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cocogum · 20 hours

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how long have you been watching wakfu

Hey moth ✨✨

I’ve actually been watching Wakfu since 2012.

The first time I heard about it was when I used to have Netflix and even then, that was back when the streaming platform didn’t have Season 2 yet lol

What drew me into watching it was mainly cuz of the cover. This one specifically 👇

It used to only show Yugo opening a portal and because of the style, it made me wonder what the story could be about (at the time I used to think Yugo looked pretty cute so that was also another reason lol).

I remember how my first instinct was switch the language to English when I first watched it. THAT WAS THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE. The reason why I switched it for english tho was because netflix was primarily English so I thought that the French language of Wakfu wasn’t the main one (and I thought it sucked without even taking a second to listen to it 💀 ) Thankfully, as soon as I heard Alibert and Ruel talking, I IMMEDIATELY went back to the settings cuz I knew I fucked up. I ain’t listening to this trash again lol

So I switched it to French and i realized it was a thousand times BETTER than the English version. That’s when I realized Wakfu was french.

I loved the places and the people. It was something I’ve never seen before. The French dubbing was so smooth and funny I loved it so much. The “fillers”, which let’s be honest weren’t actual fillers, were also so fun to see with the whole gang.

Even at the time, I used to believe there would eventually be something between Amalia and Yugo lol cuz ain’t no way you guys constantly hug like this for the dumbest reasons.

When Season 1 ended, I really hoped they weren’t gonna do us like that because I really wanted a season season. At the time I didn’t think ankama already did Season 2 (since 2011 💀) cuz I thought Netflix was always on time so it took me some time to wait for it but a year passed by and it finally got here!! I was so happy that day you had no idea. I had to wait for a whole year before it dropped so my ass was pretty much traumatized after seeing Dally die for the first time I legit thought that he was gonna come back cuz of Nox’s machine but nope 💀 I remember being so sad when I first saw that ending. I really didn’t want it to end, I got too attached to these guys (Amalia was still my favorite back then cuz she was too relatable)

So i watched Season 2 in 2013 AND I LOVED IT. Again, they couldn’t disappoint me. It just got better from that day on.

That’s when I slowly started to dig deeper into Wakfu because there were so many references to things that Yugo and the others were saying that I didn’t even understand. I then learned that Wakfu was based on an MMORPG with the same name,Wakfu, and that there was a prequel to it, Dofus. I also saw how they even had a side story called “Mini Wakfu” which were just shorts from Season 1. I watched that mini series on youtube back then.

Because of Season 2, I was now sure that there will be more to it because so much has been said and yet so little has been explored. So I waited, bought myself some time by watching other shows.

That’s when the ovas happened.

And oh my god I was not ready for it.

The ovas released in 2016 on Netflix but had already been a thing since 2014. Blame Netflix.

And again, there were so much more references that made me feel so confused like who Otomaï was, Ogrest (who was only a giant mention in Season 1 to me), Maskemane, Echo, Sipho, Harebourg, etc.

I was confused but so intrigued because it made me learn that the Krosmoz was A LOT BIGGER than what I thought it would be. And that’s what I like. I love how a story has multiple timelines, has complex strange plot holes in certain places that makes you want to become a theorizer, has so many diverse characters and relationships. Things like those are why I fell in love with the legend of Zelda and fnaf franchises.

That’s how I learned about the mangas, comics, different games (Dofus, Wakfu, Krosmaga, Dofus touch, minor Dofus games on the App Store, etc.) as well as cancelled games (Islands of Wakfu, Wakfu: Les Gardiens, etc). I even started learning more about the Dofus era by going through Dofus shows like “Dofus : Kerub’s Bazaar”.

Right after the ovas, I watched Goultard’s special episode, Ogrest’s special episode, and Nox’s special episode. Then, I saw the Dofus movie featuring Joris and his mom before watching the show. After, I read the wakfu manga that was supposed to situate itself between Season 2 and the ovas. At the time, there were only four volumes so I binge read them all on a google drive that someone was kind enough to share publicly (that google drive doesn’t exist anymore). All of this happened in 2016 btw.

After that, I waited for more news of Wakfu but my dumbass got sidetracked because of binge watching other shows while waiting. I was joining multiplie fandoms while unconsciously waiting for more of Ankama. And that’s how I missed Season 3 that came out in 2017 💀💀 I’m so dumb my god all I had to do was wait another year but noooo youtube had to show me the new season trailer in 2018 instead!

I went back to Netflix, freaking the hell out, binge watched the whole season, got emotional, loved Oropo for kissing Amalia cuz I knew there’d be drama, absolutely adored the whole percedal family being a family, trying not to laugh at Adamaï’s look for the first time, expecting Ruel to get hard over money, and LOVED the drama between Yugo and Amalia. I WAS A FAN OF THEIR SHIP SINCE SEASON 1 FOR CRYING OUT LOUD which is why I was so happy that we finally got to see so much more of their problems being addressed.

After that, I knew I needed more so I went back to reading comics. I bought the actual volumes 1 to 4 of the wakfu manga (because I wanted to have a physical copy of them even though I already read the story) and then waited for the fifth one. As soon as volume 5 released in 2019 (July 4), I TOOK IT FROM AMAZON’S HANDS CUZ VOLUME 4 WAS KILLING ME WITH IT’S ENDING- (I’ve been waiting since 2016, I wasn’t gonna wait any longer).

In 2020, I joined the best wakfu amino on the amino app, and then mainly went looking for Ankama related things like their anime Radiant (I started reading the manga first and ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT FOR ITS ORIGINALITY. But I still can’t believe that it got released back in 2013 tho…) and then watched the anime that came out for it (the opening song was good but I hate how the anime changed some things to the story. The manga is better but the anime gets its fair share of popularity so I guess that’s good).

In 2021-2022 I think that’s where I heard about the kickstarter for Wakfu Season 4 and I was mind blown when I saw the trailer for it.

In 2023, I bought Ogrest’s volumes 1 to 4 because I’ve been waiting to read and know more about Ogrest and what was the deal with the Sadida dolls since I heard about those from some people. My god the manga was so good!! I’m still waiting for that volume 5 but I’m extremely certain that it will come very soon now since Mig, the illustrator for the Ogrest manga, has been giving small sneak peeks here and there lately. It was also in the same year that I learned about the One More Gate game and watched Oropo’s special episode.

Then came 2024. And that’s where I went ape shit. Now you know everything ✨

The latest thing I bought from Ankama shop in 2024 now was the standard version of the Amalia figurine, the vinyl disc pack containing Krosmoz osts, and the Wakfu S3 artbook (tho the artbook was actually not something that you can find in the Ankama shop. I had to dig deep on Amazon and find a seller willing to give it away).

So yeah my history with Wakfu is a pretty messy one and has always been all over the place mainly because I was so slow back then to realize when the releases were happening and how the lore was actually constructed lol

Like it took me so much time to understand that Wakfu was only one piece of a bigger puzzle set and being unaware of so many things back then is still something I tend to regret. I understand that it was because I was still a snotty kid back then who didn’t know much about the internet but I can’t help myself to think how easy it was to keep up the pace 💀

At least I won’t have to think I’m late anymore because I’ve got a better idea of how it all works now.

Wakfu has been playing a huge part in my life because it’s always been at the back of my mind no matter what fandom I was in at the time. Sure, it was at the back burner but I never had the intention of forgetting about it. It holds way too many memories of the simpler times and has a lot of great ideas I think I’ve never seen other shows have.

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someawkwardnerd · 2 months

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kinda obsessed w him ngl

#congrats on the bros for the successful kickstarter!!!!!!!!#have been watching the stream as i drew this :•)#i love this lil dude btw #his vibe is so perfect hes so friend shaped #tin can bros #tin can brothers #tinlightenment #tcb fanart #my art #fanart #animation

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kitsure · 1 year

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Let’s go, Mambo!!

#Elden Ring #man-serpent #man-serpent ashes #LOL i have no idea what else to tag this as #like.... implied Malenia lolol #i drew this lineart way back from when Jerma was playing it #dude i LOVED those streams #i watched every single one #sometimes rewatched a part waiting for him to stream again #anyway took me so long to color this that #hes actually been streaming it again LMAO #and he even remembered Mambo!!

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loafbud · 11 months

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The first Splatoon game turned 8 yesterday!

#the last (and first) time i drew anniversary art for the first game was when it turned 1 year #imna use the tags to be all sappy real quick:#ive been a huge fan of the splatoon series since the first game & have played it since day one #splatoon is the first time ive grown up with a game series from the beginning #like i knew it was gonna be a successful game that'd eventually grow and become a series w/ a cool fanbase #for first/third person shooter games (esp multiplayer)- i could never call myself a fan of those #but the moment splatoon debuted in an e3 trailer??? it took a concept i'd normally go meh to- but made it into smthn colorful/unique #like??? weeks after the announcement i was already gushing over what the lore would be in their universe #it got really tiring seeing all the hate it received- id watch ppl stream it out of interest and their chat'd be like uggh this ass title?#or id watch gamers do one single lets play of it and be like oh ok i can see how this game is fun (me assuming they'd doubt it's potential)#but to see how much splatoon as a series has grown has me kinda emotional ngl #like yeah sure theres still ppl outside the fandom who has (or still has since the 1st game) sour opinions about it #but ever since the fandom grew over those 8 years- it feels like the love for this series outshines that #but man.... i said this already on twt but i remember going to my first color run event locally w/ my family #(this happened weeks before the game came out btw) -but id have my phone out with the inklings on my screen #and id look at my phone & feel this happiness (that i havent felt in a while tbh) at being in an event that had a lot of colors in it #and at the time seeing all the powdered colors flying everywhere at the end of the race reminded me of splatoon sm i was like raaaaah #WOW SORRY FOR THE LONG TAGS LOL #BUT YEAH- I LOVE THIS SERIES (thats all i wanted to say)#splatoon #splatoon anniversary #splatoon 8th anniversary #fanart #loafbud

