfriend with several pictures on your phone which was slightly embarrassing because in almost every picture, at least one of you was half-naked. Worth it. You thought. When you arrived in his room you quickly went into the bathroom to change into a little black dress (with a surprise underneath). Then as you were sitting on his bed waiting for him, you realized it would still be a while before he would get back, so you decided to tidy up his things, packing his clothes and organizing his suitcase. Pleased with your work, you sat back down on the bed and looked at your phone for a while. You finally got pulled out of your Instagram daze when you heard Bucky’s voice in the hallway laughing at something a coworker said. You quickly threw your phone on the dresser, straightened up you dress, and sat at the edge of the bed with a huge smile on your face, giddy to surprise him.

As he turned the doorknob he was still looking behind him talking to the man. When he finally said goodbye and turned his head around, his eyebrows raised up and his jaw dropped, which was quickly replaced with a smile even larger than yours.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, running towards you and throwing his briefcase on the floor.

He picked you up in a tight hug and you squealed, legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

“I told you you’d see me tonight!” you said, still clung to him like a koala.

“W-what?” He replied, still in shock. Letting your legs fall back to the floor.

“I just missed you too much” you shrugged.

If any human could embody “heart eyes” it was Bucky at that moment- he’s such a softie for you. He pulled your face towards him and gave you one of the most loving kisses you’ve ever had in your life. You were expecting it to be passionate and rough, but it was soft, delicate and loving, and your heart melted into a puddle. After your lips parted, you gazed into each other’s eyes before being pulled up in another tight hug. You giggled and wrapped your legs around him again.

“I guess you missed me too huh?” you laughed.

“Oh doll, you have no idea.”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, massaging his neck and he moaned loudly.

“Mm, that feels nice.” He hummed.

“You tired baby?” you asked, he seemed like he needed some TLC (and you were ready to give it to him).

“I am so exhausted.” He replied, making you frown behind his back.

You slowly slid down his body, back onto your feet again, and kept massaging his head. He looked at you lovingly before looking around his hotel room, his eyebrows pulled in confusion.

“Did you clean up in here?”

“Yep, while I was waiting for ya,” you replied, smiling.

His whole face softened.

“Oh, I really don’t deserve you doll.” Making you smile and shake your head.

“Oh yes you do.” You replied making him smile and his heart flutter in his chest.

He pulled you in for another kiss, this one with more fire and longing in it than the last one. His large hands grabbed you ass to pull you closer to him and you moaned into the kiss. You pressed your body against him even tighter and ran your hands through his hair making him moan. You could feel his pants tent start to grow against you and you smirked and moved you lips down to the side of his neck making him groan.

You pull back and look at him, hard and eyes half lidded, it turns you on so much you feel your panties dampening.

“Hey Buck?” you whisper, lips mere inches apart.

“Hmm?” he hums in response.

“I have another surprise for you.” You whisper into his ear before pulling back to look at his face.

“What’s that, doll?” he whispers.

You smirk and step away from him, noticing the confusion on his face before you pull your dress over your head and throw it onto the floor.

Bucky’s jaw drops, making you bite your lip and smirk even more. This was gonna be fun.

“Oh, fuck me,” He groans.

“Oh, I fully intend on it, Buck” you smirk.

He just groans and starts walking towards you.

“Buck?”

“Yeah sweets?”

“Wanna be mine tonight?”

“Fuck, I’ll be yours forever doll.” He says, making you whimper. You pull him against you by his tie, pressing your bodies together.

Your lips crash and tongues swirl together fighting for dominance. Hands moving up and down each other’s bodies like animals. Bucky squeezing your ass so tight you know there’s gonna be marks.

You both pull back enough so you can shimmy off Bucky’s tie and throw it over his head before unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off him. You then sink to your knees and undo his belt quickly before slowly unzipping his pants, kissing the outside of his member though his pants making him exhale a breath sharply.

“Fuck” he breathes out.

You don’t want to tease him too much (yet) so after another kiss, you shove his pants off and lay down on the bed, his body caging you under him.

The passionate makeout session resumes with Bucky still hard in his boxers pressing against your clothed core. You suddenly remember what you wanted and pull back from the kiss.

“Wait, no” you whisper.

Bucky pulls back, confused and nervous he did something to hurt you.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers.

You take advantage of his confusion and roll him over so you were straddling him with a smirk on your face.

Bucky moans at your actions, core pressing tight against him.

“You said you’d be mine.” You breathe over his lips. Moaning as being in charge is giving you a whole rush of feelings and confidence.

You kiss him, and he lets you dominate the kiss this time, biting his lips and grinding on him. He bucks his hips onto your and you pull back.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you, I’ll make you feel so good.”

Bucky moans at your words as you start to kiss all the way down his body, leaving little hickies down his chest. When you get towards his boxers he thinks your gonna kiss his member or pull down his boxers, but instead you go back up his chest, licking a stripe from his belly button all the way to one of his nipples, up his neck, to his lips.

Bucky moans, loud. You give him one more kiss before deciding to stop teasing him (kinda). You quickly kiss down his chest again and then plant a few kisses on his aching cock through his boxers. He bucks his hips and is whimpering under you. Fuck, that turns you on. Your big strong boyfriend who could probably crush you with one arm, whimpering and practically begging under you. Your panties are fucking soaked and you don’t think you can deny your own pleasure too much longer. You pull down his boxers and his cock is throbbing and dripping precum.

“Shit” you moan at the sight.

You lick the precum off him and he gives a high pitched moan that goes straight to your core.

“Baby please, I- I can’t.”

“Don’t worry baby I got you.” You reply as you take his full member into your mouth, sucking lightly.

Bucky moans and bucks his hips into your mouth. You push them back down and suck a few more times before getting off of him. He looks worried for a second before you slide your panties off and straddle his cock.

“Still wanna be mine?”

“Always” he replies.

You sink down onto him, jaw dropping and eyes closing at the feeling. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to him no matter how many times he’s been inside you. You both moan as his whole cock is finally buried inside you.

“Fuck Bucky, you feel so fucking good in me.” You moan, starting to rock your hips.

“God, I’m so fucking wet for you.”

Bucky continues to give low moans as you start to ride him.

“Fuck baby, I love you like this.” He says, making you start to ride him harder, moaning at his words.

His hands come grab your hips to help you ride him faster, harder.

“Baby- shit I’m close already.” He pleads.

“All for me? Shit baby aren’t I the lucky one?” You moan.

Bucky’s grip on your hips tighten and he starts to fuck up into you. He was about to blow.

You moan loudly at the feeling. “Cum in me baby please I need it.”

After a particularly hard thrust into your wet pussy you feel him spilling inside you. He lets out one of those vulgar high pitched moans and grunts that make your brain short circuit and your eyes roll back while your pussy clenches around him. You feel yourself getting close, but you want to give him another orgasm, so you sink down on him fully and slowly ride him, hearing him whimpering and moaning. You feel him get hard in you again (thank you supersoldier serum) and you rock back and forth on him. You reach down to rub your clit, but Bucky sees it and swats your hand away, replacing it with his metal one.

“Oh fuck” you moan at the cool sensation.

You start to bounce up and down on him again, the knot in your abdomen building and heating up. You feel yourself close to being undone as you ride him and his other hand runs up your body and squeezes your nipple through your thin lace bra. You moan and feel yourself clench around him, making him moan.

“Fuck- I’m gonna c-“ you get interrupted by the white hot explosion of your orgasm. Your eyes roll back, jaw hangs open and toes curl as you feel that release knock throughout your whole body, making you shake. You let out those high pitched moans and whines that only Bucky makes you feel.

Feeling you clench around him and watching your completely fucked out face, you feel Bucky’s thick cock twitch inside of you, and you moan as you feel him release in you again. Fuck that makes you feel good. So good you can’t think or move and you start to collapse on top of Bucky, but he slightly catches you and lays you down on his chest, both breathing heavy, with his cock still inside you, cum dripping all down your legs and onto Bucky.

You can’t speak, can’t think, the pleasure totally ruining you. After what feels like forever, you feel your breathing start to return to normal, as does Bucky’s, and you feel his hand rubbing up and down your back, grounding you back to earth from wherever on cloud nine you were.

You hum as you feel yourself finally calm down.

“Holy fuck, doll” you feel him lowly whine in your ear. You can only moan lowly in response.

“Baby that was fucking amazing.”

“Mmhmm.” You hum.

“…but I think I’m gonna lose my mind if you keep clenching around me.” He chuckles.

“oh shit, sorry,” you mumble out. You try to push up off of him but the farthest you got was placing your hands on his shoulders before your body gave up on you.

“Oh my God, I can’t move” you whisper. You’re so fucked out, your body won’t respond to your brain anymore.

Bucky moans at your words and slowly rolls both of you so youre on your side facing him. He reaches down and pulls his soft cock out of your pussy, moaning when he sees a burst of cum leaking from you.

You moan at the feeling of him exiting your body. You look him in the eyes and give him a lazy smile. His eyes sparkle back at you and his hand comes up to rub your cheek.

“Mm” you hum at the feeling.

“That was fucking incredible” he says, making you smile wider.

“I’m not disagreeing” you quip.

He chuckles lightly before saying “you gotta do this more often.”

“What, surprise you on business trips?” you question.

“No” he rolls his eyes and smiles, “Well yes actually, but I was talking about you absolutely taking charge tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” you smirk.

“Fuck yeah doll, I don’t think I’ve ever cum as hard. You looked so damn sexy in charge.”

You look away from his eyes, shying at his words, but also they were giving you the confidence to look right back into his eyes and say “I agree” with a smirk.

“I love hearing those high pitched moans you make, It turns me on so much” you admit.

“You know, only you can get those noises out of me, doll” he chides. You blush and smile at him.

He chuckles and you bring his face towards yours and kiss him deeply, tongues meeting together. You both hum into the kiss as his hand rubs down the side of your body.

When you break the kiss, both of you needing a breath, he pulls your body towards him, resting your head on his chest. You hum in peace as he rubs your back.

“I love you so much Y/N” he says and you feel your heart absolutely burst in your chest.

“I love you so much too Buck,” you reply, lifting your head to peck him on the lips before placing your head back on his chest.

You lay in silence for a minute before your mind begins to wander again.

“Did you mean it?” you ask.

“Mean what, doll?”

“That you’ll be mine forever?” you ask. “I mean not just in the sexy way but that you’ll be with me forever?” you ramble out.

“God yes sweetheart, you’re the one for me.” He responds and you didn’t think your heart could explode anymore, but it just did.

You squeeze his shoulder with your hand before coming up to kiss him passionately again, almost crying at all of the love going though you.

“I promise I’m all yours forever too, Buck” you smile at him.

“Good,” he smiles back, and you rest back on his chest, eyes getting droopy.

“Night-night sweetheart.” You feel yourself smile in your sleep.

“Goodnight my love.” You reply, further cuddling into his chest. Bucky feels his heart combust in his chest. God, wasn’t he lucky to have you. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you, but he knew that he was going to assure you that you deserve the world every day for the rest of his life. He kissed the top of your head before falling into a deep sleep, content with his favorite person tight in his arms.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #dadsbestfriend!bucky #James barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #im so soft for them #i am sorry for this but also no im not #the winter soldier #tws #smut #sexy times #dadsbestfriend!bucky au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #i wrote half of this in the car lol #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #seb stan #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you

[mrs-gucci]

The Forbidden Fruit {medieval priest!Kylo Ren x Reader}

anonymous:

Priest!Kylo + tavern + visiting his known mistress

author’s notes: hello, hello! ooo, priest!Kylo is a dirty man and I am very much here for it ;) thanks for the request! (post-writing note: this got waay longer than I originally intended lol)

warnings: a touch of fluff. smut. general filth. the incorrect use of the Adam and Eve bible story. oral sex (f receiving). a bit of religion-infused coercion. innocence kink if you really squint. hints of praise kink. virginity loss. 

tw’s: extramarital affair/sex (as was common in medieval times). (!!) dubcon (!!) **please let me know if I missed any warnings and/or tw’s!!**

word count: 1.8k

kylo’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings​ @icarusinthesea​ my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp​ @babbushka​ ​@mrs-zimmerman​ @dirtytissuebox​ @thepalaceofmelanie

[NOT my edit. full credit goes to sacklers_sack on Twitter]

Father Kylo walks into the Adam and Eve Tavern and steps up to the bar, ordering a mug of frothy golden brew. He takes a sip as he walks over to his usual corner table, fingers fiddling with the ring around his thick finger. 

Even though his wife already knows of his affair, he still feels a small twinge of guilt whenever he lies to her about his whereabouts. It’s a very slight feeling of remorse, though, considering the fact that she’s one of Satan’s disciples.

