#hes just fucking w the knife now

[campirebites]

I just booked my tattoo and I could cry of happiness

#it’s Ellie’s knife from tlou with a lil banner that says endure and survive #I am in fact enduring and surviving ! #I have been experiencing the horrors #but I have not relapsed!! I have not harmed myself! I’m v proud of myself! #so we are getting stabbed as a reward #it’s what he (me) deserves #I’m also chatting w another artist about a custom that’s so fucking important to me #tattoos are such a magical way to reclaim your body #shoutout to my guy Mikey #My first tattoo from him was literally free bc he was an apprentice just starting on real skin #and now he’s graduated and still so talented!! #I have needed something like this to look forward to and hold onto so badly #camsmusings

[reikunrei]

tbh i feel like if i had to pick a single standout performance out of everyone in stranger things... it would probably be gaten matarazzo. like, i feel like he very consistently gets scenes so perfect and so genuine, while other charas always have at least one scene where i go “eh, that didn’t feel like the best take they could have used.” not with gaten. he is, as dustin would say, right on the money every time

#every now and then the post i made abt sadie sink's performance gets a few more notes #and while i do think that she did a fuckawesome job in s4 #it mostly stands out bc she had to do a lot of really heavy stuff and was the focus of the season #but man. gaten is just so fucking good #i feel like the only scene i can think of where i feel like his performance was off #would be when theyre talking w eddie in the boathouse and he's like. explaining who vecna is #like it feels a little Too dramatic but. it's still like. good. just not my personal taste maybe?? idk #i feel like the dramatic moments in this show are like a balancing act on a knife's edge #sometimes they work perfectly and other times im like okay this just feels silly and dumb #but. gaten still makes it work most of the time when dustin is involved #idk. anyway. i was just thinking about that today #like. im gonna start rewatching the show this weekend/this week #and i wanna pay attention to him and see if any moment stands out as being like a poor performance #bc i really can't think of anything off the top of my head... but for a lot of other charas i immediately can #i say all of this as if i know ANYTHING about acting hsjdfklg DONT MIND ME #now im go to bed for real i think... #i say things #gaten matarazzo #dustin henderson #stranger things

[the-furies]

and like "ok but that's the most sensible thing 2 ship out of all the options there" well whwrre's the content abt it huh. where is it. Where. WHERE. where for the lvoe pf god xan tou fucking link me to it WHERE IS IT

#pk;m electrochemistry🔴 #im normal im normal im normal im #ANYWAYS! #HI IT'S 3 AM AND THIS IS RHE MOST NORMAL I'VE FELT I T HE PAST DAY! HI! HI! HIII #im gojg to apss the fuck out AGAIN girl im in hell #the meds have fucked w headspace viewing & sys communication SO MUCH but yknow who's up front now???? Vol is. <3. #and also some fucjjf guy named Gabriel I met yesterday?? he's cool as hell thofuh #literally an angel. archangel specifically. idk he's glowy and he just exists apparently idk what variation #dude i don't go to whatever the fuck he's from. i don't CARE #he has the braincell he could fucking kill me if he wanted and I'd be understanding like YEAH OK! #THAT'S COOL & PROBABLY THE BEST IDEA IN THIS SITUATION HAVE AT IT! AISISKDKCKCCKXLXKF #ohj he's pointing at knife at me BETTER GO BACK TO BED! AISISJSKDXKCMCK

[moe-broey]

KNIFE RESTORED!!!!!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

I had like. Beach sand. Stuck in it for like two years and I just. Didn't do anything about it until now HAHAHAHA I read up on how to deal w it but I was unsure about it and then I forgor

But I got some advice and guidance from the friend who gave me it after reconnecting, so!!!!!! PEACE AND LOVE ON PLANET EARTH 💕💖💗💞💕💖💗💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕

#will probably delete later BUT. BUT. I'M SO HAPPY I'M SO EXCITED #it's as good as new now thoygh and i'm SO EXCITED I HAVE MY HEAVY DUTY HEFTY KNIFE BACK #i love my flaming skull gay lovers one. but this one just has an entirely different effect when i show it off HAHAHA #like okay yeah sure milo has a fucking flaming skull rainbow knife why wouldn't he. #but have you seen THIS -- i show it off and everyone in the room is varying degrees of dismayed and scared for me #they ask me if it's even legal to carry that around. i'm really not sure but i like it so :) they beg me to please be careful. #but they are also in awe of the knife. it is a very cool knife. there is no denying it is a sturdy and fucking kickass knife. #oooh and if it wasn't clear i took it apart and cleaned it and oiled it! put it back together ect #i love the very specific emotion/reaction this knife in particular invokes in my family members though. #anywhere from unable to resist the allure of a good fucking knife but also please don't get arrested #to dear lord PLEASE for the love of god be careful with that thing screaming crying throwing up about it HAHAHAHA #all said w fun and love LMFAOO #also i have a renewed deep sense of awe and respect for the knife itself. a knife is like an animal. like a printer or a horse.

[el-im]

The Silencers (1966) dir. Phil Karlson

- Recognize the trademark? - Big O.  - Remember them? - Oh, yes, Tina. But I’ve been on leave from I.C.E for a long time, and as far as I’m concerned, I am out of it.  - You’re never out of ice. 

#films #this movie is so fucking bad and im only 20 mins into it #but! who cares. drooling over dean martin's old ass. #incidentally 'big o' is what kaleb inexplicably insisted on calling me in high school #so that's weird #id have forgotten it completely if i hadnt typed out that caption #this movie is like austin powers but not funny #also. harcourt fenton mudd. #this is so sexy... knife camera... #'that is not a girl tina--that is a disaster area' just say me and move on #actually ? i take it all back. two seconds of dean martin -- sans pants -- w a poncho on. and this is the best movie ive ever seen in my lif #'talk about a booby trap' im shooting myself #'i believed that telephone bit and it was a gasser' OH HES GOT JOKES #'he's a SEX MANIAC' uhh yeah my comment on this line has been irrevocably censored #PLEASE frank sinatra's 'come fly with me' playing on the radio and him saying 'oh turn him off hes terrible!' #*everybody loves somebody playing over the radio* dean martin: now there's a guy that can sing! #king shit

[lovverletters]

👉👈 yandere serial killer...??? Maybe?? Like just this big scary dude with a mask and a big fuck all weapon like a butcher's knife or something and hes so big and scary but he sees his darling as he's just head over heels in love and obssessed and stalks them and makes sure they are safe.

Maybe leaves gifts as a way to try and court his darling even (trial and error style)

So like he leaves maybe a dead animal like a fucking cat cause he's this kinda survival guy and he's trying to provide food but darling is freaked out, so he tries again with something else maybe bones. Doesn't work. Tries to figure out what they like and tries again with their favorite flower or something.

Like he's out of touch with society cause again big serial killer who likely lives out in the woods, kills people who get to close to his home etc so he's really trying to win over his darling who lives closer to the town/city or something.

Just.... I just love big scary man who is so scary and mean but is ONLY nice and soft to his darling and tries to be so gentle, especially if his darling is much smaller than him.

No pressure if you dont wanna do this! Just!!! Giving out some ideas!

♡♡♡

♡Bunny

Yandere! Serial Killer

A/N : thank you for requesting! I changed a few things if you don't mind💖 this is like an intro for him? I'll write more if people like this dude

T/W : Obsessive behaviour, murder, mentions of dead animal.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"─yet another body has been discovered near a park at Heartfelt Avenue this morning. The police were alerted to the scene after a man who was walking his dog stumbled upon the deceased body covered with deep cuts that were shaped into a heart. This marks the twelfth victim of the serial killer, 'Lovelorn' that has left communities in fear──"

The news forecaster were cutted off as [Name] switch the television off. Their stomach churned with uneasiness at the reports of the new killing. With the serial killer still on the loose, god knows who'll be next?

It could be them.

It's a terrifying thought but a probable possibility. All of the bodies were found near their place of living, meaning that the killer is not far from their area. Moving away is not a choice for them, they could barely make enough money to stay afloat.

[Name] will have to put up with the murderous maniac's antics until they were caught and placed behind bars.

"Shit── I forgot I have to cover for Stacey today!" They cursed out, hurriedly changing into their horrendous work uniform.

Working a late shift at a cafe wasn't exactly their choice. [Name] usually worked the day shift── stressful but far better than being all alone at night when there's a lunatic who's going around stabbing people. Their coworker Stacey had an emergency today and had practically begged [Name] to cover for her shift as no one would take up on it.

[Name] don't blame them, no one in their right mind would voluntarily throw themselves in a situation where they would ended up in a news headline.

However, adulting is hard and it drains your sanity slowly and [Name] already lost theirs a long time ago. Plus, they really need more money otherwise they'll have to live off cup noodles.

What ever could go wrong? The killer had just slain a person today, they couldn't possibly attempt to do it again could they?

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Everything went wrong.

It had been mind numbingly boring shift, the cafe were deserted at night with only a few people coming in and getting out as soon as they got their drinks.

[Name] were tempted to just sleep through their shift in the break room. Their boss won't care──probably.

"Can't something interesting happens right now? I'm bored out of my mind──" On cue, the lights suddenly begun flickering before shutting off.

Fuck. They're not bored anymore.

[Name] jolted in their place when the main door slammed to a close and their heart stopping momentarily as they saw a figure running towards the backdoor entrance.

They raced towards the exit──there's no way they're going to investigate it! They value their life more than this store they worked at──and try to pry the door open but discovered to their horror that it has been jammed!

Before they could attempt to break the glass door with a steel chair, they heard a noise from their former place behind the counter. [Name] eyes widened in fear at the sight of the figure they'd seen running earlier.

The man was muscular and had a red horned mask on, in his hand was a large butcher knife that serial killers loves wielding. Had their life not being in danger, [Name] would've laughed at how cliché this situation they're in.

"H─hey buddy, that's a nice looking knife you got there" [Name] says as they held onto the steel chair tighter, ready to wield it as a weapon if needed to.

The killer only stalked further in silence, ignoring [Name]'s remarks. He only stopped once they reached a good distance from each other and [Name] were confused, is he fucking with them?

Their confusion only furthers when the killer drops a fucking dead rabbit in front of them. Horrified beyond belief, [Name] looked at the horned masked man who stared at them as if he's waiting for a praise.

"Wh──wha..?" They could only croaked out timidly.

"It's for you" The killer spoke in his deep voice, elaborating no further.

Their eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he dropped a human heart next to the dead rabbit. [Name] felt their knees weakened as they fell on the ground, disturbed at the sight before them.

Mustering whatever courage they have left within them, they asked the killer that's towering over them.

"Wha──what are these f──for?" Stumbling over their words from how terrified they were.

The killer, holding a flower in his hand──they looked freshly cut from the stem──lowered to their level of ground and spoke in his gravely voice that's strangely laced with a certain gentleness and love.

"M' courting you cause' I love you"

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

#tw: yandere #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #gender neutral reader #yandere male #yandere headcanons

[shawtuzi]

HIDE N’ SEEK FT. GOJO SATORU

summary- you and your boyfriend decide to play a little game of hide and seek at a halloween party

content warnings include- modern au, a little plot but mostly smut lmao, oral m!receiving, throat fucking, shoe humping, fingering, a little groping from gojo, sorta needy!gojo but he’s also pretty mean, unprotected sex, rough sex, tongue sucking bc i’m obsessed w it rn, squirting, creampie, geto is a perv, rushed ending, not proofread /// wc: 3.1k

a/n- hi!!! i’m back kinda from my hiatus so pls enjoy this bc idk when the next time i post will be lmao

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

gojo <3: i see you.

your heart rate began to pick up as you read the ominous text from your boyfriend. your eyes looked in every direction hoping to see someone in a ghost face mask on their phone, but unfortunately no such luck.

“why did i agree to do this . . . so stupid,” you grumbled to yourself as you shoved your phone in the back pocket of your sexy nurse costume. to add a little context you and your darling boyfriend, gojo satoru, thought it would be fun to play a little game of hide and seek at the costume party/bonfire one of his friends was throwing. you hide he seeks. the only catch was neither of you could have your location on and you weren’t allowed to tell anyone about the game. all you had to do was make sure gojo didn’t “tag” you before midnight. simple right? not.

you had thought nothing of it when he said he was going to be ghostface come to find out more than half the people at the party were dressed as the masked killer. it was easy to spot you of course—with your skin tight red and white dress and red stockings but trying to decipher which one of these people were gojo was simply impossible.

gojo was standing a few feet away from you, a sinister smile on his lips. he could see how frustrated you were becoming and boy was it a cute sight to see. your brows were furrowed and your red, glossed up lips were pulled into an adorable pout. you had the slightest tinge of fear in your eyes—between that and your costume he was becoming more riled up as the minutes ticked by.

you glanced at your phone—

11:42 PM

only eighteen more minutes and you were golden! you glanced at the part of the woods where it was dark and unoccupied with any party goers, without a second thought began to walk over to finish up the rest of the time. little did you know gojo was trailing behind you, quietly giggling at how silly you were for making this so easy for him.

“s’freezing out here,” your hands rubbed up and down your arms that were now covered in goosebumps. the only sounds that could be heard was the bass of the music from the party and your feet crunching against the dead leaves and twigs on the ground along with—another pair of footsteps???

you whipped around and were met with nothing but the party goers in the distance. you knew it was just a fun little game but you couldn’t help the feeling of dread that overcame you. you had half a mind to text gojo and call off the game but with only ten minutes left you decided to stick it out.

after a minute your phone buzzed in your pocket.

gojo <3- found you :)

“wha-?” all a sudden your front was pushed into a tree, you felt someone’s weight press against you along with something plastic poking against your throat. “i found youuu,” gojo giggled, pressing the plastic knife more into your neck. you pushed your backside into his hard on making him groan right into your ear. “no fair ‘toru…couldn’t find you anywhere with all those people wearing the same costume,” you whined, slick beginning to stain your lacy white panties.

gojo hummed and without a second thought shoved his free glove covered hand into your panties, cupping your sensitive pussy. “c’mon baby you know i don’t like to play fair let’s not act dumb hm?” you couldn’t see his face but you knew just from the tone of his voice he was grinning from ear to ear. gojo used his middle finger to rub at your clit, giving you minor relief while he humped your ass. you both stayed like that for a moment before he began to grow bored.