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springbon-t-art · 2 years

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...idk this sounded funnier in my mind

#man i can´t wait for the Girl Socko sequel #bo burnham inside #how...HOW can a guy make cry for a song about a chicken????#tspud #tsp narrator #my artwork/? XDDD #i drew this while watching a stream on youtube about the stanley parable...it was just listening the narrator talk about a review he loved #during the skip buttom ending #it was the best stream i have ever been in

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thegeekyartist · 4 months

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If my partner and I did a twitch stream would you guys still like me

#ive been itching to play through nancy drew again #and theres literally over 30 of them #like.#it could be fun?#and doing a stream would encourage me not to cheat (which i have done consistently since i was 10 years old)#you could all watch me lose my mind with that fucking magnet game in SHA #personal #nd

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boygirlctommy · 6 months

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god i love tommys vod from oct 17th its so fucking good ive watched it at least 4 times

#my post #LIKEEEEE. starts off tommys gonna assassinate some people #then he just sits there and eavesdrops on q and schlatts ENTIRE arguement #AND Q KILLS SCHLATT AND LEAVES??#then tommy recruits him!! and they go to pogtopia and fuck around for a bit #then wilbur shows them the button room and its like. instantly they have to physically hold him back from pressing it and everyones screami #and then they calm down and spend 15 minutes arguing about plan ass plan 1 plan bomb and plan 2.#and then theyre all just like welp ^_^ see u tomorrow and you feel like youve aged 15 yrs but you check the time and it hasnt been 1.5 hour #incredible i love it so much #everytime i go to watch a vod from that era im like ohohoho lets watch a new one lets see one i ahvent watched before!!#and then i always click on this one. ITS MY FAVORITE I CANT HELP IT #anyways i drew three pages of shit from this stream

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mrghostrat · 5 months

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i bring you my one offering for every fandom: Twitch Streamer AU!

edit: there is now a fic :)

i see your "two teachers at the same school who none of their students realise are married" and raise you "two polar opposite streamers who none of their viewers realise are dating/living together" 😩🙏

i also accidentally drew these at 4k so enjoy these high res wallpapers i guess!! (1 + 2)

i have headcanons:

aziraphale is a variety IRL streamer: cooking, baking, crafts, chatting etc. he's on a bob-ross level of respect and admiration for how sweet and pleasant he is to everyone

crowley streams whatever can be a conduit for mischief: from toxic PVP gameplay, to IRL chatting streams out in public places. he's primarily a gamer, but people watch him for his horrendous personality.

they rarely hang out in each other's chats, but that's just happenstance. one is usually sleeping when the other is live, otherwise they'll have their screens open and lurk

crowley never bans trolls; they’re half his content. he enjoys backchatting and riling them up. his streams are notoriously chaotic because of little moderation and his rapidly shifting attention span

aziraphale’s mods ban trolls very efficiently, but he wouldn’t see their messages anyway, because chat always moves too fast for him. that’s not to say that he’s got a hyperactive chat; even slow mode would be too fast for him. he only ever catches every 5th message.

aziraphale is SO bad at reading chat, it's become a meme within his community that if he reads out/replies to you, you have been Chosen and need to go buy a lottery ticket asap

anathema mods for crowley, which mostly means just hanging out and insulting him when he dies in-game

newt is aziraphale's most revered mod, because whenever he tries to simply purge a mean message, he somehow accidentally IP bans the account. he's invaluable for managing troll attacks

their mods know they're together, but silently watch everyone lose their minds over the steadily growing conspiracy for their own personal entertainment

#gomens #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens au #good omens art #fanart #good omens fanart #crowley #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable streamers #rat draws

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qingxin-dream · 7 months

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Scara relaxing on the couch with you<3 if u do NSFW having him cockwarm you so he can relax

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬”

summary | today was one of those days where nothing could go right. well, maybe, it’s been like that for awhile. and you know damn well that your loving husband was not about to watch you fall into despair. (art credits: unknown)

warnings | not proofread, reader has a mental breakdown, comfort, profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, cockwarming, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, slightly possessive/dominant, marking, breeding kink, creampie

genre | modern au, comfort, smut

word count | 3k

pairing | husband! scaramouche x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sky had been overcast all day, only putting a damper on your mood. Work has somehow become extra stressful lately with more and more responsibilities piling up. You felt the crushing weight on your shoulders with each passing hour and you couldn’t wait for the clock to hit 5pm.

The last place you wanted to be was at work, away from home, and without your husband, Scaramouche. Even then, your relationship was getting to a point where it was nothing more than bitter roommates. He had missions to complete while you were obligated to work every day. Someone had to be the breadwinner, after all.

Sweet freedom washes over your exhausted body when it’s finally time to go home. You rush outside only to find that the clouds had turned a nasty gray color and wet droplets of rain dotted your suit jacket.

Great, you forgot an umbrella.

The rain was really picking up now, your clothes soaked and your hair flattening into drenched clumps. Running through the downpour, you had to make it another block to your car until you got stopped at an intersection—narrowly avoiding the wave of water a speeding car almost splashed onto you.

Once you practically leaped into your car for safety, the sense of stillness that suddenly permeated the air brought you back down to earth. You were more than overworked. You were burned out, with hot tears freely streaming down your face in a choked sob. Gripping the steering wheel, you slumped your forehead onto your knuckles, shoulders shaking as you cried out all the pressure you had bottled up inside. The rain beat against the windshield, drowning out your agony.

Once you managed to compose yourself with a few sad sniffles here and there, you turned the key in the ignition. Tonight you decided to forget about everything. No stress. No work. Not even a single load of laundry. You couldn’t muster the strength for anything other than some sort of self-care or self-indulgence.

When you walked through the door with an expression bordering on despair, Scaramouche knew you had a rough day. He frowned to himself. Frankly, the distance between you two was a sore spot for him as of late and he was expecting you to lock yourself in the bedroom.

At first, he had been stubborn about the tangible separation pushing you further and further away from him. Foolishly, Scaramouche had tried to drown himself in his busy work and missions, simply trying to ignore it. But after a while, he realized that this damned feeling of alienation and being constantly on edge like some old married couple was ridiculous.

That’s not who he married or the life he signed up for, and Scaramouche found himself determined to finally act like you both loved each other for once.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you from the couch. Looking down at his casual sweatpants and shirt, you wished you could’ve stripped down and lazed around on the couch this afternoon. Sleep was something you desperately needed. He offers a small olive branch with his softened tone of voice. “Why don’t you get changed and come sit with me? I missed you.”

You drew in a hesitant breath. Perhaps it was your way of attempting to decompress before answering your husband or you were unsure of his intentions. The couch was definitely calling to you, and the prospect of your lover’s comforting arms enveloping you was even more tempting. In a haste, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag, nodding with a bit of a pitiful pout on your lips as you went into the bedroom.

Scaramouche perked up slightly upon hearing your return, making room for you on the couch so that he could spoon you just right. As you sat down, his hand immediately went to your hip and he found himself gravitating toward the comforting crevice of your neck. Your skin was colder than he expected from the rain but he was more than willing to share his warmth with you, his fingers venturing up the contour of your waist under your baggy shirt.

“There’s goosebumps on your skin,” he noted with an obvious smile in his voice. “Why don’t you take this off and let me warm you up, hm?”

You gaze at him over your shoulder, catching the subtle seductive intonation of his offer. Despite his pads of his fingers gently caressing and massaging your hip in encouragement, you weren’t entirely sure if you had it in you for too much physical affection. Most of all, you just felt tired.

Yet, Scaramouche always got his way. Maybe it was how the words rolled off his tongue that sparked your imagination in the back of your mind, or that mischievous gleam of excitement in his violet eyes. He had no problem catering to your needs, helping you slowly lift that baggy shirt over your shoulders and tossing it aside. He quickly did the same.

Suddenly, he ensnared you in his arms, burying his nose in your neck and sighing. The feeling of your back pressed against his bare, muscular chest was like a balm soothing his soul. You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, surprised by his enthusiasm, and pull a heavy blanket over you both.

“Better get rid of these too,” Scaramouche suggested softly into the shell of your ear, tugging at the elastic waistband of your shorts. He generously nuzzled your neck, peppering a few kisses across your sensitive skin to distract you as he easily slipped you out of your bottoms.

Your whimpers were buried in your throat. You purposely tried to stifle it, but the little shiver of your neck and body against his ministrations couldn’t hide your true feelings forever. The slow drag of his hand up your plush thighs, over the round of your hip, and dangerously close to your breasts was merely a confirmation of your suspicions.

“Scara… please,” you murmur, sounding more like a faint plea for peace and relaxation. “My feet hurt so much. I don’t think I can move anymore, let alone do—”

“Shhh, love, you really think I’m going to make you do anything?” he asks rhetorically, the timbre of his sweet words deepening to a level bordering on husky. His hand travels back down the curves of your body with silent reverence, hoping to ease your worries. “I don’t think you realize how hard you’ve been working until it breaks you.”

With a click of his tongue, your husband continues to let his hand journey over every inch of your lovely form. Your breasts, your stomach, your pelvis, hips, thighs… If he was being honest, Scaramouche would never have thought he’d discover someone as perfectly imperfect as you. To not remind you of how much he secretly worships your whole being would be a grave sin in his eyes.

“I feel like I never see you anymore. We never talk anymore,” he mumbles into your shoulder blade, taking his time to kiss and nibble as much of your upper back as he could. You involuntarily arched your back, the sensation of his mouth along your spine sending pulses of electric desire through you. His voice shifts into a possessive growl. “And I miss my wife.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you weep dryly, rolling your head back to relax on him fully. Your thoughts instantly short-circuited at the revelation of his thick bulge pressing into the plush of your ass, tactically held in place by his fingertips digging into your love handle. You were so ready to just melt into him completely, to give in and let him take care of you.

