#i wanna do some painting on the walls. need to figure out what will be ok for that

[liveontelevision]

Suffer Pt. 4 | Lucifer x Reader

The time has come, babes, this could be the final part

I wanna say this part is 18+ , so MINORS go away

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

♡♡♡

"I'll see you, Lucifer."

"I hope so."

Even with high hopes, Lucifer anxiously paces his own workshop, twisting his grip on his cane and watching the minutes pass by. Literally. He would either pull out his phone and check the time, or peak up at the novelty clock hanging nearby, and scoff at how little time has passed since the last time he decided to look. To occupy his time, he would rummage through his piles of squeaky creations, scanning over them as if he had anything on his mind other than you. He'd walk in front of a mirror, fixing his lapels, straightening his tie, then questioning whether or not he should just change entirely. With one more pacing lap around the small room, he stopped in front of the mirror again, while brushing his hair back with his claws. The sudden glimmer of his wedding band reflecting some light caught his attention. He froze in front of his reflection, then shifted his gaze down to his left hand. He twisted it around as if he never noticed it until now, even after wearing it for 10,000 years. Why is it bugging him now?

Oh, yeah. He was about to see you in just a few minutes.

But that shouldn't upset him, you two were becoming friends again.

Lucifer broke his gaze from his hand and looked towards the large family painting still hung on the wall. He couldn't take it down. He had no idea why Lillith left, for all he knows, it could've been a perfectly valid reason. But she looks so happy in that picture. In fact, they all looked so happy. How did that happen? A combination of the clock chiming, and an alarm he set the day before, going off at the same time made him jump. He fumbled his phone into his suddenly sweaty claws, letting out a nervous yelp. 

3:01PM

"Aw, Hell! I'm late!" Before snapping his fingers to open a portal to the hotel, he mindlessly slipped the ring off his finger and placed it carefully on his desk, leaving it alongside a family portrait.

— 

You hummed your usual tune, the same one that calmed you and young Charlie, as you twisted and turned to examine your outfit. You were almost as nervous as Lucifer was. Well.. not really. He was a wreck. But why should you be nervous? Why would he be nervous? You two only agreed to meet up at the hotel and.. catch up some more. No activities were really planned, it was as if you simply wanted to hear each other's voices again. As if the late-night calls you were having weren't enough. It was a nice change though. No matter how late you were talking to each other, you slept like a rock the rest of the night. No need for some silly radio anymore.

Speaking of,

"Alastor, what did I say about knocking? Or even going through the door in general?" You questioned out loud, not even looking away from your figure in the reflection. The radio on your nightstand suddenly started playing a barely recognizable old-timey tune, and you could feel the radio static sensation growing in your chest, so you felt no need to break your concentration to look his way. You heard your bed creek next, only peeking in your reflection for a moment to catch Alastor sitting cross-legged on the edge of your bed.

"Isn't today your weekly Rosie visit? What do you want?" It's not like he was bugging you, but recently Alastor had been keeping close quarters. You found him sitting next to you a lot, a little too close, during exercises. Which was strange, considering he never really attended exercises until recently.

Obviously, he's been inviting himself into your room without permission, which caused him to interrupt some phone calls with the king. He's also been inviting you out to Cannibal Town more often, and even bringing some unannounced fresh-cooked meals for you. You wouldn't admit to the cannibal thing, but it's hard to avoid it after working in that bakery for so long. You didn't mind it, as long as it wasn't.. rare. So, you suppose it was nice of him to cook for you. 

"Indeed! I’m assuming you'll be joining me, that is why you’re dressing so formally, correct? Rosie's been talking about you quite a lot, considering you've missed our last few outings." You could hear his teeth clench while he spoke his final words.

"All good things, I hope?" You had moved on to looking through a little jewelry box, occasionally pulling out necklaces and holding them up in the mirror to see how it'd look on you.

"Of course!" Alastor reassures, rising from the bed to stand behind you, his hands gently placed on your shoulders. He has to bend at the hips a bit to see his own face in the shorter mirror.

"Then, I'm sure she can handle one more lunch date without me. I'll join next time." You said, still rummaging through the little trinket box. With a victorious hum, you pulled out a little golden chain, with a snake charm that swirled into an S shape.

As you held it up to your neck, like you did with the rest, you felt Alastor's hands shift from your shoulders to take each end of the necklace, carefully pulling the chain around your neck to fasten it in the back. With a quick thank you, you pulled your hair to the side to assist him. His breath was hot against the back of your neck, sending an instinctive shiver down your spine. Alastor started to feel a bit flushed at the sensation, which surprised even him. The thought of sinking his teeth into the softest part of your neck, doing anything to keep your mind off of that damned angel, immediately flooded his mind. He fastened the necklace quickly, pulling away as fast as he could after that grotesque thought crossed his mind. He was sure that he was just hungry. He cleared his throat, stepping a good few feet away from you.

"So? How's this? Does it look okay with the dress?" Oh, it did. You tried your best to not concern yourself over what you wore, but Lucifer was always one to dress in his finest suits, so you'd hope to meet him at least halfway. Excuse the phrasing, but God bless Angel and his eye for fashion. You arrived in Hell before Charlie was even born, then essentially worked in uniforms up until you arrived in the hotel. Emphasizing that this was not a date, Angel found you a pretty little purple dress. It was perfectly fine as is, with thin straps, a skirt hugging your hips just slightly and stopping right below where your thighs meet. But he insisted you "spice it up", accessorizing you with a patterned corset, decorated in leafy designs and tied together with a silky ribbon at your back. It took you hours of convincing to even put it on for today. All this for just a hangout. What would you even do? Have dinner? Would Lucifer go into Pentagram City with you? What would happen if you stayed in the hotel? 

"Not exactly my style, I prefer something with more.. coverage. But you look lovely either way." Alastor's words broke your train of thought and you immediately turned red, embarrassed by how lost in your own thoughts you got. You recovered and rolled your eyes at him, finding your phone and looking through it.

"I don't know why I asked, it's not like I'm dressing up for you." You said, Alastor watching you as you swipe through something and then smile at your phone.

"Then who might you be dressing up for, might I ask?" He asked with a sly grin, leaning foward on his cane, craning his neck to look at your whatever could be making you smile so brightly. You pulled your phone to your chest and glared at him.

"No one! ..Me! I'm dressing for myself! Is there a problem with that, Al?" You let out a little humph, before checking the time on your phone.

"He should be here soon.." you said softly, almost hoping he didn't hear you. "Tell Rosie I said hi, will you? I'm seeing Lucifer today." You said quickly as you left your room, hoping you could avoid his response by leaving in a hurry. Luckily you did. You felt the static running through you soften as you went down the stairs, looking at your phone as you did. With one more mental pep talk, you took a deep breath and opened the hotel's double doors.

"Heyyyy! You!" Lucifer stood eagerly, without a ring to fiddle with, he toyed with his clawed hands behind his back. You should respond. You should greet him, say hi, welcome him in, anything. But he stood there wearing a plum and black purple blazer, that stopped just at his waist. It was fitted nicely over a ruffled black top and dark trousers. Before you could stop yourself, you realized you had let your eyes trace his body up and down. Quickly meeting his eyes with a reddened face, you nervously chuckle, stepping aside to let him in.

"S-Sorry.. I- uhh.. Hi. Lucifer." You finally greet him, shutting the door as he enters the hotel.

"You look nice. Purple always looked good on you." He stated out loud. Purple? When was the last time you wore anything purple? Looking around the hotel, he examined any detail he might have missed from his last visit. Of course, that wasn't what he was really doing. He was trying his hardest to keep his eyes off of you, needing to let his heart rate slow.

After finally calming himself down, he turns to you with a grin, opening his mouth to say something- but what he saw was you gripping onto the hem of your skirt with a nervous look on your face, your eyes wide.