“suck my dick,” was all he said, removing his hand from your panties much to your dismay. “but—but ‘toru—” you were cut off by gojo squishing your cheeks together roughly. he pushed you down by your shoulders, not caring that the twigs were scraping and poking against your soft skin. (don’t worry he’ll bandage you up later if need be <3)

“now if you recall from earlier..” be began to unbuckle his belt, “we agreed that whoever won got to do whatever they wanted with the loser right?” he waited for you to nod your head before continuing. he slowly unzipped his pants, pulling them and his briefs halfway down his toned thighs. “and who’s the winner?” he giggled, tracing his almost painfully hard dick against your lips. you darted your tongue out to get just a little taste of him, making satoru visibly shudder. “you, you’re the winner,” you mumbled, setting your hands in your lap.

gojo cradled your face his hands, fighting the overwhelming urge to rip off the ghostface mask and kiss you till you were breathless. “don’t look so sad babydoll, i’m about to fuck your throat and your little pussy so good let’s look alive yeah?” he gave your cheek a rough couple of pats. he brought his index and middle finger to your lips, “open your mouth.” you parted your lips and with little to no warning gojo shoved the digits down your throat, impressed that you had kept your gags to a minimum. he rubbed your saliva around the length of his dick and gave himself a few quick strokes before pushing the tip against your lips.

you wrapped your lips around his dick and gojo’s hand immediately found purchase on the back of your head. “yeah . . . jus’ like—fuck, l-like that,” although he was putting on a tough façade for the sake of the situation it was fading away quicker than he had anticipated. you were just so good with your mouth :(

you didn’t even care that you lost, now too enamored in the pretty sounds that were slipping past gojo’s lips. and you both certainly didn’t care that anyone could possibly catch you in the act. “i need to record this shit goddamn,” with shaky hands gojo held up his phone and started to record you, quietly apologizing for the sudden flash of light in your face. you played it out a little for the camera knowing gojo was definitely going to use this vid for times when he’s by himself. you wrapped both of your hands around his dick and worked quick pumps around the tip while your other hand moved slowly up and down the base.

satoru felt his knees buckle a little when you started sucking on his balls, nearly dropping his phone in the process. “you’re s-so fuckin’ hot, so hot n’ a-all mine yeah? please say it,” he didn’t give the slightest fuck how pathetic he sounded. all needed in this moment was for you to tell him his dick belonged to you and you only and vice versa. “yes toru all yours,” you hummed leaving kisses around the base of his dick. that was all he needed to hear before he tossed his phone to the side and began to brutally fuck your poor little throat.

each time your nose pressed against his pelvis from deep throating him it just gave him more incentive to put a fat rock on your finger and never let you go. your dress had ridden up and without even thinking gojo pressed the top of his shoe against your cunt making your hips jerk forward. “hump it, hump my fuckin’ shoe and cum from it,” his ‘demand’ was shaky and breathless but nonetheless you listened to your boyfriend and started humping his shoe.

between gojo still ruthlessly fucking your throat and the laces of his shoe rubbing deliciously against your clit you were overstimulated beyond belief—and it felt incredible. he loved when he could turn your brain into a pile of mush and you enjoyed it just as much. after holding your head firmly against his pelvic area for god knows how long gojo removed your mouth from his dick, finally letting you get some air. you didn’t know if it was alcohol, the blunt you took a few hits of, or just horniness in its purest form but you were feeling insatiable.

you wrapped your arms around his thick thigh and planted your knees firmly into the ground before moving your hips with quickness. gojo was surprised at your actions, his dick visibly twitching at you getting off on his fucking shoe of all things. “i’m—i’m close, can feel it toru i’m—o-oh my!” a sharp gasp left your lips when gojo began tapping his foot just the slightest. “jerk me off n’ let’s cum together,” you didn’t need to be told twice as you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, suckling on the tip as well to bring him even closer to his peak (and to avoid getting cum in your face/hair heh).

you both came in unison a chorus of moans and groans leaving both of your mouths. “that—that was good, you’re so good y/n c’mere,” gojo was quick to pull you to your feet and pushed your back right against the tree that was shielding you both from any potential spectators. “i wanna kiss you so bad,” he spoke softly, cupping and massaging your breasts over your thin dress. “but i really wanna fuck you with this stupid mask on,” gojo gripped your plush thighs and lifted you up with ease, you weren’t even the littlest but surprised when his impatient ass practically ripped your panties in half trying to get them off.

“put it in for me,” gojo muttered, blindly shoving your tattered panties in his back pocket. you complied whispering out a little ‘anything for you toru’ before slowly swiping his sensitive tip between your pillowy soft folds. just as you were about to slide him in you heard voices and footsteps that sounded like they were getting closer and closer. “w-wait someone’s coming!” you whisper-shouted but that didn’t stop gojo from pushing his dick into you with one swift thrust. a broken moan emerged from your throat and you were quick your cover your mouth with both hands.

“put your fuckin’ hands down no one’s gonna see us,” gojo hissed, his toes curling from how tight and hot you felt. you hastily removed your hands making gojo smile behind the mask. “they might not s-see but they’ll—hah! hear us toruuu,” you whined burying your face in his neck.

gojo made sure your legs were securely wrapped around his waist before yanking the ghostface mask off, he pressed his lips against yours without missing a beat. “guess i’ll just have to keep kissin’ ya to make sure you don’t make to much noise yeah?”

“yeah . . . . you’re right.”

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“do—do you guys *hiccup* here that?” a drunk, poor unknowing geto slurred out, his brows furrowing at the sound of grunts coming from the darker part of the woods. of course no one responded, too invested in literally anything else besides geto’s drunk ramblings—plus his jason mask muffled anything he had to say.

geto pushed himself up from the log he was sitting on, nearly falling over in process. “guess i’ll go look myself…dickheads,” he muttered to himself, making his way over to the suspicious noises. he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a particularly loud groan and that’s when it started to click. “holy shit . . . h-holy sh—”

“satoruuu!”

if geto was in his right state of mind he would’ve turned around with a quickness and forget this ever happened—but he’s not. his feet stayed planted, not daring move an inch closer. he hadn’t even realized be was starting to palm himself over his pants—already half hard. he could feel his heart in his throat as he took one step forward . . . and then another . . . anddd another.

he stopped once he could clearly hear the schlick schlick schlick noise of gojo pounding mercilessly into your poor pussy. he couldn’t see much but he could hear everything. he could hear your cute little pants and whines as you tried to poorly keep quiet, he could hear gojo muttering what must have been dirty promises into your ear, but in his opinion the best thing he heard was how sloppily you and gojo were kissing.

anytime your moans were becoming louder and more high pitched gojo would smash his lips into yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth without warning. gojo sucked your tongue into his mouth, a groan rumbling in his chest when he felt you tighten around him. “you taste like alcohol . . . you been drinking tonight love? is t-that why you’re being so—hah! fuckin’ loud? hm?” his ring and middle finger began toying with your clit and your lips started to tremble. hot, salty tears began to run down your cheeks making gojo giggle. “you’re s’cute when you cry, please cry more for me,” he cooed licking at the never ending stream of tears flowing from soon to be bloodshot eyes.

“you’re—you’re such a *sniffle* p-perv ‘toru,” you whined, tangling your fingers in his snow white locks. when you have a particularly harsh tug gojo’s knees buckled the tiniest bit, nearly making him lose his balance. “i see you’re feeling pretty mean huh? lets fix that . . . only thing i need you to feel is numb.” gojo removed his fingers from your clit and without warning shoved the digits between your lips. man oh man did you wish he would’ve taken those stupid gloves off, what you really needed in this moment was the feeling of gojo’s soft fingertips prodding at the back of your throat.

gojo slowed the pace of his thrusts, more focused on fucking your throat with his fingers. once he had his fix he removed his fingers from your mouth, smearing any excess saliva on your lips and chin. he slowly pulled his dick out, the moonlight mixed with the dim light from the bonfire making him glisten with your slick.

“n-no! no no don’t do that here someone will definitely hear me ‘toru,” you pouted, knowing good and well what gojo’s intentions were. gojo hummed as he rubbed his fingers between your soaked folds, pretending to to thinking about the consequences of his actions before giggling once more. “oh well!” he smiled, inserting his fingers into your pussy, immediately finding that spot that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“god do you hear how wet you are? such a slutty fuckin’ pussy goddamn,” gojo growled, adding his thumb to the mix by rubbing your almost painfully sensitive clit. you didn’t know how the fuck he was holding you so steady with one arm but you couldn’t even bother to care, too focused on your upcoming orgasm. “p-please . . . please add ‘nother finger ‘toru i need it,” you gasped loudly, back arching against the tree when you felt gojo begin to suck at your breasts over the thin material of your dress. gojo added another finger, increasing his pace until he felt your legs begin to shake.

he brought his lips close to your ear, nibbling and sucking at the lobe. “you’re so lucky we have to walk in front of everyone once we’re done or i would’ve torn this dress to pieces,” his words had your toes curling, and your eyes rolling back for the umpteenth time as your pussy squeezed around his fingers.

while you were quickly chasing your peak geto was trying his absolute hardest not to reach his just yet. his pants were pulled down just enough to let his aching dick out and he wasted no time stroking himself to your pretty moans.

it was no secret to the three of you that geto had found you attractive—shit with the way gojo boasts about your guys’ sex life how could he not be curious??? yes curiosity. that’s all that this was. once he got off he would walk away and never think or speak of it ever. but he couldn’t help but think of the next time he sees you walking around with a limp and accidentally starts to wonder what positions gojo could’ve possible put you in . . . or wonder how brutally he had fucked your throat when he hears how hoarse your voice sounds.

his thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched moan that was quickly cut off by what he assumed was gojo’s lips on yours. he heard gojo say in a teasing tone ‘you tryin’ to baptize me over here?’ and he nearly cummed imagining your fucked out face and trembling legs.

a spurt of cum landed on your thigh and gojo tsked, shaking his head. “that won’t do, gotta be inside you now so i can finish inside,” he hummed, realigning his dick with your entrance. he pushed in with one swift thrust and that’s when your finally felt your brain turn into a muddled pile of nothing but lust and want. although it was dark gojo could still see the dazed look in your eyes and it brought a blissed out smile to his lips, which were now stained red from your lip gloss.

“c’mon baby talk to me, how do you feel?” gojo purred, pressing his forehead against yours. your words kept getting caught in your throat and all you could mutter out was a pathetic ‘feels s’gooood’. gojo could slowly feel himself begin to crumble, mumbling out incoherent sentences along with you. “i know baby i—shit, i know. feel so good ‘round me, so perfect you’re so perfect gimme a kiss,” he smushed his lips against yours with a clash of tongue and teeth—his fav kinda kisses.

“gotta big load for you baby, c’mon cum with me i know you can do it,” gojo’s words of encouragement finally brought you to your peak and this time you both just let it out. every pushed down moan and groan could be heard from anywhere if anyone paid close enough attention but neither of you could find it in you to care. gojo’s hips stilled as he emptied himself inside you, his tongue lolling out in the process. you were quick to bring your hands to his soft locks, gently scratching his scalp. “don’t do that, gonna make me too tired for the drive home,” he chuckled, giving your sweaty neck a sloppy kiss.

“speaking of, how am i supposed to walk with all this in me it’s a lot satoruuu,” you whined, feeling the urge to smack gojo on the back of the head for tearing your panties in two. gojo sighed, stroking your bare thigh gently with his thumb muttering something along the lines of ‘i’ll handle it’.

while you and gojo took a minute to regroup from your intense fuck session, geto was regrouping himself from possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. of course he felt disgusted with himself for spying on his best friend fucking his girlfriend but he also wanted more???

this was definitely going to be a problem.

#my writing #gojo smut #satoru smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[cherryc1nnam0n]

You entered the wrong house, pretty boy! | Ghostface!Ethan Landry x FEM!Reader

Based on this poll I did, we have this masterpiece

Summary: Ethan made a big mistake by entering your house, a Ghostface fan

Cw: Dub con, P in V sex, unprotected, creampie, he resists at first but then gives in, virgin!Ethan, Ghostface!Ethan, mask kink, riding, mirror sex, recording while having sex, multiple orgasms, excessive cum, overstimulation, spit, knife mentions, rough sex, hair pulling, oral (male receiving), ball play

It was late at night, almost 1 am and you were still awake, sitting on your bed reading a book, when something coming from your living room startled you

"What the?" You said getting up to go investigate, a sandal on your hand, pure instinct

When you reached the place where the noise had come from you saw nothing, just your cat licking her paw

"Callie, you scared me" you whisper yelled at her and she blinked slowly at you "Awe"

You turned around and where met with a masked figure, he tilted his head and pulled out his knife

"Why you up so late?" He asked in a weird voice

"I-I" he started to walk and corned you against a wall, placing the knife against your throat, which made you moan

"What?" He asked genuinely concerned

"Oh what you thought I would be scared?" You said defiantly and he just stood there "Baby, this is having the reaction you least expect" you said squeezing your thighs

He looked down and breathed heavily, where you aroused by this? Where the hell is he?

"Wait, aren't you Britney?" You shook your head "Oh shit, my bad I-"

"What? You were supposed to be in someone else's house?" He nodded, feeling like an idiot "Awwwe, it's okay baby, I'll take good care of you" you said begining to walk into him

"W-wait, hold on, lemme just-" he tripped against your coffee table falling backwards, he tried crawling to the door but you grabbed his foot and began dragging him to your room "Hold on wait! No!"

"Oh you're not going anywhere baby, you entered the wrong house, pretty boy!"

He screamed while you dragged him away into your room, finally inside you ran to close the door and lock it, he backed away from you and you looked at him with hungry eyes

"This has been my fantasy for so long" you licked your lips, scanning him

He was tall, broad even, but you didn't really care about who he was, you just wanted him to fuck you, or you to fuck him

"What is wrong with you?" He asked concerned

"Many things" you said taking your shirt off, boobs falling off freely "Now give me your cock"

He screamed again and you tackled him into the bed, hurrying to lift off his robe so you could free his cock, under it there were pajama pants, so cute, you easily found his mid hard cock, maybe from when he saw your tits

"It's big, I'm gonna have fun with it" you said smacking his dick against your face, he breathed heavily as he saw you play with his cock

You started to suck his dick, it was uncut so you pulled the skin back to suckled his head, he began to moan and grabbed the sheets, bucking his hips up into your mouth, your other hand freed his balls so you could play with them, his breath hitched and he started whining

"Please, please" he said under the mask, you could hear his breath heavy

Your mouth went down to suck his right ball into your mouth, looking up at him while you did so, his head fell back as he finally came all over himself and your face, he came a lot so you just kept pumping him dry for it

"Fuck, stop stop too much, ahh"

You finally released his cock with a pop, licking your lips clean from his cum

"You taste good baby"

You climbed on top of him, removing your pajama shorts and sitting completely naked on top of him, you grinded onto his dick making him whine again, he really liked to do that huh?

"You're a whiney man, you really that desperate?" He nodded

"I'm a virgin" he said lowly and you chuckled

"I can tell" you said to his ear

You grabbed his cock and guided it onto your entrance, sinking down making him hiss and whine, cursing under his breath

"Feels good right?"