“Don’t ask for my forgiveness,” he quickly interjected to correct you. You could feel the smirk spreading on his face as he leans into you as much as possible. The back of his hand ghosts your inner thigh, nudging it to the side. “Show me how much you want my mercy.”

You were hanging on every syllable that left his lips in a hushed whisper. A featherlight touch grazed near your outer labia, enough to capture your attention like a moth to a flame. That was all it took for him to push your mind over the edge. It was pathetic, really, how you were desperately trying to mentally fill in the blanks and imagine the pleasure of his slender fingers massaging your needy clit.

Scaramouche knew exactly what he was doing. He loved getting a rise out of you. Admiring the subtle contortion of your features in pleasure may be his favorite pastime. Tickling the insides of your thighs and skirting skillfully around the one place you wanted him most, he scoffed in amusement every time you sighed softly in frustration.

“I thought you were going to be nice,” you groaned impatiently, beginning to lazily roll your hips in rhythm with the intermittent brush of his fingers just shy of your cunt.

“I am,” he snickered into your collarbone, his hot breath pouring down your chest and thrilling your skin. “You can’t lie to me. I know you like when I tease you until you’re begging for me to stuff you to the brim.”

Taking your lower lip between your teeth, you managed to defiantly buck your hips forward and finally feel the tantalizing glide of his index and middle fingers between your slick folds. The sweet victory ripped a lewd moan of your lover’s name from your pretty throat. To say you were utterly addicted to the sound of him parting the lips of your glistening pussy might be an understatement.

“Tsk, tsk, good things come to those who wait. Isn’t that what you humans say?” Scaramouche mocks you lightheartedly, though his fingers don’t leave your clit. Rather, he circles the sensitive nub at a tantalizingly slow pace to earn another cock-twitching moan from your angelic mouth. “I could touch you like this all night… unless you’d rather serve your punishment on my cock instead?”

You were too preoccupied with the intoxicating pleasure concentrated on your aching clit, eyelashes resting on your cheeks and jaw slightly agape. Scaramouche chuckled deeply into your ear with satisfaction, returning his lips to your neck but this time with a little more force. His teeth sunk into you, intent on leaving a good bruise.

It would be a clear reminder in the morning of who you belong to.

He sucked a little harder, causing you to yelp in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. His words were muffled against your skin with a gentle scolding. “I asked you a question.”

“C-cock, please,” you nearly choke, starting to grind sloppily onto his hand for some sense of relief. His other arm underneath you tightened, essentially pinning you to the heat radiating from his body from behind.

“Whose cock?” Scaramouche grumbled jealously at your vague plea. He needed to know that you didn’t just want anyone’s cock to fill up your drenched, gummy hole. The intensity of his violet irises demanded an answer, glued to your blissed out and desperate expression. His fingers were hastily stimulating your clit as he intently watched you parse love and lust on the brink of an orgasm.

“Y-your cock! Please! I need it so bad,” you cried out loudly, the threat of tears lingering behind your eyes. He abruptly slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans, and then shoved his hot, veiny cock pulsating with desire across your soaking wet entrance.

Scaramouche couldn’t stop the salacious groans under his breath, wanting you to hear all the ways you make him unravel. He was eager to drag the mushroomed, pink tip of his cock over your clit over and over, occasionally teasing your hole with the pressure of his length trying to nestle itself within you. But he never pushed it all in. Instead, he continued to gather your essence on his cock—the mere thought of cumming in your rosy folds like this and fucking it messily drove him wild.

“Don’t tell me… hnnnghh… that this is all you want, (Y/N),” he grunted with honeyed pleasure, grinding at a little faster rhythm. You were already nearing your climax again, whispering prayers and praises under your breath for Scaramouche to plunge into you and fuck you senseless.

His hand was still tightly covering your mouth, so you simply shake your head and moan breathily to ask for more.

“Mm, good girl,” he mumbles intimately, kissing your ear and nuzzling you affectionately again. “I know my baby is tired and needy, so I’ll let you be my little cocksleeve tonight, okay?”

You nod and hum against his hand enthusiastically.

He takes the opportunity to shower you with a few more kisses, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance once more. Your walls were already squeezing eagerly on the small inch of his tip inside you and he didn’t dare delay any longer. Scaramouche grabs you by the hip and buries the entirety of his thick cock in your slick tightness, his eyebrows crinkling at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him like a vice.

“F-fuck!” Scaramouche curses sharply, bottoming out completely in your aroused cunt. “So good. S-so fucking good, yeah…”

“A-ah, yes! Mm…” you sighed raggedly with ecstasy, pure pleasure and relief washing over you. His huge cock was stretching you perfectly, the lips of your pussy sucking him in at every possible chance. Despite your exhaustion, your husband had wound you up so much that you begged for tiniest semblance of a thrust into your sopping hole. “Oh my god, p-please, fuck me.”

Without warning, you decided to selfishly fuck yourself on his throbbing cock, but Scaramouche instantly snatched your throat. He held you tightly against his pecs and craned your neck with a forceful grip so that you were facing the ceiling, your oxygen partially cut off. The submissive position had your spongy walls dilating in excitement.

“No, no, wait,” he chastised you, his voice cracking slightly at the end as he struggled to adjust to your greedy cunt. “N-Need I remind you, love? Good things come to those who wait; and if you’re lucky, I’ll cum in you.”

He couldn’t believe your pussy was still quaking around his girth, releasing your neck as you nodded obediently. Once he pulled you into him tightly with his strong arms around your stomach, Scaramouche nudged your legs closed so that you could completely envelope his cock. It was incredibly hot every time he shifted to get more comfortable and your walls only swallowed him further. His breathing calmed slightly, wanting to relax with you for the rest of the night deep within your cunt.

“I-It feels too good, Scara,” you whined, cuddling into the pillow on the couch and clutching the warm blanket to your chest.

For the love of Celestia, your body was so exhausted from work but at the same time you wished you had the strength to fuck him like crazy. You made a mental note to wake him up tomorrow morning with the feeling of your folds lubricating his hardened cock, sinking completely onto his impressive length when his pretty indigo eyes sleepily opened for the first time. You’d make sure to hush him and keep his sleeping mask on snugly, fucking him to your heart’s content.

But for now, your husband returned to worshipping the expanse of your soft curves, coaxing you to relax despite the occasional twitch of his cock inside you. Scaramouche’s voice was smooth as silk when he whispered into the crook of your neck, “See? That wasn’t so bad now. Why don’t you turn on your show and I’ll keep this pretty pussy of yours company for as long as you need, hm?”

You both melted into each other’s embrace, connected in every way imaginable for the first time in a long time. The sensation of your lover’s cock nestling into your folds slowly nudged your sweet spot, drawing breathy moans out of you. He thrusted slowly but deeply, marveling at the lust clouding your eyes pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Though Scaramouche was enraptured by the heavenly sound of your pussy slurping his cock, the need burning in his core was beginning to overtake him. “Mm, turn around for me, babe.”

He was gentle and attentive to you as he helped you face him, holding you firmly against his chest and quickly ensuring his cock didn’t leave your cunt for too long. As he stuffed you full, his mouth captured yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers dug into your hair, keeping your lips planted on his as you lazily swirled your tongue on his own and moaned his name.

“Nnghh, can’t take it anymore,” Scaramouche growled hungrily into your mouth, lifting your leg slightly to support you so he could delve his cock deeper. His tone trailed off in a quiet beg, “Lemme breed you, (Y/N). Please…”

“Mhmm,” you agreed without hesitation, cupping your lover’s cheek and kissing him with growing reckless abandon.

He was unequivocally smitten by your ardent claim to his lips, groaning lewdly into the kiss as he began to fuck your desperately pulsating pussy. His grip on you tightened, focusing solely on ravaging your walls until you were on the verge of screaming his praise.

“Hah, that’s it. Goddamn it, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he takes your lower lip between his teeth roughly, plunging ruthlessly and chasing his impending orgasm. “You can take it, you can take it, yeah… you better fucking cum all over me or else, I swear…”

You reeled him in with a firm tug of his dark purple locks, nearly crying in pleasure onto his tongue intermingling with yours. Moaning and whimpering like a whore, you clutched onto your lover like your life depended on it. “O-Oh my god, Scara, shit, I’m cumming! I’m… mmph, f-fucking c-cumming…!”

Scaramouche pounded his cock into your sopping release, a guttural groan escaping him as he generously coated your spasming walls with loads of his hot seed. He kept himself buried in your cum-laden folds, your erotic juices mixing around the base of his cock while he kissed you softly.

“God… you have no idea how much I missed you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

#thank you for the request anon! :)#i could really use a night like this omg i got a little carried away hehe😩#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fatui #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut

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luv4georgie · 4 months

Text

stream interrupted.

dad!Lando Norris x mum!reader

in which formula one star, Lando Norris, and his girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n, have a child and sooner or later… she’s definitely gonna want to be in his streams. right?

“what was i made for?”

you and Lando have been together 7 years and when you were 21 you had gotten pregnant unexpectedly. 3 years later and you had a daughter, Lillia.

Lando was currently streaming and you were watching Tangled with your beautiful 3 year old daughter in the living room. she was sitting on the floor colouring a picture of your little family she had drew. you were on the couch watching the film. “NO!” you heard Lando shout. wondering what he was getting up to you decided to stand up quietly and tiptoe out of the living room.

you had gotten to the door of the room he was streaming in. you quietly opened the door. watching him and making sure you weren’t in view of the camera. you cracked open the door slightly so you could see him. before you could leave and go back to watching the film the door opened a little bit more. it wasn’t until about 2 seconds later that you realised that yoy weren’t touching the door at all.

before you knew it you saw a small figure waddling into the room. her beautiful coloured hair swaying as she did so. you saw her get closer to her dad’s set up. she stared wide eyes at the colourful screen above her. she reached her hand up to tap Lando. he didn’t realise she had tapped him until he saw people’s comments.

f1luvrfl: LILLIA!

charlesbae2: OMG LILS 💖💖

landoxy/n: SHES SO CUTE HELP 🫧💖💕💞🌸

he looked down to the side of him after reading the chat. “hi froggie” Lando said to the small being next to him. he picked her up and placed her on his lap. chat went wild talking about the nickname. she smiled brightly at everything and everyone behind the screen. “daddy!” she giggled hugging his neck. he smiled and swivelled around in his chair to face you. ‘sorry’ you mouthed. he smiled and swivelled back around.