You walk in only minutes later, flipping the hood of your cloak off the top of your head. He looks over at smiles at the sight of you, admiring your pure and raw beauty. He’s almost sure you’re some sort of angel in disguise, too beautiful and pure to be anything less. Gods, he wants nothing more than to wreck you, split you in half with his cock.

“Hello, angel.” He purrs as you walk over and sit down at the table with him, eyes lingering on your bosom, which is accentuated greatly in this particular gown. “I am glad to see your beautiful face this eve.”

Your lips curl up into a small smirk. “No need for such flattery, Father. We both know why you summoned me here.”

“I’ve always loved how you get right down to business.” Kylo chuckles devilishly. “There are a series of rooms upstairs, the very reason I chose this particular establishment to conduct our...meeting. Step into the last one down the hall and strip bare, lay down on the bed. I will join you in a moment.”

Nodding, you stand and make your way up to the room, swaying your hips a bit extra for the Father. He smirks when he notices this, taking another sip of his beer as he feels his length twitch to life ‘neath his robes.

He waits a few minutes, finishing the mug of beer and leaving behind a tip for the barkeep before walking up to the room he’s reserved for the night. When he walks in, the sight of your nude body illuminated by the warm orange glow of the crackling fire greets him. Gods, is there a better sight to behold than this one?

Your chest rises and falls gently, rhythmically, breasts rising and falling along with your steady breathing. He’s hypnotized, momentarily, drinking in the angelic beauty that lays across the bedsheets.

His robes are swiftly removed and draped over one of the chairs, leaving him in only his undergarments. He points to your legs with his pointer and middle fingers, silently indicating that he’d like you to spread them. You do.

“Tell me, angel. Have you heard the Biblical tale of Adam and Eve?”

You shake your head, biting down on your lip when he takes a step forward towards the bed. “No, Father, I have not.”

He smirks, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. Remnants of his hot breath tease your bare skin, causing you to shudder.

“Adam and Eve were the first human beings created by God, and they inhabited in the Garden of Eden. They were given allowed to use or consume any of the other plants in the Garden, but they were told not to eat any of the forbidden fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”

You gasp when his hands suddenly seize your ankles and pull you to the end of the bed.

“But,” The Father sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact. “They failed to resist the temptation. The fruit...”

He pushes your legs as far apart as they can go, then lightly traces your glistening slit with his fingertips. Your breath hitches in your throat at his featherlight touch on your center.

Your eyes widen when his nose nudges your outer lips and he takes a long, slow inhale of your natural scent. He shudders, groaning under his breath before his tongue suddenly licks an agonizingly slow stripe up your cunt.

“The forbidden fruit was just too sweet.” Kylo says, licking his lips with a small smirk at the corners of his mouth. “It was so tender, so juicy; it just felt too right to be wrong, too delicious to be sin.”

You can’t stop the desperate whimper that escapes between your parted lips, insides clenching desperately against themselves. He notices the way your hole puckers, and his smirk grows a bit wider.

His mouth opens, then, and he encapsulates your entire core in a sloppy kiss. Your back arches and you gasp loudly, head pressing back against the pillows. The coarse hairs of his beard scratch your skin in the most delightfully pleasurable way, only adding to the sensations he’s creating with his mouth.

“F-Father--ohh!” Your feet plant and your hips lift up off the bed. “Oh gods, mmmm!”

He begins moving with more aggression, passionately slurping up each and every drop of the sweet nectar that leaks from your cunt. His assault doesn’t let up, not until his efforts bring you to the ultimate high.

“Father! F-Father, oh Christ!” You shriek softly, legs quaking as you hit your peak with an Earth-shattering intensity.

Kylo pulls away shortly after you’ve ridden out your high and he’s consumed every single drop of your sinful sweetness, upper lip and beard glistening with your release. He practically rips his undergarments off and wraps a large, veiny hand around the base.

“Lay up at the head of the bed, now. I shall claim your innocence tonight, angel.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up, chewing on your now-tender bottom lip. “I d-don’t know...”

The Father shakes his head, quickly pinning you to the bed, caging you with his large body. You watch his silver Holy Cross necklace shimmer in the dim light, reminding you that he is a man of God and that he would never ask anything of you that he didn’t think you were ready for.

“Do not fear it, my child; why would His Holiness grant us the bodies we posses, ones that can bring such pleasures, if we aren’t intended to use them? Trust me, angel, all will be alright.”

You’re not much of a religious woman, but he makes a reasonable argument...

“O-Okay.”

He smiles, reaching down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “I will go slowly for you. It may hurt at first, but I promise it will get better.”

You nod. “I trust you, Father.”

His tip swipes all through your slick before settling at your entrance, ready to push in. He holds your cheeks, looking deep into your eyes.

“Are you ready, my angel?”

As soon as you nod, his pelvis pushes forward and his length pushes through your unstretched walls. You cry out, tears instantly burning your eyes as they instantly begin to collect in the corners.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he remains still, jaw clenched so tight you’re worried he’ll crack his teeth should he clench any tighter. It’s taking every single ounce of his willpower not to fuck you raw, but he knows what he must take care of you this eve. There will be plenty of time for all of that in the future.

“You’re doing sssso well, angel. Taking me so well.”

His words of encouragement, his mutters of of praise reassure you that this was a good choice. You’ve never felt so stuffed in your entire life, not even after holiday feasts and the more your insides stretch in accommodation, the better it begins to feel.

You nod up at him, the first tear escaping your overflowing eyes.

“I’m a-alright now, Father.”

He plants a kiss on your forehead, still cradling your face as he draws back, then pushes forward once more. The noises that escape your lips are positively sinful and they only encourage him on, hips steadily gaining speed and force with each passing moment.

Soon, your body and breasts and excess flesh bounce in time with his hips’ sharp, forceful thrusts. By now, the pain has completely subsided and made way for the pleasure to build in your loins.

“S-So sssweet,” He grunts quietly in your ear. “So j-juicy and tender...and you’re a-all mine...”

Your small whimpers and gasps turn to scandalous moans and cries of desperation. You hold onto his arms tightly, fingernails digging deep into his alabaster skin, surely leaving marks.

“Please, Father, please...”

Kylo can feel his control, his restraint beginning to slip as he nears climax. He’s unable to hold it off, unwilling to deny himself this heavenly pleasure whilst his cock is stained with fresh virgin’s blood.

The thought of that alone thrusts him right up to the edge, looking over the cliff to the peak of bliss.

“Y/N, my a-angel, I...I will not be able to endure much l-longer.”

You nod, grabbing hold of his hair firmly. “It is alright, F-Father. Use m-me, use my body to bring yourself p-pleasure.”

Those words send him careening into climax and he quickly pulls away just as the first rope of his foggy liquor emerges. His hips still give half-hearted mock thrusts as he spills his creamy seed all over your puffy, used cunt.

He crawls off of you once he’s finished, beginning to redress immediately. You sit up, shakily and already you can feel the pain in your loins beginning to build from the Father’s hardened intrusion.

Your eyes catch sight of some red dripped down onto the bedsheet and your cheeks warm, acute worry flaring up inside of you. Is that supposed to happen?

Almost as if he read your worried mind, Father Kylo steps up to you and holds your chin up so that you can look into his eyes.

“Bleeding is typical for virgins, nothing is the matter, I promise.”

You nod, sighing softly in relief. “Thank you, Father.”

He smiles, bending down to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “It is I who should be thanking you, my child. Thank you for giving your innocence to me, for trusting me. You did so well for me tonight, angel.”

Your cheeks warm in flattery, smile splitting your face. But, your expression falls into a frown when you see him drape the cloak over his shoulders.

“Must you leave so soon, Father?”

Father Kylo nods as he pulls on his shoes. “I must get back to the convent, angel; I apologize for having to rush off so quickly. But, I promise I will make it up to you next time, yes?”

You nod, offering a small, disappointment-tinged smile. “Yes, of course, Father. I understand.”

He reaches ‘neath his robes and pulls out the small, silver Holy Cross necklace, draping it around your neck.

“Something to remind you of me, ‘till we next meet.” Kylo says, kissing your temple. “Farewell, my beloved angel.”

Your lips tug up into a genuine smile, fingers toying with the silver charm as he approaches the door and slips out.

“Farewell, Father.”

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[yanderenightmare]

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, heavy dubcon, bordering on noncon, profanity, manipulation

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL - PART TWO

TRUST ME

It's safe to say that Bakugo had gotten used to a certain lifestyle. 

Being top three in all years in the Hero-course, girls fawning, falling at his feet left and right, drooling, begging him to fuck them. 

Or… begging him to take them out on a date. 

But let’s be honest… no girls want to date him, they just want to ride his dick once a week. They just want to know what it feels like to be taken by a real man before halting, limping back to their clueless vanilla-boyfriends, all made up of soft smiles and warm hugs and nothing like Bakugo and how he spanks their girlfriend’s ass until blood leaks from popped veins and his name comes falling from their lips like tearful prayer.

Nowadays though, he’d had to kick more girls to the curb than he could count on both his hands without as much as getting his dick wet from the girl he’d picked for himself, the star that was once so bright and shining like a wild sunflower before he forced himself into her life. 

She seemed to have wilted, as she wouldn’t even spare him a second glance until he forced it from her.

Or… that was unfair. She was perfect, doing everything he asked, but… it wasn’t really willingly, now was it? 

All he needed was ask, but he knew she didn’t try to make him happy because she wanted to, she didn’t try and make him laugh because she wanted to, it didn’t come naturally as it did with others, she did it because she was scared shitless of what he would do if she didn’t.

It made him so unbelievable angry to see her laugh with others. Wrathful, vengeful even, when she buckled over and nearly fell, rolling on the floor in the pit of her humor, crying with how painfully she was wheezing. So furious because he couldn’t even blame her. He couldn’t blame her for preferring other people over him, other smiling laughing idiotic people, pleasant people as opposed to him and his aura of grumpiness. 

Some insouciantly greedy, almost evil, part of him whispered to him those times he saw her smile that genuine angel-bright smile, never with him, that perhaps if he simply took her, took her away, tucked her away more so than what he had already, that perhaps she’d have no choice but to share that light with his darkness, because supernova’s like her need things to shine for, they crave lighting people up, they’re just so fucking eager to please, and if he were the only one around to absorb all which she had to give, then she’d have no choice but to share.

It shouldn’t have been legal for him to demand more of her. 

She did everything he asked. 

She worked out with him, pushing herself to limits and extents she didn’t even know existed, almost until she barfed, almost until she collapsed, then praising his teaching-methods instead of admitting it was too much. 

She watches his movies, where she would contort the scary imagery of whatever horror or action movie Bakugo would put on the screen into the finest goriest comedy, cough up her lungs at the guts and brains leaking from sliced abdomens or cracked skulls, burry her face in his shoulder as she cried out laughter, instead of jumping into his arms like the scared little lamb she was supposed to be, begging him to turn it off and giving him an opportunity to slide his hand up her shirt. 

She studied with him, again gushing about what an amazing tutor he is instead of being honest by letting him know what an absolutely aggressive jerk he is, saying words she’d regret and have to find a way of apologising for, making it up to him in so many ways Bakugo lusted for, fantasised about when he laid next to her at night. 

She joined him with his friends, let him sleep in her bed, she even ate what and when he told her eat, dressed how he wanted her to dress, changed if he didn’t approve, cheered like his own personal perfect cheerleader at his battles, being probably the loudest person in the bleachers, making all the boys jealous of him, doing everything and more, and still, still it just wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t what he needed.

And no, what he needed wasn’t her pussy served on a platter. 

What he needed was leverage. He needed reassurance, he needed her trapped, locked down, glued to him. He needed to know, to believe, to trust that he had her not just for now, but for as long as he wanted, forever. 

And having her in the most primal shameless way, showing her what he could give her, show her that he isn’t just a god on the battlefield but has those same godlike skills when it comes to making her see stars was how he intended to make her need him. 

Granted, he’s never actually made love like how she’d probably want to, but he’s fucked plenty of sluts to have confidence in saying that he knows the female body like the back of his hand. 

If he could just feel her melt beneath him, just make her unravel, wrap her around his pinky, just once and he would know, she wasn’t leaving him anytime soon, she wasn’t ever going to leave him, not unless she wanted her pretty pictures leaked.

Not that he would ever let anyone see her like that, that was just for him, but he doubted she would think too much of what he was willing to do or not. That’s the beauty of threats, they don’t need to be true for the outcome to be fruitful. 

Though, he really wished it didn’t come to that. 

No, once she gets a taste of what it feels like to be taken care of the way he would take care of her, when she wakes up from what fever-dream he’s given her with a mouthful of honey and the newfound realisation that with him is where she belongs, where she’s always belonged, where she’ll always belong.

Or...

Perhaps it was about the sex. 

He had been good, loyal, patient, understanding, boyfriendly. 