He nodded desperately, his hands finding your hips, squeezing so hard he would leave marks

You started bouncing on him, his eyes rolling back behind his head, you bit your lip throwing your head back, your hips moving sexily on top of him, his masked figure was turning you on so much but you were curious of who he was, so taking advantage of him being in pure bliss, you lifted his mask until you took it off entirely, revealing none other than your crush Ethan Landry

"Ethan? I knew you were weird but a killer? And Ghostface? Wow"

"Fuck, don't tell anybody"

"Or what? You gonna kill me? Don't think so" you clenched around him purposely "If you don't kill me, you can fuck me whenever you want"

"I-I, fuck, you feel so good" his eyes rolled back

You kept going faster on him until you felt the familiar tingling of an orgasm, his hand was rubbing your clit while you held onto his thighs so you could roll your hips against him, the tatch of hair at his base rubbing against your clit deliciously

"I'm cumming, gonna cum fuck!" You said orgasming on top of him

He held your hips and thrusted up into you, your tits bouncing as he did so, finally releasing inside you with a loud whine

He fell limp on your bed, his breath erratic as he kept jerking from cumming, he took like 2 minutes to finish cumming

"Wow..." Was all you could say after that

His dick fell off your pussy when he grew soft again, his cum flooding out of you, coating his base and his thighs, running down his ass, his breath hitched when he felt that

"What? You done pretty boy? I thought you could take more than that"

He looked at you, then took a deep breath and sat up, kissing you deeply, his tongue shoving into your mouth, his hand held the back of your neck and while his other grabbed your ass cheek

"I have an idea"

Now in front of your mirror you held your phone up while your chest was against your carpet, your ass jiggling with every thrust Ethan gave you, his hands holding onto your hips, you were recording the whole thing from a beautiful angle that showed hos good he was fucking you, his mask was back on his face, he tilted it as he looked into the mirror, enjoying the view

"Fuck, you like that pretty girl? Like being fucked by a murderer?" You moaned at him "Answer me, bitch!" His voice changer was on as he said that

His left hand grabbed your hair and yanked you back, you moaned from it, eyes rolling back

"Yes I fucking love it, don't stop"

"Good girl"

The skin slapping noises were so loud you thought you would wake up your neighbors, but you couldn't care much because of how good Ethan was making you feel

He reached for his mask and pulled it up until only his mouth was visible, spitting a fat glob onto your ass letting it drip to your pussy, adding extra wetness into his fucking

His cock was hitting your g spot on every move, he was big, uncut and fat, just perfect, and he knew how to use it

"Fuck I'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming!" You said drooling at the mouth as your second orgasm barreled in

"Good girl baby, fucking cum all over my cock"

With a few sloppy thrusts he finally came again, coating your insides with his warm cum for a second time that night, he massaged your ass as he kept rutting softly into you to keep cumming

"All nice and stuffed baby, so good" he said smacking your ass

Turns out it wasn't that big of a mistake to break into your house...

#ethan landry ghostface #ethan landry x you #ghostface!ethan #Ghostface smut #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry

[slut4thebroken]

Cheerleader

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | stepdad!Cillian Murphy x reader

Summary | You finally got on the cheer team and are excited to show your stepdad the uniform, but he has some concerns.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, mildly dubious consent, large age gap (unspecified), wedgie lmaoo, dry humping, grinding, groping, spanking, praise, daddy but not the kink?, technically incest??, ionno what else lol

Words | 1.5 k

Notes | I honestly don’t even know what this is… like I can’t tell if I hate it or not💀😭 Also for legal reasons… we’ll say reader is 18 and in college 👀 (just a reminder though: this is fiction. Treat it as such lol)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Hey, love, how was school?” He called out from the kitchen and you all but bounced into the room. 

“I got on the cheer team!” You said excitedly.

“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you, baby.” You could tell his tone was genuine, but he was still focused on whatever food he was preparing. 

“Turn around, daddy.” You giggled and he set down the knife before turning to face you. His eyes widened and his lips parted in shock as he took in your clothes— your body. “Do you like it?” You asked, twirling around for him to see the whole thing.

“I-it’s… a little short, don’t you think?” He choked out. 

“Well duh. How else would I do this?” You showed him a kick and his gaze snapped down to where the skirt rode up, exposing your matching shorts. 

“You have to wear this for everything?”

“We have a long sleeved top for the winter time, but yeah.” You smiled. “What do you think?” 

“C’mere, love.” You walked over and stood in front of him, waiting. He started on your waist, then dragged his hands down to your hips, his thumbs rubbing over the exposed skin of your tummy. He suddenly got down on his knees and moved his hands to just above your ankles. He snaked them up your legs, teasing you, until they reached the bottom of the skirt. 

“Daddy?” 

“Shh… I'm just getting a closer look, baby.” Duh. What else would he be doing? You thought with an internal chuckle. His hands moved up to your hips, over the skirt, then snaked behind you. 

“Daddy!” You gasped when he squeezed your ass and pulled you closer.

“Turn around.” He ordered, moving his hands to your hips to start turning you. Once you were facing away from him, he was groping you again and you bit your lip to contain any sounds. “Bend over.” He said suddenly. 

“W-what?” 

“Bend over. You can lean on the counter if that’s easier.” Hesitantly, you obeyed. You leaned down and placed your hands on the counter. “Further.” With a blush of embarrassment, you lowered yourself so that your arms were crossed, resting on the counter, holding up your chin. 

“This is what counts as school appropriate nowadays?” He scoffed, making your blush darken. “The skirt doesn’t cover anything.” 

“T-that’s what the shorts are for.” You said quietly. 

“I’d hardly call these shorts.” He was groping your ass again now, this time under the skirt. “They’re so fucking tight.” He gruffed. “I can see the outline of your pussy.” His thumb brushed over your mound, making you shoot up. 

“Daddy!” 

“Down.” You froze when you heard his tone, then slowly lowered yourself back down. He reached under the fabric where your ass met your thighs, then took it in a firm grip and roughly pulled up, making you gasp and grab onto the counter. His hands settled on your bare ass and you couldn't help the way you started squirming. The fabric of your shorts and underwear being pressed so tightly against you was almost painful, but it made you needy too. 

“Every little immature boy at your school is going to want a piece of this.” He removed a hand, but brought it back down quickly, with a sharp smack. You jolted and gasped out a moan, caught off guard by the sudden pain. “I can’t let that happen, baby. But I‘m not gonna make you quit, not when I know how happy it makes you.” Another slap. “I’m gonna make sure you won’t let any boys come near this pussy.” Another slap, then his thumb was brushing over your mound again. 

“Please,” You whined, but it cut off into a choked moan when he spanked you again, twice in quick succession. “Won’t let any boys come near it!” You tried, gripping onto the counter when he spanked you again, but he wasn’t listening. He ignored you and continued toying with your ass, sometimes squeezing it, but mostly spanking it. “It hurts, daddy.” You whimpered. 

“Does it, baby?” He asked innocently, making you pout. 

“Yeah…” 

“You can handle a little more.” He decided, then continued until your ass felt hot and your clit was throbbing and your eyes were watering. “Such a good girl.” He mumbled, rubbing soothing hands over the burning skin, but his touch was just making it hurt more. “I’m sorry, baby. You know I hate when I have to punish you, but you need to learn.” 

“I know..” You whimpered, then his hands were gone. You heard him standing up and he grabbed your hips to push you closer to the counter. “Are you done?” You asked quietly. 

“Not yet, love.” You dreaded having to endure even more spanking. When you heard his belt, you stiffened. Next was his zipper, then fabric was rustling a little and he reached for your shorts again. He looped one hand through both of the leg holes, making the pressure on your clit get a little harder. 

When he suddenly lifted you up, a pained cry left you as your shorts and underwear were forced deeper between your ass and even between your folds. Your feet were barely touching the ground and you reached back to try and push him away, but he just landed another slap on your ass. 

“Stay still.” 

“I-it hurts, daddy… I can’t.” You whimpered. In response, he adjusted his grip and lifted you up even more, making you cry out. The very tips of your shoes were barely still on the floor and the pressure on your clit was becoming more of a painful pleasure now. Emphasis on ‘painful.’  

When you felt him press up against you, your breath caught in your throat. He still had his underwear on, but he was grinding his bulge on your pussy because of how high he was holding you. His free hand grabbed your hips to stabilize you as he sped up. 

“Daddy…” You whined. Everything was so contradictory. Your ass was still burning, as was your clit from the prolonged wedgie, but it also felt good as he rubbed his bulge against it. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t even know if you wanted him to stop or do more.

“I know, baby… Just a little longer.” He said quietly. Letting out a low groan, he continued humping you, his breathing getting more and more ragged. He moved the hand on your hip to help hold your shorts and underwear, then took a couple steps back. When you weren’t being supported by the counter anymore, you fell forward with a scream, your whole body weight now being held by the wedgie. You grabbed onto the counter to lift yourself up a little so your face wasn’t inches above the floor, but you couldn’t get close enough to put any weight on it. 

“Daddy! Daddy— wait!” You cried out, making him moan at your struggling. His hips got more desperate, rutting against your clothed heat, making you more desperate as well. 

You tried squirming, but he just lifted you even higher. Your feet kicked around as you tried hopelessly to find some footing, now being completely suspended. 

“Please! It hurts!” You whined loudly, but he ignored you. “Please, daddy! I can’t take it anymore..” 

“Shh… Yes you can, love. I’m almost done.” He cursed under his breath and his movements sped up even more. “Such a good fucking pussy.” He groaned under his breath. 

“Who’s allowed to touch you here?” He asked, clearer now. 

“You!”

“Who owns this fucking cunt?” 

“Y-you..” You whimpered, hoping if you just agreed to everything that he’d give you mercy. 

“That’s right, baby. Your body is only for daddy to touch, okay?” You were nodding before he could even finish. 

“Yes— yes.. Please let me down now.” You rushed out. You’ve learned your lesson by now— you won’t let anyone come near you. His hips stopped, but he didn’t drop you. Instead, he stayed pressed up against your cunt, then started bouncing you up and down by your shorts and underwear, stimulating his cock like that instead. Each time you went down, a sharp cry was forced out of you. You could feel tears in your eyes again as the pain got worse and worse. He started rutting into you, but still moved you up and down, never even faltering. 

“Please!” You cried. He moved you forward again so you were bent over the counter. Your feet still weren’t touching the floor, but at least some of the weight was taken off. 

“Fuck—” He choked out, panting and moaning quietly. He took a step back and removed one hand, making you drop a little so that your toes were now on the floor. Then his moans were getting louder and louder until you felt heat spurting all over your ass. You whined and squirmed as your whole face heated up from humiliation. He cursed under his breath and slowly lowered you, releasing your shorts. He panted for another moment, then tugged your stretched out shorts and underwear back down, over his come. You felt completely and utterly used. But you also felt completely and utterly desperate for more. 

“That’s better. Covers more of your ass now.” He said through a breath, giving you one last spank. 

I fucking hate the title lol so give me ideas for a new one💀🙏🏻

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend

#cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

[luvyeni]

WHAT IS UP‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

okay instead of going straight to my request, I’ll ask you some simple talk questions. how was your day today? was it good or bad? why was it bad? what did you do today? did you eat good food today cause i know i did.

ANYWAYS MOVING ON

what about…ghostface!hyunjin from skz and he just stalks poor reader and basically tells her that he can SMELL her arousal through the phone since reader as a mask kink and she thinks having ghostface as her boyfriend is hot, and then he comes out of nowhere and starts teasing her and poor reader is just so shy now that he’s in front of her and he’s like “aw poor baby is shy now that im right here. what happened to all that big talk on the phone?” idk just add whatever you want!

if u don’t wanna do this plot that’s fine!! i just need ghostface jinnie. im really desperate

❛IT’S A SCREAM, BABY!❜ ( h. hyunjin )

💬nias notes: i guess this sorta part of freaktober since its hallowen themed

p. x fem!reader w. 1.7k+

warnings? unprotected sex, knife play, degradation kink, a little blood and fingering

— 𖦹 ( you can’t help but tease the man in the mask, that’s until he catches you ) !

“Did we even learn this?” You read through the notes on your laptop. “This is next week's problem, I can’t.” You closed the laptop, getting up, going downstairs to the kitchen for a snack.

“I need to but more” You took ice cream from the fridge, your phone ringing making you jump. You smiled, knowing it could only be one person calling you. You threw the wrapping away, running back upstairs to your phone.

You reached your room, quickly picking up the. “Hello,” You smiled, even though he couldn’t hear you. “Hello princess.” His voice was distorted, it made your panties soak immediately. “Did you miss me?” You laughed, “Of course I did.”

“Where are you?” He chuckled, “You know it’s not that easy.” He says, “Let’s play a game, you hide, and I try to find you, and you win I don’t slit your throat.” The man in the mask spoke through the phone. “What happens if you win?” You questioned. “Princess, you don’t want to know.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You teased, knowing you shouldn’t provoke him. “Princess, you know how this works.” His voice seemed to get deeper even with the voice modifier. “You don’t have a fucking choice.”

You got up, slipping on your slippers, leaving out the comforts of your own room to go and hide from the masked man. “I’ll give you to the count of 60 find a spot in the house.” You took off as he began to count down.

Finding a spot in a cabinet, you tucked yourself away. “Princess, you’re so predictable, it’s almost adorable how dumb you are.” You whined, he laughed. “Here I come princess.”

“You know it’s not really safe for a pretty girl like you to live in such a big house alone, too many bad men out there.” He spoke. “Like you?” He chuckled. “Yeah, baby like me, but you like me, don’t you?” You hummed. “I do.” You spoke.

“Yeah, I know you do, otherwise you would’ve called the cops by now.” He spoke. “Instead, here you are answering my calls for the 3rd time, you get a kick out of this, nasty girl I can almost smell how aroused you are.”

You felt your breathing pick up, you tried to hold your breath. “You scared princess?” He said. “No baby, I know you, you’re turned on right now.” You shuffled around, it wasn’t much space to move around so your leg was slapping against the cabinet. “No.”

He chuckled, you could hear him scraping his knife against the wall through the phone, turning you on even more — it was sick you knew that this shouldn’t be arousing you the way it is, your panties shouldn’t be sticking to your folds like they were. “Such a shit liar baby, I know what gets those little gears going.”

“I’m not scared.” You kept a brave face, “Because I know you’ll never find me.” You chuckled. “Really princess, you wanna take a chance like that?” You hummed, “Yes, I do.” You spoke. “Oh, princess you really are dumb.” Your thighs clenched together.