Purple always looked good on you.

"Are you okay? Sorry, did I - uh.. should I - " you quickly step away from him, waving your hands.

"N-No! You're fine! I'm okay, I just uh.. dinner! You want something to eat? Or.. we can check out the city-" Desperately trying to take the topic off your feelings, you threw out some ideas for the night.

"Oh! Okay, Dinner sounds great! We should probably stay in the hotel, but will.. will anyone else be joining us..?" He looked around the clearly empty room.

"Charlie and Vaggie just left to try and recruit some sinners, Angel's working and Husk avoids people if no one's the bar, so.. I think that it might just be us." You smiled. Why were you smiling? Maybe because they're contagious. 

Alastor. The familiar grinning face comes trailing down the stairs, greeting you and you alone.

"Oh! Your Highness, I had no idea we'd have company!" He walked behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders again as he looked down at Lucifer.

"Al, I told you he was coming by." You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. Lucifer glared, immediately breaking the contact from him to look at you.

"Will he be joining?" Lucifer asked, in an agitated low tone.

"No, he's busy. Right? You were just leaving for Cannibal Town." You stressed, turning your head to look up at the towering demon. Lucifer wondered how you weren't intimidated by him? Your head barely reached the center of his chest.

"Of course, I wouldn't want to intrude! Just be careful with our little doll here, your majesty." He says, then leans closer to the crook of your neck. "And I thought I'd bring your cardigan, dear, it's a tad cold today." The sweater suddenly appears in his hands and he drapes it over your shoulders. It felt heavier than usual.

"Oh, um.. thanks.. Al." You clear your throat, shooting him the best smile you could muster in this embarrassing moment.

"Have fun with Rosie!" You finally said, essentially pushing Alastor out of the hotel's doors. None of that had to happen, he could've easily phased his way out of the hotel and you knew that. With a final sigh, you went back to Lucifer, taking off the sweater and folding it, before draping it over the couch in the lobby.

"What, not cold anymore? He was just trying to be nice." As much as you'd like to hear that as a joke, it had a sense of discomfort to it. You knew Lucifer didn't like Alastor; he made that clear multiple times. Considering he's been so kind to you though, you thought you had to at least try to defend him. But with Alastor's recent actions, and just how.. touchy... he's been, it's getter harder to try and explain his actions.

"It's Hell, Lucifer, it's never cold. It doesn't go with the dress anyway. Now, c’mon. I can make something quick in the kitchen." Trying to move past the subject, you take hold of his hand and guide him to the kitchen area.

You definitely cooked a lot more since you stayed in the hotel. Despite your mild cannibalistic tendencies, you loved making regular, flesh-free, food for everyone else. It was just who you are, you loved to dote. At this point, you were making meals for everyone, cooking specific courses for certain demons. Specializing in their favorites. It was no different than how you were when you were taking care of Charlie. A messy toddler had a constantly changing appetite, and Lucifer always seemed to admire how well you could keep up with that. I mean.. despite kissing a married king, who was also your boss, you were actually good at your job.

The cooking process went by fast, you put on an apron before starting to cook, which Lucifer could argue looked adorable on you. But he would never admit it. He simply sat on a nearby counter, his legs crossed over each other as he leaned back on the palm of his hands. You recreated something that used to be a favorite back at the manor, and of course, it was delicious. The two of you didn't even make it to the table. You plated everything and went towards the door, but before you could leave, you turned to see Lucifer already working on his plate as he sat on the counter. You laughed at him, before attempting to join his side. This was probably for the best, sitting at a table while eating seemed so.. Date-y.

You struggled to hop up to the counter without flashing anyone. Dammit, Angel. With a quick motion, Lucifer had his hands on your waist and he lifted you with ease onto the cold tabletop. With a nervous exchange of thanks, he hikes back up the counter and sits next to you. It felt ridiculous to examine the entire moment. Here you are, sitting on the edge of the damn kitchen counters with Lucifer, kicking your legs every now and then, laughing at jokes and just.. enjoying everything. He made you glad you lived in Hell.

The plates now set aside, Lucifer had turned to face you, his crossed leg lightly brushing against yours as he recalled some embarrassing things that Charlie did when she was growing up. Things that happened after you left.

"Oh it was bad, we don't even know what she used to dye her hair but it was not easy to get out. You know.. Teenager stuff, I guess." He showed off some images from his phone, making you lean into his shoulder to catch a better glance. You found yourself leaning past Lucifer, your sides fully together at this point. Lucifer braces himself up with his hand behind your back. When you finally had enough of the pictures of Charlie in her emo-phase, you sat straight, making Lucifer's arm shift to the small of your back. You hummed quietly at his touch.

Don't do this. Don't ruin this, not again.

"Dishes! I'll um.. let me clean up and we can find somewhere with actual chairs.." You hopped off the counter, stumbling a bit before leaning into the sink and starting the water. Before you could even start scrubbing, the dishes simply poofed from your hands and into the drying rack at the side of the sink, sparkling clean.

"Oh, right.. Angelic powers." You laughed nervously, looking around the room for a moment.

Finally deciding that the air was too thick with some kind of tension, you gestured him out of the room and showed him off to the small book room. You didn't go in here often, but it was either this or your bedroom.. Obviously, that wouldn’t end well.

Taking a seat on the little sofa in the room, you managed to get the conversation back on a regular topic, complaining about some customers you used to deal with while working in Cannibal Town. He finally went on a rant about his rubber duck fixation, which baffled you but didn't really surprise you.

The conversations didn't last long. It was bound to happen. Alone in the hotel? Catching up after all these years of built-up tension? It started with Lucifer placing his hand on the small of your back, something that has always given you butterflies. It didn't feel the same when Alastor would do it. Lucifer's hands were obviously smaller, but they were so gentle. And he had no intent on pulling you closer or keeping you sitting upright, he was doing it just so he could touch you. Your hands had traveled in between the two of you, supporting you as you leaned into him. The room was silent, but your thoughts were screaming in your head. He's hurt you before. He's just been alone for too long, this isn't anything special. Don't make the same mistake.

Staring into each other's glazed-over eyes, unsure of how to proceed but unwilling to move away, he finally bites the bullet. Raising his free hand to caress the side of your face, brushing a few strands of hair away, you place your hand overtop of his, relishing in his gentle touch. You felt his hand flinch a bit at your actions, but when you fluttered your eyes shut and leaned into his palm, he immediately felt at ease. He moves his hand towards him just slightly to better bring you closer. Your foreheads now pressed together, all your concerns went away. This wasn't like before. You felt so safe with him, there was no fear of things going wrong or being ruined. Not anymore. Not at this moment. Your comfort was disrupted by his quiet voice.

"A-Are you sure about this.? Can I.. Maybe we should just-" Shut him up. You muffled any other worried thoughts he might have by placing a gentle and quick kiss on his lips. His eyes widened just for a moment, looking surprised despite all that's happened beforehand. Suddenly desperate, he pulls you in, making your lips meet again in a long, long, overdue embrace.

You were just as desperate for this. All you could think of was how gentle he was being, even with the eagerness of his quickening breath. You leaned in more, forcing Lucifer to prop himself up with his hand beside him. You kept leaning. At this point he's taken both his hands off of you, needing to brace himself up. Your lips never pull apart. You placed your hands on his chest, moving underneath his jacket, and onto his shirt, just to be even the slightest bit closer to him. Suddenly processing the position, Lucifer shifted his leg to allow you to crawl closer to him. You were careful, you knew this was long overdue, but it'd be a bad idea to do anything too intense right now. It would overwhelm both of you. Still, finally breaking your kiss, you pushed back to assess his beautiful expression. He looked disappointed. Almost runny eyes, he was propped up by his elbows while you kelt your hands placed on his chest. His porcelain skin contrasted with the red glow across his cheeks.