“where did you come up with the nickname” he mumbled squinting at the fast moving chat. “well chat… obviously her name is Lillia so she has other nicknames like Lils and Lili so just thought that Froggie was nice because she loves frogs and because Lili, lilipads-” he said confidently. he stared down at his little girl. she began to hide in his chest when he started talking. he stroked her hair and answered a few more questions like ‘how did you handle the pregnancy?’ and ‘how is she so well behaved?’.

he was so proud of his little girl and loved her so much. she was a daddy’s girl. but also could be a mummy’s girl at times. she went to almost every race and enjoyed it. when she couldn’t go she would watch them. cheering her father on and always cuddled him when he got sad about not winning. he really did love her and she loved him just as much. but you loved both of them the most.

he didn’t care when she interrupted anything. if anything he loved it. it was adorable.

#Spotify #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #dad!lando norris #lando norris #f1 x reader imagines #f1

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hai7ani · 2 months

Text

divorced parents au / with your faves

When your daughter turned two, you and your husband had brought her to Disneyland as her birthday gift. Growing up, Umi was always fond of the 12 Disney Princesses ー more specifically Princess Belle ー and she keeps a photograph of her and Belle at a meet and greet on her nightstand. Her father's half-expected her favourite to be Ariel, given that Ariel and Umi do go pretty well together. (Ariel and the sea.)

In Disneyland that summer your baby has had the time of her life, so she starts asking for it every birthday (which slowly turned into every milestone) and up until then you both have had no issues with bringing her there. He'd told you once that if going there makes her happy then he was willing to visit again, no matter the amount of times and the slight boringness he'd have to face when waiting in line to go on rides or booths.

Today she had learned how to properly draw a flying bird in art class after failing a few times and drew flying chickens instead. When you picked her up from school, the first thing she said after showing you her art proudly was, 'Let's go to Disneyland, Mama! Let's go with Daddy!'

You would bring her if you could. You know you would in a heartbeat.

But it has been two years since her last visit to Disneyland, and you and your husband aren't together anymore.

So when he comes over for dinner tonight ー just like he has been every Friday without miss ever since your divorce ー you show him Umi's drawing of the flying bird.

"Can I bring this back with me? I'd like to frame it up." He asks. In his head he plans to hang it on the wall of his living room, right on top of his television, next to your family portrait.

You eat a piece of the orange he'd peeled. "Of course."

At noon when your daughter asked, you told her no. So at night she is tugging on her father's shirt with a red face full of tears and she is begging for him to stay.

"Stay here, daddy. Don't go." She cries to him at the foyer. Only one side of his shoe is put on and he kicks it away quick when she attempts to climb into his arms.

"You'll see me again on Sunday, Mimi." He attempts to console her. "We're gonna go to the mall together 'n we'll find the toy you've been wanting."

Her father scoops her into his arms and sits on the floor. She kicks her feet in the air and wails.

"But I want to go to Disneyland with you and Mama." She sobs into his arms. He pecks her crown and shushes her a little.

When your chest gets too heavy you push yourself off the wall you've been leaning against and turn your back to them.

(You've been watching the duo since the moment her father was putting on his shoe, ready to leave, and your daughter came running after him in her pyjamas with wet tears already streaming down her cheeks.)

And Umi continues to cry while her father rocks her in his arms, trying his best to console her.

While walking away from the scene, you pick on the skin around your thumb. Your nose sours and you try pinching it in hopes of soothing it a little.

"Why d'ya wanna go to Disneyland?" You hear him ask before you disappear into the hallway. It's funny how he still asks even though you and him both know that going or not going to Disneyland was never the problem.

Umi sniffles. Her father hums for her to say it.

You hide behind the door of your bedroom.

"I want Mama, Daddy and Umi together again."

Just the three of us together in Umi's favourite place.

You cry.

"She's asleep now."

You pause from folding laundry at the couch and look up. He's got both hands in his pockets and a soft smile planted on his face.

He's also a mess, you notice ー his shirt a little stretched and out of place from how hard your daughter had been tugging on it earlier, the fabric wet from tear and snot stains, his hair a bit disheveled (you figure he was resting beside her when putting her to sleep), and he's moving to sit beside you on the couch now.

You smile back. "Thank you. I haven't been able to calm her down easily these days."

He picks up one of the garments from the pile and starts folding it beside you. "It's fine. You know I like doing it." I like being a dad, is what he wishes to say. But he knows you know it already and he holds his tongue.

Neither of you say a thing to each other after that and he continues helping you with the laundry. He folds your bra the way you prefer and your daughter's school uniform neatly so that it doesn't crease.

You steal a few glances at him without shame while stacking his sweatpants onto his pile of clothes.

"Your hair's getting long." You comment.

"Is it?" He raises his brows, genuinely wanting to know.

"Yeah." You reach a hand up to comb through his soft strands of hair. You push them back and try parting it on the middle.

"I've been busy." He's got a boxy, kind of nervous smile on his face when he explains. "Can't really see well through the mirror anyway." He rubs his nape.

You chuckle. "Want me to cut it for you?"

"Okay."

You still keep a room for your ex-husband even after the end of your marriage and he's given you the house.

You like telling yourselves it's solely for the sake of your daughter, for when she misses her father a little too much and refuses to let him leave.

But both of you know that's not really the case.

Somehow it didn't feel right when he was in the process of moving out to his new apartment somewhere in Meguro, and you slowly realise that you'd be having an empty room all to yourself.

(Back then you didn't think you could cope with living alone in the house you used to love each other in ー in the house you'd both created a life in.

You still don't now. Not really, anyway.)

So you transform the room that used to be his study into his own bedroom just right across the master (yours). He didn't reject the idea when you told him so.

And because of this, you leave your bedroom door open whenever he stays the night.

Tonight you do it again, and you watch him across the hall, in his room, drying off his freshly cut hair. Your head is resting on the edge of the bed with one hand tucked under your cheek and the other playing with a plush toy he'd gifted you many years ago.

When he turns to hang his towel on the wall he sees you like this. You don't shy away when he smirks.

"Goodnight." You mouth to him. You stay like that until he leaves his door open and finally gets in bed ー until he, too, shuffles around, and dangles his head off the edge of his own bed.

"Goodnight." He mouths it back to you.

You spend some time looking at each other like that ー really taking your realities in ー in rooms across each other with heads dangling off the edge of your beds, two hearts connected by the sea, and your daughter asleep in the room next to yours.

On most nights he comes over sometime during the night and helps you back on your pillow when you accidentally fall asleep like this, and every time, you'd unconsciously tug on his arm and beg him not to go.

He stays every single time.

Tonight, however, he pads over to your room while you're still awake with a pillow clutched in one hand.

"Hi." You scoot on the bed to make space for him as he throws his pillow next to yours and lays down beside you ー face to face, heart to heart. "Hey." He sighs upon getting comfortable on the bed he'd grown to find so much comfort in.

You bring the blanket up to cover his shoulders. He scoots closer to you, sneaks a hand under your shirt, and rubs a warm hand up and down your spine. (You always sleep better when he rubs your back like this.)

And while falling asleep you think to yourself that perhaps someday you'll get to try again as lovers.

You know for a fact that you'll always love him in your heart, and you'll never stop loving him even though it doesn't really make sense anymore ー just like how he'd sworn to never love again after your divorce.

Perhaps someday the both of you would be ready to move on ー still loving each other, but ready to move on from your past, from your love.

And perhaps someday the two of you wouldn't have to argue about money or time anymore. Perhaps someday he'll find a suitable work-life balance, and you're able to trust him enough to keep himself safe at work.

But for now, he's content with rubbing your back as you fall asleep next to him in the bed you'd once shared. You're content with the flowers he still buys you from time to time and cutting his hair whenever it grows out.

For now, you know that you're not ready to move on just yet. Both of you are not, and both of you have something else in mind...

You want to try again.

And you know that trying again will not be easy, but you both also know that you're willing to start all over again with everything you have if given the chance, the opportunity.

Maybe someday.

Maybe you'll give it more time.

(You feel a nudge on your elbow.)

Or...

"Wanna go to Disneyland tomorrow?"

(You smile.)

"Yes."

...Maybe tomorrow?

(He reddens all over.)

"Okay."

You'll see.

(just some characters i have in mind) TOKYO REVENGERS RAN, RINDOU, KAKUCHO, DRAKEN, NAOTO JUJUTSU KAISEN GOJO, NANAMI BLUE LOCK SAE, RIN HAIKYUU KITA, OSAMU & your faves

(i have never been to disneyland before. 😹)

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gglitch1dd · 4 months

Text

A Son

Midoriya Izuku x Fem Reader

All you ever wanted was to give your husband a son.

Warning: Pregnancy/wanting to get pregnant, struggling to conceiver

You lay in the arms of your husband in the afternoon. The afternoon light streamed through the window onto the lower part of the bed as the curtains kept you and your beloved away from the harsh afternoon light. You giggled as he kept an arm around you as you stayed in bed together. Today was one of those few days once every two weeks where Izuku had an entire forty-eight hours off and the two of you could spend the entirety of the full day and more in bed doing nothing.

“Honestly I don’t know what Shoto was thinking.” Izuku shook his head making you giggle as you stared up at your large green haired prohero for a husband. He had a small amused smile on his face as he laughed. “I mean, how do you give a newborn a pony!?”