You heard a few steps outside of the room you were hiding in, your breath hitched. “Ah baby, I think I found you.” He said, just as you heard the click of the door. “You’re in here aren’t you?” You didn’t say anything. “Where are you princess, let’s make this easy.”

You stayed silent, even when you heard his voice right out of the door, His knife tapping against the door that was keeping your safe. “Hmm, I guess I was wrong baby, guess you really are good at this game.” You heard his feet retreating, then the door closing.

You let out a sigh, this room was no longer safe — you waited another few minutes before quietly climbing out the cabinet, making your way to the door, quietly opening it so you wouldn’t alert the masked man.

Before you walked about the door was slammed in front of you — you gasped at the thud. “Stupid Stupid baby.” You heard a slight glee in his voice. “Now you should’ve known better.” He flipped you around, pressing his cold blade to your neck, you whimpered at the sensation.

“Pl-please don’t hurt me.” He smiled, even though you couldn’t see it through the mask. “Awe poor baby is scared now? Hmm? No that’s not it.” He lightly dragged the knife across your throat, you bit your lip, trying to hide your face. “Awe that’s it, you’re shy.” He chuckled. “Awe poor baby is shy now that I’m right here. what happened to all that big talk on the phone?” He teased.

He dragged the knife to thin strap of your tank top, slicing right through it, repeating on the other side, the flimsy material falling down — your hands flew to cover your boobs. “Move.” He said. “Move your hands pretty, before I cut them.” You slowly moved your hands, letting your boobs freely bounce. “Nice princess, such pretty tits.”

He moved his knife across your boobs, grazing your nipples with the blade. You whimpered, biting your lip. “Keep hiding those pretty nosies baby, i’ll get you to scream for me one way or another.”

He dragged you back to your room, knife pressed against your neck — as well as his hardening cock pressed against your ass, throwing you on the bed, your boobs bouncing upon impact. “You look so scared princess; it’s turning me on.”

He climbed on to the bed, hovering above you — his knife dragged along your stomach until it reached your panties. “No pants, I knew you wanted this my slutty baby.” He chuckled. “Dumb baby likes to be fucked by slashers in masks like a whore.” He cut right through your panties. “You’re sick baby.”

“Pl-please.” You moaned out, he threw the cut panties somewhere — pressing the tip of the blade on your clit, you gasped. “look who wet you are, you shouldn’t be this excited about this, I could easily cut your pretty body.” That just cause slick to stream out on to the blade even more.

“You’re fucking dripping.” He removed the knife from your clit, replacing it with his glove clad finger, rubbing harsh circles. “Th-that feels good.” He pressed the knife against your hip bone. “D-do it.” You said.

He pressed down, you let out a loud moan as the blade pierced your delicate skin. “Fu-fuck.” He watched the blood from the small cut, your cunt clenched around his fingers. “You’re gonna cum?” He laughed. “Me cutting you made your little pussy clench, go ahead and cum.” He curled his fingers, making your eyes roll to back of your head, cumming.

“Nasty baby.” He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, your essence stuck to his finger, tapping on your lips. “Open slut.” He pushed his finger into your, ordering you to suck. “Good whore.” He pulled his fingers out, slapping your face.

He climbed of the bed, getting rid of all his clothes, except the mask. “Th-the mask.” You said, he cocked his head to the side. “Don’t be dumb baby.” He climbed back on the bed, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pinning them down with one hand. “You like this mask anyway, that’s why your dripping like a whore, trying to hump my thigh.” You moved your hips. “Be still.” He warned.

He pulled his under down enough to pull out his hard cock, his mushroom tip red and dripping with cum, veins adorning the sides. “Is this what you want?” He slapped his length against your folds. “Want my cock.” You nodded, whining. “Pl-please.” You begged, “W-wan’ it so bad.”

He slid right in, wasting no time. “Shit.” He cursed. “Tight fucking cunt.” He pulled out, slamming back in. “Fu-fuck!” He began to move, his cock dragging along your walls. “Feels so fucking good, your pussy is soaking my cock.” He grunted.

He began to pick up his pace, slamming into your hole over and over. “Fu-fuck t-too much.” You screamed, trying to wiggle away, but he held your hips, holding you in place. “Don’t run from my cock slut, this is what you wanted.” He pressed the knife against your throat. “You wanted this, too be fucked like a whore.” He growled. “So *thrust* fucking *thrust* take *thrust* it.”

You were a mess, moaning as he fucked you. “Look at you all fucked out, dumb baby.” He said, his cock hitting your cervix. “Soaking up the sheets over a mask, so sick baby.” You moaned. “I-i’m cumming!” You squealed out, the blade cold against your warm skin. “Hold it, i’m not there yet.”

He sped up his movements, fucking into at a almost inhumane pace. Panting as he chased his high. “C-can’t hold it.” You whined. “I said hold it, if you cum I cut your throat.” Shit, that didn’t help at all, in fact it only made you clench around his cock. “Fuck! You’re squeezing my cock.” He grunted. “Fuck i’m gonna cum, gonna let me breed your pretty pussy?” You nodded. “Pl-please.”

He thrusted into your cunt a few more times, spilling his cum into your cunt. “Fuck that’s it, take my cum.” He sighed, he pulled out just to his tip, covering your outside folds in his cum, pushing himself back in. “Keep it inside.”

“Yah, take the mask off now.” You said, reaching for it, he grabbed your wrist. “Please I want to see your face.” You pouted, he let your hands go, reaching for the mask, revealing the raven-haired man, his face was dripping with sweat.

“You okay, pretty girl?” You nodded, he smiled, throwing the mask somewhere, you gasped. “Hey, don’t break it, I paid a lot of money for it.” He scoffed. “Of course, you did, you’re sick baby.” He kissed your lips. “Only I could fall in love with a crazy girl who’s obsessed with ghostface.” He pulled out his now soft cock.

“It’s not like you weren’t turned on either.” You fought back. “You came 3 times as much as you normally do.” He nodded. “Touché baby, it was hot.” He said, “But I can’t promise i’ll use that knife again, don’t wanna hurt your pretty skin like that.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to.” You said, he helped you get cleaned up, nursing your wound from the blade. “It should clear up in a few days, it wasn’t a deep cut.” He kissed your waist.

He joined you in bed, pulling the the covers over your naked bodies. “Did you like it baby?” You nodded, “You make a good ghostface.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Only you would say that.” You laughed.

“You know you love me.”

©LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #hyunjin hard thoughts #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin drabbles #hyunjin hard hours #hyunjin headcanons

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I know your requests are closed so feel free to ignore this but if I don’t type it somewhere I WILL forget it lol. I’ve been re-binge reading your works and just thought of this…

Civilian reader kills someone out of self defense for the first time. And it’s the whole staring at her bloody shaking hands panic attack what have I done fiasco. And her boyfriend or husband helping her through it and dealing with it all (I can see it with Ghost or Price idk)

But yeah feel free to ignore, I know your requests are closed rn

Love your work! You are so talented!

This has been in my inbox for so long, lmao. Sorry for not answering right away - take a few paragraphs w. soft, worried, Simon in compensation.

Warnings for gore, death, blood, panic attack, etc. F!Reader.

Your body shakes violently, blood dripping down like crimson tears from your hands. The overwhelming sense of dread sits with bullet fragment aggression in the delicate make-up of your psyche.

You weren't meant for this.

Not the blood or the terror. Certainly not the body laying out in the hallway.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp out, shuddering as your throat swells in on itself. Your form had slipped down the wall just across from the door not minutes prior, legs weak and heart pounding like a war call. Now all you can do is stare into the vacant eyes of some random burglar—at the knife you'd stuck in his chest when he'd backed you into Simon's office.

It was a miracle that you remembered where your husband's combat blade had been, seen on some off chance when you'd been cleaning. He tries to keep this all separate, you know.

The blood just keeps slipping out of the corpse. It's a pool now, and you don't know how long you'd been huddled like this until the sounds of rampaging feet and hurried yells of your name bounce off your eardrums.

All you can see is the uncleanable amount of red.

Simon had only gone out to the corner store half an hour ago, getting a quick supper so you both could sit in each other's company. You'd been hesitant to watch him leave so soon after getting home, but he'd sworn he'd only be a few minutes.

None of you had thought too much about the local break-ins. After all, Simon was...well, Simon. And he was home.

S-Simon was home.

There's a loud, barked, curse when the body is discovered, stomping feet that make the entire house shake like it was the epicenter of an earthquake. Your husband's form slashes the front of your vision as he kneels in the blood on the floor. Frantic brown eyes behind his balaclava snap from place to place; taking in the familiar handle and blade in nanoseconds. In his left hand he clutches a pistol, white-knuckled.

But you can't even say anything, because you're as still as stone—breathing in concrete as the gravel shreds your vocal cords and trachea. Reality slips in quick streaks of color as Simon's face flashes into the open doorway.

He sees your wide eyes with a mirroring of his own, bone-deep fear striking in his head with a heated pulse.

"Love!" Simon's rushing to you. Your body can't help but startle back, spine shoving into the wall; fingers still saturated and stained.

Inside your chest, your lungs jerk in a strained whimper.

Your husband freezes, one foot ahead with his widened legs as he fights his mind to rush to you and take you into his arms. Simon puts the gun away with little thought to look for more assailants—all that matters is you.

And you looked terrified.

"Hey," hands reach up to this balaclava, slipping the fabric off as he kneels down slowly to one leg. He tosses it to the floor and you try to focus on the strength of his jaw; those scars and pale hairs as your eyes well with tears. A delicate sob builds. "Hey, now. It's just me, alright?"

Simon speaks softly, hands splayed out and a few feet from you. He wishes to hold you tightly but refrains even as his chest tightens at not being able to calm you. The man can't stand that look on your face.

Your fingers curl into shivering fists, "Simon," you cry, finally able to get a solid word out even if it sounds slurred and ragged.

It's all the permission your husband needs.

Simon jerks forward and takes you up into his large arms; the wide encompassing of his palm on the back of your head and the other circling your waist. He angles you away from the body as he glares into it with hatred and vile curses, hissing venom.

When he found the door busted off its hinges, he'd never felt so panicked. Even now as you release a small wail into his neck Simon's heart races, breath coming in short puffs.

"You're alright, Sweetheart. You're alright. I'm right 'ere." You sag into him, grabbing at his leather jacket with nails digging into the brown material. Simon nuzzles his nose into your scalp, muscles tense, "Breathe, it's over."

All you can focus on is Simon's scent, his words. They're the only thing keeping you from oblivion. Eventually, as your husband rocks you back and forth, you can gasp enough air down to push away the black at the sides of your vision.

"That's right," he whispers, gritting his teeth. "Good girl, keep focusin' on me, yeah? You're doin' perfect." Simon doesn't care about the blood or the screams of sirens in the distance.

For the first time in his life, he doesn't care if someone else happens to see his face.

Your husband pulls his head back and shifts his hold to your cheeks, angling your runny and chilled face upwards. He grits his teeth and his eyes bleed with concern; fear.

"...He do anything?" You can only make out half the words as the sounds all huddle together in a ringing tone, but you shake your head in small flinches. Lips find your forehead—heated and firm. Muttered words. "Did so good, Love, I'm so proud of you. S'not your fuckin' fault, you hear?"

Sniffling, you only whimper once more before lips kiss away your tears; thumbs coming up after to swipe at the remnants. Curling over you, this beast—defined so often as ruthless and deadly—shields you from the image of the man you'd killed in self-defense like a demon of smoke and ash. Holding you as if he can make everything else disappear.

After all, you weren't meant for this. You were meant for your soft skin and your loving eyes. Everything else that Simon tied himself to you for—goodness.

"Simon," you gasp again and shove your face into his chest. For the life of you, you can't say anything else. He knows what you mean.

"I'm here," he repeats. Caressing the back of your head, his hand tenses and softens with leaving adreanaline. "Nothin'll happen to you again. It's all gonna be alright."

You believe him.

#halcyone answers #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #x female reader #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

folie à deux

or: the toxic ex boyfriend Ghost AU

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader 

WARNINGS: || 18+ only MDNI || Toxic masculinity || Possessive & obsessive behaviour || Slut shaming || Groping || Gaslighting || Implied & referenced cheating || Mildly dubious consent

w/c: 5.7k (Read on AO3)

a/n: this was supposed to be like 5 paragraphs, so PLEASE if y'all hate it i dont want to know

It starts with a knock on your front door when you’re only half expecting to see Simon Riley.

He even knocks with a sense of entitlement, and it enrages you.  Three hard raps, and that’s it.  He won’t knock again.  If you don’t open the door, he’ll kick it down to get to you—those were rules you’d learnt the hard way.  

You mentally reinforce your motivation when you fling the door open: You’re scared he’ll break your door down, again, and this time, when they try to evict you, Simon won’t be around to terrify them into letting you stay.

How on earth you’d ever found the prick attractive is beyond you in that minute.  Except, no sooner does the thought enter your mind do you dismiss it.  Of course you had—and still—found him attractive.  That had never been the problem.  

He wore his military career on his face, much easier to see than the chest candy he bragged about but no less attractive to you–scars and burns, healing and the not-quite healed bruises plain to see on his face, a cacophony of yellows and purples.  A nose that had spent more time broken than not, its slight curve most likely a combination of never having been set by a professional nor the opportunity to heal without being broken again.  A thin scar dissected his lip, went all the way up the side of his face to his brow, almost like someone had taken a knife to him, carved him up like a piece of meat.  You’d never asked, and it’s not like he’d ever volunteered the information.  

It just sat there along with the three thousand other things he’d deposited in the chasm that stretched between the two of you. 

“You…Jesus,” he breathes, and slams the door shut behind him, making you wince.  “Where are you off to, then?”

“N’ wearin’ that?” He prompts again when you don’t answer, motions to your body with his chin.  

You roll your eyes when he pulls you into him and plants a hard kiss on your mouth, ignoring your squirming.  “Fuckin’ about to spill out, little dove.” 

“Spill?  Simon, I’m sewn into this dress.”  You pluck at his shirt that has deliciously little give where it sits on his hard chest, leaving your palm there as a little treat for yourself.  “You would know.  You capable of wearing shirts your own size, or does the SAS make it mandatory to have your tits straining against them?”

When he doesn’t respond, you push away from him, and step back, crossing your arms against your chest, definitely not pushing your tits up slightly, and he mirrors your movement.  He’s leaning against the wall by the front door now, blocking your exit, and you can only roll your eyes at the foreseeable display of machismo.  

“Your stuff’s in the front room.  Grab it and go, I have to finish getting dressed.  I have plans.” 

“With a pimp?”

Back when you were blissfully ignorant of Simon’s penchant for keeping you destabilised at all times, unconditionally wanting the last word, his crass words would have made you sputter and struggle to respond.  Oh but you know him so much better now.