"You okay, Lucifer?" You asked softly, reaching a hand to brush some strands of hair back into place. He only nodded, before returning a hand onto your back and pulling you on top of him, deepening the kiss you had so rudely interrupted. You felt his hand pull away for a moment, and heard him snap his fingers. You heard the door shut. Then you heard it lock. That made you as nervous as it did relieved. Pulling away for a moment you decide to tease him.

"What, you couldn't have done that before?" You said slyly with a smirk on your face. With a sarcastic laugh, he pressed a kiss onto your smile. Neither of you could believe what was going on right now.

Both your breaths were becoming heavy, Lucifer had scooted to rest his back on the arm of the couch, he pulled you closer and rested his hands around your waist. Neither of you had made the decision to go any farther than enjoying each other's lips yet, but at the same time, you wouldn't complain about staying connected to him like this forever. He reached back and tugged on the silky ribbon of your corset, maybe not as an invitation, but to find something to fiddle with to keep his nerves at bay. You weren't sure. But there was no harm in assuming, right? You took hold of his hand, which still held one of the laces, and guided it to pull it completely loose. It wasn't covering anything, it just loosened the fit of your dress. It wasn't like you were stripping for him. But his face was absolutely flushed by the action.

Letting the corset belt drop to the ground, you leaned forward and ran your hands up his chest. Moving to the inside of his coat, you slipped your fingers over his shoulders to guide the jacket off of him. With some more shifting and adjusting, you both sat straight. Lucifer found himself dragging his lips to your chin, then your jawline, guiding your head to tilt back for easier access. Pulling your body against his with one hand, he cradled your head with the other, running his claws gently across your scalp before doing so. The action sent shivers down your spine, almost a relieving sensation to your hot skin.

He speckled kisses down your neck, taking his time to cover every inch of you. You could feel his labored breath against your skin every time you let out a little moan or hum. He ran his hand down your shoulder, hooking the strap of your dress with his thumb and moving it aside, careful not to undress too much. Not yet. With the newfound space, he nipped at your skin, making you yelp quietly. You quickly place a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the sounds coming from you. Lucifer was not going to let that happen. He traced your arm, running his fingers along your skin, and gently pulled your hand away from your mouth.

"W-What - " You could barely question him, before he forced another yelp from you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder just a bit deeper this time. He hummed at your finally unmuffled voice, taking your hand that he had been holding and guiding it to his head. You immediately took hold of his hair, gripping just lightly, something to keep you from floating away, while he continued to work across your collarbone. Feeling a light suction, you gasped and yanked on his hair, pulling his face away from your chest.

"N-No, no marks! Don't be.. mm... s-stupid.." you scolded, as he leaned down, and ran his tongue up the length of your neck.

"What if I put them somewhere only I can see?" He had moved to your ear at this point, kissing the crook of your jaw as he spoke so sweetly against your skin. Ooh, fuck, you wanted that. Bad.

You took a hold of his jaw and pulled him back up to your lips. Placing your thumb along the bottom of his lip, you opened his mouth a bit, inviting yourself into his mouth. Tracing his lower lip with your tongue, you slid inside, his tongue feverishly following suit. The sensation forced a quiet whimper out of Lucifer, you felt his body weight droop for a moment, falling forward and pushing you onto your back. Caging you in with his arms, he refused to pull away, even if he needed to breathe.

You pushed his chest slightly, and he immediately pulled away, his lustful gaze turning to concern. You watched him catch his breath. While he was panting, you could see his forked tongue just slightly hanging from his lips, which were glossy from the messy and desperate kisses you'd been exchanging. You looked up and down his body for a second. Keeping your hands on his chest, you smoothed over his shoulders, before pulling him back in for another kiss. With your hands still near his chest, you reached towards the clasps of his shirt, beginning to work the expensive feeling fabric off of him. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin. You ran your closer hands across his bare chest, once completely undone. He was overheated and panting, you were just helping him, obviously. You'd say anything to convince yourself that what your doing was okay. Why wasn't it okay, again?

"It's okay, babe, we'll try again later." A saddened groan was muffled through the closed door. Oh. Right. You heard Vaggie comforting a frustrated Charlie just outside the room. You both looked at each other with widened eyes, probably for longer than you should’ve. It was a mixture of disappointment and anxiety. And a little bit of consideration, that maybe they won't check the room if you're quiet. The set of footsteps was coming closer, possibly passing the room to go up the stairs, but it finally forced you out of your head.

You pushed him off of you, desperately making as much distance as possible. The motion of pushing him from his chest, which your hands were so sweetly caressing moments before, took the air out of his lungs, forcing out a loud groan. Hushing him as if you weren't the reason he was wheezing, you struggle to get your corset back on. Finally giving in, you threw it over the back of the couch and took hold of your trusty sweater that was still draped over the back of the couch. You scrambled to put it on. Lucifer simply snapped his fingers to fix up his hair and return his suddenly clean and crisp top back on him. You also heard him unlocking the door.

"Fucking angelic magic.." you muttered, out of breath from your little frantic display. He lets out a cocky chuckle. Taking the risk, he pulls you in for one more quick kiss. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment, his eyes absolutely sparkling just at the sight of you.

His hand slipped away quickly once the door opened.

"Holy shit- dad?? You didn't tell me you were visiting!" Charlie held onto the handle as the door was opened, Vaggie stood beside her looking just as confused. Before you could acknowledge it, Lucifer gestured to the little coffee table in front of the couch, with some random board game sprawled out on it. When did that get there?

"Heyy Sweetie- well, I-I uh.. we were just catching up, ya know, playing some games. The.. usual.." He grinned nervously, picking up some random game piece and observing it like he knew what it was for.

"Yeah, don't worry Charlie, I'm kicking his ass." You said smoothly, smiling at him when he turned towards you with a glare. You were definitely better at acting casual than he was.

"Oh! Well.. okay, then! Maybe we can all get a game in before you go!" Charlie planned out, already walking off. Lucifer sent a sweet smile and a little wave to Vaggie. She returned the greeting, a comforted smile on her face as she followed after Charlie.

"Well! That was-" Lucifer turned to you with a nervous expression, scratching at the top of his hand.

"- A close call?" you said through some chuckles, "but.. good. It was good." You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with a smile you couldn't shake off. You looked at him nervously fidgeting with his hands, your eyes widening at the sight of his ring-less finger. Blinking a few times, thinking that maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, you couldn't stop yourself from turning red.

"Just good? I'm offended, sweetheart, I thought I did a pretty amazing job there." He boasts, crossing his arms across his chest. Jokes were another coping mechanism Lucifer used often. But you weren't caught up on that.

Sweetheart. You sucked in your lips to hold back a ridiculously wide grin.

Awkwardly clearing his throat when you didn't respond, he clasps his hands together in his lap.

"Sooo.. what now..?" He asked sheepishly. He sounded nervous asking that. You took a hold of his hand and kissed his knuckles, before standing and taking him along with you.

"Now, we have to play some random board game with Charlie. That's your fault, by the way." He laughed after letting out a sigh of relief, following behind as you left the room.

Things were really looking up after that. The board game was awful, and you had to avoid eye contact with Lucifer the rest of the night, the sight of him turning you red immediately. His lips were all over you literal minutes before this, yet he’s acting much calmer than you. It almost frustrated you. Charlie even asked if you were feeling sick at some point. What a fucking nightmare.

Besides that, the unavoidable tragic events proceeding with the extermination day came and went. You did everything in your power to defend the hotel alongside Charlie and your newfound family. During the battle, you found yourself getting distracted by Lucifer's little fight with Adam. It's not like Adam wasn't getting a few hits in, but Lucifer seemed completely unphased. Sometimes you forget. You've seen him as a nervous, loving father, with a habit of making too many ridiculous jokes, but at the end of the day, he was powerful. He was more powerful than anything else in this realm. It was kinda hot..