You chuckled as you rested your head on his shoulder as you rested on hand on his broad chest. You lightly traced with your finger a prominent scar that lay down his side. “You know Shoto, he’s always a few steps behind.” Izuku hummed in agreement making you giggle.

You watched him as his chest moved up and down as he breathed. His freckled skin was warm keeping you at just the perfect temperature in his arms while lying in bed. You were both bare underneath the sheets, having spent all of last night in the throws of pleasure, heavy breathing and exchanging fluids. It was a messy affair and a tiring one but one you never got tired of participating in. Where you could just enjoy time in his arms as he took his time and had his way with you.

Izuku turned his head to look down at you, his green curls pushed back. You seemed stuck in your head for a long moment, your mind stuck on something that he couldn’t quite figure out but he was guessing it had to do with the recent topic of Sato and Pony’s new baby. He moved a hand to move up and down your back as he kept you snuggled up into his side.

“Honey…”

“Hm?” You looked up at your husband.

Izuku had a soft look on his face. He gave you a gentle squeeze. “It’s gonna happen, my love.” He spoke softly. At his words you eased as you looked up at him. “Remember what the doctor said, don’t think about it. It will happen in its own time.”

You nodded silently as you looked down away from him. Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. The both of you had been trying for a baby for the past two years, admittedly it was hard to watch your friends start having kids randomly on incident when the two of you had been trying. You did the tests and you were both in perfect health and shape, but it just wasn’t happening. At first Izuku thought it might have been all the hero work he was doing that was putting so much stress on him and you were thinking maybe you were just defective.

Izuku couldn’t count how many times he had to hug you as you cried on the floor of the bathroom holding another negative test, sobbing at how wrong you felt. How much it felt like your body couldn’t do the one thing it was made to do.

“Izuku…” Your husband hummed as he looked down at you as you kept your eyes down casted away from him. “I don’t… I don’t just want a baby.” Your voice was soft as you spoke. “I want to give you a son.”

Izuku sucked in a breath, nothing negative going through his mind. Quite the opposite actually. The words you had said stirred something within him that he didn’t know was there. It made a built up pressure in the pit of his stomach coil and tighten. “What… what do you mean?”

Your hand absentmindedly drew patterns against his skin. “I want to give you a son. I want one. A perfect little boy with our family name. The son of the Number One Prohero of Japan. Next to inherit One for All and the next symbol of peace and justice. A son that would make everything that you built, your entire legacy, worth it. Everything that you worked so hard for, to be true. I want…” You let out a stuttered breath as you rested your head against him, closing your eyes at the thought. “I want to feel him growing inside me, I want to feel my body change knowing it was you who gave me that baby. I want to feel the beauty of it and the strain and exhaustion of it. I just… I just want to be a mother. I want that, Izu. That’s all I want.”

It took a moment before Izuku gave you any sort of response. You felt his large warm scarred hand move to underneath your chin. Your eyes moved up as your head was tilted up to look at him. Your eyes widened in surprise at the look on his face, tender and yet held something behind his green poisonous eyes that you had willingly drink from time and time again. His eyes were dark as he stared down at you, making tension settle in your abdomen.

“When we got married, remember what I promised you?” He asked you calmly. You were speechless for a moment, not remembering anything specific. You shook your head. “I promised you that I would give you anything and everything that you want.” He spoke lowly.

You felt one of his hands move down your body. You gasped, your eyes fluttering at the way his hand traced down your body. You felt his thick fingers move towards your wet folds, warm cum still buried inside you. You felt two of his fingers push inside you, pushing in the leaking seed back inside you. You gasped as you arched your back at feeling him inside you.

Izuku put his lips down to your jaw, kissing your skin sweetly, despite fucking his fingers into you. His pace taking you by surprise as it was fast. The squelch of your wet dripping cunt on his fingers making you clench harder around him. You let out a stuttered moan as you closed your eyes. “Izuku! Izu! T-too much!” You cried out as your hand moved to grab onto his arm that seemed determined to have you cum on his fingers.

“When I married you,” He continued, kissing your cheek as his other hand moved to grab onto your chin and force you to look up at him as he had you shaking and dripping on his fingers. “I took every responsibility as your husband, I promised to provide for you, protect you, love you and respect you.” His actions stopped making you release a sob at being pushed to the edge only for him to stop. Your eyes were lined with tears as you looked up at him. His grip on your jaw as he stared down at you. He moved his lips down against your own, his breath heavy as he stayed over you. You weren’t sure when he moved to on top of you, his other hand having put your thighs around him as he angled his cock inside you. “You want a son?” He asked breathy as he pushed his hard cock back into you.

A strangled moan came out of you as you arched up into him. His thick cock forcing its way back inside you. You never did get used to how thick your husband was. Taking him always felt like you were being suffocated, like you couldn’t breathe. That’s just how amazing your husband felt.

Izuku let out a groan against your lips, his eyes closing briefly before looking down at you filled with lust and want. “Then I’ll give you a son.”

You stood in the bathroom with your husband standing behind you, his hands on your shoulders as you looked down at the little pale white stick that was still loading. You let out a stuttered breath as you felt anxiety and stress in your lungs. You felt like you could barely breathe properly as you stared down at the pregnancy tests that lay before you.

Izuku kissed the side of your head, his hold on you firm enough that you could tell he was nervous too. These things never got easier. You could feel tears burn at your eyes in fear of another negative, of another lost chance for a baby. You swallowed down hard as you closed your eyes, praying, wishing, hoping, aching that you and your husband will get a shot. Just one shot at being parents.

You heard beeping and opened your eyes on instinct. You looked down at all the sticks on the counter.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

You let out a sob as you nearly collapsed on the floor. Izuku quickly caught you as you sobbed in his arms. He turned you around to hold onto him as you both sunk to the floor. You had your head buried in his neck as you cried. His strong arms were wrapped around you but you could feel him shaking as he had his head tilted up in silent thanks.

“We’re- We-” You couldn’t finish the words as a smile pulled to your face as you chuckled through the cries. You felt Izuku’s broad chest vibrate with his own laughter as you turned your head up to look at him.

His face was pink and puffy as his eyes were filled with tears but a smile was on his face. He reached to cup your face as he looked down at you. He nodded his head silently. You closed your eyes as tears slipped out of your eyes. You let out a stuttered breath. You rested your head down on his chest as you took a moment to be grateful for this little miracle.

You reached a hand down to your abdomen between the both of you. You let out a stuttered sigh in relief.

-Glitch1d

#mha x y/n #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya smut #izuku midoryia smut #midoriya smut #midoriya x reader #izuku midoryia x you #deku x reader #deku smut

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andy-15-07 · 1 month

Text

Family Reunion Surprise

masterlist ! pairing Drew Starkey x reader

Summary :Drew and Y/n tell their families the big news

Outer Banks Masterlist

The Montunes, with its picturesque scenery and serene atmosphere, was the perfect setting for a family reunion. Drew Starkey and Y/n had been planning this for months, eager to bring their families together for a memorable vacation. As they stood hand in hand at the entrance, excitement and nervousness coursed through them.

"Drew, are you sure this is a good idea?" Y/n whispered, her fingers intertwined with his.

Drew squeezed her hand reassuringly, his eyes alight with determination. "Absolutely," he replied with a confident smile. "It's time for our families to come together and celebrate."

With a deep breath, they entered the main lodge, greeted by the familiar faces of their loved ones. Laughter and chatter filled the air as hugs were exchanged and old memories reminisced.

"Drew! Y/n!" came a chorus of voices as their families spotted them. They were engulfed in a sea of hugs and greetings, the warmth of their families' love washing over them.

After settling in, Drew and Y/n gathered everyone in the spacious living room, their hearts pounding with anticipation. This was it—the moment they had been waiting for.

"Hey, everyone," Drew began, his voice steady despite the nerves swirling inside him. "We have something important to share with all of you."

All eyes turned to them, curiosity sparking in their gazes.

Y/n took a deep breath, her eyes shining with emotion. "Drew and I..." she started, her voice trembling slightly. "We're engaged."

Gasps of surprise echoed through the room as Drew slipped an elegant ring onto Y/n's finger, the diamond sparkling in the soft light.

"That's not all," Drew added, his grin widening. "We're also expecting a baby."

The room erupted into cheers and applause as their families enveloped them in hugs and congratulations. Tears of joy streamed down Y/n's cheeks as she felt the overwhelming love and support surrounding them.

"Drew, Y/n, that's amazing!" Y/n's mother exclaimed, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm going to be a grandmother!"

Drew's father clapped him on the back, a proud smile on his face. "Congratulations, son. I couldn't be happier for you both."

Amidst the excitement, Drew and Y/n shared a tender glance, their love for each other shining brighter than ever. This was the moment they had dreamed of—the moment their families came together to celebrate their love and the new life they were bringing into the world.

As the night wore on, they gathered around a crackling bonfire, sharing stories and laughter beneath the starry sky. The air was filled with the sweet scent of marshmallows roasting and the sound of heartfelt conversations.

"I can't believe this is happening," Y/n whispered to Drew, leaning her head against his shoulder as they sat by the fire.

Drew wrapped his arm around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Believe it," he murmured, his voice filled with love. "This is our family now, Y/n. And nothing could make me happier."

As they watched the flames dance and the stars twinkle overhead, Drew and Y/n knew that this was just the beginning of their journey together. With their families by their side, they were ready to face whatever the future held, knowing that their love would carry them through it all.

And as they drifted off to sleep that night, the sound of laughter and love echoing in their ears, Drew and Y/n knew that they were exactly where they were meant to be—at the Montunes, surrounded by the people they cherished most in the world.

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scuderiahoney · 3 months

Note

congrats on 1k!! u deserve it so so so much<3 could i ask for danny + "you drew stars around my scars" (cardigan by taylor swift) please:)

1k celebration! 💛 thank you so much! this one was so so sweet I love soft danny

You're laying in bed with Danny early one morning. Sunshine streams in through the curtains, cast over your bare skin and his, too. He stirs slightly, opens his eyes and smiles at you, blinking long lashes over his cheeks.