Now, the blatant transparency in his delivery just makes you laugh.  

You interrupt his next words with a wave of your hand and turn to retreat to your room.  “Get your shit and leave, baby.”  

You hear his harsh exhale at the dismissal, and once upon a time, the repercussions of dismissing Simon in the middle of a conversation would have excited you.  You used to do it to get a rise out of him, instigate him into chasing you around, fucking you silly when he caught you.  Now, you just do it because you can. 

“No need to be a bitch.  I’ll be on my way in a second, just wanted to check on you, little dove.”

Your laugh is breathy, and you have to pull your mascara wand away from your eyes so you don’t end up stabbing yourself with it.  “‘No need to be a bitch’ says the man currently being a bitch about me not telling him my plans.”  Your laugh is mocking when you turn back to the mirror.  “You ever tire of this routine, Simon?  Because it’s tiring to me.”

Your words only make Simon’s eyes soften, and he looks at you almost indulgently, patronisingly, as though you were a child throwing a tantrum to get an adult’s attention.  “Could never tire of you, little dove.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, but he only snorts in response.  

It’s all a game to him, you know that.  He makes it very clear how much amusement he derives from watching you fumble and fall, how much he gets off on the stress he gives you.

And yet, you’re drawn to him, every single time.  Every single time, you play mental gymnastics to find a reason to write off his bad behaviour because, well, it’s Simon.  He’s…like no one else you’ve ever known.  

Your choices have always been limited between a cruel, mercurial god and inane, paltry men.  

Except today.  Today you hold your response back, try not to rise to the obvious challenge.

“Come on then, I’ll drive ya.”

“Are you insane?” you screech.  “You’re not driving me to my date, you’re not driving me anywhere, what the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?”

A glimpse of his Adonis belt as he stretches his arms above his shoulders and cranes his neck from side to side briefly grabs your attention. 

“Don’t be difficult, little dove,” he gently scolds you, and your eyes snap back to his—yours wide with incredulity, his calm and collected in that beautiful, honey brown.  “What were y’gonna do, take the Tube with y’tits out like that?  If the prick ain’t pickin’ you up, I’ll take ya to him.”  He jerks his chin in your vanity’s direction and plops himself on your bed to watch.  “Come on, love, finish yer preenin’ then.”

“Preening,” you mutter under your breath as you turn back to the mirror.  “Fuckin’ weirdo.”

It’s only when you’re dabbing perfume behind your ears do you catch his eye just as he brings a cigarette up to his mouth, and you squeal.  “Simon!  The fuck are yo—don’t smoke in my bedroom!”

“Our bedroom—”

“What?!”

“—’n ya didn’t care before.  Y’wanna share, ‘s that it, little dove?”

“Oh my god.”  You turn around slowly, your hands against your lips, joined together as though in prayer.  “Simon.”

“Yeah, baby.”

“You don’t live here anymore.  This isn’t your flat, it’s mine.  This isn’t your bedroom, it’s mine.”

Simon just continues to smoke as though he hadn’t heard you, dark eyes taking the slow, leisurely route back to meet yours. “Y’look good, baby.”  His voice is hoarse, the words slow and deliberate and raspy, and…you can’t deny it.  The pull he’s always exerted on you, the undeniably ruinous sirens call—you burn hotter and brighter than accretion, you’re a helpless sailor caught up in his thrall 

“Simon” 

“Did’ya always look so good?”  The way he looks at you as though in a trance…you know he’s not listening, seeming to just be thinking out loud.  When he stands up, you take an automatic step back, then cringe when the vanity hits the back of your legs.  Nowhere to go to escape his looming presence.  “No…not like this. Somethin’s changed.”  He puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around so you’re both facing the mirror.  

The back of your neck feels particularly warm as he pushes his entire front to your back, and you can feel him there, hard and insistent against your lower back.  When eyes meet in the mirror, he looks at you like you’re a puzzle for him to solve.  “Nothing’s changed,” you whisper.  “You’re still a dick.”

“Hmm,” he mutters, then lifts your face up with one hand around your neck, and brings his cigarette around to your lips with the other. 

Your instinctive inhale makes him shift against you slightly, and your eye twitches from how good he feels pressed up against you like this.  How he smells to you—that familiar mix of aniseed and icy menthol, fingers eking that potent hit of nicotine straight into you from where his fingers dig into your skin.  “Definitely somethin’ different.”  He pulls one strap of your dress down, and you exhale as he places one warm, lingering kiss on your exposed shoulder.  “‘S good.  Whatever’s different is good, little dove.”

“We can’t—,” you whisper, and his eyes glint at you with interest and arrogance through the mirror.  “We can’t do this.”  

“You’re so pretty all dressed up like this.  Always were so pretty.  So soft, and—” he inhales deeply at the spot just under your ear “—always smell so fuckin’ good.”

“You can’t,” you moan in response, but press yourself closer to him, anyway.

“But I can,” he responds gruffly.  “‘Nythin’ I like, little dove.  And I know y’like it too.”

“Fuck, just—”  He interrupts you by giving you another hit, and this time you turn around in his arms to exhale in his face.  He doesn’t even flinch.  “What are you playing at, Simon?  What do you want from me this time?”

Simon continues to look at your mouth as you speak, and almost as if on auto-pilot, slips his thumb into your mouth.  You want to bite him for his audacity, you almost kick him in the shin, almost almost almost…  But what you really end up doing is accepting it, licking the pad of his thumb and letting him push it into your mouth.  

Your initials on the space between the base of his thumb and index finger catch your eye—it’s a new tattoo, and you know this entire game is a ruse to draw your attention to it—but you don’t react.  You may be stupid horny for him, but you’re not stupid.

“Always such a good girl for me,” he praises, and it brightens you up on the inside, sparks hot and bright under your spine.  “Tell me, love…still me you think about when you touch your pussy?”

Your harsh exhale and slightly narrowed eyes are the only indication you give of having heard him at all.  In response, his thumb moves slightly deeper, sitting heavy on your tongue, and you let him.  

Your stubborn silence makes him chuckle, and he stubs out his cigarette on the ashtray you (still) keep on your vanity, pushing your dress up over your ass so he can grab your cheeks possessively.  The movement is so quick, so fluid that your protest turns to ash on your tongue when he finds bare skin and squeezes hard.

“Forgot somethin, did ya?”    

“No.”

“No?”  His hands grip you tighter and pull you harshly into him.  The angle makes you grind into his cock, and you know that he’s not even half as unaffected as he pretends.  “Gonna put out on the first date, then, like a slut?  Don’t remember you givin’ me any the first time I—”

“It’s not my first date with him.”

Simon pulls back to look into your eyes, and you’re graced by the first genuine smile on his face all evening—the most brilliant of Rayleigh scatterings put to shame.    “It is your first date, love.”

The blunt, matter-of-factness in his words gives you pause, your mind still coming to terms with what he’s just said, your heart starting to race at the barely concealed confidence about your whereabouts.  “How do you—what are you saying to me right now?”

“Truth, little dove.  Like I promised.”

The casual, off hand remark to one of the most devastating conversations in your life gives you whiplash and you have to physically shake your head to get rid of the feeling of something crawling up the back of your neck.  You put your hands firmly on his chest and push him away, and he steps back easily.  

“Are you…Simon.  Are you having me followed?” 

“Don’t need to.  I know you, little dove.”  He takes another step back from you and cocks his head at your dazed expression.  “Put some knickers on.  The white ones, y’know ‘em.”  When you don’t move, he motions towards your underwear drawer with an expectant expression—as though you’re frozen because you’ve forgotten where they are rather than because you’ve just learnt that your ex boyfriend’s stalking you.

When he crosses his arms, you’re jolted to action.  In a daze, you pick up the first pair your hands grab and pull them on.  He thrusts your purse at you, and leads you out your front door with his hand clasped tight around yours.   

You wish you could say that your ex boyfriend driving you to a date with another man is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, but that’s not realistic for a life lived around Simon Riley. 

***

The drive is silent, but one big hand remains on your inner thigh.  His fingers are so long that they almost touch the seat on either side of your leg.  It feels invasive but it’s also familiar, so you don’t say anything.  Classic— he never had to try hard to get what he wanted from you.

When he asks you for a smoke, you light one up for him and stick it into the corner of his waiting mouth, and he kisses your fingertips as they retreat.  You still don’t say anything.  Instead, your eyes stay determinedly on your initials tattooed on his skin, his warm hand almost a brand on your thigh, and you think about your life with him in the .

The implication that things were normal in the before is wildly misleading, and a genuine disservice to the shit he’d put you through.   

Once upon a time, you’d been delusional about your place in Simon’s world; now it just leaves a bad taste in your mouth.  He threw special forces and taskforce and lads need me in your face every opportunity he’d gotten, and worse. Simon Riley was not a man who did or could be convinced to do something he didn’t want to—and you’d hardly ever asked for any explanations from him but still, the excuses were on the tip of his tongue, ready to be flung at you at Mach speed.

You’d bargained with yourself for weeks—oscillating between wanting to proactively end the relationship yourself or allowing its inevitable heat death.  He was one of a kind.  No one had ever made you feel like he had.  No one had fucked you like he had.

No one had fucked you over like he had either, but on good days, you show yourself some grace and let that thought slide.

***

You find yourself falling into old bad habits easily—you wait inside the car until he’s on your side, opening your door for you and practically lifting you out of his car.  

The warmth of his hands seeps through the material of your dress, through the skin on your hips, superheating the bones underneath.  He squeezes the flesh there appreciatively, and though his expression remains hidden to you, you can safely guess the smirking just by the creased skin by his eyes.  

“I never want to see you again.”

The words make Simon pause.  He considers you for a second, the smirk never dropping.  “Go’n, give us a kiss, then, if this is the last time.” 

“I would never,” you insist, finger poking at his hard chest, and he retreats from you, puts his hands up in mock-surrender.   “You’re a manipulative bastard, Simon,” you hiss at him.  “And I’m going on this date.”  With your piece said, you walk away from him.

“Never stopped ya, little dove,” he calls out, a hint of an aggravating laugh in his words.    

 You flip him off without even turning around.  “Drop dead, Simon.”

To your great disappointment, your words don’t inspire the heavens to smite him where he stands immediately, and when you quickly shoot one last look back at him over your shoulder, he stands against his car, arms crossed, looking for all the world like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Asshole.

It wasn’t even that Simon was a bad boyfriend to you—though he was certainly the fucking worst—it was the fact that a) he was a bad person and b) you’d become a bad person by osmosis.

Case in point: you wanted to leave your date mid-meal, battling the intrusive thought of just putting your drink down and walking out the front door, but you couldn’t even say why.  Your date had kindly acquiesced when you’d insisted on the worst table on the floor.  The one overlooking the car park.  The window overlooking the only car parked there—the massive black one, with illegally tinted windows and a suspiciously missing owner.

At least the bar was nice.  Great ambience, dim lighting and pretty interiors, it should have been the perfect first date.  Your date himself was fine too—nice enough with a sweet smile he flashed at you, politely having taken to talking at you when you’d made it clear with your apathy that talking with you wasn’t going to happen.  

After just two drinks, you start to have flashbacks—even an hour spent in Simon’s company clearly manifesting as literal madness—which was disconcerting by itself, but the uncharacteristic subject matter has you really worried.  Every time you blink, you see Simon’s face…or his cock…and when your date asks if you’d like to share dessert, you answer, “Simon…” before hearing yourself, and feeling the heat of shame dance on your cheeks.  Your date just looks confused.

A quick glance outside the window shows the empty car park and…nothing else.  No car.

Had he fuckin’ left?

The thought incenses you, and the irrational nature of the anger makes you feel even more shame.  Why should you care?  When had he ever done what you’d expected of him?  And when had he ever been there for you when you’d needed it.

Fuck it, you think.    

Maybe you were finally free of Simon and his toxic, shameless, unbreakable hold on your life.  Maybe it was time to move on.

You allow yourself a satisfied smile when, in what feels like divine approval of your plan, your date offers to take you home.

***

There are cracks in your ceiling that you’d never noticed before.

You resist the urge to wince, then try to moan but give up when it gets stuck in your throat, and your date misinterprets your sigh of boredom and discomfort as one of pleasure, choosing to go down on you with more enthusiasm than before.  Things could not be worse for you—the man between your legs is clearly in need of a compass and a map and trying so hard that you feel guilty about the whole thing—but you’re determined to tolerate it.  So that the point is made.     

When your date finally leaves, your shaky smile and poorly concealed look of relief convinces neither of you of a second date.  You suppose you should be grateful that he left without a fuss, but you’re just relieved that he’s gone.  You’re contemplating—holding your head in your hands while your elbows rest on the kitchen counter—when you hear him.

“This is pathetic, even for you.”  You turn around, and yep.  It’s him alright.  Sitting at your dinner table, your flimsy chair all but invisible behind his massive frame.  “Breaking in, Simon?  Seriously?”

“Y’gave me a key, little dove.”

“Yeah.  When we were dating.  A key that you’d returned?”  

When there is neither a response, nor any change to his posture, you turn around and start to pour yourself a glass of water.  Then change your mind and grab two whiskey tumblers and your decanter.  “Pathetic,” you repeat.  “How long were you planning this?”

His sudden breath on the back of your neck makes you exhale harshly, and he steadies your trembling hands by placing his on yours.  Together, you pour two glasses of whiskey, but his hands don’t leave yours even when you’re done.

“How was the date?”

“You tell me, Simon.”

“Wasn’t invited, was I?”

“It didn’t stop you.”

He places a small kiss behind your ear in response.  “No.”   His hands knead at your breasts and your head falls back to his shoulder with a sigh, and he grinds into you.  “Feel that?  What even your fake little noises do to me?”

“You were listening?”  The thought is…unbearably hot, and you stubbornly refuse  to examine it any further in your mind.  

“You belong with me, little dove, you know this.  You’ve always belonged to me.  All of you.  Every single inch.  Where would I go?”  

You reach behind you to touch him, and he’s thick and warm to the touch, even through the layers of fabric, and it’s familiar, it’s all so familiar to you..  “This is fucked up.  You were here listening when another man fucked me?”

In a quick succession of lithe, almost impossibly quick movements, he’s picked you up and placed you on your kitchen counter, one glass of whiskey shattering on the floor.  “Made your point, baby?”  

Your robe is off your shoulders and pooling around your waist in a second, and Simon doesn’t even bother hiding his smirk when he pulls off your panties and pockets them.  You don’t bother protesting.  It even feels like trouble when he runs a single finger over the seams of your cunt—you’re damningly wet and if you had enough withal to curse your body out for it, you would.