She wasn’t the only one making sacrifices. 

It’s unfair of him to hold that against her, and he knows that… most of the time… but no one can blame him for forgetting it when he sees her sitting next to him in that short school-skirt, so in-reach, so grabbable, with his bed taunting them from right behind his back, how easy it would be to just pick her up and throw her down on it, watch her bounce while looking up at him in a giggling fit. 

He can’t be expected to focus on doing algebra with that in his mind, he can’t be expected to tutor her when she looks at him with that apologetically hopeless clueless expression, laughing that nervous laugh that every time warns him about how completely lost she is to what he’s talking about.

Granted, it was him who told her he would be tutoring her, because god and every teacher along with him knew she needed it, what with how she daydreams or pranks each and every class away like the ditzy klutz she is.

“I… I- I don’t know?” Was her answer to yet another equation he’d poured out from between his grit teeth.

Plan A revolved around her wanting to repay the favor, give him a little present for helping her out. Tit for tat, eye for an eye, sort of thing. And usually she would, give him a little something in return, a chaste kiss to his cheek, a frisky make-out session that always ended just a bit too early, never fully what he wanted.

Plan B was to tire her out, creating an opening for him to suggest that they do something that requires less thinking. She usually gets distracted, sometimes she’ll even initiate it in hopes he’d let her off the hook with studying, she’d pout her lips, look at him with those large pretty puppy-dog eyes, coax him into cuddling, but she’d always fall asleep just a minute later.

Plan C was a spin off plan B. Where in hopes of making her the bad guy, he would be sweet, he has been sweet, offering his help to tutor her, she would grow tired like she always does, only this time he wouldn't allow her to rest, therefor causing her to snap, resulting in her saying something she’d regret, again resulting in her apologising, something he could mold into her owing him a favour, something that would end up with having her splayed out on the sheets of his bed, ready for the taking. 

He just needed an opportunity to hold something against her, an excuse, a favor to cash in, he needed her backed up into a corner.

Plan C wasn’t working though, unfortunately.

She never grew fed up with him, she never said anything foul. 

He was stupid to think that an opportunity like that would arise. She isn't like him after all. In fact, she’s the farthest thing from him.

Well, time for plan D then. Another spin off plan B.

Don’t hold it against him, but he’d been spouting bullshit for the last three minutes in hopes of making her frustrate over herself, where the former plan had evolved into something a bit more crucial. 

But, she’s insanely tolerant, reminding him of Kirishima’s sturdy quirk, though he had to admit finding her unfaltering confidence and dedication way more mind-blowingly impressive. 

He had been chipping at that composure of hers for the last two hours without breaching the surface. 

But there was still hope. 

Everyone has a breaking point after all, and he could sense she was getting fed up. Fed up with his tone, fed up of him treating her like a moron, fed up with him. 

It would only take one last blow now and she’d break.

Or so he thought.

He had impressive amounts of patience, but he was also nearing his breaking point and finally after one more of her soft-natured laughs, he was the one that had enough, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

And plan E was looking way more opportune by the minute.

“You think it’s funny that you’re an idiot?”

Her eyes widened and turned instantly glossy at his harsh words, looking like a kicked-puppy, before it contorted into an expression of something akin to anger but not truly as vicious. 

Yet, obviously taking offence, huffing as she got up to leave, proving how she too was done with playing their little fantasy, uncaring, or rather forgetting, that she wouldn’t be going anywhere without his permission.

“I think so too, I think it’s fucking hilarious.” He mocked, hand gripping her shirt and pulling her back between him and the desk. 

Already she was pushing at him, as he leaned in closer gripping her hips and gliding her onto his desk, wanting to feel her thighs and legs cradle around his torso. 

“But, you know what I find even funnier?” 

She opened her mouth to speak, but she was given no room to let her protest out as he raised his voice in warning. 

“What I bet you laugh your ass off at behind my back?!” 

Her annoyance turned ashen, faltering into that meek fearful look he didn’t realise until know that he’d missed. 

“Is how much of an idiot I am.” 

Her brows scrunched, hands placed on the thick stiff muscles of his arms as she felt him start to rub circles into her midriff where his fingers where digging into her soft flesh through her shirt. 

“I’ve been so fucking patient.” It was barely above a whisper, almost sounding broken, like a cry or a plead or an apology, but then his face split into a snarl as he leered at her, teeth flashed at her face making her jump slightly where she sat planted on the desk. “So fucking patient with you that it’s ridiculous.” 

His nose touched hers where she slightly bowed her head. His eyes were blood-shot, or perhaps it was just how they always looked. She wouldn’t know as she made it her unrelenting mission to never look directly at him. 

But now she couldn’t escape his stare, the stare she’d feared so much, pushed tight up against her, so tight she smelled his breath when she inhaled, so tight she felt the thin hairs on her upper lip dance as he huffed out his own growling breaths. 

“And no, I’m not talking about math.”

Her hands had moved to his chest as he hunched further and further over her, pressuring her to lie down on the desk. 

“Please, Baku-” She tried, adding slightly more pressure to her hold on him, but honestly... no amount of her strength would be able to fend him off, especially with the mood he was in.

“No!” He cut her off with a growl, finally forcing her down on her back underneath him, as he palmed the doughy flesh of where her hips connected to her ass, greedy and so very hungry, still keeping a firm hold on her with a thumb hooked on her hip, keeping her in place. “No more please, and I told you it’s fucking Katsuki.” 

She flinched as he spit the correction in her face, feeling something bulging slot and rub itself up against where her skirt had hiked up and exposed her thin panties. 

“No more pleas, no more excuses, no more teasing, no more jokes.” 

He spotted a tear dripping down her cheek, escaping with how hard she was squeezing her eyes shut to avoid his gaze.

She whimpered before she spoke. “I- I’ve do- done every- everything you- you asked.” She blubbered, her hands removed from their insignificant standoff with his chest and shot up to cover her face as she began crying, wiping at them as they fell, pathetic and broken and so pretty his balls hurt with how much he wanted to bury himself inside her no doubt tight cunt.

Desperate now, he bumped his erection into her heat. Trying to steal her focus away from the action by gripping her chin between his rough finger-pads, his lips brushing up her jawline, inhaling her perfume, the scent making another pleasurable shiver spring to his cock, again humping into her. 

“So, what’s one more thing?”

Her heart would have sunk by his words if it weren’t for the building intensity that spiked it to beat faster, hammering in her chest as she felt what she now had no doubt was him pushing into the scared place found between her thighs. 

She could feel her panic bubble up where she was pushed against the cold wooden desk, with her boyfriend’s unwanted heat radiated and seeping through her clothes to tickle her skin. 

She didn’t want this. She wasn’t sure if she ever would want this. 

Bakugo had told her so many times that this was something she needed, everyone needed, but as her heart kept pumping so profusely in her chest, as though it were some blaring alarm, she wasn’t at all sure if she liked the way the stubble on his shaved chin scratched as it rode up her neck when he planted soft open-mouthed wet kisses there, she wasn’t sure if she at all wanted his large calloused wandering hands to stroke and tamper with her soft skin as he pulled her shirt out of her skirt to touch and feel up her stomach and squeeze the soft flesh of her tits, and the more and more his threatening clothed cock continued in rubbing desperately against her own teased sex she fell short of understanding just what it was she didn’t want, if it was the intimacy or just him.

Her panic built like bile in her throat, wanting to burst, which it did. 

“I’m not ready- I don’t- can’t we just…” 

He captured her chin between his thumb and index finger, lips coming to shut her up, cut off whatever protesting excuses she was about to splutter out. 

She tried getting her words out, trying ever so timidly to shake from the kiss, yet however which way she tried turning her head, Bakugo simply followed to deepen it, turning more bruisingly passionate by the second.

Her hands were kept unsurely in their delicate touching on his chest, again in her fear of souring the mood she only barely pushed at him to get off, whereas his hands grasped and groped up her thighs, feeling her soft flesh up like dough, squeezing and kneading and just touching her, all of her, despite her small hums of discomforted surprise.

Large encompassing hands took a break from their pioneering and easily pried her smaller ones off his chest, interlocking his fingers with hers and pushing them down to her sides where they wouldn’t get in the way. 

The kiss then turned rough, hungry as he yet again rocked himself into her, a rugged groan escaping from deep within his throat as her struggles met him with her own type of delicious friction, kissing his sensitive bulge with little caution.

He was so sensitive from having to have held back his primal urges for so long, especially after being teased daily by the soft grabbable little mouse he slept next to throughout every night without being allowed to do more than simply hold her, being teased with her ass slotted against his crotch as they spooned. 

If she wasn’t careful with her movement he might just become a pathetic mess and cum in his pants with how pent up he was.

His other hand made to slip under her skirt to feel up the lace of her panties, wanting nothing more but to slip his finger inside her no doubt tight little hole and work her up until she’d be dripping drenching his hand with wetness, wanting to hear those panicked whimpers turn into ones of pleasure instead, but she was making it impossible with all her troublesome wiggling. 

His fingers forgot their quest between her thighs in favor of picking her up and moving her to the bed instead. 

She tried pushing, but it was so weak that he could pretend to not feel it. 

He wouldn’t be stopping unless she flat out screamed at him, and even then, she’d have to be brutally clear or else he’d take it for screams of pleasure.

He made sure the fall was soft, placing her down on her butt first before his hand cusped the back of her head as he pushed her down onto her back with him hovering on top, deep kisses aiding his quest in pressing her and keeping her beneath him.

She jostled under the entrapment of his weight when his digits stroked up over her panties, rubbing and dipping into the warm tender skin found beneath. 

Her hands pushed at him then, only a little, though it should have been enough to get her message across, but as she realized it wouldn’t she turned her head to the side, freeing her lips from his attacking ones and allowing her to speak her protest, or… more whine than speak.

“Katsuki…”

He shushed at her from where he was nuzzling in her neck, seeming almost lovesick like a frenzied pup as he began to lightly hump into the mattress, his teeth nibbling at the thin skin of her throat. 

“Don’t worry… I’ll make you feel good.” It was a drawled-out mumble, but it told her of how he had no intention of stopping.

“But-” She tried, but was quickly made to shut up as her chin was once again captured and dragged to make her look up at him, his lips again pressing into her, seizing all words.

Soon his antagonizing finger hooked under her underwear, rough-textured fingertips quickly making their way to rub over the sensitive lips found at their disposal. 

Her struggles grew then, her chest jutting forward to try and lift him off her, to allow her to speak, but it was as though he was glued to her, his fingers nearly marking their presence into her cheeks as his wet mouth and even wetter tongue continued exploring the insides of her mouth. 

She whimpered at the feel of his fingers pushing through her folds, gliding up and down the slit. Jolting once too violently, Katsuki laid all his weight down onto her, trapping her there completely, quenching the harshness of her struggles and subduing them to what felt like she was trying to meet his desperate humping.

“Trust me.” 

He should have whispered it, he should have tried making it sound less aggressive as he cuddled with the lips of her pussy, sticking one finger inside her warmth, followed by her squealing in surprise against his lips. 

Her fingernails marked their presence into his skin as she held onto his arm, still not allowed to protest, still only barely allowed to breath.

He couldn’t help but growl at the feel of how tight she was, or… at the feel of how unprepared she was. 

She whimpered as it was no doubt uncomfortable being skewered onto his thick finger without being at all wet, but he was determined to make that change. 

His thumb pushed into her clit, starting to rub slow carful circles into the hooded and hidden pearl, wanting it to pucker out to meet him. And soon, at the hands of his experienced fingers, and perhaps encouraged by her virginal thrill of having something touch her for the first time, his wishes were met. 

The finger buried inside her began squishing in wetness, allowing him to add another one at the expense of her gasping against him, her hands relenting slightly in their need to push him off, a soft uncertain hum simmering against his lips, making him smirk, gloat and bloom with cocky bliss.

Working her tightness with his digits, coating them in slick, he began curling them, feeling the waves of her tensing and melting beneath him. Parting them, scissoring them inside of her plushie walls, his thumb rubbing tight patterns into her bead.

Encouraged by her struggles subsiding he began pumping the digits in and out, feeling her wetness coat his hand. The actions finally earning him a moan, a sweet trembling breathy moan, one that got right to his head as his grin widened against her lips. 

“You see?” He asked, lips still barely detaching from her, breathing the words into her. “You were just scared…” 

Their eyes locked and he was happy to see her orbs large and glossy yet cotton-flavored and blissful as she looked up at him. 

“You don’t need to be scared with me, just let me do this for you, trust me…” 

He kissed her softly now, no brutality or forcefulness, but lightly and sweetly and tenderly, so much so she almost forgot it was Bakugo. 

“I’ll make you feel good.”

But it was Bakugo. 

It was Bakugo. 

Bakugo who’d forced her into a relationship. 