He runs his hand down your bare arm and over your side. His fingers dance along your ribs, brush over your hip. Your leg is tucked over his, and he follows the line of it with his hands and his eyes. You run your own fingers against his cheek, scraping on the stubble.

His breath catches in his chest, and his fingers stop their journey. You look where he’s looking, watch him press his thumb into the mark on your knee. His brows are furrowed. It’s a long line, spanning halfway across your kneecap. His finger traces back and forth over it, and he frowns.

“I fell when I was a teenager,” you explain. “Scraped it really bad.”

He pouts, like it’s still causing you pain. Then he holds his elbow up and out so you can see the soft, smooth skin of his inner arm. There’s a line running there, too, jagged and silvery pale against the rest of his skin.

“Crashed a dirt bike when I was 11,” he says. “Didn’t tell my mum for an hour cause I was scared she’d take the bike away.”

You laugh, reaching out to trace the scar. “Did she?”

“Yeah, of course,” he laughs. “But dad gave it back eventually.”

You grin. You can just imagine little Danny, begging for the bike back, arm still bandaged up. There’s something strange about it, about the scars. About physical reminders of the lives you’d led before you even knew the other existed. Nostalgia that runs deep in your bones, days where you’d dreamt of a person like him to share your life with.

You feel his fingers moving on your knee. He’s drawing shapes, patterns- you look down, watch him trace stars against your skin. Suddenly, your throat is tight. It’s utterly ridiculous. You shouldn’t feel this way over something like this. Over your boyfriend drawing stars around childhood scars. You reach out and do the same to his. A whole constellation around a long healed wound. Maybe that’s what the two of you have been doing for each other this whole time- not just the physical scars.

When Danny leans in and kisses you, morning breath and all, you can’t help but think maybe he’s feeling it, too.

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo blurb #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel Ricciardo fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 blurb #scuderiahoney 1k blurbs #scuderiahoney 1k!#dr3 #honeywrites #x reader

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spookychick78 · 6 months

Text

Wanna Be Yours

Peepaw Myers X GN!Reader

Word Count: 6,558

⚠️Warnings: NSFW (18+, MDNI), choking, dubious consent, rough sex Michael himself is a warning, proofread but I'm human⚠️

Figured it was time I take on the old man. There's not nearly enough fanfiction out there for Peepaw. Is it over 6k? Yes. Is it self indulgent? Probably. Is it smut? Eventually.(there's some serious plot leading up) Needlessly romantic? Absolutely.

You stretched your arms out while simultaneously releasing yet another yawn. This was night two of staying up far later than planned, but insomnia had an unrelenting hold on you. Finally, it seemed it was losing its battle. Your eyes were heavy, your body the same as your yawns followed one after the other. A glass of water was all you needed, then you'd call it a night. You enjoyed the soft thud your feet made on the wooden floors, the usual pitter pattering muffled by a pair of fluffy socks you'd dawned. However, you were regretting your decision in not throwing on that pair of sweatpants before you came downstairs, it was rigidly cold, even indoors that night. Your oversized hoodie did little to protect you from the chill in the air.

You opened a cabinet, grabbed the first cup your hand landed on and brought it over to the filter in the sink. A sigh escaped you as you watched the little stream take it's sweet time filling it. Your foot had just begun to tap impatiently, it was so close to being filled, when a loud thump on the side door startled you. You dropped the cup, thankful that it landed in the sink, saving you from any mess. From where you stood, you couldn't see any movement out the little window on the door. You briefly regretted your decision not to turn on any lights as you stared, frozen in place waiting for any indication that someone was there. After a few moment's silence, the tightness in your chest dissipated and you let out the breath you'd been holding. Probably just a cat, you thought to yourself before you turned, foregoing your drink to retreat to the comfort of your room sooner rather than later. You hadn't even made it halfway up the stairs when yet another thud stopped you, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Your breath hitched and without thinking, you turned to scurry back downstairs, completely defenseless. In the shadows, you could just barely make out a figure. The only thing that was clearly visible, due to the faint gleam of moonlight, was his masked face. It was white, or it had been at some point and the eyes were two pitch black voids that seemed to be focused on the floor underneath his boots. As your eyes adjusted, you could make out a few more details, some that explained why he simply just stood there; he was injured. His hand, which was missing a couple of fingers and poorly bandaged, rested on his abdomen, clutching a wound that was still bleeding. His other hand seemed to be in just as bad a state, he'd broke the glass window with it to open the door from inside, rendering it bloodied as well. As he shakily lifted his head, those dark voids refocused their attention on you. You drew an uneasy breath, fearful of what he might do now that he'd discovered your presence. It felt like an eternity under his black gaze with only the sound of his uneven and ragged breath to break the dense silence that had settled in your kitchen, but finally something gave. He collapsed, you however stayed put for a moment more, unsure of what exactly you should do. The fact that he had a mask on wasn't entirely strange, it was Halloween after all, but he did break into your house. Perhaps he needed help? You could only hope that was his intention and he hadn't moved a muscle since he'd fallen, so with immense hesitation, you approached him. 'Intimidating' described him perfectly, even as he lay unconscious and face first on the ground. He wasn't a small man, not in the slightest. He must have been well over six feet tall from what you surmised, which meant he wouldn't be easy to move, but if you wanted to inspect his wounds you'd have to find a way. You tentatively placed a hand on his back, because if you were being honest, you weren't quite sure if he was even alive. He was, the soft whistle of breath through that mask of his and the subtle way his back rose and fell which each weak one he took confirmed that much.

"Fuck," you whispered as you contemplated how exactly you were going to turn him over, "you're not gonna make this easy on me, are you?"

You put all your strength into it and, after dropping him a few times, you managed to flip him over, "Sorry," you muttered after he'd landed on his back harder than expected.

You resisted the urge to study the face hidden behind the mask and focused your attention on his injuries, which were worse than you'd previously thought. Blood had turned the blue cloth he wore blacker than the eyes of his mask. You carefully pulled some of the fabric back to discover it was bullets than had torn through him. You winced at the sight, it wasn't something you'd be able to help much with, but you intended to do your best after at least calling for an ambulance. With that thought in mind, you stood to retrieve the first aid kit you never thought you'd have a use for and your cellphone. You wondered if he'd disappear while you had your back turned, half hoping he was simply a figment of your tired imagination, but when you returned he was still there and real as ever. You quickly dialed the emergency line, deciding to leave out the part that painted him as an intruder. You were still intent on not assuming the worst and he needed help, or so you thought. Once you hung up, you knelt down beside him again and carefully unzipped the coveralls he wore. You cursed yourself for blushing at the sight of his bare chest. He was older, the small patch of gray hair made that clear, but he didn't lack for definition despite his age. He was unreasonably built, something you fought to ignore but ultimately failed, hence the heat that had risen to your face. You gently pressed the rag to his wound and heard his breath falter at the sudden pressure, but he remained still as you cleaned him. You couldn't quite tell if he was awake, it didn't seem to matter how intently you studied those black holes, you couldn't see anything behind them to determine consciousness. But he was conscious and beyond disturbed at the predicament he found himself in, so much so that he hadn't a clue of what to do other than observe.

After you set the rag down, that mask had your full attention. The more you studied it, the more intrigued you became. It looked familiar, but you couldn't quite figure out why. You searched silently for a reason to justify what you were about to do as your hand moved closer to its edge. It would be easier for him to breathe without it on, you thought to yourself as your fingers grazed the rubber, but the moment you started to pull on it, his hand flew up to grab yours. He sat up, but doubled over as soon as he did and his grip on your wrist tightened.

"No- I'm sorry. Don't move, okay? You're hurt," you said, stumbling over your words as he flinched away from your other hand that went to his shoulder to steady him, "I just thought it'd be easier to breathe without it."

Michael's consciousness was an effort to keep, but he was aware enough to have heard what you said and it left him more than confused. The house had been so dark, he assumed it was empty, a safe place for him to rest while he waited for his strength to return. He didn't expect to find you standing there and when he did he had every intention to slaughter you, but the bullets Laurie had put in him had stripped him of that opportunity. His head whipped around for his knife while you watched, assuming he was just confused and unaware of where exactly he'd passed out.

"An ambulance should be here soon. I got you cleaned up, but you're gonna need more help than I can offer," you said, forcing his attention back to you, "you should rest though, until they get here."

Without hesitation, he shot up, entirely ignoring your suggestion and the throbbing pain in his abdomen, "Whoa, hey, what are you doing?"

Your words had little effect on him, which you soon learned as you watched him stride towards the door he'd entered from. You quickly followed behind, baffling him further. Usually, it was him who did the chasing.

"You can wait here, you don't have to-"

Naive, he thought to himself. Naive and completely out of your depth is what he made of you, but perhaps that kindness you'd shown a monster like himself was exactly what had saved your life, for now at least. He had no choice but to leave you, he'd had more than enough run ins with the authorities for one Halloween night and he knew they'd arrive any minute. He found his knife by the door and bent down to retrieve it, which was what stopped any further words from leaving your mouth. Your abrupt silence gave him pause and he turned his head slightly to find the horror of realization painted on your face. Your eyes were focused on the blade in his hand that had been decorated in red. The moonlight allowed its gleam to inform you that it was no prop, it was as real as your own blood that had run cold in your veins. It was your breath that was shaky now.

"Who are you?" You whispered.