“You've got such a pretty pussy, little dove,” Ghost says as he fingers you, his voice half-muffled because he's pressing a possessive kiss to your forehead.  “And so wet baby, you’re dripping on my fingers.  All of it fo' me?  Or was it that twat, hm?” 

You're seething inside, raging that your plan backfired like this.  “It was him,” you say, before you can help yourself.  “You heard him fuck me, yeah?”  

“Fuck you?” Simon’s chuckle is dark and ruinous.  “He didn’t fuck you, baby.  He just stretched you out for me.  Good man. Saves me the work, innit.”

Before you can react, before you can breathe, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, picks up his glass of whiskey in his other hand, and brings you to your bedroom.  Fuck, your sheets are still rumpled, dress and bra strewn on the floor, sandals sitting like a death trap of heel and straps by the foot of your bed.  The room even smells of sex and the cologne your date had worn—it’s disorienting.  You almost feel bad.  Almost.

But…Simon’s presence is all over your bedroom too.  The smell of his aftershave lingered in the air, noticeable if you closed your eyes and breathed in deep.  Other signs too—the faint bitterness of his cigarette from earlier that evening, it’s corpse in the ashtray on your vanity.  When he sets his drink down on your nightstand, he sets it on the coaster you keep there—they’re strewn on almost every surface on your flat.  Mementoes from Simon from different countries he’d go to on deployment.  

“Told you he fucked me,” you say, cheekily—trying to dissuade your mind from leading you towards sentiment—and get a smack on you ass for your trouble.

“‘Course, little dove,” Simon drawls in response.  “‘N you enjoyed it too, yeah?  Tryin’ t’make me jealous.  Took him to the same place we used to go, huh?”  Another smack on your backside, this one hard enough to make you gasp.  “Think I’d forgotten, baby?  Fucked you in that car park, didn’t I?”

“Were you jealous?”

“Why should I be?”  He sets you down gently on the bed so you’re sitting upright, then takes a sip of his whiskey.  “Y’want this.”  

“I didn’t think you were giving me much of a choice.”

“I’m not.”  He takes another sip, and when he leans forward to kiss you, the whiskey floods into your mouth, rich and smoky and bitter.  He continues to kiss you and you have to swallow around his tongue, which makes him kiss you harder.  He’s a bully in every aspect of his life, and kissing you is no different.  His fingers clamp around your cheeks and you have no choice but to kiss him back.  Even in this he dominates you, trying to win even where there is no fight to be fought.

When he pulls away, your heart throbs at how he looks through the lights of the street outside pouring in through your window.  You’ve seen his face before, you’re one of the trusted few that can say they know what Simon Riley looks like, but it’s been a while since you’ve seen him like this.  The harsh lights from outside almost soften where they kiss the harsh angles of his face, where the sharp line of his clenched jaw disappears behind his ears, accentuating his thick neck.

He’s beautiful and cruel and bad for you and every adjective you can think of under the sun.

“Y’want this,” he repeats.  

“I want this.”

And then Simon moves so suddenly.  There’s no preparing for it, no accounting for speed that has no build up—one second you’re sitting upright looking up at him the next you’re on your back and he’s hovering over you, fingers making quick work of his zipper before, in one push, he’s buried in you.  Your breath feels like it’s literally been punched out of your chest.  He’s so deep in you, you can feel him in your throat—he allows you one deep breath before he’s got a large hand wrapped around your throat.  The one with your tattoo on it.

The thought of it incites something foreign deep in your belly, low and simmering hot—you can’t believe he’s tattooed your name on his hand after telling you that he didn’t think you were what he’d wanted.  

You can’t imagine your expression right now, but he tightens his fingers around your throat and it drags your attention back to him.  He’s gritting his teeth, his jaw clamped tightly shut while he grinds his pelvis into yours, each thrust driving you further and further away from him and towards the centre of the bed.  You don’t even understand the movement of his hips—you’re displaced and jostled from the sheer power of his thrusts—but the motion itself feels like it’s more of an up and down motion, dragging against your walls, punching into your G spot.  When your head falls back on a low moan, he jerks your body to alertness just by your throat, and you clench at the feat of strength even when he’s buried in you as far as he can go.  

Simon groans in response, the noise sounding like it tears through his throat on its way out, but you’re helpless to do anything at all, just trying to breathe through the foreign sensations inside you right now, clamp tighter and tighter around him, threatening to break.  You’ve given up trying to look up at him anymore, the pleasure making you squeeze your eyes shut, one hand intertwined with his by your head, the other clawing at his forearm.  

“Shit, baby, hold on, fuck, jus’ let me—” He moves to adjust you, grabbing one thigh to spread you open, push himself deeper inside you, when he freezes.  

“Wha—Simon, what—”

“The fuck is this?” His voice is pitched lower than usual, dark and dangerous.  You follow his line of sight and he’s transfixed, eyes unblinking, looking at a spot on your inner thigh.  You know what he’s seeing, and in the midst of everything that’s happened, everything that’s about to happen, you wonder if you’re seeing the evidence of the existence of a just God.

“You weren’t…you weren’t meant to see it.  It’s from ages ago…”  He reaches out a slightly trembling hand towards it, stops inches away from it—and oh this is better than anything you could’ve imagined—before he brushes two reverent fingers over the little skull you have tattooed there.  “Simon?”

When Simon looks back at you, he seems more determined, somehow.  Like the final part of a puzzle has clicked into place, somehow, and a decision has been made.

This time when he moves, it’s deeper, more powerful but equally as deliberate.  The hand around your throat moves to your face, brushing sweaty strands away from it, and framing the entire side of your face where it rests.  “Got my mark on you, yeah?  Want t’keep me, is that it?”

“I want…want to keep you,” you nearly whine at him, and his hips kick up, hammer into you, in and out, in and out— “Want to keep you Simon.  Want to be yours.”

He bends over you, his grip on your thigh unyielding, long fingers digging into the tattoo on your skin.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I—” He uses your neck to muffle his own sounds for a second and then leans to kiss you.  But it’s more than that.  You feel Simon’s surrender in that kiss—the acceptance of the inevitable, your months of torturous longing for your torturer finding release—and when you come, you bite down hard on his lip.

It feels like your body is hot enough to melt the world into soft, sepia tones around you, and you don’t even understand what he’s doing to your body right now as he fucks you through your orgasm.  He readjusts your hips as you come, and the slightest brush of the coarse hair at the base of his cock against your clit makes you vibrate from the shock of what feels like your second orgasm bleeding into your first.

And when he comes, he slams his hips into you like he’s trying to crawl inside of you.  His groan is long and tortured, and for a man who’s usually silent when he fucks, the sound is delicious.  You never want him to stop.  “Fuckin’ shit,” he murmurs, and traps you as he collapses on top of you.

In the aftermath, there is quiet.  

Simon lifts his head, once, to try to feel his way to the glass of whiskey on your nightstand, all while kissing you deeply.  Turns out, fucked out of his mind Simon is clumsy as hell, and so you grab it for him, draining it yourself before offering him the empty glass.

“Fuckin’ whore,” he mutters, unimpressed, before burying his face in your neck.  

“Says the man who slept with the entire British army in a matter of six months.”  You kiss his sweaty hair and his grip on your hips tightens.  “Bunch of slags.” 

“Don’t call my sergeant a slag.”

“Your serg—” you gasp, feeling your restart its pounding in its cage.   “Not Johnny!  You slept with MacTavish?  He fuckin—he fuckin’ offered to meet me for coffee so many times when we were broken up!  I thought he was being nice!”

“Was bein’ nice, innit.  Lookin’ out for his CO’s girl.”

Your head falls back to the bed as you stare up at the ceiling again.  “This is messed up.”  His casual tone feels like a barb, reopens old wounds and threatens to ignite a fresh wave of hostility inside you.  But before you can stew in your bitterness any longer, he kisses the side of your neck and moves off of you.

“Can’t keep doing this, little dove.”  He says, gathering your clothes from where they’re strewn all over your room.  

You get up on your elbows and cock your head, feigning innocent confusion.  “What do you mean?”

“Gonna have twats all over town stretchin’ you out fo’ me before I fuck you?”

“Why?  You offering to put the graft in yourself?”

“Maybe,” he mumbles, and when he stands up to face you, he’s got a cig hanging off the corner of his mouth.  “Y’got a light around here somewhere, can’t find mine.”

You roll your eyes, reaching over to the nightstand to grab one and throwing it at him.  He catches it deftly, and lights up his cigarette.  “What’s next for you then, Simon Riley?  Off to the pub to find the next victim for the evening?  Send me a recording of when you fuck her in the disgusting toilet?”

“Victim?  Shit baby, give me ten, we’ll go again,” he says, exhaling a cloud of smoke.    

“You’re staying?”

He leans forward, smushes your face with his large hand.  “You got me inked on you.”  You squirm away from him and he lets you go.

“It’s just a skull, Simon.  Not my initials on your hand.”  When his eyes narrow, you gasp theatrically and your hand flies up to your chest.   “Or was I not meant to see that?”  You lean up to pluck the cigarette from his fingers and take a long drag.  “Obnoxious, by the way.”

He leans forward and kisses you, hard.  You inadvertently end up blowing smoke in his mouth, but he doesn’t move, kissing you until you melt.  “Love you, little dove.  You're a massive bitch, though.”

“Pot meet kettle,” you whisper against his mouth.

You know what they say about history repeating itself.  You’ve been through this cycle before, you and Simon.  And you know what he promised you when he fucked you—he may have asked you if you’d wanted to keep him, but you hear what Simon doesn’t say.  And what he doesn’t say is that you don’t have a choice in any of this.  Simon operates like a bully, thinks like a bully because he is one.  Like with most other things, Simon brute forces your relationship, moulds and bends and twists to his liking, does not care if anything breaks.  You have no doubt that in two or three weeks’ time he’ll be across the world from you, bouncing someone else on his cock but it hardly matters.  You’ll get your lick back.  It’s what he’s taught you, afterall.        

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #lumi writes #toxic exbf! Ghost #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader

[i-cant-sing]

Thinking about that tiktok about the girl being all sad about her parents dying one day and stuff, and I'm just thinking about Yandere President Overhaul AU, the toddler triplets are just sitting around with reader (who's heavily pregnant and snoring on the couch, a little drooling too) and Tomura suddenly realised that you could die- be it by pregnancy or talking to other people- ANYTHING could kill you.

And now Tomura is about 2 seconds away from having a full blown meltdown, and Dabi and Himiko are just trying to calm him down (and give your poor self a break and not wake upto 3 kids shrieking and crying).

Himiko: can you like- not freak out? Mom's not going to die-

Tomura, snot and tears: maybe not now! B-but who knows when?! Maybe- maybe it's today- or tomorrow- or when we're asleep! What are we gonna do w-without her?!

Dabi, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest: stop being such a baby, Tomu. If mom dies, we'll just- go with her.

Tomura, stops sniffling: what?

Himiko: dabi... that's a brilliant idea! Oh my gosh, we can use my knifes!

Dabi: of course its a brilliant idea, I'm the oldest. I'm smart like that. *pats Tomuras head* see? I told you we have nothing to worry about.

Tomura, wiping his tears away and nodding: you're right. Wait, what about dad?

Dabi: we are not inviting him. He's not coming with us, he hogs mom all the time!

Tomura, eyes twinkling: Dabi, you're a genius.

And the kids all just gather around their poor innocent mom, who's just content when she wakes upto her 3 menaces sleeping away in her arms. Meanwhile, Kai (who's been listening on to the triplets convo because ofc he has the whole place bugged.) is just thinking in his office... "what the fuck? The kids are just gonna kill themselves when Y/n's not around anymore? What- how- why didn't I think of that first? Also, why didn't Himiko stand up for me? Won't she invite me along when they all go? Is she still mad at me for not getting her a pet octopus last week? What was I supposed to do when her mom said no?!"

#yandere president kai #yandere president overhaul #yandere kai chisaki #yandere overhaul #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura #yandere himiko #yandere himiko toga #yandere toga

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Three -- A Reunion

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Part: Chapter Two -- Where Is She

Warnings: Another pretty tame chapter ngl. Mild mention of murder I guess??

Word Count: 1,195

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N just a reminder that my requests are open :)

"Blitzo, can't you just deal with whatever it is on your own?" Y/n groaned, rubbing her temples in irritation as she stepped out of the office, "I swear to god, if this is some joke? I'm gonna kill you."

There was the quiet, indiscernible drone of the TV. Other than that, the room was silent. Y/n looked up, her eyes falling on the wall beside the office's door and the people who stood before it.

Moxxie, Millie, and Blitzo in a quiet, tense line. She raised her eyebrows, nearly smiled.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Blitzo uncharacteristically said nothing, simply raising his hand and pointing to the entry way. Y/n's eyes narrowed, her muscles tensed and ready for a fight as she followed the path indicated by his gesture. The hand on the knife at her side fell slack as her gaze landed on an achingly familiar face.

"Holy shit." she mumbled, her mouth falling open a little.

"Yeah, uh, he's been asking for you?" Moxxie nervously explained, "You didn't... I mean, he's the Radio Demon. He hasn't been seen in years, you didn't fuck with him... did you?"

Y/n felt tears press behind her eyes again as she took a tentative step forwards. Then another one. Slowly, she crossed the room to the taller demon who just stood there with a smile, watching her all the while with his arms folded behind his back. Y/n peered up at him, her eyes narrowed as they met his own.

The one person in the whole world she'd been practically dying to see. There was a pain, he was the cause and the cure of it. Hesitantly, she raised a hand and poked his nose.

"Shit." Blitzo muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly as Millie let out a subtle gasp.

"Are you done?" Alastor asked, his voice crackling with irritation as he looked down at Y/n, whose arms were now crossed over her chest.

"I had to make sure you weren't a dream." she shrugged, turning her head away, "Mox was right, you've been gone seven years."

"Are you mad?" he teased, leaning down towards her ear.

Y/n rolled her eyes, turning to face him once again. She scowled at the man for a moment before a smile broke out across her face.

"I never could stay mad at you." she admitted, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I..." Moxxie trailed off in confusion.

Alastor slowly wrapped his arms around Y/n's waist.

"Mills, start planning a funeral." Blitzo scoffed.

Before any of the trio could say another word, he had lifted her off her feet and was spinning her in the air.

"Al!" Y/n shrieked through her laughter, "Stop it! You'll mess up my hair!"

He set her down again and the pair released each other.

"You menace." Y/n shook her head, still laughing, "It's like you knew I was thinking of you."

"You were, were you?" he teased, leaning down to her level.

"Y/n, do you know the Radio Demon?" Millie interrupted, taking a step forward.

Both Alastor and Y/n turned to face her.