A spear flying by your head snapped you out of your thoughts, and you groaned, simply embarrassed by your own mind.

The construction of the hotel went the same, he was creating endless materials amd assistance for the crew and you couldn't help but appreciate his strength and abilities. You assisted Charlie to keep your mind from thinking about Lucifer's teeth sinking into your shoulder or how smooth and warm his bare skin felt underneath your hands. But you found yourself chatting it up or helping Lucifer with some tasks every now and then.

Still, you had your fun during the process, sneaking off every now and then to "recharge". A single kiss on the cheek gets this man going, but you kept it at that. You weren't willing to risk any more run-ins.

Finally, the renovations were nearly finished, you were walking the halls just looking for any little things that may need to be cleaned up before you were meant to meet outside for the finale touches. Humming and scanning the area for any debris, you were stopped in your tracks feeling a fuzzy static sensation. It didn't feel like Alastor's usual presence, it was uneven and wavering. You looked around, finally finding him leaning against a wall with a hand clutched over his chest.

"Holy shit- Al! We thought you died, what happened?Oh my god, are you hurt? I mean everyone's gonna be relieved that you're okay, but we have to get you patched up soon or-" you rushed towards him as you spoke, watching a new pocket of blood seep through his coat. Attempting to reach for the wound, his hands came to your shoulders, Holding you with a bruising strength.

"A-Al, that hurts.." you gripped his wrists, attempting to pull him off of you.

"I hate to do this, love, but it appears I'm desperate. In exchange for my silence, you said you owe me one. Now, do me a favor. Stay away from that pompous king." Before you could say  anything else, a whirring green smoke encased you both, finalizing the deal.

"What? Hold on, what did you do? Alastor, what's going on?" You questioned him desperately as he released his hands from your shoulders.

What just happened?

"Hm. Don't make such a fuss, I'm just helping you. Unless I'm forgetting, I'm quite sure he did something to hurt you in the past. So it's probably for the best to keep your distance. Ah! I believe they're looking for us, outside, dear! Shall we?" Alastor brushes off his suit, covering the stain with his overcoat and suddenly dropping the injured act. He hooks your arm into his and the two of you melt away into the shadows before you could protest to anything that just happened.

♡♡♡

lmao jk there's more parts coming

( Just an extra extra note, it honestly takes me awhile to write, I usually work on it piece by piece over a few days, then it takes me a day or two to finish editing it, plus it all depends on what's motivating me that day :') PLEASE keep sending more requests and I really appreciate everyone who has already sent one in being so patient )

!Taglist! (Some of the blogs aren't tagging and I have no idea why if anyone knows why please lmk :,)

( @vififofum @thornwolfy235 @tinywolfiegirl @chipper-chip @bat-boness @misfitgirlwrites @nayomi247 @lonelynmisunderstood @escapistoftherealworld @b4ts1e @hamthepan @kyo-kyo1 @looking1016 @polytheatrix @littledolly2345 @lillianastuff @yourlocalcryptidbee

@0strawberrysorbet0 @themageofblood @jayyyayaysblog @floralsightings @azmosposts @8har0ley8 @actuallyspiderwoman @sirenetheblogger @christineblood @kaytemchugh @cimadreamer @simpdevil66 @azmosposts @m3ow1 @acrazyartist @redfoxwritesstuff @4k1to @meesachan @corvusskid @alientee @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @alon3lylov3r @sapphireravensworld @phamtasic @mjmdragons )

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer fluff #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel fan fiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer x you smut #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor

[spykesdykegf]

i have 4 monster high dolls.. love is real happiness is attainable >w<

#^ said this in the clowns discord but i want it on my blog too #i keep the paper of the boxes they come in also #and cut out the parts i like to put on my walls and furniture :3c #im gonna try to redecorate my room as well as i can to make it look like i live in monster high. wish me luck <3 #OH maybe if i find cool fabric in bargain bins i could put that on some furniture???? #not all of it bc it would be hard to wash but. perhaps on vertical sides #i wanna do some painting on the walls. need to figure out what will be ok for that #oooo actually...... what if i painted the whole walls hot pink..... #hehe that would be so cool. many thoughts head full

[lovelettersforthedamned]

thinking about telling tasm!peter to come over with his favorite camera and take pictures in my lingerie and pictures of him fucking me just for later 🥰

Take A Picture, I’ll Last Longer 

--genre + trope: fluff, nsfw.

--pairing: college!tasm!peter parker x college!f!reader

--word count: 0.7k

--warnings: use of a camera, mentions of pants tightening (LMAO), lingerie.

“What’re you doing right now, baby?”

A beat passes before he responds, “Nothing, bug. Why? What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing,” you sigh, “just missing you.” Holding the phone to your ear, you look at yourself in the mirror in front of you. You admire the lace details on the recent purchases you picked up from the store, running your finger along the trim. 

“Well, I can come over right now. Just give me like fifteen minutes to get over there,” you can hear the rustling of objects in the background, Peter not needing confirmation to start getting ready to leave.

A smirk rises to your lips, deciding to play with his head a little bit, “You better hurry, baby. I wanna show you something. Oh! And bring your camera with you.”

He notices that you’re tone has changed, and it makes him wonder what you could be planning. He pauses his movements to reach over to his desk, picking up his trusty camera. “Okay bug, I’ll be there soon.”

“Bye, Petey.” 

Hanging up, you toss your phone on the bed, taking a look at yourself another time. A part of you is nervous coming off this strong, anxious thoughts plague your mind. What if I don’t look good? Is this too much? He might think this is stupid, I should just change. Taking a deep breath, you calm yourself down. Peter is a simple man, if he sees his stunning girlfriend in a beautiful set of lingerie, he’s going to worship your being for the rest of his days. There was no doubt about it. 

Your curtains are drawn when you hear a knock on your window, hastily walking over, you pull them back, revealing your figure. Even with the glass separating you two, you could feel Peter’s eyes run across every inch of your body.

He’s the one that pushes the window open, eyes never leaving your frame as he climbs inside your bedroom. Dropping the backpack he brought with him to the floor, he pulls your face in to envelop your lips in a breathtaking kiss. He starts to walk the both of you to your bed behind you, clearly needing you as soon as possible. “Wait, baby,” you pull away, breathless, “did you bring your camera?”

Still an inch away from your face, he eyes your lips as you talk, “Yeah, why?” 

You push him away, and sit on the corner of your bed, “Take some pictures of me. I bought this just for you.” 

A breathy laugh leaves him, staring at you with eyes full of lust. He can’t believe what you’ve just asked, he’s in shock, he’s in love. Breaking eye contact with you, he reaches down into his backpack and pulls out his camera, turning it on and correcting the focus before snapping a picture of you sitting on the bed, legs crossed, leaning back on your hands, eyes looking up through your eyelashes, and a dangerously wicked smile on your lips. The quick and bright flash lights up the room as the shutter, along with Peter’s breathy moans, are the only things heard within those walls. 

Your little photoshoot lasts a good twenty minutes, Peter barely has to give you instructions on how to pose. You know what he likes, and you make sure to give him your all. He barely lasts the twenty minutes, every so often, you look down at his jeans, now tight and tenting. The sight of him hard gives you a feeling of gratification, you were so worried for nothing. “God, you are amazing (Y/N),” he mutters, as he clicks through the pictures he just took. 

He walks over to sit beside you, tilting the camera towards you to show you the pictures as well. “What are you going to do with them?” 

Peter looks down into your eyes once again, a teasing smile painting his face, “What do you think I’m going to do with them?”

“Hmm,” you tap your index finger against your chin, acting clueless, “I don’t know…Why don’t you show me?”

He already set his camera carefully on the floor before he responds, knowing exactly what is going to happen, “Show you, huh? I think I can do that.”