He left you without an answer and that was weeks ago. Wondering was exactly what Michael wanted you to do and unbeknownst to you, you played along so nicely. He hadn't gone far, in fact he'd returned several times to catch you immersing yourself in his story. The night he met you, you never slept. You sat in bed with a blanked wrapped tightly around you as you listened to the details of what the man who'd broken into your home had done, of what he was. The answers you received from headlines only raised more confusion within yourself, because your name wasn't on his long list of victims. He spared you and that fact had you torn. Part of you wanted to let it go, be grateful that the shadow of death had so kindly passed over you, but there was another part that desperately wanted to know why. That part of you brought on more questions, but ones about yourself, more specifically, your own self preservation, because you wanted him to return. Sure, maybe it was simply time that was to blame, you'd called the authorities and he was a killer. He had to flee to avoid capture, but they still hadn't gotten him, he was still loose and he hadn't come back to finish you off. From what you'd learned, no one crossed Michael Myers' path and lived to tell the tale, you were alone in that. You were the first he'd left completely unscathed and unattended to, or so you thought. But Michael hadn't left you alone, not at all. He kept quite a close eye on you and with questions of his own, because in leaving you alive to wonder, he'd confused himself. The more he studied you, the worse it got. At first, it was a game, the same one he always played. The kill was always more satisfying when he had a bit of history on the subject at hand, but learning about you had become problematic. He never waited this long to strike, but you had made him hesitate. Somehow, you'd gotten to him and he couldn't seem to rid himself of the memory of you touching him. Perhaps it was because no one had before, not so gently. They'd certainly never apologized for hurting him as you had when you tended to his wounds. You cared about his well-being, it mattered to you that night. Enough so that you went out of your way to save him. He would have survived without your assistance, but it was the thought that counted, you thought about him in a way that no one ever had before. Now, you searched for him, unabashedly. He knew you weren't just gazing out of your window for the sake of it, you wanted to find him. He wondered if you a had a sixth sense, because he was always there, hidden in the shadows your eyes wandered to after the street lights turned on. You'd even begun to leave it open once you'd gone to bed, something that really piqued his curiosity. What would you do if he found his way in, what would you do if he gave you what you wanted and showed himself? Would you run or would he find himself in a situation in which he was the one who was out of his depth? Michael had gone his entire adult life without worrying about such things and he hated that finally, he'd been caught in such a trap. He wanted to hate you for it, but when you appeared in your window again and locked eyes with him in the darkness without even knowing it, he couldn't. He wanted to find one, just one single flaw that he could latch onto, but he couldn't and it ate at him. You were perfect, infuriatingly so. The way you moved haunted him in the most unexpected of ways and you were so young, so full of life that he should have wanted to drain, but death was so far removed from what he wanted to give you. His brow furrowed underneath his tattered mask as he contemplated it, because in truth, he hadn't a clue what exactly it was he wanted from you, he just knew it was you that he wanted and it was driving him to madness, to discomfort he'd never felt in all his life.

You disappeared from his view, retreating into shadows yourself once you decided he wasn't there. That was when he began to move unconsciously towards the door he'd entered through before. His heart pounded within his chest as he drew closer, unsure of what he would do once he was face to face with you again, but he needed to be, there was no question about that any longer. More than that, he needed to know what you would do, if you were different from the rest and if you could give him rest from the turmoil you'd caused within his mind, body and if he had one, soul. The house was dark, just as it had been the first time he arrived, only now, the door was unlocked. An invitation, he thought to himself with further intrigue. You did want him there, you must have, because who in their right mind left their house open for entry with a killer on the loose? He ought to teach you a lesson, but then again, no one was more of a threat than he was and he didn't intend to leave you unattended. If you wanted to leave your doors unlocked, so be it, but he would be your only visitor if he got his way and really, didn't he always?

His hand glided along the kitchen counter as he steadily made his way to the stairs, pausing at the bottom to study the stream of light that bathed the blackened hallway above in an eerie orange glow. His head tilted when it went out, leaving you entrapped in darkness. The sixth sense he suspected you had only became more prominent, he breathed easier without light to touch him and you had turned it off. Further invitation, of course, so he took the first step, then another. The faint creak of the wooden boards didn't seem to alert you to his presence, the light stayed absent and he appeared in your doorway to find you settled in bed. Sleep hadn't found you yet, but he had and you stirred when you felt the unease brought about by an unknown gaze lingering on your body. At first, the shadows all but consumed him, then his figure became clearly visible. Just an outline, tall and broad, but you recognized him.

Slowly, you propped yourself up with eyes that were wide open. You wanted this, but now he was here and you hadn't a clue of what to do, or what he would do. Words escaped you, but you didn't fear his silence this time nor the deafening hum that sat heavily between the two of you. It was energy, an unspoken desire to be near to each other was what it was, you knew that now without a doubt in your mind. He'd come back, just as you hoped he would, but for what purpose and why was it you had wanted him to?

Your legs slid off the side of the bed until your bare toes met the cold wooden floor below. He'd yet to move, so you tested the limits of what he would allow. His eyes, unseen, studied those carefully made movements closely. There was no distance to dull your actions anymore and he soaked each one in as he watched you stand, fascinated. He didn't have to hear it to know your heart was racing within your much smaller frame, you were prey approaching a predator, but it wasn't fear he found in your curious eyes, it was awe. As if he was just as unreal to you as you were him. His head lowered with his gaze, because now you truly were face to face. Your neck in turn craned up as you listened to that familiar whistle of breath through his mask.

"Michael," you whispered up at him.

He rushed forward so abruptly you didn't even have time to scream. He backed you against the wall, but didn't touch you, not right away. He simply stood there, shoulders heaving, head down in front of you. His breath was uneven and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides as if it was an arduous struggle to withhold himself.

But from what? You thought as you stood there silently searching for the answer you'd clearly die to retrieve. He didn't have his knife, at least not within his grasp or reach. His hands were his only weapons and he hadn't even used those on you, not in the way you had expected. Your hands remained at your side, unmoving and his gaze dipped to one. His breath evened as he studied it contemplatively, his shoulders stilled and he seemed puzzled, or so you assumed. Hesitantly, he reached for one. His fingers grazed your skin, slowly grappling for more purchase. Finally, he hooked one of them with yours and brought it to the other. He brought it up and you watched, confused as he traced the lines on your palm that were visible to him in the moonlight. The cool glow even allowed you to catch a glimpse of those eyes you'd searched for the last time he was in your home. One was an eerie, milky white, left without sight from one of the many wounds he'd gathered throughout the years. The other was the lightest of blue, icy in color, but there was warmth hidden somewhere inside that fought through as he allowed himself to fall prey to your touch once more. It was his choice this time, he was very aware as he pressed his palm to yours. Delicate and dangerous were the only two words that came to Michael's mind, because though you couldn't overpower him physically, he felt weakened in ways more damning than bodily wounds.

"Why are you here?"

Your whispered words did little to distract him from the dilemma he held in his hands. If anything, he should have been asking you that question. Why were you stillhere, allowing him to dive further into obsession, destroying everything he knew to be true about himself with just the tips of your fingers? It was cruel and unjust that someone like yourself, someone so small and seemingly insignificant held such power over him. It was infuriating, maddening and he wondered if you knew as his eyes met yours only to melt further. You didn't look away, no, instead you matched his intensity with brows that were furrowed in curiosity. That uncomfortable pounding in his chest returned and what he could only assume was rage forced his breath to quicken again, but then you intertwined your fingers with his, which made everything stop all at once.

"Are you going to kill me?"

The answer to that question was what frightened him most. Without warning, he ripped his hand from yours along with his gaze and turned to disappear down the hallway. It was an unforgivable mistake on his part to return to you, that much was certain, because no, he wasn't going to kill you. In fact, the encounter hadn't given him a single answer as to what he wanted with you, it only worsened his confusion and brought about doubt of himself. Perhaps he did have a weakness, a living, breathing one. He needed to escape it, kill whatever it was inside of him that betrayed him so wickedly. Your footsteps behind him made him grit his teeth as he strode through the door he'd left open to leave you to the night, but your hand found his wrist before he could vanish.

"Wait," you demanded.

The sudden and unwelcome contact forced his instinct back to the surface and before you could blink, you were forced back into your kitchen with a hand around your neck. The wind was knocked out of you when your back hit the counter and you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid that perhaps you'd finally crossed that thin line you'd been treading on since the moment you met him, but his grip didn't tighten. He watched you brace yourself and in turn, crumbled at the sight. Prey, he thought to himself, you were supposed to look just as you were with his hand around your throat. You were supposed to be frightened, you were supposed to beg for your life and yet, when your trembling hands met his wrist, it was the last thing he wanted you to do. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear you beg, he did, but he wasn't quite sure what for as he had you pinned with his own body pressed against you. He'd seen this dance before, but it wasn't one he ever bothered to learn. Human touch such as this for Michael only ended death, he'd never been forced to consider any other use for his hands. He thought back to his own worries earlier that night and realized he was indeed out of his depth, just as he was afraid he would be. He had you exactly where he wanted you, but what now? His head canted to the side as he watched your chest rise and fall in quick succession. Your eyes were still glued shut, anticipating death, but death had a different idea. The safety of darkness still surrounded the two of you and with your eyes refusing to open, Michael lifted his mask up. You felt his fingers brush your jaw and inch their way into your hair to hold the back of you head, then you felt something else. A kiss was what he gave you, gentle and inexperienced, but in his softness you received the answer you'd searched so diligently for. He lingered there for a moment, stunned by his own actions and more so when you returned them. You kept your hands on his wrist and kept them still, aware that this was his limit, this was all he could handle for the time being, but you guided him in your wordless response. Your lips pressed firmer against him, you moved slowly, but deepened it with each press. His hand began to tangle in your locks, clenching as his mind screamed for release, for violence. It was an effort to fight off those instincts, but he did so valiantly just for a few more moments of this, of softness, of you. You carefully lifted your hand to place it over his, which still rested at the back of your head, fingers knitted tightly in your hair. He relented, just slightly, but when you let out that soft sigh, it was too much. It was too intimate and just like that, his lips left you as did his hand. When you opened your eyes you were alone, as if his touch had simply been a dream all along. The only evidence of reality was the door, which he'd left ajar to leave you with nothing but the sound of wind to fill his absence.