"What, this old freak?" she asked, elbowing him gently.

"I resent that." Alastor hummed and Y/n laughed again, her joy unbridaled.

"Yeah, we're friends." Y/n confirmed, catching the genuine concern in her friend's eyes, "Known each other for about as long as I've been down here."

Alastor nodded as Y/n looked back up at him.

"Speaking of the old days," he hummed, looking her up and down, "what's this new look you've got?"

"Huh?" Y/n looked down at her clothes before turning and meeting his eyes once again, "Oh, I'm an assassin now."

"No no no, my dear." he shook his head, "This simply wont do. I can't have you wandering around looking like some ragamuffin."

Alastor snapped his fingers and Y/n looked down to see she was wearing a dress now. She almost yelled at him, almost tore him a new one and called him a dick. Then she realized what dress it was she was wearing. Y/n looked up at Alastor with wide eyes.

"This is..."

"The dress you murdered your husband in, yes."

Y/n squealed, throwing her arms around Alastor's neck and pulling him in for another tight hug that he reluctantly accepted. Letting him go, she spun around, watching the way the skit splayed out from her legs.

"You remembered! Oh, Alastor! Thank you."

"The fuck." Blitzo muttered to himself, watching the scene playing out before him.

Y/n beamed up at him as Alastor raised a claw, looping it through the circle on the collar Y/n still wore. All of her other accessories and clothing had vanished, as he had intended, except for this. He hummed thoughtfully and Y/n's cheeks grew hot with shame. She looked away.

"What's this then?" he asked, letting the ring fall from his finger.

It hit the leather of the collar with a quiet thud.

"Look, I... made some bad choices." Y/n sighed, refusing to meet his eyes, "A physical sign of a very real metaphysical decision I had to make."

"Quite possessive, to cast a spell like that." Alastor mused, "You always had a thing for that though, didn't you."

Y/n raised her arms, wrapping them tightly around her body at the harsh remark. She made to move away from him but, as she did, Alastor grabbed Y/n's chin, forcing her to look at him. He watched her expression carefully.

"You could have come to me. You know I would have taken that delectable little soul off your hands in a moment."

"Yeah well, you weren't here." Y/n firmly stated, taking a step back so he no longer held her, "I did what I had to do to survive."

Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"And who exactly did you make this... bad decision with?"

"Al, can we please talk about this later?"

"They don't know, do they."

"They do." Y/n insisted, "I just... please, not now."

"Fine." Alastor relented after a moment.

The pair fell silent, Alastor's critical gaze interlocked with Y/n's indignant one.

"Sooo," Blitzo began, breaking the awkward silence and drawing the attention of the room off the pair and onto him as he took a step forward, coming to a stop beside Millie, "you two fucking?"

"Jesus, Sir!?" Moxxie exclaimed in shock.

"You can't be serious, right?" Y/n laughed in surprise, "No, Blitzo, we're not fucking. The day Alastor has a sex drive is the day Heaven is overrun by... I don't know, giant killer bees?"

"It's more likely than you think, dear."

"What's that-"

Alastor cut her off mid sentence, placing a hand over her mouth as he caught the images flashing across the TV on the other side of the room.

"Hey, rude." Y/n scoffed, pulling herself from his grip.

Alastor ignored her. With a flick of his finger, he raised the volume on the TV. At the sight of his narrowed eyes and tight smile, Y/n turned to see what exactly was bothering him so much.

----

Next Chapter --> Chapter Four -- Vox

#x reader fics #fanfic #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #the radio demon #alastor the radio demon #x reader fanfiction #x reader fanfic #x reader #make you wish #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel spoilers

[strang3lov3]

Tis’ But a Scratch

Kinda brat tamer/dom! Joel x stubborn fem Reader

Summary: when you’re injured and refuse to accept Joel’s help, he decides to adjust your attitude.

W/C: 4.3k

Warnings: brat tamer joel kinda, dom!joel, smut, rough sex, blowjobs, orgasm denial. Slight dubcon. Degradation. A little bit of fluff, implied age gap, spanking, cream pie, a bit of come play. Descriptions of injuries, but not too bad! I’m super squeamish and was able to stomach it for the most part.

A/N: based on this request by @speckledemerald ! I had a lot of fun with it and did not expect it to take this turn, but you guys know me well enough to know I’m a sucker for some rough Joel smut!

Master list

As always, comments and reblogs are very appreciated. If you like this story, let me know! I am thankful for each and every one of you who support my work ❤️

The slam of the kitchen door behind you makes you jump, you feel your blood running cold. Joel’s an angry guy, but you’ve never been directly on the receiving end of his anger. At least, not this much anger. He is fucking pissed.

“Coulda’ gotten us fuckin’ killed. You realize that, right?” Joel spits out at you, chucking his backpack on the kitchen island sharply. You startle at the sound. His eyes are piercing and full of anger when you look at him. Hatred, even. You feel your heart drop to your stomach, fearful and full of guilt. “You never watch your fuckin’ back. Always dawdling or somethin’ else. You don’t take anything seriously, do you?”

He’s right. You know he is. “We’re fine, though. I was handling it,” You don’t know if your words are meant to be a comfort to him or yourself.

You and Joel were in an old store on patrol together, going through it to see what supplies you could scrounge up. Joel was constantly scolding you for not keeping up with him, not watching your back at all. He was sick of babysitting you, he told you. Too old for it, he said. You rolled your eyes every time he complained.

So yeah, handling it. That’s what you’re sticking with. When a raider snuck up behind you and your back was pinned to him in a bone crushing embrace, his knife pressed into your side. And all you could do was kick and scream for Joel and thrash your body. Handling it.

“Yeah?” he asks you, his tone sarcastic and full of venom. “Had it all under control, is that right?” Joel is pacing around the house, making sure there’s no other raiders or clickers. This is a known safe house, far away from any civilization.

You and Joel spent plenty of time here together, often playing cards or just talking. The last time you were holed up here together, he watched you closely. The way your eyes traced his face, how they traced every line and curve of his muscled body. You thought you hid your desire, but Joel knew better. He knew just how you craved him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you spit back, enunciating your words harshly. You’re lying, you know it and so does Joel. The truth is, if Joel hadn’t shot the raider in the head and dragged you out of there, you don’t know if you’d be alive to be having this argument right now. But you’ll never tell Joel that.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ a goddamn river into the fuckin’ floor right now,”

Your brows furrow. “What are you–” you trail off, eyes darting to your side. You didn’t think the raider actually stabbed you. You lift your shirt, and nothing. But then it catches your eye.

The adrenaline must have kept you from realizing what happened to you. The raider managed to knife the top of your left thigh pretty good, a long cut all the way across. You couldn’t tell how deep it went or what. “Fuck,” you mumble.

“Blood everywhere. You know, that’s pretty fuckin’ close to your artery, genius,”

Don’t remind me, you think. Blood was never your strong suit. You press your hand into your thigh, your eyes flutter shut and your breaths become shallow when you see the liquid crimson painting your palm. Quickly, you walk to the couch in the living room and sit down with your head between your knees. You’re getting dizzy. “Just a scratch,” you mumble, to him or yourself, you don’t know.

“Get back here,” Joel barks at you. “You’re hurt. And I ain’t finished with you.”

You really don’t need Joel punishing you more than you’re already doing to yourself. You can’t take any more of his disappointed and angry looks. Any more of his words that cut so deep inside of your body.

“Fuck off,” you whisper, trying to compose yourself. Your vision is going spotty as you unbutton your jeans and push them down your legs, wincing as the rough fabric brushes over your wound. Your head is getting fuzzier, and Joel’s shouting something about other raiders being there at the store but you can barely understand him. He sounds miles away and underwater.

Joel follows you into the living room, reaching for your leg once he meets you at the dingy old sofa. It’s a dusty rose color with yellow and blue flowers. You kick his hand away and grit your teeth at the action. It fucking hurts. “Leave me alone, Joel. I’m fine,” your voice is weak and your eyes are getting glassy. Your lips lose their color. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna talk about this right now.” you pant.

“Oh, shit,” Joel whispers in realization, watching you lose yourself. He’s seen it all before. “You’re faintin’ again.”

Again.

You really didn’t handle blood well.

Once, Joel accidentally sliced his hand open trying to open an old can of fruit. You watched the entire thing and fainted right in front of him, ended up falling flat on your face. You have a scar on your chin from that night, now.

He spent the evening trying to bring you back to earth, feeding you the old fruit to get your blood sugar back up. Grumbling something about how you need to get it together if you’re gonna continue to be his patrol partner.

“No, I’m not,” your voice is barely above a whisper. You can’t admit defeat, admit that you should have been more conscious of your surroundings back at that old store, or else you wouldn’t be moments away from unconsciousness right now. You absolutely cannot let Joel win.

Joel lets out a deep sigh and crouches in front of you, trying to remove your hand from your thigh. You fight him, still. He can’t wrap his head around why you’re being so. Fucking. Stubborn.

“Stop it, Joel. I can take care of myself,”

Joel just grabs your wrist again, moving it away. You don’t have the energy to fight him off this time. “Let me see,” he mumbles. He takes in your injury, then leaves to grab his backpack. Once he’s situated, he begins his work. “Don’t need to be so proud. You’re hurt.”

He begins by pulling out a bottle of alcohol. You reach forward to take it from him, do it yourself. Deny him the satisfaction of picking up the pieces of the mess you’ve made of yourself, yet again.

He glares at you. “Knock it off,” he says gruffly. But you don’t, you just wiggle and avoid his touch. Pull away from him and push into his stomach with your foot. “Quit your squirmin’, for fuck’s sake. Too goddamn stubborn, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Your cheeks go red at the pet name, your squirming comes to a halt. Joel takes notice of the effect his words have on you. “So that’s what it takes to get you to behave, hm? Call you sweetheart?”

He’s testing the waters…curious.

“No,” you lie. Yes.

There is an immediate change in the room, a tension between you and Joel in the atmosphere. It’s palpable, like you could reach out and grab it. Feel it between your fingers, even. Hot and heavy and impossible to ignore.

Joel reaches forward, covering your eyes with his hand. “Keep those eyes closed f’me, sweetheart. Don’t look. That’s it, now,” He removes his hand and your eyes are still closed, you know better than to look at the gore of your injured thigh. He continues, “Need to pull these pants down some more, alright?” You nod lazily in response, he pulls your pants down your legs and nudges your thighs apart. The cut goes further inward than either of you realized.

Joel gets to work then, dumping a bit of the alcohol over your wound. You groan and cry at the pain. It brings you back from your state of near-unconsciousness. “Fuck, Joel,”

He tries to ignore the little moans and fuck, Joel’s you let out as he disinfects your cut. “I know, I know,” he croons at you. “It’ll be over soon. Promise.”

He reaches for a rag and dumps some of his canteen’s water on it, then gently scrubs away the blood. He starts on the outside of your thigh and washes the blood off of your skin.

And then it happens. White-hot sparks of electricity deep in your core.

He reaches the inside of your thigh and accidentally brushes your center, covered only by the thin cotton of your panties. You let out a gasp in response.

“Sorry,” Joel mumbles. “Your wound is real close to yourself there. Might happen again.”

“No, it’s okay. I trust you,” you reply. And you do, but a part of you is hoping he touches you again.

“Doin’ so good f’me,” he mumbles, and his words have an intoxicating effect on you. Does he know what he’s doing to you? How he’s making you fall to pieces?

It does happen again. And again. And each time, you let out little gasps and moans. You almost wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, but you don’t mind. You wonder if he knows how aroused you’re getting with every brush of his fingertips.

He works for a while longer, then wraps up your wound with gauze. “All better now, sweetheart. I was feelin’ nice for some reason and didn’t torture ya with stitches, but I’ll check on it later and we might need to do some. Depends on how it’s holdin’ up, but I’ll be gentle if it comes to that,” He says softly, apologetically. His words are his olive branch extended to you, his apology for being too harsh with you in your injured state.

“Oh, how kind,” you bite back. And just like that, your feistiness has returned, you’re right back to being your stubborn and sarcastic self just like before. And you don’t really know why you build your walls back up, but you do. You’re not gonna take any pity from him. His words echo in your mind. Too proud. “I would’ve been fine without all your help, you know. And I won’t need any when we get back, so drop it.”

Joel’s soft gaze leaves and is replaced by another fiery look of offense. “Oh, fuck you. Jesus, would it kill you to say thanks?”

“Fuck you!” you spit. Joel blinks when your saliva hits his face, he wipes it from his cheek, then examines it on his palm. Slowly, he meets your eyes, his gaze dark and lustful. The tension in the air strengthens, you feel your heart begin to beat rapidly. You didn’t mean to spit on him, but you’re gonna stand your ground and not take any of his shit.

Joel rises to his feet, so big and radiating power and masculinity above you. “You wanna try that again?” he asks, his voice is low and dark, lacking any semblance of amusement.

“I, fu-” you stutter out. Your confidence is beginning to dwindle as you choke out, “Don’t need your fucking help. Don’t need to be a part of your fucking savior complex.”

Joel laughs dryly. You’ve really pissed him off now, you can see the pure hatred in his eyes. They’re icy cold, piercing right through you. “You’d better swallow your pride before I shove it down your throat myself, sweetheart. Sick of this attitude, you fuckin’ brat,”

“Make me,” you retort, challenging him. “How’re you gonna do that?”

You wonder just how far he’ll push you. What boundaries he’s gonna test…

“I don’t think you wanna find out, sweetheart. Not gonna be nice about it, I promise you that,”

“Big surprise,” you snarl, “There’s not one nice bone in your body. You’re a fucking ass–”

“Gonna start by fuckin’ that pretty mouth of yours, teach you a lesson,” he interrupts you. His voice is cool and collected, you watch his hands make their way to his front, he palms his growing erection. He eyes you questioningly for a moment, using them to ask you sincerely if this is okay. If it’s too much. You nod, understanding his silent question. He nods back.

You open your mouth to speak, but Joel wastes no time shutting you up. “You suck my dick like a good girl, and maybe I’ll consider makin’ you come. But I’m not feelin’ very generous yet,”

“What are you talking–” you trail off, watching Joel unbuckle his belt with his swift and deftly moving hands.

“You’re drippin’ for me, darlin’. Didn’t think I noticed? Could practically taste it,”

Your body betrays you and you let out a whimper at the thought of Joel’s tongue in your pussy. How he’d explore your folds with the firm and wet muscle. Joel chuckles in amusement, freeing his cock from the constraint of his jeans. He takes one imposing step in front of you, his thick and hard cock is held loosely between his thumb and his pointer and middle fingers.