You giggle before he attacks you in a hug, pulling you down onto the mattress. 

--author's note: sorry guys i left you hanging for the smut LOL. send me some more smut requests, these are fun;) keep sending me requests!!!! my inbox is open!! keep supporting your writers by commenting, liking, and reblogging. ok, bye ily<333333

#andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker #peter parker x reader #fluff #marvel #spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #college au #peter parker smut #LLFTD 100 FOLLOWER BASH

[amoristt]

anon: can you write a ghost x reader fic about y/n being wrongfully accused of being a spy and she makes a run for it and ghost finds her? YESSSS . LOVE ITTTT

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - wanna tip me? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader

- Heavy footsteps, the air thick, the wall in front of you even thicker. Never did you think that beige wallpaper would be such an obstacle in your way as the echoing sound of footsteps gain on you. The door is shut tight, but the room is still under construction and lacks any furniture to help barricade you in. There isn't even a fucking closet for you to hide in. The only thing other than light brown plank flooring and a door with a half-painted white frame, was a window overlooking a yard.

It was roughly a five-story drop- too high to continue your run unscathed, but at this point, you've got some pretty heavy options to weigh. On one hand, potentially cut your life short, on the other, get caught and dragged out fighting.

Not that it would be much of a fight. You didn't even have time to grab your gun or knife before you made your escape.

Your heart aches. This wasn't right. While you weren't sure what dirt Shepherd had on you, what documents had been falsified as evidence of your alleged 'treason', but whatever they were they must have been pretty damn convincing to have Graves up in arms almost instantaneously. Tears bite at your eyes- had been since you first ran, but now they were heavier. Angrier. You wipe them harshly and red blotches bubble at your cheeks.

Shaking, you bring your radio to your lips. You can't hear them, but they can surely hear you, switched to a different station so you couldn't use their chatter to work around them.

"Please," you damn near sob. "Please, there's a mistake. There's been a fucking mistake, I haven't done anything. You really think I'd do this to you guys of all people?"

Grave answers your pleads like a poison, settling deep into your lungs, replacing all the air in its wake.

"Enough running. Come out and no one has to get hurt."

There was no use in arguing, you realized. They would never hear of it- not the people that truly mattered when it came to imprisonment, anyways. Even if you could convince your humble squad of your innocence, it would never hold up in the end. Besides that, by the way Graves spoke to you, the way he had looked at you, like you were a fucking bug that needed squashing, told you all you needed to know when it came to fighting against Shepherd's allegations.

You knew, ultimately, that running wasn't going to exactly help your case, but you didn't know what else to do. It felt like everyone had turned against you in a moment. You hadn't even had time to process anything. One moment you were joking with your crew, and Graves scampered off the take a rather important call.

Shepherd, was all he had said before disappearing.

And god, when he came back, red-faced and tense, the accusations poured.

Soap tried to defend you. Ghost fought to question, to figure out what the fuck was happening, but the supposed 'evidence' was apparently damning enough to convince Graves through and through that you were a spy.

A rat.

Ghost's voice, laced with desperation and confusion, when Graves began to 'explain' your betrayal haunted you. More so than the act of being accused of treason, even. You just stared at him, past that skull mask, into those familiar dark eyes. Even now, as you ran for what could possibly be your life, that half-hidden expression was all you could see.

The moment Graves brought up arresting you, and even moved to try and grab you, your brain damn near malfunctioned. Your body reacted on its own.

You fucking ran.

Though you weren't sure how someone had found you, this was the position you were in now. The curtains blew out with the breeze, soft and inviting, almost like it was beckoning your jump. They unfurl before you like great wings, and you stare down at the green grass below. You'd surely be crippled by this fall. If not that, it could very well kill you.

Your heart seizes, your lungs struggle to take in air as panic begins to sets in like vines creeping over your nerves. For a moment, you freeze. There was no other way out.

But then there's a slam on the door behind you, so great that the frame creaks and sharp chunks of wood launch off and scatter onto the floor around you. You flinch and your body once again takes priority over your mind, tossing your leg over the sill and swallowing hard. You're going to have to make the jump for it.

You heave yourself up and over, planting your feet flat on the sill, your entire body shaking with both fear of the leap and the deeper issue at present. One hand braces against the top of the window, the other covering your mouth.

Behind you, the door bursts open. Wood splints and tears as it slams into the wall.

"Enough!" A voice shouts, thick with accent and heavy breaths. "You're going to break every damn bone in your body."

You can practically feel Ghost's gun pointed straight at you. You cringe.

Would he pull the trigger?

"Might as well do it now before someone else does trying to beat a confession out of me that'll never fucking come." You didn't mean for your voice to carry so sharp, so laced with the pain and hurt of being hunted by your own friends.

By Ghost, of all people.

How could he be so fucking blind after everything you'd been through together? You wanted to reach out and smack him upside the head. You'd patched each other up more times than you could count, you trusted him with your life, he'd trusted you with his.

Or so, you had always thought.

But the way he's looking at you has to second guessing.

But, ultimately, you knew the game at play. He was a good soldier- the best. He was a former lone wolf, distrustful to his core. You'd worked so fucking hard to get close with him and now it was all crumbling down. Even if you stayed and explained yourself, there would be no point. You would be arrested, processed, thrown in jail labeled a traitor to your country and more people than not would be celebrating it. You'd never see the light of day- shackled and stuffed into a prison so far off the map that God himself would struggle to find you.

And you would be damned if you were going to just sit there and accept your fate. Even if it meant you appeared just as guilty as Shepherd had painted you. You just needed to get away for a bit, collect yourself, and have the time to figure out what the hell was going on. But it seemed that was never in the cards for you. 

The ground below looks menacing, but more forgiving than the fate that awaits you.

You can hear Ghost taking heavy steps forward, and you wonder why he hasn't just come up and ripped you from that sill already.

"Get down," He barks, and you shake at the tone, refusing to look back at him. Defiance shines through as you refuse to climb down.

"I'm not going down for something I didn't do!" Exasperated, your knuckles whitening with your iron grip. It takes what feels like eons to prepare for gravity to play its course, but in reality, it's been mere seconds. You try to force down air through the boulder in your throat.

For a moment, everything stills. You knew the outcome that was bound to come to this. You knew, deep down in your heart, that your fate was not a good one at this point. Either you die on impact, or you'd be wheeled into the interrogation room on a stretcher. That alone makes your skin crawl- interrogation. Knowing you had not a single detail to offer despite the amount of 'tactics' that would be used on you... The torture would essentially be never-ending.

You were well and truly fucked.

"I have to do this." You try to keep your voice level, but it betrays you. You hear Ghost suck in a sharp breath, the sound of his gear shifting. At this point, you don't even care if he shot you. At least you'd die with the person you loved.

"You don't." Ghost's voice is quieter, closer. Now you can really hear it- the sadness. The desolation. It wracks you to your very core.

With a hasty glance over your shoulder, you take in the sight of him. Maybe the last sight of him you'll ever get the chance to see. His looming figure stands feet away, gun still fixated on you. He looks defeated. Or, perhaps, torn. Riding that fence and teetering on the edge between believing you or hauling your ass back to Shepherd kicking and screaming.

Tears well in your eyes when realize his finger isn't even on the trigger. You nod at him sadly.

"I do."

And then, you give yourself to gravity. For a split second, you're weightless. Without much family back home, you found yourself thinking about your squad. How would Soap react? Gaz, or Price? Would they try to find your innocence, or would they take your cowardly actions at face value? Would Graves struggle with the weight of your life if he discovered his manhunt had been unwarranted?

Would Ghost be okay after firsthand witnessing such an awful, selfish act?

Would he ever forgive you?