Bakugo: her self-proclaimed boyfriend, her self-proclaimed roommate, her tutor, her guard-dog, her warden. 

Bakugo, who was now persuading her into giving him her virginity.

She was about to answer, but as though he precepted her growing trepidation he met it all with a sharp hooking of his fingers, making her arch her back up into him, her knees trembling where they were pushed up over his thigh next to his hips. 

“Just relax…”

An open-mouthed uncontrolled moan escaped her then. “Katsuki~” 

She felt her hips buck back into his hand, letting him know that he had her completely wrapped around his finger, just as figuratively as it was literal.

“That’s right…” He spoke softly, maintaining the aura of safety, wanting to keep her exactly like that, all soft and sweet and vulnerable for him. “You just focus on me, babe.” 

He placed a tender kiss to her jaw, contrasted with how he now rubbed vigorously onto her swollen bud, feeling her tremble, quake at his hands. 

He knew he had her right where he wanted her, chasing that high he was giving her, her legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his torso, reminding him of his own arousal, but he couldn’t pay himself any mind. 

Right now all he needed to worry about was sealing the deal.

An excited jumpy hitched breath left her lips, precious as it was sweet, chest rising above the bed and pressing against his own in such a soft expression of gratitude, just as her legs squeezed tightly around his waist, keeping him close, pussy clenching around his fingers so tight he could only dream of what it would feel like wrapped around his cock, as her eyelids started to flutter, squishing to a close, but not before he saw her eyes cross, reaching towards the light, a light he ignited for her.

She was left a panting mess, her walls fluttering around his digits, happily sucking on them as she spilled.

But she wasn’t left blissed out for long as she hurriedly scurried back to herself, hands covering her face as she hung her head in embarrassment, feeling that dreadful feeling wash over her, that draining shame feeling like death’s embrace. 

“I’m sorry.” She squealed, words muffled beneath the cover of her hands.

His brows scrunched as he perceived her, trying to spot her face from beneath what shield she’d made with her hands.

“I- I made a mess…” 

It sounded as though she were about to cry, so ashamed her body began to shake, her thighs pressed together, hiding where she cocooned herself in the bed in front of him.

His hand trailed soft fingers up her forearm to wrap around her wrist, gently prying her hand away from her face. 

He sighed, heart clenching at the sight of her glossy shameful eyes. 

“You’re so fucking adorable…” 

There was a slight chuckle attached to the statement, his lips kissing her temple before they brushed against the shell of her ear. 

“Why don’t you make a mess on my tongue next?”

The question left her shell-choked, her lip quivering at the promise of his mouth kissing her down there in the same manor he kissed her lips: brutally, passionately, with teeth. 

“M-Mn-No…” She spoke bashfully, still anxious.

Too cute for her own good.

His hand, the one soaked with her essence, ascended to his face, his fingers disappearing into his mouth, lips enclosing around them as he sucked the juices clean off, giving a groan at her taste as well as her shocked but curious expression, smirking once he let his finger go with a kiss.

His hands moved front and centre, beginning to tamper with the buttons to her uniform. 

“You’re safe with me.” He repeated, knowing it was something she needed to hear, especially as he began opening button after button, revealing her precious pearly-white bralette, where under was found glory in the shape of soft warm pillows. “Trust me.” 

He shoved her shirt off her shoulders, bringing it out of her reach, not allowing her the freedom of covering herself if she were to change her mind and snatch it back from his hands. 

She hummed in unease as though to ask if he had to go any further, to which he answered by kissing her forehead, a gesture that made a shiver run up her spine, unsure if it was of pleasure or something more eerie. 

His finger running, dancing around to her back, tickling the skin where her bra was held together. 

He felt her tense up, but ignored it and continued in his quest, pinching the clasp and taking hold of the straps to pull the annoying thing off, leaving her bare and beautiful.

Taking a second to admire her as her nipples perked at once at the hands of her embarrassment, he held back the urge to pinch, forcing himself to be soft, soft and sweet and safe, something he needed to remind himself of. 

Hands moving carefully to hold one of the mounds, a careful squeeze followed by a careful rub of the nipple between his thumb and index finger.

“Lay back down.” His voice was so warm, so warm it left her perplexed, unable to tell that the words shaped a demand as he placed one large hot hand in the space between her breasts, adding slight pressure to ease her back down into the bed, all the while her curious yet terror-wide watery eyes looked up at him, falling prey to his dominant crimson ones. 

His head followed hers, lips pressing one soft kiss to her wet ones.

There is something about being bare in front of someone fully dressed. Something so dominating, something so frightening. But, surely the fact that he looked at her as though she were the world made everything safer, surely it evened the scales, surely… she wasn’t completely powerless.

“Let me prove just how much I love you.”

He could feel how terribly fast her heart was beating as he kissed down her neck, over her collar bone, careful to not bite too harshly, giving into simply nibbling or grazing his teeth, fighting the urge to mark her up so prettily. 

Mouth moving to suck at the exposed sensitive skin of her tits, forgetting himself as he made to grind the protruding nib between his teeth, being met with a squeal from the girl beneath him, her hands instinctively pushing at his shoulders. 

But again, her racing heartbeat and impulsive struggles were subdued, Bakugo making to squeeze her cheeks between his fingers, squishing her plump bloated reddened lips together, whispering upon them as he leaned in close. 

“Don’t worry, babe, you know I won’t hurt you.” 

She nodded, but still he felt her shiver, heard the tremor in her breathing, the soft sniffles she couldn’t keep at bay, just as pathetic as they were adorable and mouthwatering for him to hear.

Once he reassured himself she wasn’t about to roll out of bed and stagger towards the bathroom, running like a spooked hare, he placed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth before peppering a dozen more down her neck, over the nipples he’d played with, going further down and lower and lower until he was all the way down to kissing the space found just beneath her bellybutton, his ears shifting to listen to how the bed creaked upon her shuffling, yet those anxious movements where seized when his hefty arms wrapped beneath her thighs, pulling her all snug and personal, lining her up perfectly with his face, all for him to see what gorgeous mess he’d made of her, all glistening and blushed with arousal. 

He couldn’t wait any longer to give her a taste, feel her melt on his tongue, hear her moan as he buried his face into her.

He flicked a light kitty-lick over her budding clit, felt her quake in his arms, looking up yet still down at her where he couldn’t quite place what emotion terrorised her face the most, whether it was mostly anxiety, discomfort, shame, embarrassment or pleasure. 

It didn’t discourage him though as he made the same movement again, only now twirling his warm textured tongue around the pearl, swirling around it, circling it like a shark, before his entire mouth enclosed it, devoured it, sucked on it, his tongue placed flat on top of it as he dragged it over the sensitivity again and again, sucking fervently, feeling her panic at the intrusive pleasure, yet being held steady in his arms with no way of getting away.

He let up, letting go with a wet pop before running his tongue deeply down the slit, plunging into her weeping hole where it wormed its way inside. 

She wiggled as his nose bumped into her ravaged clit, all sensitive with tender swelling.

She was all shaky breaths, no sound too loud, no sound too brazen or wanton. 

He needed to change that. 

He planned to go slow, but had wanted it to be a surprise, and so, instead of lightly grazing his teeth over the silken bud he gave into biting down on it, gnawing it lightly between the rows of his teeth.

She shrieked, hands pushed with force against his head to get him off as she climbed higher up on the bed, away from him, yet the movement was soon stilled, or rather reversed with the strength of Bakugo’s arms coiled around her thighs, dragging her back to meet his hungry mouth. 

“Don’t move.” 

Carmine eyes stared up at her from down in between herself, and she felt her knees go weak as they shook at the terrifying growl that accompanied his threat. 

“Just… trust me.” 

She didn’t. 

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared his marred and mauled hands, those scars running up over the great juicy muscles of his arms, those deadly arms themselves, capable of both withstanding and giving destruction, proof that he can and has survived far greater than what she could ever hope, proof that she was no match, no equal. 

She didn’t trust him, she feared him, feared how his thumb now rubbed over her clit, creating such godsend friction that had her unraveling, melting into his mouth, and that mouth itself, that tongue, those teeth, how they devoured her for everything she was worth. 

She didn’t trust him, but she found... falling suited her, and chasing the fires had unknowingly become a feeling she rather cherished than feared, a little less like dying, and more like... coming home.

By the time she came to, reeled back into reality, yet still remaining far away, succumbed by bliss, her eyes were opium-blown as she blinked dumbly, not realizing how Bakugo had placed himself on her side, eyes full of awe as he watched her, leg tangled with legs, heart to heart, hand held lazily on her hip, drawing small patterns up and down her side, watching her flushed face drowse into the pillow until those pretty chaste eyes met his again.

His boxers were sticky. 

She’d been too busy, too distracted with the feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth abusing what found between her legs to notice how he’d been humping the mattress while eating her out as though he were starved and crazed and feral with lust. And even though she felt him groan and growl, the reverberations that tremored at the roughness of his gruff timber was enough to make her eyes cross and forget, even forgive them from ever happening.

“How about making a mess on my cock next time?” 

His hand stroked her cheek after pulling the covers up to drape her naked body that now had begun to shiver in the crash of coming down. The thoughtful action a stark contrast to his cocky suggestive tone, eyes glinting wickedly at the little lamb he’d lured into and onto his wolf fangs, still tasting her essence on his tongue, watching as those skittish brows erupted into that beautiful panic that somehow resembled hope as she looked at him wide-eyed, smitten with plead and all things soft. 

“I’m joking…” 

He gave a smile, soft but in a different way, admiring what was his. 

“Or, not really… but whenever you want, whenever you’re ready.” 

The thumb stroked over her cheek once again, before his lips pressed a long firm kiss to her forehead, hinting for her to nuzzle into his neck, where his smell had become like ritual, something she wasn’t meant to go on without for too long.

She thought she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready for any of this. What makes the next step any different? Still, with the defeatist thought, she did like the defeatist she was, timid hands coming to hold onto Bakugo’s fire-hot skin, slotting herself tight against his body. 

She didn’t trust him, but she trusted his love, she trusted his lust, she trusted he would never let her go, and that perhaps those arms of his weren’t too bad. Perhaps if she thought of how safe she was she could more or less forget or rather forgive that they were there to keep her trapped, perhaps if she spent enough time believing she was kept safe by him, then she’d forget all the reason as to why being trapped with him was the farthest thing from safe.

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

#yandere #yandere bnha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugo #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki x reader #katsuki #Katsuki Bakugō #katsuki bnha #katsukibakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugou #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo headcanons #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #reader insert

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Wounded Love Pt. 2 (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T? Maybe? Almost the exact opposite of the first one. Language, minor violence Genre: Fluff, mainly, with admittedly a little bit of humor? I blame my lack of sleep. And my adhd. Warnings: Implied cannibalism adjacent activities because guess what honey, this is a fucked up family, what do you expect of me??? Sure, they have breakfast in this, there's cute stuff, but c'mon, they don't eat flowers and oatmeal! Notes: Doubt it needs to be said, but this is a sequel to the good ending of part one. Also Cass has one line in this that might be OOC, or seem oddly placed, but admittedly this chapter is also loosely based on a dream I had, and I couldn't not include the few direct quotations I remembered, and she seemed the most likely to say the line. And yes, there will be a part 3, because I am weak and also kind of maybe made this one less plot-moving than intended.

{Wounded Love: The re-woundening}

Every step ached more than the last, even with Alcina supporting you. She had wanted to carry you down the stairs, of course, but you had insisted that you would be fine. Now you were just determined not to complain out loud. One yelp or cry and you’d be scooped up in her arms, surely to be carried for the rest of the day. As much as you appreciated your girlfriend’s assistance, you hated feeling useless, and hated putting a burden on others. So here you were, one arm wrapped around Alcina’s waist, limping ever-so-slowly towards the dining room.

Further ahead (unburdened by your injury) the three Dimitrescu daughters talk among themselves, voices hushed as they too headed for breakfast. It was odd to see them all awake, and socializing, as there was usually at least one who came to meals late. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with your condition… or the circumstances that had caused it.

Less than eighteen hours had passed since your fight with a stray lycan, and tension had been high since. While you hadn’t yet spoken to the sisters, you had spoken to Alcina, who had briefly mentioned their concern for you. Whether they actually cared about you as a person or just cared because you are dating their mother is unclear. Based on how they had acted while treating your wounds, though, you were inclined to think that they were fond of you. And seeing as Alcina had already vowed to get revenge on your behalf… well, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that her daughters intended to assist.

“Careful on the last step, dear,” Alcina says, positioned as to catch you if you fell. It takes a little willpower to resist the urge to hop down the rest of the way. As long as you landed on your uninjured leg, it wouldn’t even be that bad. Still, irritating your girlfriend first thing in the morning felt like a pretty stupid thing to do. Instead you just nodded, slowing down even more, and took visible care not to trip. “Good girl.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say that being careful didn’t have its rewards.