“Not so tough now, hm? Not when your pleasure’s on the table, I see. Selfish fuckin’ brat,”

“Joel,” you moan. He shuts you up by shoving his cock in your mouth in one swift motion, your lips part around the soft and smooth flesh of his tip. He’s slow at first, making sure you can take it. When he’s satisfied with your readiness, he shoves it as far down your throat as you can comfortably take.

“Fuck, that’s all you needed. God, sweetheart. You’re so much nicer with my cock in your mouth, you know that?” he groans, his hands finding your scalp. He tangles his fingers through your hair and pulls gently, when you moan he tugs your hair roughly.

You hum in response, wrapping your hands around his upper thighs and squeezing his ass. He pushes them away with force. “You just don’t get it do you, you poor dumb thing? You take what I give you now, girl. Don’t be greedy,”

His words send pangs of desire through your body, you’ve never been so aroused in your life. His cock is hard and heavy on your tongue, and with each powerful thrust of his hips your nose nudges that tuft of dark hair surrounding his member.

“Fuck,” he hisses through gritted teeth. Your eyes are blown wide, tears pricking the corners. There’s spit dribbling down your chin and you look completely fucking ruined.

The dull ache between your thighs grows stronger, and ever so subtly move your hand to your center. Or so you think. Just before you can press your fingers to your clit, Joel pulls his dick from your mouth and grabs your wrist in a vice grip.

“God, you just don’t fucking learn, do you? I told you to suck my dick like a good girl,”

“I did, Joel,” you whine in protest. You move your other hand to your center in hopes of relieving the pressure, but he grabs that one too.

“God, you’re dumb. No, you didn’t. You didn’t listen, didn’t take what I was givin’,” he yanks you up by your wrists, drags you to the arm of the couch and shoves you. Hard. “So I’m gonna take what I want from ya now. And you can cry and beg as much as you want, and I still won’t let you come. ‘Cause you can’t follow simple directions.”

Your stomach drops, you realize just how serious he is. He’s gonna use you and toss you aside, leave you crying for release. “Joel,” you cry. He’s breaking you down.

“No point in cryin’ now. Just shut your mouth like a good girl and take my cock,”

You move to face him, but he turns you back in place. “Bend over,” he demands.

When you don’t jump at his command, he shoves you again, forcing your chest down into the arm of the couch. He roughly tugs down the fabric of your panties, and then you feel the sting of his big hand striking your ass, red hot pain spreading over your cheeks. “Fuck,” you yelp in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Shut up,” he tells you sternly, massaging the stinging flesh of your ass. It’s a gentle reminder he’s still here. “God, you’re stupid. Poor thing. How many times do I have to tell you to be quiet?”

You let out a moan in protest and he smacks your ass again. “Spread your legs. No back talking, now. Be a good girl and open wide for me. That’s it,” he croons as you shuffle your feet apart.

He drags his cock through your folds, purposely stopping just before your clit, denying you any sort of relief. He slips the tip of his cock in your pussy, then without warning, pulls you onto his cock. Hard.

You cry out and he shushes you, reminding you to keep quiet. He repeats the motion again and you bite your lip to keep your noises suppressed.

He fucks you with both hands on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin, surely decorating you with bruises. The room is filled with the noises of his heavy breathing and skin slapping skin, as well as the wet squelching of your pussy.

“Fu-” you start, moving a hand to cover your mouth.

“That’s it,” he breathes in approval. “Quiet.”

You bite back moans, feeling your stomach tighten. You’re getting close, just need a bit more.

His cock begins to pulse inside of you, his once calculated thrusts now sloppy and frenzied. “Feel that?” He asks. “Gettin’ close, now. Almost over, sweetheart. See what this pussy’s doin’ to me?”

You can’t help the wail that falls from your lips. You’re in agony, you need to come. And after this, you don’t know if you’ll be able to relieve yourself. Your fingers will never compare to his cock, you’ll never be able to match the pace or power with which he fucks you.

“S’matter, sweetheart?” He taunts you. “Breakin’ the rules again, you know. Do I need to remind you how good girls act?” He rubs a hand over your ass in warning, tapping his fingers on the swollen and still stinging flesh.

You shake your head no. It’s painful, the way he’s punching into that sweet spot deep inside you. So close yet so far from your orgasm.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I want you to nod your head yes or shake your head no, got it? Still don’t want you makin’ any noise,”

You nod in anticipation of what he’s going to ask of you. He’s still fucking you at a punishing pace.

“Been thinkin’ that you’d look real pretty comin’ all over my cock. Don’t you think?”

You nod again.

“Unfortunately, baby, you’re not allowed to. Which is a goddamn shame, of course,” he mumbles, his thrusts coming to a slowed pace.

He continues, “I was thinking if you said the magic words, I might make it all better for you,”

You whimper at the prospect of release, then quickly swallow your moans.

“You know those words, right baby? Please, thank you. Manners,”

You nod again, pushing your ass back into his groin. He swats at you with his hand, but not terribly hard. Just a gentle warning.

“Maybe all of this could have been avoided if you said ‘thank you Joel’. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this position, practically beggin’ me to let you come,”

You nod in response, not willing to argue any longer. “Say thank you for my cock down your throat. Did you a favor, anyway. God knows you needed to shut up,”

“Joel, fuck. I need to come,” you rasp out, breaking his rule.

“Say thank you, sweetheart. Come on now, mind your manners,” God, how sexy and low his voice is.

You don’t thank him. Not yet. You won’t thank him, not until he breaks down every ounce of fight left in you.

He slaps your ass once more, then moves his hand to your clit, gingerly rubbing light circles into the sensitive bud. Teasing you. “Thank you, Joel,” he instructs you to say. “Thank you for your cock.”

You ignore him still.

He pulls you off his cock, whips you around to face him and looks deep into your eyes, notching the tip of his cock in your pussy once more. He begins pushing all the way in. “Say it.” He says in a taunting tone, elongating his words. His thumb is on your clit again, and he’s thrusting in and out of you slowly. “I’m givin’ you an out here. Just say those words f’me.”

You groan in frustration. Are you really going to give in?

“Come on, sweetheart. Know you need it. Look at the fucking mess you’re makin’, needy thing. Soakin’ my cock,”

And there it is again, that sickeningly sweet pet name he so affectionately calls you. Fuck it, you decide.

“Thank you,” you whisper, finally. Repeating what he wanted to hear you say for him.

“For what?”

The words kind of just slip out of your mouth, “For taking care of me,” you admit.

Joel’s movements falter, and he looks at you with a puzzled expression. It’s not at all what he thought you were going to say, what he wanted you to say, but nonetheless he’s pleased that he’s managed to fuck away some of your pride. He just smirks knowingly, pulls you in close and kisses you.

It’s sweet and slow, he’s taking his time massaging your tongue with his own. “Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he murmurs against your lips, fucking you again. He’s rubbing concentrated circles into your clit and continues. “Not so hard, hm? Just listen to me and let me take care of ya. However I want.”

You nod feverishly and pull yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His skin is hot and sweaty under your fingertips, the circles he’s tracing into your clit have your stomach tightening and your face contouring in pleasure. You’re right there, he can feel it. He’s not far behind.

“You earned it, baby. Let go now,” he whispers, hot breath tickling your ear.

And with that, you come harder than you ever have. His ministrations on your clit don’t stop, he keeps fucking you through it. “Joel,” you moan. “Oh, fuck. I’m there, I’m there.”

“I know you are, sweetheart. Ride it out with me. I’m right there with ya,” he assures you, his thrusts becoming frenzied as he chases his own orgasm. His neck and cheeks are flushed red, and in mere moments, he’s pulsing inside you, spurting hot and thick ropes of his seed that paint your insides. It’s a delicious feeling, one you’ve been craving for a while now.

He’s panting on top of you, his forehead pressed to your own, slick with sweat and sticky hair. You’re still holding onto him for dear life, catching your breath. He pulls out of you slowly, watching the mixture of your come drip on to the rosy couch. He pushes it back inside your worn pussy with his fingers, then brings them to his lips and licks them clean.

You giggle, your head dropping to his shoulder. He holds you like that for a moment, letting you steady yourself.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” he speaks softly. “Didn’t mean to get out of hand. You okay? How’s your thigh?” His voice is full of concern, his hands on either side of your face. His eyes are sparkly and the darkest brown, the crease between his brows a little more prominent than usual. “Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me. I liked it,” you admit sheepishly, assuring him that everything is okay. You’re slightly embarrassed. Who knew you were such a freak? “My thigh is…I’m fine, I promise. It’s just a scratch.”

He says your name sternly, shooting you a warning look. “Let me see it. Can’t trust you,”

“Fine,” you concede, biting back a grin. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t flattered by his concern, the way he’s fawning over you.

He bends down in front of you, gently pulling back the gauze. Your wound is a little irritated in the rigorous fucking you and Joel participated in, but was mostly okay. He decides to clean it and wrap it again in new gauze, telling you he’s not wanting to risk infection. “So,” he starts undressing your wound. “Gonna listen to me from now on, right?

You nod your head. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to-”

He cuts you off, “I know you didn’t. Just need you to be careful, okay? Need you to listen to me. I’m lookin’ out for you, sweetheart,”

You wince in pain when he dumps more alcohol on your wound. “I just…I can take care of myself, you know?”

“I know you can. I know,” he says. Part of him wants to argue more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he silently works, wondering why you buck him on this, why you refuse to ask for help or admit you may need it. Whether it be on patrol or when you’re hurt, or fainting in front of him because you can’t handle a bit of blood. Thank god you’re never on nursing duty at the infirmary. He won’t press you anymore, though.

You share a moment of silence together, both unsure of what to say. What does this mean for your relationship in the future? Joel finishes wrapping your wound, and helps you stand up on shaky legs. He dresses himself, then tosses you your clothing. When he reaches for your pants, his hand falls through the massive hole on the thigh from where the raider knifed you

“Just a scratch, my ass” he mumbles, you hear the smirk in his voice. “Just a flesh wound, right?”

You smile as he tosses you the tattered jeans. “Yup. Just a flesh wound,” you say as you dress yourself again.

Joel leads you to the door, silently letting you know it’s time to get back to Jackson.

“You don’t even understand that reference,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Jesus, kid.”

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @harriedandharassed @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @spideysimpossiblegirl

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #dom!joel miller #brat tamer!joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #Pedro pascal #tlou

[highttowers]

Hello i am requesting for Carmen from the Bear!! Something sweet and heart warming about Carmen being worried about the reader and just the whole kitchen seeing how in love he is ❤️ thank you

yes to heaven.

pairing(s); carmen “carmy” berzatto x gn!reader

fandom; the bear (fx on hulu)

w/c; 758 words

trigger/content warnings; brief sexual implications, brief mention of past injuries, language, richie (he’s a warning all by himself), tina n richie being mean to carmy lol, tina and reader chisme together, is this another fic with an ldr song title????, brief touches on carmy’s trauma (not in-depth cuz this is a fluff fic), not-proof read, lmk if i missed anything.

stella speaks! i need him biblically. at first, i was like “mmm, jeremy allen white” as a joke. but bro. i don’t think it’s a joke anymore…

Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto who’s always watching you. Who has his eye on you, if you will ;)

Carmy, whose eyes are trailing your figure when you first meet. Not in a sexual way, just taking in every detail. The way you stand, the way you move your hands when you talk. Any time you wear a shirt more than once, the nervous tics you have while he tries your food, if you have any visible tattoos, freckles, or birthmark. His eyes snag on every little thing you do for a split second.

Carmy, whose gaze is locked in your hands while you demonstrate your abilities. He’s taking in every scar, every cut, every tear, every burn that was once fresh in the skin of your hands and committing it to memory. He doesn’t know why, he just is.

Carmy, whose eyes will flicker to your face every so often as you cook, lingering in the scrunch of your brow, the purse of your lip, the muttering under you breath, every curve and divet on your cheeks.

Carmy, whose brain short-circuits the first time he sees you in anything other than your lose white tee, black pants and blue apron. Logically, he knows your body has always been shaped that way, so why is heat crawling up his neck in the biting Chicago air?

Carmy, whose new favorite thing is watching you cook. Especially the recipes you know by heart, when every lovely movement your body makes is muscle memory. Seamless and smooth.

Carmy who appreciates the habit you have of cleaning your station as you cook. Those pale blue eyes locked in you as he exits his office, watching you dumping veggies in a crock pot before scooping up the cutting board, knife, and any food waste and making short work of it.

Carmy who is personally offended by Richie watching you cook. Richie and his Richie-esque comments making him roll his eyes, or warning a scoff. “Makes you wanna know what other moves they can do, eh?” “Shut the fuck up, cousin.”

Carmy, whose habit of paying microscopically close attention to you has whispers from Marcus to Tina to Sydney to you. He appreciates the way you wave them off, using the new kid excuse.

Carmy, who’s been reduced to a stuttering mess when you confront him privately about it. He’s spilling out excuses, until you quietly ask him if he wants to grab coffee with you sometime.

Carmy who, the more and more he arrives to work either with you or with a dumb smile on his face, is getting endless teasing from Richie and Tina. Sydney quietly smiles at him, but mainly sticks to talking about the nature of y’all’s relationship with you.

Carmy, who admittedly fears anytime you let sitting with Tina, exchanging words that have her yelling curses or exclamations in Spanish.

Carmy, who has a retort ready for Richie when he asks you if that means he has a chance now, only to clamp his mouth shut when you wordlessly flip Richie off, bringing another soft look into Carmy’s eyes and a dumb grin on his lips.

Carmy who has to kiss every scar, every mark, every little thing in your body when given the chance. It’s a love language, remembering and worshipping every little thing about you.

Carmy who has his eyes on you so much, regulars at The Beef are silently questioning if there’s anything going on. (there is, but Carmy would sooner be Richie’s personal chef than admit it to customers.)

Carmy whose new greates comfort is you. Any fleeting fragment of you. Maybe you washed his clothes once and now they smell like you. Maybe you hugged him so much your scent lingers in his nose. Maybe he’s got a small piece of jewelry from you or reminiscent of you. Anything that has to do with you can bring him out of the deepest panic.

Carmy who swears up and down and to the ends of the Earth that he’s never gonna lose you. It’s not even an option anymore. He would actually just fall to pieces on the floor.

Carmy who shows the uglier parts of him slowly. You actually have to peel back the first layer and stare it directly in the face without fear before he shows you more. He’s just so scared.

Carmy who’s so so grateful you don’t try to fix him. You just leave him as he is, just giving extra love to those broken bits.

Carmy who used to hate love songs before you arrived.

Carmy who was losing faith in the very idea of love until you arrived.

#how many ts/lana del rey references can spot??? #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto headcanons #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #headcanon #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear on hulu #sydney adamu #🖋️ — my writing #🪁 — requests #🔪 — the bear