With a sickening crack, your body slams into the brick wall of the building and you're left dangling in place. Your shoulder screams as you hang, and when you snap your attention toward the searing pain, you see two large hands grasped tight at your wrist and elbow.

"Damn it!"

Ghost's voice reaches you like a bullet had been ripped through your chest. He'd caught you, holding fast and unrelenting. You tried to fight, struggling against him, trying to reach up and pry those fingers away but they didn't budge.

It was over. You'd been caught. You were going to fucking prison and forever labeled a traitor to your country and everyone you ever knew. Everyone you ever fought with, and for, would remember you as a rat. A stain on the fabric of the U.S. Army.

"Let go!" You cry, feeling yourself reeling back into that room with Ghost's unwavering grip. "Just let go!"

Ghost grunts a sharp no before you're hauled up, into the room, and held fast by his arms caging you against him. He crushes you to himself, fingers near digging bruises into your skin and he's shaking you realize. Tears well up and flush past your waterlines, disappearing into the cloth of his gear. You haphazardly beat on his chest with a loosely formed fist.

"They're gonna fucking kill me" You sob. "It's not me, I didn't do anything."

You feel Ghost's arms leave you, and you realize now is when you'll have to surrender. You'll have to hang your head low and saunter away and into the clutches of the armies worst. You're crying into your hands now, not caring what you look like. Not caring this was the first time Ghost had ever truly seen you cry. And god, did you cry.

"Simon, please, I didn't do anything. It wasn't me!"

He's silent as he watches you fall apart right in front of him. Though he uncurls his arms from your shaking frame, he doesn't back away, looking down at you, like he's unsure of what to do. Unsure of what to believe anymore. As you press your forehead to his shoulder, your legs threaten to give out from underneath you.

"Why is this happening." Your voice escapes you as a whimper, broken up with sharp, painful breaths. "What could I have done for someone to do this to me of all people? I know I'm not a saint, but,-" Finally you look up at him, babbling. "Fuck, what do I do?"

Ghost's eyes narrow as he watches you, taking in every word. He places his hands on your shoulders, the first familiar gesture you've felt yet.

"You think you've been framed?" He asks, tone cool despite the waves of emotions in his eyes. You nod.

"That's the only explanation I can think of, but why? I would never do this to my country, my home." You flicker your eyes up to his own. "I would never do this to you."

You can see him trying to work it all out in his brain. Weighing the evidence he'd been presented with versus the fact that he fucking knew you. Knew you like the back of his hand, knew you without even having to think about it. He knew you as he knew himself, and he just knew you wouldn't do this.

"So what is it then." He starts harshly, so terribly confused it brings about anger, like he needs the answer right now because he doesn't know what to do next and time is running thin. 

Shaking your head, you shrug. "I don't know. I just-... I know that there's something going on here. Maybe by mistake, maybe intentionally, I don't know. But I didn't fucking do anything."

Ghost digests your words. You continue.

"I just need time to figure it out and I don't have it. I've got 141 and god fucking forbid, the Shadow's coming for this at this point." your face falls. "...Did anyone try to defend me after I left...?"

Ghost stiffens and swallows hard. You nod, laugh hoarsely. Of course.

"It was fast. There wasn't time to think." He offers. It made sense. You wondered what would have happened if anyone found you up here. If it had been Soap, or Gaz. Or Graves.

His eyes are softer now, his breathing leveling. Surely he's made a choice, but you aren't sure of which. You pray it's in your favor, that he realizes that this is you you're talking about. You pray he remembers all the time, the trust. As you watch him, like he's miles away from you, you can't help but notice him staring at you like you're just mere arms reach away.

Like you'd never left his arms at all, actually. Still flush against him a crying mess of pleads and hurt.

"Ghost, how copy?" Grave's voice pipes up from Ghost's radio.

You still. Ghost lingers a moment, like he doesn't want to answer, his eyes dart from his radio and then back to you, and you press your lips into a tight line.

Don't fucking answer it, your mind begs. Don't do this to me.

When Graves repeats himself, urgently this time, Ghost drags the radio begrudgingly up his clothed lips. Mouth running dry, hands shaking, you take a step back.

'Please,' You mouth. Ghost shakes his head and refuses to meet your gaze.

He was going to turn you in, after all.

He was a good soldier.

You, in that moment, recall the moments you spend side by side with this man. This scary, intimidating man, that you'd found comfort in. The person you plucked from the litter and thought to yourself, this one.

And he hadn't wanted you in. You bulldozed your way through until he found himself picking you out in crowds, remembering all those little things about you that no one else seemed to give a damn about. Waiting for you in the morning, sharing his thoughts and time.

You had always hoped, in another world, you two could enjoy life without all the pain together. A life outside of the army. 

Surely, it would have been enough.

Face downcast, you hear him take a breath to speak.

"Clear." He says. "No sign."

There was no stopping the tears that spilled down your cheeks at that moment, mouth covered to muffle yourself, crouching down as your knees shook.

"Sonofa bitch! Regroup back at point A." Graves says with a sigh.

"Copy." Ghost says quickly, shoving his radio back into his belt. He takes a knee in front of you, and his hands cup the side of your wet face. You eye him, babbling thank you over and over again, sick with fear, gratitude, and confusion. A cocktail that left an unnaturally horrendous taste on your lips. He retrieves a hand just long enough to set his knife down o the floor in front of you.

"Now you've got time." He says matter-of-factly, but you can still sense that urgency in his words. He wants you to escape. To figure this out and come back to him his friend and partner.

He takes your discarded radio and switches it to the proper channel so you could keep tabs on their whereabouts and plans. The voices of your squad chatter on the line, Soap's voice above all wondering how the fuck this was even happening. Bless his heart, he even mentioned being worried for you, which was quickly shot down by Graves reminding him of your betrayal.

As Ghost crouches before you, massive, all-powerful it seemed, you watch his eyes. He pats your cheek. His gloved finger points to the window.

"Ever try a stunt like that again, I'll kill you myself." He bites. You nod, struggling to compose yourself. He stands and your mind begs for him to stay, to be with you during this, but you know he can't.

He lingers in the doorway like he's thinking the same thing. 

"I will... Do what I can. Watch your back, soldier."

And then he's gone, and It's silent save for your harsh breaths. You shakily pull yourself up from the floor, grasping the knife he'd given you- his favorite blade entrusted to you. You'd wait for nightfall and make a run for it, find shelter day by day, and hopefully reconnect with him somewhere to go over what the hell was going on.

You prayed he'd find a way to convince them of your innocence, ask the right questions to the right people, and have more players in your court.

It would likely be your only way out of this awful nightmare.

#mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw2

[maxislvt]

pls alpha!wanda x omega!reader

warnings: omegaverse, smut, afab!reader,alpha!Wanda, vaginal sex, knotting, breeding, hair pulling

Wanda was a pervert. There was no denying it anymore. It was easier to hide when she was unmated. With no one to project her sick little fantasies on, they remained as that. Just fantasies. Was she actually into those things or was her brain just glamorizing the whole experience?

It was a question that went unanswered until the day she met you.

Tony had gifted Wanda you as a celebration of her first full year of being in the team. At first, she was apprehensive. Wanda had never been with an omega before. It didn't help that you were so quiet.

"Alpha, please."

Fortunately, she had more than enough time to figure you out.

Wanda let out a satisfied chuckle when you whined. "Oh, so you can use your words?" She blew on the sticky wetness of your cunt just to watch you squirm. It was a bit cruel to tease you so much during your heat, but she couldn't help it. Though Wanda had claimed you several months ago, your heat cycle had yet to even out. "I'll make you feel better soon, I promise."

No on the farm told you alphas could be so…you didn't even know a word to describe how weird Wanda was being. She always took good care of you before. Compared to most other omegas, you were definitely spoiled. You didn't have a clue as to what you could've done for her to become so cruel.