“I have my moments,” you replied, blush rising to your cheeks. Suddenly your pain didn’t feel so bad (at least until you took another step and winced). “Damn, who woulda thought that cutting a chunk out of my leg would make it hurt more?” The leg in question throbbed in pain, as if to prove your point, protesting the weight you put on it. Changing the angle at which you stood helped some, allowing the lower half of the limb to bear more of the burden.

“Dearest…” Alcina starts to say, looking like she was going to readdress her desire to carry you. For a moment you try to avoid her gaze, but she moves in front of you, making sure that you could still hold onto her for support. “I know how you feel, how you want, desperately, to be independent. When I was first… granted this gift, it took a long time to adjust. There was so much I had to relearn how to do, so much that I suddenly needed done for me.” A pause, a deep breath. At last you look up at your girlfriend, warmth in your heart, reaching out to hold her hand. “You have time, my dear, and plenty of it. More than that… this will not last forever. The more you push yourself, the longer your recovery will take. Now, please, allow me to assist. You have already proven how strong you are.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain… but if you insist, who am I to decline? Or, well, who am I to decline twice in a row?” You answer, somewhat begrudgingly. It wasn’t much farther to the dining room, you figured, so it wouldn’t be much of a loss to accept help. Or at least that was what you told yourself. Even with Alcina’s encouragement it was so hard for you to accept her help. After all, you were the one that worked for her. Never mind the fact that she was somewhat responsible for your injury- really, you were actively avoiding thinking about that.

It’s much easier to forget once Alcina carefully picks you up. One arm goes under your legs, the other under your chest, lifting you without any effort. You might as well have been a kitten or a child’s toy. The movement does, however, shift your injured leg in such a way that it aches. At this point you can hardly move the limb at all without it hurting, and even the slightest friction against the bandage makes your eyes water.

Apparently someone would be delivering some painkillers later in the day. You assumed it would be The Duke (whose name is apparently not Doug, as you had thought), seeing as he knew some special way to get to and fro without risking the same fate that had befallen you. Which, of course, made you feel a lot better. Getting someone else hurt would weigh on your mind forever.

Regardless, you were safe now, as was your strange, bloody little family. Before long you would even be enjoying a pleasant meal together. Certainly that would help get your mind off of your wound? For now, though, you were met with an unexpected impasse. The sort of impasse that really, really should have been expected.

“Why… is the doorway… so small?” You asked, jokingly, as you stare into the mildly embarrassed face of your girlfriend. It’s already hard enough for her to crouch through the gap normally. When she’s carrying you? Impossible. “Can we ask Mother Miranda for bigger doors? She gave you eternal life and also three kids, she’s gotta be capable of making bigger doors. Put me down, I’ll go call her and-”

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Alcina cuts you off, not fully appreciating this part of your humor. Or maybe she had already asked for bigger doors, only to be told no?... Okay, yeah, it was probably the first option. With a sigh she sets you down, as gently as she can manage. Ready and raring to go, you start to hobble forward, only to find all three of the daughters waiting for you, just beyond the door. They’re grinning as they watch you, and Bela extended her arm to offer her help. “What appears to be the matter?” Alcina asks from behind you. Accepting your fate and Bela’s arm, you let the sisters guide you to the table, Cassandra holding your other side, and Daniela pulls your chair out for you. Honestly it’s pretty adorable. Evidently your girlfriend agrees, from the way she smiles as she follows.

“Thank you,” you say, more out of reflex than genuine gratitude. Again, you weren’t thrilled about needing this assistance. If the girls notice they’re at least polite enough not to mention it. They simply move to their own seats at the large table, eager to dig in. It feels… strange, to be here, on this side of things. Stranger still to realize you’re the only one intending to eat actual food. There’s wine in your glass, but it’s a much fainter red than those you’ve previously served to your girlfriend. Thank goodness, you think, after how raw my throat was yesterday, I really don’t need to taste any more blood.

Once Lady Dimitrescu sits down, the meal formally begins, with several maidens appearing from the kitchen. Several seem relieved to see you, although surprised, and one even gave you a brief smile. The smile did not last, however. It wasn’t unexpected, considering the nature of her job, the pressures that it put upon her. No one smiled at mealtimes. Well, no maidens, that is. They simply moved around, wordlessly, faces blank, doing exactly as instructed. Only a few days ago you had been among them, fear keeping you in line. Was it wrong of you to care for Alcina, knowing what she was capable of doing to others? Knowing what she might have, in another life, done to you?

A maiden places a plate of warm food, as well as a bowl of fresh fruit, in front of you. For a moment your eyes meet, but she looks away instinctively. Your heart threatens to break.

“This looks wonderful, thank you for your hard work, all of you,” you speak up, glancing at each of the women working so hard. There’s more you want to say that dries in your throat; you are valued, you are deserving, someday I will join your ranks again.

“You don’t need to thank them, they’re just doing their jobs,” Cassandra chimes from the other side of the table. Hearing her say that damn near makes you drop your fork. It’s not an uncommon settlement, particularly among older generations and the rich, but one that irks you nonetheless.

“They’re doing my job. They are taking on extra work, for no pay, because I am injured. Why would I be so cruel as to ignore them? Have I not toiled alongside them enough to call them my kin?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even. Next to you Alcina is slowly cutting into her meat, watching the scene unfold out of the corner of her eyes, perhaps considering when to step in. On the other end of the table, Bela looks increasingly uncomfortable, as if silently willing her sister into silence. None of the maidens have reacted to what you said, likely too afraid of Cassandra to even consider speaking.

“Ooooh, this is much more fun than our usual breakfasts,” Daniela says, stifling a giggle. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share? Preferably ones that aren’t about me.” At this, Alcina sets her utensils down, clearly intending to put an end to the discussion. Unfortunately for her, you were a bit… impulsive, especially considering the previous night’s activities had left your mind struggling to cope.

“Dead lycans smell terrible. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever smelled, easily, no question about it,” you answer, shrugging a little as you do. It’s such a simple thought that you almost don’t realize how the others at the table react. Until the clatter of silverware on the table catches your attention, that is. All three sisters are eying you with different expressions (Bela is confused, Cass is impressed, and Daniela looks shocked). But it’s Alcina’s wide-eyed stare that gets you to elaborate. “Should I have said ‘a dead lycan’? I only got one, so I guess I shouldn’t say they all smell bad. C’mon, though, they have to all smell bad, right?”

Suddenly Daniela shifts from shock to pure amusement, a fit of giggles overtaking her. You’re still confused, not sure what the matter was, so you just sip your wine and hope someone asks the right questions.

“You… killed the lycan that attacked you?” Bela finally says, after a few moments of her sister laughing, expression still incredulous. When you nod she sort of shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “May I ask how you managed that?”

“Oh, you know, I just meh meh-” you mime a stabbing motion with your fork- “until the stupid thing stopped moving. I had to use a tree branch as a weapon, but then it broke after a few whacks, which actually helped because then I had two stabbing implements to, you know, stab with. That’s right around when it got my leg, and it tried to bite me. Thankfully it wasn’t very smart, so when it leapt at me I just hyah-” this time an upwards strike- “right into its neck. That didn’t kill it, but it was enough to slow it down, which allowed me to stab the other half of the branch into its skull. Made this horrible, horrible sound as it died. Seeing as we are eating, I will not imitate the sound. Not that I could, now that I think about it…”

Once again there’s silence. Even Daniela has quieted now, and is watching you with rapt interest, likely hoping that you’re hiding another story up your sleeves.

“So… did you guys actually think that I managed to run away from the lycan? Or were you under the impression that it simply got bored of me and left?” You ask, casually returning to your breakfast afterwards. No one says anything, at first, taking in your words as best as they can. A few moments later both Daniela and Bela resume their meal, as nonchalant as one could be in the current situation. Alcina, however, rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze with a loving look.

“You will never cease to amaze me, my dear. But let us ensure you never have to… smell, or see, one of those wretched things again, yes?” She says, softly squeezing you as she does. You can’t help but agree, and nod eagerly, mouth too full of hashbrowns to speak. Still, there’s been a shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s not that the family didn’t respect you before, as far as you can tell, but they evidently hadn’t expected you to prove as capable as you had. It brings a sense of pride to the forefront of your mind, making you completely forget about your injury for the remainder of the meal.

Unable to stop yourself, you insist on helping the other maidens clean up, and Alcina eventually agrees to let you wash a few dishes- as long as you stay sitting the entire time. The last thing you hear before you shuffle off to the kitchen is the start of a conversation between Cassandra and her mother.

“You picked quite a feisty one, didn’t you?”

“That I did, that I did…”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #ya boy is a simp and also technically not a boy #i am ill defined and like it #please appreciate this #if you put nice things in the tags I WILL read it #and I WILL love you for it

[lustbile]

What Are The Odds?

JungwooxReader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: semi public (restroom) penetrative. some grabbing and groping @ the beginning.

Note: if you’ve never played what are the odds here’s a very brief explanation. Person A wants something from person B. Person A asks what are the odds, person B says a number, for example 25. Both person A and B say a number between one and the given number and if they both say the same number person A wins. I know some people do extra rules sometimes including numbers divisible by 2 or something idk but i don’t care. 💜

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“Jungwoo, get your hand out of my pants.”

It was a harsh command, your words coming out quiet but sharp as you spoke through your teeth. Your less than forceful grip wraps around his wrist, and your foggy mind weakens the way you push at his wandering hands.

“You’re not wearing any pants,” he counters, far too serious for your liking and his greedy fingers desperately trying to dig deeper into your underwear shamelessly.

“Oh so a skirt gives you permission to be a pervert,” you swat at his hands again, huffing and pinching his skin as you turn every direction in search of your friends coming back, “they’re going to be back literally any second so can you please behave?”

—

—

“You’re no fun,” he finally obliges, his tone completely joking as he accepts defeat but not before pinching the skin of your belly in retaliation, “if they walk over and my hand is in your underwear, I think that’s their fault for being friends with us.”

Exactly on the queue of your hand connecting with his shoulder in an annoyed wack, you see your friends returning to the food court table you two sit at, completely oblivious smiles on their faces as they balance trays of food.

——

“What are the odds?”

“Hrm?” a small sound of confusion slipping out from around the mouth full of food you’re struggling to chew.

It was a small lull in conversation and everyone started to trickle into their own side conversations that had prompted Jungwoo to lean over and breath hotly against your ear with the sudden and confusing question. He had an issue with bringing you into the middle of a conversation that he had started only in his head, luckily for him you had a tendency to find it a bit charming, but at the moment your mind was occupied on willing yourself not to choke.

“What are the odds,” he speaks slower this time, as if a change in pace adds any context in the slightest. You finally look more at him, and notice that he’s all twitchy where he sits, his hands wringing together as he seems anxious and giddy for something to happen, “that you follow me to the bathroom right now.”

“For what?” you ask with a faux ignorance, only partially hoping it’s not for the reason you’re thinking.

“What do you mean for what?” he asks a bit louder than he probably intended, pulling the attention of one of your friends momentarily, but an eye roll and a shake of the head from you perfectly portrays ‘don’t worry, Jungwoo is just being Jungwoo.’

“You know exactly for what,” he speaks in a tone that makes you feel like you’re being scolded, but after a rough swallow, you can only smile at his dramatics, “so what are the odds?”

You huff quietly, dropping your fork clattering onto your plate to add dramatics, your bottom lip becoming your own personal chew toy as you glance around the relatively empty food court and preoccupied friends.

“Fifteen,” you finally respond after a moment of him doing nothing but glaring at you in anticipation. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to follow him and cause some chaos, but you feared saying ten would look too eager, and twenty just left more of a chance of it not happening than you wanted. Yes, you wanted to leave it to fate, but there’s nothing wrong with manipulating fate just a little.

“Fifteen,” he confirms with a grin, his legs wiggling beneath the table as he turns to face you more, his shoulders slouching and his eyes widening as he waits for your completely undivided attention to lay on him before counting down.

“Three, two, one....”

“Eleven.”

It’s in their air, same word, same number, but two different voices speak it. With a sinking heart, but warming belly, you throw your head back with a sigh when you realize he’s won.

“Excuse is up to you, since you’re such shit at what are the odds,” he taunts, only one dial of annoying away from calling you a nerd and taking your lunch money, “but you better be in the single person bathroom in ten minutes or you’re in trouble.”

He stands, giving some unnecessarily detailed explanation about where he was going before tripping over his feet towards the bathroom he’s been eyeing since the idea popped into his brain. You can only sink down into your seat and glance at the time on your phone as you wait for the perfect moment.

——

It was exactly eleven minutes after Jungwoo had disappeared that you decided to stand yourself, hoping he actually found a way to follow through on his earlier threat.