Questions were what he'd left the first time, but now, it was frustration that consumed you in his wake. You'd gotten an answer, in a sense. He didn't want to kill you, he wanted you and you kept it safely hidden within the walls of your pericardium that he wasn't alone in his desire. He left you wanting, wishing and waiting for a killer to return and finish what he'd started, for him to claim you as his own. The mere thought had you unraveling, because what on earth was wrong with you? Why had you allowed such a thing to happen in the first place? Why did you kiss him? More importantly, why did you love every second of it? His lack of experience hadn't dulled the sensations he forced upon you, if anything it enhanced them. Haddonfield's reaper had chosen you and spared you the scythe for a kiss, one you couldn't seem to stop from popping into your mind at the most inconvenient times. It haunted you and it stripped you of each and every one of the morals you thought you'd had, based on one simple fact; you wanted more. However, this time months passed and you were forced to find ways to pluck him from your mind, which meant when a coworker called you up to ask if you'd like to go to dinner, you said yes. Of course, putting an end to the fantasy of Michael wasn't quite as simple as it sounded. Dinner was spent with your head on a swivel, half paranoid he'd find you and be less than pleased, half hoping he would and save you from the drab conversation you'd allowed yourself to endure for the sake of distraction. You were right to think he'd be watching and safe to say 'less than pleased' was an understatement. Jealousy was something Michael wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. In fact, he was convinced he really was starting to hate you for bringing so many emotions he didn't understand to the surface. Torture was clearly what you intended to put him through, but that was something he was well versed in and as he watched you kiss your date goodnight, he made a decision. You were indeed going to learn your lesson and if it ended in death, well, that would be your price for causing him such agony, because he didn't expect to behave gently after watching someone else's hands, someone else's lips touch what was his.

You kept your smile in place as you politely waved goodbye, but once the taillights disappeared you allowed it to fall with a groan and quickly wiped your mouth. Your date's enthusiasm for you was beyond unreciprocated, but you'd play the part well, perhaps too well. Hopefully he wouldn't call, you thought to yourself as you strolled up the walkway to your front door. You let out a sigh when you realized you'd forgotten to leave the porch light on and you had about a million keys to sift through in total darkness, of course. To make an already annoying night worse, you tripped. You managed to catch yourself, but the keys hadn't been so lucky. You bent down to retrieve them, cursing under your breath as you stood back up. You fumbled with them a moment more before finally pushing the key into the lock, but that was about as far as you got. You hadn't even heard footsteps to alert you to his presence, but suddenly, you found yourself pushed face first against the door and before you could let out a scream, a hand covered your mouth. It was familiar, the missing fingers were a dead give away. His other went to yours and forced you to turn the key. Why he'd even bothered unlocking it was a mystery, because he promptly turned you around and threw you over his shoulder before he broke the door open with brute force. Struggling was no use, he had a vice grip on your hips as he strode through the threshold with purposeful steps only to drop you on the counter.

"What the hell is your deal with me?" You spat out before you could stop yourself.

But before you even had time to regret your choice in tone, his hand was around your neck. That gentle grip he once had was lost and replaced with a menacing one that took your breath away. Your hands wrapped around his wrist with rage of your own at this cat and mouse game he was playing with you.

"M-Michael," you stuttered out with a pained expression, "whatever you're gonna do, just do it already."

You worried you'd come to regret that statement when he pushed you back on the cool marble with such force it made your head spin. His hand momentarily abandoned it's hold on you and you pushed yourself up just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. The blue you'd once seen in his left one had turned dark, his pupil was overblown to erase any color, but it wasn't death you saw in that eerie gleam. Far from it. A different instinct had taken over and he knew exactly what he wanted to do to you. He quickly reached behind you and brandished a knife from the block on your counter. His movement's were hurried, frantic even as he tugged you forward by your hips so his waist rested between your legs. Then, he raised the knife up and you braced yourself. You must have mistaken that darkness in his eyes, it must have been bloodlust, you thought to yourself, but when he plunged it down it wasn't your flesh that tore. He'd taken it to your jeans, cutting them just enough so that when he tossed the knife behind you and grabbed each side of the fabric with his hands, he was able to rip them clean off of you. He didn't need the blade to remove the rest and now you were almost entirely exposed to him, save the top you silently resented him for destroying next. It looked expensive, Michael thought with a smirk behind his mask, but it looked much better torn to pieces. He was almost as unkind to his own clothes, he tugged the zipper of his coveralls down with such force the metal came loose and fell to the floor, leaving him free of any further confinement. You didn't even have time to glance down before he tossed on of your legs over his shoulder, pushed the other one to the side and plunged into you so deeply you feared you'd be ripped in two, just like your jeans. He allowed you no time to adjust, or catch your breath before he set an inhuman pace, one arm wrapped tightly around the leg over his shoulder and the other hand gripping your thigh hard enough to draw blood with his fingernails. He was silent, frighteningly so, while you failed to do the same. In fact, it seemed he was hell bent on making you scream, because once he found one particular spot that made your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open, he never left it. He managed to hit it each and every time he pushed into you and he relished in those gasps that quickly turned to wanton cries. Pain mingled with pleasure in a dizzying manner and you tried desperately to reach for him, to find anything to steady yourself on, but it was useless. He wanted to see you struggle and you were doing it perfectly, but if you wanted stability, he'd allow some. He stopped abruptly, bottoming out and drawing a pitiful whine from your open mouth so he could hook his fingers over your bottom teeth. With his thumb under your chin and his index and middle lodged in your mouth, he pulled you up by your jaw, the pain dulled by the overwhelming pleasure he'd pummeled your nearly limp body with. He brought you close, your half lidded eyes struggled to stay open as he lifted the bottom half of his mask up with his other hand and pressed his lips to your ear.

"Mine," he growled, low and harshly.

His breath fell hot over your bare neck, causing the ache between your legs to peak, begging for him to continue, but instead of giving you what you wanted right away, he pulled back and left you empty to readjust his mask. You whined, reaching for him before he grabbed your shoulders and turned you. He bent you over the counter and forced himself back inside of you while his hand snaked around your throat. He lifted you back up so that your back was pressed hard against his chest and the mouth of his mask was back at your ear.

"Say it," he breathed as he thrusted forward, slow but forceful.

You'd barely registered that he'd spoken the first time and now, with him buried so deeply inside of you, your cognizance was long gone. Each time he moved he seemed to go deeper, fully aware of the torture he was delivering in forcing you to hang on the edge of your orgasm. He could feel your body tensing around him, he knew you were dangerously close. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you struggled to form the response he desired.

"Yours," you whispered, but that didn't seem to satisfy him.

He thrusted harder, driving your body upwards. When your hand went to steady yourself on the counter, he grabbed it and held it tightly behind your back while the other squeezed your neck until you felt light as air. He grit his teeth, fighting off his own orgasm for the sake of punishing you further.

"Say it," he repeated with malice.

You were right there, so close to release that your mouth simply couldn't stay shut, but it wasn't breath you were so desperate for. You held it, brows furrowed in a mix of pain and pleasure so brutal you weren't entirely sure you'd survive another thrust. You felt his teeth at your neck, biting down as he let out a groan. It appeared he was in torment too, desperate in his own right to find release inside of you. His voice had driven you to madness, but those breathy moans he couldn't seem to hold in any longer were what sent you over the edge and that only made his struggle to maintain control harder. Your body pulsed so deliciously around him. You were tight enough to begin with, but now? It was too much and his head dipped lower in the crook of your neck to nip at your shoulder as his hips began to tremble from the exerted effort to keep his pace controlled. Not yet, not until he heard you say it.

"Michael," you gasped with your eyes wide open, though between the lack of oxygen and the intensity of pleasure, all you saw was white, "I'm yours, all yours. I'm yours."

Your whispered promises never stopped, they fell from your lips like little prayers and they had him spiraling. His ragged breath and the way each of his hands gripped you tighter and tighter should have broken you, but you clung to what little air he allowed for more of him. He'd long abandoned that slow, meticulous pace to chase his own high with a vengeance. His hand left your wrist and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flush against him when he found release. He bent forward, panting underneath his mask as he pressed you against the marble countertop.

"Yours," he heard you continue whispering and he loosened his grip on your neck.

He stayed like that for awhile, still buried deep within you and baffled by the entire ordeal, but you were so warm. No part of him wanted to separate from you or leave those little whispers behind. You felt his thumb absentmindedly brushing circles over your jaw and you supposed that must have been what brought you back to total consciousness, but you stayed still, afraid that if you moved he'd leave. His sudden softness was unexpected given the brutality he'd just displayed, but you found yourself melting into it. Between the exhaustion that had settled into your bones and the delirium that filled your head, those rough, calloused hands of his were exactly what you needed to bring you back down to earth with grace. He too was warm and you couldn't help but press your cheek into his palm, which caused his brow to furrow behind his mask. When his head withdrew from the crook of your neck, you let out a weak moan in protest, but he continued his departure from you in silence.

"Michael," he heard you mutter softly as he struggled through his own haze to gather himself.

He paused to observe your wrecked state. You still hadn't moved a muscle and he wasn't entirely sure you could even if you wanted to. He'd annihilated you, had you for his own and he should leave now. Right?

"Please don't leave me," you whispered.

You didn't expect him to oblige your simple request, you knew he'd already far surpassed his limits. You were killing him, he thought to himself and in such a strange way. It was instinct you'd stolen along with something else he supposed he did have after all, because as he watched you try and fail to push yourself up, it skipped a beat. He was aware he could blame it on age or his usual pent up fury, but he knew that would be a lie. It was you. You were both a curse and a cure to the quietus that possessed him, a plague upon the heart he once thought had lost it's rhythm to violence. It was mercy you'd infected him with when you touched him, when you healed him and mercy was something so foreign to Michael, but for you, he supposed he could try to give you his own version. You hadn't the energy to even feel surprise when he took you into his arms, but you had just enough left to smile as you rested your cheek against his chest. Perhaps he'd be gone when you woke or maybe he'd stay. Either way, you were Michael's. Or was it the other way around?

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