"I'll be a good omega, I promise just please help me!" You tugged at Wanda's sweatpants, desperate to find some relief. "It hurts so bad." The slick dripping down your cunt was unbearable. You couldn't handle another empty orgasm. You needed to be full and you needed to be knotted. Now wasn't a time for Wanda's weird games. You used what little strength you had to roll over and present yourself properly. Head down, back stretched out, and ass up. Both of your holes were in full display. There was no way Wanda could say no to when you were like this. "Can you please knot me? I need you so bad."

Oh.

Wanda squeezed your ass before giving it a hard smack. "Awe, my omega learning how to tease me?" She tugged down her sweatpants just enough to free her dick from the confines of her boxers. Of course, she couldn't let you win that easily. You'd only get a small reward for being so bold. "Fine, your alpha will play nice just this once because you're so cute."

You purred as Wanda's tip circled your clit. Finally, after hours of denial and useless begging you were being bred like you wanted.

Wanda let out a possessive growl growl as she finally allowed herself the privilege of being inside you. Your walls were hypnotically tight. "Fuck, you feel so good." Her hands kept a firm grip on your hips. She had to be gentle. This was your first time being mated. Something between a laugh and a moan fell from her lips as she dragged her hips back. "I'm gonna get you full of my pups. Is that what you want? You want all your alpha's pup in this greedy little hole of yours."

Being in heat destroyed any inhibitions you would've had. "Mhm, just your pups." You practically sobbed. The heat in your body simmered down to something much more comfortable. An addictive medium you wanted to be stuck in forever. "It's happening, it's happening!"

"Shush, no. Hold it for me. It'll feel better if you do." She was just barely holding on herself, but Wanda had to make the moment last as long as she possibly could. "I know you wanna cum, but let me knot you first."

A disapproving whine just barely made it past your lips. "Nooo, I need to do it now!" You pleaded. It was a wonder you didn't cum the second she slipped into you with how overstimulated you were. Now she wants you to hold it? That wasn't fair at all! "You're mean!"

Wanda tsked. She really had spoiled you rotten. "Listen to your alpha, just hold on a little bit longer." It didn't take long for her knot to swell at the base and move up.

You let out a satisfied whimper as her cum painted your walls. "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!" The orgasm shocked your entire body. The tight knot in your stomach untied itself. You buried your face into a pillow to muffle your needy whine.

"No no no, let your alpha hear you!" She pulled your hair hard enough to pull your head up. Wanda kissed the now faded mark on your neck. Her hand massaged the bump in your stomach. "You're such a good omega, I love you so much."

You whined from the stimulation but didn't push her away. "Thank you." You whispered. The little strength you had left had all but evaporated and Wanda was the only thing holding you up right. "...Nap."

Wanda smiled and kissed your cheek. It had been a while since you'd reverted back to your mostly nonverbal ways. "Alright, but don't complain when you wake up sticky again."

#panther speaks #anon #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff smut #wanda fanfic #omegaverse thots #alpha!wanda

[princessbrunette]

i love your drabbles! what do you think of anakin's need to have his S/O scratch his back during sex? I imagine he'd cheekily be like "... get long stilleto nails ;) ;) ;)" when you're at the salon and later that night ask you to rake your nails down his back.

and then he's ask for you to do it HARDER.

and you'd complain like, "oh, ani, ani - i can't, i think my nail might actually break if i do it any harder..."

and he just moans that he'll buy you a new set if it does.

anakins not a bad listener.

but sometimes, he’s so distracted with his own thoughts about a mission, or drama around the temple that when you begin to ramble about your plans for the day… his mind kind of slips elsewhere. often staring off into the distance until you cup his cheek and refocus him. you don’t really mind most of the time though, you’re usually speaking your plans out loud just to use anakin as a human diary so that you don’t forget anything. however, at the mention of you going to the salon to get your nails done he perks up a little, looking you over with intrigue.

“can you get the sharp ones?” he interjects, making you trail off whatever you were saying to look at him in surprise. he didn’t know any of the terms of course, unable to differ from coffin shaped to almond if you asked him, but he knew what he did like, and why he liked them. when you don’t say anything, caught a little off guard he clarifies. “you know, the long ones? i like those ones a lot.”

you nod, a soft smile gracing your features as he stands from your couch, patting down his pockets in search of where he kept his credits. he didn’t have much money, the jedi being paid in pretty much dirt — but he liked to pay for things like your nails, which you figured was more for his self esteem, often muttering some kind of ‘what kind of man would i be if —’ line whenever you’d try and refuse him.

so you get stiletto nails from the salon upon his request, or as you like to refer to them, claws. you hadn’t gotten them done in this shape for a while, mainly because they were a bit of a nuisance — waking up having scratched yourself in the night or accidentally nicking yourself with them just trying to get dressed. they’d dull out and become more manageable after a week, but the first few days of having them they were at their sharpest.

you feel like a happy housewife running to show anakin your new nails funded by him when he arrives back through your door later that day, and he smirks in the most charming way as he takes your smaller hand, holding it up so he can get a good look. “very nice.” he praises, continuing on, but little did you know he liked it more than he was playing off, because he knew what they could do.

like clockwork, you end up on your back that evening, your own whines bouncing off the walls and exiting through the billowing curtains to your balcony. he looks like some kind of god, towering over you, ripped and smooth and it’s impossible to keep your hands off him as he grinds his dick up against your cervix making you howl.

“th’salright— you can scratch me.” he groans after you fumble out an apology for slicing his muscled back with your new nails. you’re reluctant, but figure he likes it from the way he moans when you do. his following “thats it.” spurs you on to continue, painting vibrant pink streaks down his skin that you’re sure will be visible the next morning when you wake up to him dozing in the early sun.

“ani, don’t wanna hurt you!” you whimper, clenching around him purely from the animalistic sounds he’s making, going to slide your hands away from his back. at the threat of removing your hands he all but wrestles them back into position desperately, burying his mouth into the crook of your neck so he can instruct you right in your ear. “baby please, c’mon, draw blood for me, why’d you think i like those nails so much, ‘uh?”

so you do, and he bleeds, and suddenly he’s having to slow his thrusts as to not bust right there and then before he’s given you the chance to get off. luckily for him, it doesn’t take long, because the way he moans for you, cursing and half slurring promises to pay for your next set if they break, you’re twitching around his length and mewling out through your orgasm.

#anon #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker prompt #anakin skywalker smut #star wars smut #anakin smut

[klausinamarink]

Happy Accidents Allowed

Prompt: “Starry Night” (discord drabble from STWG and a happy birthday to @thefreakandthehair 🥳💜)

-

“That’s a perfect wall right there.” Eddie emphasizes his point by smacking a hand against the still-white, (thankfully) now dried paint. “Don’t ya agree, big boy?”

Steve puts his hands on his hips, letting himself survey every inch of the wall of their living room. It’s actually a small area, right next to the sliding door of the balcony, barely wide enough to fit his own frame even with his arms outstretched. It’s also the only wall in their new apartment left unpainted because Eddie had wanted it blank for a mural he wanted to do. Hence the many paint bottles and palettes around their feet.

Finally, Steve smacked his lips and said, “Better than a horse, I’ll say.” 

It came out less clever than it did in his brain, but Eddie laughed hysterically anyways. 

“Alright, I’m gonna start so do not distract me!” Eddie pointed at him with one of the paintbrushes. 

“Even if it’s for meals?” Steve asked, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

Eddie paused. “Unless it’s for meals.”

“Even if you need a shower?”

“Unless I have to shower.”

“Even if-”

Steve cackled as he leapt away from Eddie’s attempt to smack his leg. “Even if I have to sleep, yes!” 

He left Eddie alone then. Steve spent a while in their bedroom to finish unpacking the last couple boxes, before he peeked back in the living room. 