You mutter something about drinking too much water this morning, and a promise to check on Jungwoo if he still wasn’t out when you were done in hopes to mask what you’re really getting up to do. The chorus of acknowledging grumbles and a few playful ‘have fun’s seemed to be reassuring enough, and with a tug at the hem of your skirt, you're scurrying towards the bathroom you saw your boyfriend disappear into not long ago.

You stand at the door for a moment, pushing it another minute past your time limit partially to make the boy on the other side of the door squirm, but also to wrap your mind around what you’ve let him convince you to do.

It’s when you hear him quietly hiss in pain from messing with something he probably shouldn’t be touching at all, that you let out an airy laugh through your nose and lean against the locked door.

You knock gently at the door, whispering a taunting ‘guess who?’ in between taps, and before you could step back, he swings the door open, and you’re stumbling in.

“I said ten minutes,” he wastes no time scolding you for your poor listening skills, his hands grabbing for your waist and pushing your chest against the wall, “ten minutes is a perfectly reasonable time to come up with an excuse and follow your boyfriend to the bathroom to fuck isn’t it? So what could have possibly taken you so long?”

“Well, Jungwoo,” you start, fully prepared to pull something incredibly stupid out of thin air to use as an excuse, but when he presses his hips against your ass and you feel just how excited he had gotten just from his wandering hands earlier, you begin to stutter over your words, “m-maybe I just umm lost track of time?”

“Lost track of time?” he asks in a sarcastic and even borderline bitchy tone, “definitely doesn’t have anything to do with a little threat I made without even thinking earlier would it? Pfffft no how could it?”

You can’t even bite back, deliver the same level of idiotic sass that had attracted you two to each other in the first place. Not with your face pressing against the cold wall and his hands moving faster than you can process down towards your thighs.

He lets out quiet grunts of appreciation when he starts to push your skirt up and around your hips, a big evil smile crawling across his face when he sees that he had guessed perfectly correct, and you were in fact wearing his favorite pair of panties. (He swears he could pick them out from millions of pairs just from the way the elastic bites into his wrist.)

You’re pressed tighter against the wall, your panting breaths almost syncing with his own when he starts to roughly grind his denim clad crotch against you. His lack of snarky comments from the ways you’ve started to whine tells you you’ve lost him, and your thighs start to shake and tremble as you squeeze them together tightly, trying to relieve the pain from your sudden neediness and impatience.

“Jungwoo come on,” you whine, swinging your arm aimlessly behind you to swat at him, “we don’t have all day, they were already getting weird about how long you were taking before I left.”

“Fuck okay,” he says with hesitation before pulling away enough to shove your underwear down to pool around your ankles while muttering to himself.

You begin debating in your head whether or not you should touch yourself, before answering yes, you absolutely should, when you hear him struggling with his belt.

The first minuscule touch of your middle and ring finger touching your clit makes you gasp and press your forehead against the wall, the circling motions falling just short compared to the way he knows how to touch you and you can only huff in frustration from the stupidity of your own hand not knowing exactly what to do.

It’s the sound of his jeans falling around his knees and a small clicking of a cap that pulls you from your inner grumbling, but it’s the cold shock of the jelly on his fingers pushing between your thighs that makes you jerk your hand away from your body to mirror the other laying flat by your head.

“Why do you have lube?” you ask in shock and even a bit of arousal from how much curveball he could be, but you’d never admit the second part willingly to his face.

“I think the better question is why don’t you?” he asks with an air of arrogance as he pulls his fingers away and begins to audibly coat himself in the substance, “looks like im the prepared one between us for once.”

“Yeah prepared for something you weren’t even sure was going to happen.”

“Yeah but you’re letting it happen aren’t you? Loser,” regardless of the name that he throws at you, he seems to have lost his patience with the back and forth you two have started. So with the last last syllable still slipping between his teeth, the hand he doesn’t have wrapped around himself grabs you around the waist and he’s shoving himself almost completely inside you.

You don’t have time to muffle the surprised moan that falls from your tongue, instead all you can do is pray no one was close enough to the bathrooms to hear it as he starts to rock his hips against yours.

“Can’t judge me for the lube now can you?” it was rhetorical, but even if it wasn’t you would have been able to answer him. With the second thrust into you, he had already been able to seat himself fully into you, the size of him still shocking you to this day and you can only clench and squirm against him.

His hands are clumsy as the trace around your body. His non dominant hand struggles to push under the hem of your shirt to grasp at your chest, while his other dips below the skirt he was so thrilled you had chosen to wear in search of the space between your thighs.

His breath is hot and quick pants when he leans his chest against your back and pushes his face into the crook of your neck. You almost feel like you’re suffocating from how much he begins to surround you and you really for the life of you cannot think of a worse placed to pass out in than a food court bathroom with your boyfriend fucking your brains out.

It’s when his own fingers dig into your clit and his warm tongue drags up the side of your neck, so you remember the existence of your own hands. You shove one up your now stretched out top to tangle tightly with the one he has kneading your chest, while the other slams tightly against your mouth to muffle the moans and squeaks that now beat against it.

“I wanna make you come so fucking hard,” he grunts in your ear with every ounce of honestly he can pull from his chest, his hips showing you exactly how truthful he is with the way they thrust roughly against you, pushing and pulling you apart in a way that makes you feel like he’s trying to take you apart at the seams, “wanted that since I saw you put on that cute little skirt on this morning. You just live to taunt me don’t you?”

You can’t answer, too afraid that taking your hand even the slightest amount away from your mouth will expose to the whole food court exactly what’s happening behind the closed door. Instead all you do is push back against him, trying hopelessly to match his thrusts and getting a sharp bite to the soft skin of your neck in retaliation.

“Better come quick before they think we got lost in here,” he says too coolly, his ability to not sound like he’s on a brink of orgasm when you know for a fact he is almost driving you up the wall. But unfortunately, his words and the fact that you're just as much, if not closer to your finish than him, has you melting back into his chest.

Even when your thighs begin to tremble, and you accidentally step back onto his foot, his fingers don’t stutter in the slightest. The arm pushing against your chest keeps you from squirming away from him, and even with your thighs trying to push him out, he keeps his fast and unrelenting pace on your hypersensitive clit.

You’re pushing up on your toes, his one foot still getting crushed under your weight, and your neck inhumanly arching to lean your head against his shoulder as you start to come. You can hear the faint growling noise you make from behind your hand, but your mind is too busy blanking out to control anything that comes from your mouth.

You feel your eyes watering as his fingers keep moving against you to carry you through your orgasm, his own finally creeping up and making him shove himself fully inside you as he starts to come.

The feeling of him spilling inside you creates borderline unbearable waves of aftershocks to wash across you, and you can feel your body fluttering around him as you try to ruin his brain just as much as he did your own. It’s almost like a small competition sparks between you to fight against your own pleasure just to simply torture the other, but eventually once your both sporting lines of sweat on your hairlines and aching shoulders and back do you silently call it a truce.

The small room suddenly feels too hot for either of you to be anywhere close to it, but you’d rather scream than let him take his hands away from your body. You’re more than glad to shove his fingers away from your buzzing clit, but you still keep it wrapped tightly in your fist the way you do to his other.

When he pulls out you feel a disappointing emptiness but an even more embarrassing rush of fear of the evidence of his orgasm leaking onto the floor, so all you can do is whine and squeeze your thighs back together again while you and him both catch your breaths.

“Come on,” he whispers, and that and the way his hands smooth over your burning skin is almost sweet, until he swats at your ass harshly before he starts to pull his jeans back onto his hips.

“Didn’t feel like I was in much trouble,” you loudly sigh in both faux disappointment but also to help even your breathing, “guess you’re all bark and no bite puppy boy.”

He glares to the best of his ability, but his still animated brows and pouting lips makes him look hilariously cute, “you think you’re getting punished in the bathroom? Absolutely not, I’m a man of class and respect.”

“Man of respect? You just fucked me in a public toilet after a game of what are the odds.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, weirdly focused on redoing his belt and avoiding your eyes, “anyways we should probably go, they probably already think the chicken I got was bad or something.”

“You go,” you push him aside gentle before you begin a awkward trip towards the toilet in the corner, “I’m going to get rid of the mess you made and pee all you’re gross boy germs out so you go and please try to come up with an excuse that won’t make us both look like freaks okay?”

“On it captain,” he salutes to you before ducking out in a way that makes you question if you really truly let him just put his dick inside you, but with a growing need to pee you push it aside to waddle with haste.

It’s not until you shuffling back to the table in what you assumed was a discreet walk of shame do you realize he’s done the opposite of what you asked, as when you finally reach within hearing range to the table you’re immediately met with jeers and taunts about you and your boyfriend being insatiable freaks. But at least Jungwoo has the decency to look a little ashamed and maybe even a dash of apologetic.

#nct smut #jungwoo smut #nct 127 smut #nct imagine #jungwoo imagines #kpop smut #nct oneshot #jungwoo oneshot #nct fic

[alexglitches]

dark sugar

in which tommy goes to get a drink of soda in the middle of the night during vdc

(lowercase intended)

tommy awoke with a start. cold sweat glazed over his forehead and chest rising and falling with every uneven breath he took.

it was another one of those dreams again. the ones of the great seven and their tales of their descents to madness and villainy. tommy had already begun to make correlations from those dreams to the overblots that soon happen in real life, in real time.

the evil queen, otherwise known as the ‘beautiful queen’ here, he made the ties between her and vil and tommy couldn’t help but feel uneasy about it. he wanted to just scream out ‘vil will overblot soon!’ but he knows that people would just look at him like he was a madman.

tommy sighed and tiredly rubbed his eyes before glancing at his cat-themed clock on the wall. why cats? cuz that was the only clock sam had in stock, that’s why.

2:45

it was too early for this shit.

tommy carefully got out of bed, standing up slowly. he wrapped his bedsheet around him to keep him warm because it’s still cold as fuck outside.

he stumbled as he walked to his door, whether it was because it was dark or because of his lightheadedness, he didn’t know, and didn’t care to find out.

he carefully opened his door, which opened smoothly, before slipping through the crack and carefully closing it, not wanting to disturb grim, who slept on the makeshift bed on the table.

tommy groaned and rubbed his temples as he walked, keeping a hand on the wall to keep himself upright and stable.

the raging headache, along with his sleepiness, didn’t exactly help his case. he focused on taking one foot in front of the other, making sure he walked without problem so he can get to the kitchen and have some soda.

~~~

vil carefully analyzed tommy as he followed the younger boy from the shadows, amethyst coloured eyes narrowed so he could see properly.

what in twisted wonderland is tommy doing?

vil’s brows furrowed, however, as he saw tommy stumble a bit, the boy holding on to the wall for a moment to calm himself, before going back to his walking.

the pomefiore dorm leader would now be lying if he said he wasn’t worried.

he continued following tommy all the way to the kitchen, where the boy had stopped. the blonde perked up when he saw the first year open the fridge and rummage around for something.

he pulled out a can of soda.

vil had that weird feeling in his gut, like something was about to go wrong, but his morbid curiosity got the better of him. what would happen to tommy if he drank it? he’s a magicless human, maybe his magic would react differently.

or more specifically…

why does he feel like he’s doing something wrong?

vil’s eyes widened, he felt his body move on its own. “tommy, wait!” he called out.

but it was already too late.

by the time he stepped out, yelling at tommy, the poor blonde first year had already took a sip of the soda.

vil felt his breath hitch as tommy coughed out the soda, its dark brownish colour morphing into a dark purple as it bubbled on the floor.

the older dorm head watched in horror as tommy coughed, curled up on the floor. vil rushed over to him, uncharacteristically worried.

“what... the fuck?” tommy managed to wheeze out.

“tommy, you should know about the ‘no snacks at night’ rule.” vil said in a scolding tone as he carefully picked up tommy, who had calmed down.

“well, i’m sorry that i have low blood sugar.” tommy retorted sarcastically, his voice still raspy from his coughing attack.

now vil felt like an even bigger dick. no wonder tommy kept his hoards of soda, or why he looked sad at the prospect of not eating any of the sweets that trey had so generously made for him. he kinda needed them to live.

“tommy, how about you just sit here for a moment, i’ll go and un-curse some soda.” vil places tommy on one of the couches before rushing back into the kitchen.

he stopped for a moment and looked at the forgotten soda can on the floor, the liquid turning fully purple as it fell out onto the floor. he’d need to make a reminder to have that cleaned up. he ignored the can, which only made him feel more guilty the more he looked at it, in favour of reaching into the fridge and gathering another can of soda.

vil focused as he worked his magic, easily lifting the curse off of the soda, before opening it. he could see tommy perk up from the noise.

the older blond walked back to tommy and handed him the can, the younger blond just snatched it and downed the whole thing at once.

honestly, vil was kind of impressed.

vil watched tommy worriedly, with a sour taste in his mouth. he never really felt guilty for things he’s done for the sake of beauty, but this made him feel… off… different…

he felt… ugly…

not on the outside, he knew that his face was free of any imperfections and was probably sculpted by the gods themselves, but he felt more ugly on the inside, having caused an underclassman such pain and panic while he was just trying to keep himself from passing out is the most unwanted way possible.

“you gonna keep staring at me like that french weirdo, or sit down?” tommy asked.

vil pursed his lips before sitting on the couch, nest to tommy’s feet.

vil looked down at his lap, his hands fidgeting as he felt tommy stare at him now, still lipping on his drink.

“are you feeling better now?” vil asked nervously.

tommy just shrugged. “about as good as i can feel. how about you?”

vil tensed in surprise. how, was he feeling? how would tommy react if he answered truthfully.

“honestly, a bit bad.” vil managed to say. tommy hummed in understanding.

“yeah, i can see that.” was all tommy said before he took another sip.

vil sighed tiredly and stood back up. “come on.” he picked tommy back up.

“eh?” tommy yelped, keeping a tight hold on his can so it wouldn’t spill.

“i’m taking you back to bed, you’ll need all the rest you can get after all.” vil exclaimed.

“yeah, i think i had enough excitement for one night.” tommy chuckled.

vil gave a small smile, but it was difficult to see as the darkness of the hallway casted shadows onto them.

~~~

vil carefully closed the door, hoping not to make a single sound as to not disturb the two ramshackle roommates.

as soon as the door was fully closed, he sighed and dragged himself down the door do he sat on the floor, knees tucked under his chin as he relayed the nights events in his head.

he felt that ugly feeling again.

so ugly…

if you feel so ugly… maybe kill off the witnesses… that way no one will see how disgusting you are…

the sounds of droplets falling were unheard to everyone.

~~~

#dream smp x twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x dream smp #twisted wonderland #twst disney #twst wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #dream smp #mcyt tommyinnit #tommyinnit minecraft #tommyinnit #dsmp #minecraft #mcyt #vil schoenheit #rook hunt mentioned #vil feeling guilty for once #kinda angsty #angst with a happy ending? #vdc

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #albus dumbledore

[hellyeahbakubby]

“after all these years” | chisaki k.

♔ - after years of keeping your feelings for Kai to yourself you finally let them out

pairings - chisaki kai x fem!reader

a/n: thank you for requesting! I really enjoyed writing this. I hope everyone’s having a good day and if not that’s ok, you’re cool :)

warnings: suggestive content ig

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The wishful ache never truly left the back of your mind. No matter how many times he dismissed your presence without a second glance. No matter how seemingly immune he was to all human feelings. No matter how cold he’d become. You found yourself unable to let go of the hope that maybe you weren’t simply dreaming. 

Kai had been more than just a friend to you since you were children. You’d always thought there was this fantastical connection between the two of you and as you grew older and more aware you were quick to recognise that there was a label for what you had. Although things were much different when you were kids stumbling about the place, trying not to get in the Shie Hassaikai’s way, you’d never mistaken that connection for anything else. From your teenage years to early adulthood you knew that you were in love with him, and in all honesty you’d upheld the belief that he felt similarly. 

The birth of Overhaul was a cruel awakening to you. Even as a child Kai wasn’t as forthcoming as you would expect, he was distant and calculating. Although frequent exposure to you had softened him to your presence and allowed you to class yourself as a friend he wasn’t exactly hospitable. His wit and god-given features made him near impossible to overlook, but what captured you from day one was the slight kindnesses he paid you. You’d never questioned that he was always looking for things to benefit him and the Shie Hassaikai but he wasn’t a generous soul. It often took you by surprise when his hard demeanor broke and he took the time to comfort or entertain you. Everyone else aside from The Boss didn’t receive so much as a hard stare but he seemed interested in you, as if he found as much comfort in you as you did him. At the very least you confirmed he liked having you around. 

Which is why when The Boss fell ill and he took the responsibility of the gang on board you couldn’t help but feel that Kai had been replaced. Maybe there’d been signs but you’d chosen to ignore them but the change was so sudden, it knocked the wind out of you. Every drop of compassion was shed from those amber eyes and although his words told of loyalty and collaboration you no longer felt he truly meant them. 

Cleanliness had always been one of his more eccentric interests but it had become fully fledged mania now that he sat in The Boss’ chair. Anywhere he went within the underground HQ was sanitized to the point of overdoing it. Everyone had to have top tier hygiene for fear of punishment you’d think be reserved for treason. All of the high ranking members of the organisation wore elaborate masks resembling those of plague doctors. It was sinister. The Hassaikai had never been the most moral organisation but its honour had been replaced by something cold and inevitable, something inherently evil. But for all of your observation and interpretation you never considered Overhaul to be the definite root of the issue. You couldn't accept that the man you loved had become a monster.

“I’m honoured to be joining you again, Chisaki,” you said. Sitting on a narrow couch you looked up from the tea table to him. His right arm hung off that of the couch he sat on, his posture stiff as he leaned back slightly. Those unblinking amber eyes bore into your soul.

You reached out for the steaming cup of tea before you, taking a sip without hesitation. You no longer expected him to reply to you. The first Wednesday of every month you came and had tea with him in the afternoon, at first you’d tried to make small talk but had quickly learned he wasn’t interested in such pleasantries. He wasn’t interested in talking at all you realised after the fifth month of utter silence. He didn’t even drink the tea despite there always being two cups. He chose to sit and watch you instead, barely moving. What he was interested in or his purpose in these visits you had no clue. It probably should have bothered you more but you were grateful that he still made time in his busy days to sit with you for half an hour. What did bother you though, was his rejection of his name.

The first time you’d had tea you referred to him as ‘Kai’, as you had for your entire life. He snarled at you in a way that made you want to run and cry. It was the first time he’d even treated you with such disdain. So now he was Chisaki. It hurt to think he’d changed so drastically without your notice. How could you have been so blind?

It was this that crushed your soul. For years you’d held onto the hope that he loved you back but hadn’t found the time or the words to express his feelings so you waited. But now you felt nothing short of despair. Having harboured those feelings for so long you couldn’t just brush them off. You wanted nothing more than to tell him how you felt but you were worried of what would happen if you did. You were stuck in an endless loop of anguish and desperation. 

“What did you do to your hand?”

At first you weren’t sure you’d heard properly. He looked no different, hadn’t moved a muscle but blinking a couple of times you realised he had indeed asked you a question. His voice was so familiar and yet so strangely new to your ears.

“I… uh, I burnt it on a baking tray.” You looked down at your bandaged palm and fingertips. 

His only reaction was the twitch of an eyebrow. You shrank into yourself slightly. His apathetic reaction was far worse than the months of silence. How could he break that silence after so long only to return to it immediately? It felt crueler than any torture. 

“Why do you do this?” 

You’d never intended to ask that question but the build up for the past months just came out at the notice of his indifference. He tipped his head sideways and your heart thumped. Yet again no answer.

The wheels within you had begun to turn and you stood up, his eyes watching your every move. You moved around the table and sat down on the couch next to him, careful to not let your knees touch. You knew that he was prone to break out in hives at the thought of being in contact with another, likely dirty, human being. He’d always been fine around you in the past but the distance that had grown between you may have changed that.

Whatever courage you’d found lifted your hand to him. By far one of your most stupid decisions but you felt a great wave of hatred rise through you at the sight of that beaked mask pointing so threatningly at you. He made no move to stop you as you reached up but

your fingertips had barely brushed the string that secured his mask when his gloved hand was tight around your wrist. You stared straight into those burning irises and you could see he was warning you not to go any further. Looking back at your hand you noticed how perfectly smooth his skin was. Surely with this proximity he’d have been itching already if he was going to at all.

 Him still holding onto your wrist you pried the string off his ear. 

You audibly inhaled, some sort of twisted relief rushed into you at the sight of his face, whole and without a scratch, just as you remembered it, finally laid before you without being obscured. You didn’t even bother to think about the fact that he’d let you remove it.

“I miss you,” you breathed.

Kai regarded you with cautious delight, almost as if he’d been waiting for that. He blinked lazily, that cruel triumph dancing across his face. 

It was as if impulsiveness was running like electricity through you because less than a moment after you thought it you were kissing him. Kissing Kai like you’d always wanted to. Your hands pressed gently to his chest, leaning closer to him than you’d ever been before. You no longer cared for the consequences because he tasted like gold and lust and the stars and pomegranate seeds. He was more than you’d ever hoped and ever wished for and you were terrified for what would happen when the kiss ended but, fuck, you loved it. You loved him. Kai. You loved Kai.

And then one of his hands was on your chin, holding you to him, the other resting on your hip. He kissed you back. Harder than you’d expected. There was a hunger to it, you could taste the ache he had. A daunting ache, it wanted to consume you, comfort you, and corrupt you all at once. It was overpowering and as he kissed you, you felt something in him ignite. Whatever he’d been missing, whatever part of cold Overhaul had been lost was restored and Kai was full of this new heat, a heat ready and willing to devastate you.

“Oh, Angel,” he uttered, pulling himself from your lips to kiss your cheek, your jaw, whatever he could. Delighting in the feeling of your skin under his lips, in his hands. His fingertips dug into your skin, attaching himself to you. He’d never wanted to possess something more than he wanted to claim you now. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing but it felt right and he wasn’t about to stop. He pulled you by the hips onto his lap, one of your knees between his. Pulling back from you for a moment, he looked you up and down with his ruthless gaze. His eyes gleamed, glee in them. 

“Pretty girl,” he cooed. You swallowed. Moments ago you’d been convinced he couldn’t care less about you but now. The flood gates had been opened and now, this cold, cruel man beneath you looked like he wanted nothing more than to ruin you. 

He chuckled lowly in his throat. “I think you deserve a reward for your patience, Angel. Waiting all these years, such a good girl.”

#kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #kai chisaki x y/n #kai chisaki x you #chisaki overhaul #chisaki x reader #chisaki kai #overhaul #overhaul x reader #mha #bnha #bnha overhaul #bnha x reader

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

🚿 A FRIEND TO HELP YOU FRESHEN UP 🚿

Prompt: When Y/N is almost having a heat stroke from the incredibly hot muggy weather, her thoughtful boyfriend Drew, has a very good idea to help her freshen up using the help of a very dear “friend” with a chromed head...

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, shower sex, clit stimulation with a shower head, masturbation (male)

Notes: I’ve decided to use my lately hunger for a certain Scottish meal plus the fact that I’m my country we’re having this incredibly murderous and ridiculous muggy weather for a couple of days now as an inspiration for this little fic. That’s all I’ll say in my defense 🤐. I would like to tag these beautiful souls: @drew-is-boo , @blondekel77 , @nightlummer , @akiko-tanaka and @beckyann6879 because they are the best to be honest 🥰! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

I grunt in despair for the fifth time in a one minute break, already considering shaving my head again in hope that it will help me go through this insanely muggy weather.

“Are you ok over there love?” Drew asks holding back his laugh

“No I am not! I just feel like I’m gonna pass out at any minute now from a goddamn heat stroke! I don’t know what to do anymore” I whined as I fan myself with a Tupperware lid. Yes I’ve come that far!

“Would you like me to help you figure something out?” He asks

“If you have any ideas feel free to shoot ‘em, because I’ve tried everything! Shower, eating ice, getting naked, placing a wet towel on my neck, throwing a bucket of iced water from my head to toes, opening the fridge door to get some cool air, placing a towel filled with ice on my head... you name it and I’ve tried” I frustratedly say “Would you like to help me to shave my head?” The question comes out in a quite unimpressed tone

“You don’t sound too excited about that, love” He chuckled

“I could be more enthusiastic if the heat hadn’t drained away my excitement”

“Do you want to shave your head?”

“I don’t know” I responded “Maybe? What do you think?”

“That’s up to you love. I’ve seen pictures of you with a buzz cut before and you look beautiful! It suits you. But that’s your decision darling” He confidently say “Would you like to try my idea first?” A very familiar yet quick evil glimpse crossed his blue eyes

“Oh no McIntyre, I know that look and trust me, although very tempting” I measured his beautiful and delicious body that was covered with nothing but a pair of boxer briefs from head to toe “The idea of having sex with you is out of the picture right now”

“Who said my idea is sex related?” He tried to hide his true intentions, but after 4 years together, I could see it all behind that innocent façade of his.

“I am saying! I know you Drew, therefore I know that any ‘innocent’ idea that you try to offer ALWAYS ends up with you wanting to get inside of my pants”

He faked a surprise gasp “How can you say that Y/N?! I’ve never had hidden second intentions at anything I offer us to do! Ouch babe, that really hurts” As he places both of his hands on his chest for a dramatic impact

I roll my eyes at his acting “What would you call your ‘we should watch a movie, but I’ll actually just use that as an excuse to fuck you on the couch’ last night’s idea then?” I raised my eyebrows

“In my defense, that movie was boring as fuck and you are not so just do the math, love” He winks

“You’re the worst” I laugh as I throw the Tupperware lid at him and he just laughs along

“Fine then. Let’s see what this idea of yours is all about” I say getting up from the kitchen chair

He deviously smirked and made his way upstairs to our master bedroom bathroom, mentioning for me to follow him.

Once we get to the bathroom, he tells me to take my clothes off as he removed his boxer briefs and turn on the shower in a cool temperature getting inside letting the water run down his body.

“C’mon in, love”

“Drew” I sigh “I’ve told you I’ve tried that before and it didn’t worked”

“You’ve tried by yourself darling. Me? I have an ace up my sleeve” He winks

I reluctantly agreed and got in with him.

Once inside Drew pulled me towards his chest, leaning down to kiss me. As he did his hands softly caresses my thighs, trailing his finger tips up along my spine til he reached my neck to hold me and deepen the kiss.

He turn us around, pressing my back against the cold shower wall, trapping me between his body and the wall. His lips begin to slowly trail down my neck, when he lightly nibs my collarbone I sigh saying in a voice deep with lust.

“What happened with you not having any hidden second intentions at anything you offer us to do?” I teased

He laughed lightly against my ear, whispering “I’m just trying to help you not to think about how hot you are” He chuckled at his intended pun and slaps my ass

“You’re so ridiculous McIntyre” I laugh

We started to make out underneath the water, just kissing, touching each other, enjoying the intimacy of our bodies together moving in sync. There was always this constant need to just FEEL each other. No words, no rushed moves, no worries, just this raw necessity to touch the other one’s body... It was a way to recover our intimacy as a couple.

You see, a lot of people can have sex with you, is a mechanical move, you know what you have to do to reach your high of pleasure. But intimacy? That’s a whole different thing! You can have sex with intimacy, but you don’t need intimacy to have sex. People mistaken nudity with intimacy, when actually the first one it is what it is: a naked body! There’s no deeper intentions or meanings behind it, it’s raw and realistic. Now the latter is something above, is not a whom is an it. A touch, a word, a kiss, a whisper, a feeling, a comfortable silence... That my friend is another level of connection, one that is very hard to find but once you do is also very fast to loose. And when that happens, you’re back at the mechanical part of it: a hole being filled to reach pleasure! As empty and meaningless as it sounds.

For Drew and I it varies, sometimes we’d spend hours (if not the whole night) just laying in bed, talking about anything and everything, kissing, hugging and touching each other’s skin with no intention of having sex at all. And others we had this urgency of just fucking our brains out, feeling every part of each other’s body.

Today was a sweet mixture of both.

Drew lay me down on the shower floor, placing his huge body on top of mine, kissing the top of my breasts

“You still hot, love?” He teased

“What do you think? Now that you’re doing that is even worst”

He laughs lightly as he stands to sit on his knees “Good thing I’ve got the perfect help for ya” He takes the shower head on his hand

“Drew, what are-“ I can’t even finish since he placed one finger on his lips making a shh motion

“I said I was gonna help you, so that’s what I’ll do lass” He turned the shower head on as cocky smirk dances upon his lips.

Drew knew that the shower head was a fun and quick way for me to give myself some relief. I’ve told him many times when he was on the road about my late night dates with the choamed head man while I’ve thought about him.

But that was my me time, my own intimacy, my solo moment. We’ve done a lot in those 4 years together but we’ve never that. So my head was rushing with excitement, with the possibility of the new.

“Whenever you’ve told me about this, I’ve always imagined how hot you must have looked, how I would give anything to just sit and watch you pleasure yourself with it...fuck, that can make me cum every time without a fail. But now the best thing is: I don’t have to imagine it anymore, not only do I get to see it but I will also have the pleasure to do it to you. How great is that love? How great is that now I’ll have a real, solid memory to give me a helping hand later on the road instead of pure imagination?” He nibs my nipple

“You will tell me all about your great use of this memory, right?” I panted

He chuckles lightly “Of course I will my love! Every. Single. Dirty. Detail” He pecks my lips in between every word, soon afterwards placing the shower head on my clit making me gasp.

“Oh my sweet- fuck” I moan

Drew controls the pressure of the water, changing it slightly every now and then.

“Oh fuck baby, it feels so fucking good! Just so good” I moan

He spits on the palm of his hand grabbing his now fully erect cock. Sliding his hand up and down his thick length in a figure 8 motion.

The vision makes my orgasm reach it’s high. He leans down to kiss me as he continues to stroke his cock.

“Fuck princess, you look so beautiful like this” He says in awe, staring at my satisfied face, with my head resting on the shower wall and my legs spread opened in front of him.

He caresses my inner thigh “Can you give me one more baby? I just need to look at that beautiful face that you make one more time”

I simply nod in response

Drew’s strokes on his cock became faster as he once more places the shower head in between my legs...

How can I not love muggy weathers after today?

#drew mcintyre imagine #drew mcintyre smut #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre x oc #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre one shot #drew galloway #drew mcintyre #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe one shot #masochist writes

[feralrunaway]

Rat

Pairing: August Walker x teenage OFC (platonic)

Word count: ~1.5k

Warnings: homelessness, cursing, crime, implications of abuse, implied murder, August’s disdain for religion

A/N: I’ve never written for August before, so I hope I do this justice. This story takes place after MI6, several different timelines. Please heed the warnings before reading, thanks!

——————

Their eyes connected across the dark, crowded club.

A nostalgic smile touched her perfectly glossed lips, the slightest mirror of which ghosted along his rigid features, only for both to disappear before anyone could notice. A secret smile. An acknowledgment.

...mankind is drawn to his self-destruction like a moth to the candle.

A decade of transformation. Of skills honed. And yet the depth of connection over shared experience remained.

*A rooftop entrance. A door ajar.

Accessible once, and he hoped still. A place to lay low until he could reestablish contacts and repair his identity. One of the few places he could recall that even his trusted associates knew nothing of.

The lock had clearly been picked, alerting him to his safe house having been compromised. Not by the authorities, no. But by the lump of diminutive human lying under a pile of dirty blankets in the attic.

A cocked gun. A warning. The bored, disinterested girl shifted to sit under the blankets and stare petulantly in his direction.

“I found it first, Scarface. Get your own squat.”

It took a lot to surprise August Walker. But this live grenade of teenage attitude glaring daggers at him was enough to qualify. Her eyes briefly absorbed his expensive, if disheveled, clothing, danced over the gun in his hand.

“Are you a fucking cop?” she stood slowly.

August chuckled darkly, but the inherent threat in the sound was not perceived by the adolescent occupying the loft hideaway belonging to him. Was she brain-addled?

“I suggest you scurry along, little rat.”*

“Fuck you.”*

It is the first step toward the ultimate brotherhood of man.

Her mentor. After all these years, he hadn’t changed. Well, the scars were mostly gone. Only a slight puckering remained next to his right eye, easily concealed by an errant curl. But the same man occupied the expensive suit. Money had its uses. He had taught her that.

* A desperate time. A questionable meal.

“You got this where?”

She rolled her eyes as well as any youth.

“It’s clean. The grocery on main puts their overstock out every week.”

“You’re eating out of a dumpster.”

She scoffed. “So are you if you want to eat tonight. Never hurt me before. You’re free to come up with your own shit, moneybags. More for me.”

“What if I were to propose a solution beneficial to us both?” he eyed the slightly expired food and week-old produce. He had no intention of a recognizable face and bounty on his head making him settle for scraps. “Earn your stay in my safe house.”

She did well. Better than he had anticipated. He watched her walk down the street, charming a clothing shop clerk while nimble fingers pilfered this and that, changing both clothing and personality before his tracking eyes at each stop she made, until suddenly he gazed upon a simple, bookish young adult simply shopping for groceries for her family at home.*

His prodigy. A quick study. With a few lessons of her own to teach him.

*A midnight ambush. An unexpected out.

The rat was long gone before even August managed to divert himself safely away from the house. It had been a small team. Nothing he couldn’t halt with a few well timed fists. He was the Hammer after all. But now his hideaway had been compromised. And they had picked up his trail.

It was difficult, if not nearly impossible for a man his size with such distinguishable scars to make his way down a city street while avoiding pursuant agents from every angle.

A small hand tangled in his shirt. A barely pulled punch. Her finger to her lips, she tugged him down through the open manhole.

Filthy, stinking tunnels. Narrowing, narrowing until his broad shoulders barely squeezed through. Until finally they opened up into the broad arched chorus of entries leading to any path of their choosing.

“Welcome to the underground, old man. Pick your poison.”*

Today, mankind has been handed the opportunity to escape his destiny.

August worked best alone. He had never understood what kept drawing him back to her. Why the presence of this feral spitfire of a child was tolerable. Perhaps a mutual understanding of the true evils operating in the world.

*A special day. A present with meaning.

“It’s my birthday today.”

“Oh?  And how old are you now?”

“Fifteen.”

“…how long have you been on your own, rat?”

“Maybe a year and a half now.  I’m not sure.  Don’t get all sympathetic, old man.  It’s better this way, trust me.  I do just fine on my own.”

She needn’t understand that he felt no pity about it. He could relate.  He knew the type of things that would cause an adolescent to take a crack at life on their own.  It didn’t take much searching to discover where she had come from.  The child of a pastor, the kind that spit vitriol about sin and promised fire and brimstone. The kind of man that hid his own abusive deeds and indescretions behind a pious front.

Any belief in a spirituality with no other proof, other than the cravings to project one’s self over the rational thinking of the others must be eradicated.

Two days later, August was gone, only leaving behind one thing.

She read the headline of the newsprint again and again.

“Local church up in flames, two missing.  Officials continue the search.”

Under the headline, in elegant, efficient script:

Happy Birthday, Rat.*

...by averting disaster, they serve to delay a peace that can only come through an inevitable baptism of fire.

“I miss the Phantom of the Opera look. You should have kept it.”

“There is benefit in being inconspicuous, as I recall you saying once,” he murmured, eyes indicating the siren red dress and dripping diamond jewels framing her delicate face and body.

She laughed, loud and genuine. “There is also benefit to be had in boldness, as you and your devilstache well demonstrated to me.”

*A back alley altercation. A job gone wrong.

He hadn’t seen her in two years. Now he watched from above as she evaded multiple assailants. Ducking and twisting, the little rat managed to slip through their grasp time and again. Her small frame and wiley nature worked to her benefit. Until it didn’t. One punch to the gut saw her laid out, winded, one man hovering above her and another with a gun trained to her head.

August had seen enough. Four quick shots and they were down. He sauntered down the stairs and over to her prone form.

“Scarface. Perfect timing, you handsome bastard. I’ll just be on my way.” she was winded, but no less crass.

“Not a chance, Rat,” he pulled her to standing by the nape of her neck. “There are a few things you need to learn.” He held out a hand. She leaned forward, spitting several sparkling diamonds into his open palm. “The first being that blatant theft never leaves you an out. Learn your exchanges and plan for them well before extraction. When you have another party interested in the payload, you have well-financed protection.”

He secretly reveled in her education in hand to hand combat. He always preferred fists to weapons, whenever possible. Her squirrelly evasive maneuvers were intriguing and useful, evidence of her time on the street, filching whatever she needed a day at a time. But if she were to ever be overpowered, she had a long way to go.*

The suffering I bring you is not the beginning of the end. It is the beginning of a greater mutual understanding through common suffering.

Neither looked at the other as they observed the room.  Watched for their mutual target.

The comfort of working in tandem was welcome. She rarely utilized the assistance of others. There was, after all, only one man she had ever trusted.

 *A romance gone wrong.  A late night call.

“I need a place to lay low for a few days.”

“How did you get this number?”

“I met a man once who wore sin on his upper lip.  He taught me a few tricks.”

August smiled at the other end of the line.

“I will send you the address.  You will send me his name.”*

Here I will emphasize clearly that the judgement upheld against us will be one of human hands, not of a god or other wordly being.

Both of their gazes fell to the intended target as he broke away from the crowd.

“My buyer won’t be happy if I let him go.”

“Will we finally find ourselves at odds over this transaction, Scarface?”

“Hardly, Rat. Now scurry along. This one belongs to you.”

With that, he set down his drink. He walked toward the exit, fully trusting that this would be a job well completed.

And so, the cycle continues.

Casting one final glance in her direction, he realized that the unfamiliar sensation he always felt around her, that drew him like a moth to the candle, had a name:

Pride

(Nov 27, 2020)

#August Walker #rat #daughter walker #taming the cavillry #feral