Some of the wall was painted in a thick dark blue. Eddie was still hunched over on his spot, but Steve could see that his boyfriend already had some other colours done. They were too dark and blob-y looking for Steve to figure out what they were. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“So what exactly are you painting?” Steve tiptoed over, careful not to disturb Eddie.

Eddie hummed, not looking up from where he’s still painting. “Been wanting to try my version of Starry Night.”

“Starry Night?”

“Yeah, you know. That one Van Gogh painting.” 

“Oh, I know that.”

They both fell into a comfortable silence. Steve kept watching Eddie until he finally looked up. “You wanna try?”

Steve blinked, “Huh?”

Eddie grinned, already handing him a paintbrush. “You can try painting too. It would be sort of cool if we did this together, actually. Like, I paint on this side, you paint on that side, we meet in the middle. Might be sweet.”

”Or hideous.” Steve muttered, taking the offered brush. Eddie laughed before turning back to his progress.

Steve stared at the remaining white space. He looked down at his brush. It’s one of the small ones that could do thinner strokes for the details. Probably a good choice Eddie gave him because Steve knew absolutely nothing about painting. Even in art classes as he had followed his teacher’s instructions, his projects always looked like a first grader’s attempt. Hell, he was pretty sure first grade was the last time he genuinely wanted to do painting on his own.

He took a deep breath. He can do this. He knows what Starry Night looks like, so all he has to do is paint what he remembers, right?

Steve sits down, dipping the brush in one of the blue paints. A lighter color. Because Starry Night had lots of cool brushstrokes and it makes sense to start from light to dark. Right?

Steve carefully taps the brush experimentally on the wall. As expected, the light blue paint appears as a new dot on the white wall, inches away from Eddie’s. But an inexplicable wave of dread comes over Steve. The longer he stares at the spot, the more it overwhelms him. 

Because he doesn’t know what to do next. 

Does he have to apply the same paint? Does he just have to bring the brush back and move it up and down? Did he have to add a new one? If he tried a different brush- no, it would just be the same, just more larger. Should he ask Eddie? No, it’ll just distract him anyways. Maybe if Steve left now- no, he would be a fucking asshole-

“I ruined it.” Steve said, blankly staring at the pathetic dot. 

“What?” Eddie blinked at him. His eyes darted to the horrible blue spot and he made a small laugh. “Sweetheart, you just started-”

“I ruined it.” Steve repeated. Pressure started burning right behind his eyes. He immediately pinched the bridge of his nose, careful with the paintbrush he’s still holding. Fucking pathetic. “This was a mistake.”

“Wait, wait, Steve.” Eddie’s hands were on his wrists, gently bringing them down to their laps. Steve looked away, biting hard into his bottom lip. If he had to look at his boyfriend, Steve was certain he would just start sobbing and never stop.

“Steve.” Eddie said softly. His hand carefully cupped Steve’s face. Lingering, not turning his head to face Eddie. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Like I said,” Steve clenched his jaw as he spoke, trying to stop the waterworks from going out, “I ruined it.”

There was a tiny rustle of clothes as Eddie moved forwards. His arms wrapped around Steve, easily pulling their bodies together. Steve couldn’t hold it anymore. He buried his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder, inhaling the smell of paint already ingrained in the fabric of his flannel. It soaked up his tears easily. 

After Steve felt like he could breathe without feeling choked up, Eddie spoke again, “It’s your first time painting, right?”

Steve nodded. He turned his head so he could press his face against Eddie’s neck. 

“I’m not expecting you to be a master painter.” Eddie paused, “Though it would be pretty cool if my boyfriend was secretly Van Gogh.” He cackled aloud when Steve good-heartedly pinched his arm in response. When he quieted down, Eddie leaned back so he was staring into Steve’s eyes. His thumb rubbed underneath them to wipe away any stray tears.

He continued, “It’s okay to fail, Steve. It’s okay to make mistakes, especially when you’re just starting something new. Believe me, I get the struggle. Sometimes, I come up with super cool ideas but I just tear my hair out when I can’t draw it exactly how I pictured it.”

“Really?” Steve asked quietly, even though he already witnessed plenty of those moments Eddie had just described, which was mostly amusing. But nothing about this situation feels funny to Steve. Surely, Eddie’s internally laughing at him right now.

But Eddie was only smiling at him, all so fondly, “Really. And there’s a lesson about it. If you think you ruined something, call it a happy accident.”

“Happy accidents?” Steve repeated it under his breath. Eddie’s smile grew wider as he playfully tapped his nose.

“Yep, no calling it a mistake or saying you ruined art. It’s just happy accidents.”

When they both leaned in to kiss, Steve thought about the circumstances that had brought them both here in this apartment, despite the horrors that had caused it. Thought about how if he hadn’t ran back to the Byers house that night, Steve’s life would’ve been more blissful but none the wiser. He wouldn’t have met the kids and known Eddie more this intimately.

Yeah, it sure was a happy accident. And that, Steve wouldn’t regret those spots of paint on his own mural of his life.

#klaus writes #steddie #stranger things

[fagboyfriend]

i rlly like ur composition, i wanna know about your process :D

thank uuu !! yeah so like. composing a scene for me generally begins with a vague idea that i want to get down as quickly as possible- and for me that usually starts with finding a setting. I knew that i wanted to draw a) a group of roomates gossiping in a crowded kitchen and i wanted there to be b) one figure in the extreme foreground and c) lots of plants. i do use some tools to figure out perspective, mainly the csp perspective ruler. Usually i start by finding a picture i like similar to the vibe im going for- but instead of referencing anything else- im purely interested in perspective. sorry to anyone who is shocked i dont generate all of my perspective purely by myself- i can draw in perspective fairly well but i struggle to make straight lines and this is easier to make grids with than the line tool lol ^_^ i try to use it kinda more like spellcheck on typos than like something to fully rely on. this is the video i learned this trick from:

i saw the left photo and realllly loved how the cabinets alligned with the wall- so i used my ruler tool to draw out my inital plotted points from the image- basically the linear movements i was most interested in and then i turned off the image layer and worked with those lines and the ruler tool to move on. eventually i had this:

which was enough for me to put my characters in for the inital round. if you notice- i made a looot of further adjustments as i go on. this sketch is not a final layout, its so my characters have somewhere to be! i cannot draw someone standing on a floor if theres no floor, nor leaning on a table that doesnt exist. i can’t draw my characters without a background, but i also cant finish my background without accounting for how my characters can comfortably exist in it!!

this was the like.. very basic start. i knew the positions of two characters- but i needed to change a lot not only to fit them better but to allow for the other two figures i had planned.

okay.. a little better. i widened the kitchen, closed the fridge door.. added a chair and fit in all the figures.. but this is waaay too dramatic. only two figures are actually interacting- and they are at wildly different energy levels!

this is where things started to make a little more sense characterwiss, so i was ready to refine backgrounds and figures and unite the two.

inital base sketch. much better layout.

okay- this is where im getting my footing but things seem.. really really off. You can see me working on my framing here- theres some good linear movement from left to right here- but not vertically. It’s hard to notice the figure in the far back, so i need to redirect the viewers eye to move upwards as well!

this is where i decided to zoom out, add an interesting vertical element to the left of the image and make it clearer whats happening in the foreground. i had to account for some stuff by adjusting the cropping, but i paid attention to that as well.

annnd- thats what a clean sketch looks for me! i have all the elements of my scene accounted for, and things are clean enough to read.

the next step for me would be transfer! essentially- I print the image of my sketch out, resizing and taping pages together so my sketch matches the size of the paper i want to paint on, and then i use a lightboard to transfer my sketch with pencil onto my paper. Then i refine the sketch a few times on paper before stretching my watercolor paper (essentially just prepping for painting) and inking with a brush and colored ink before going in with watercolor, gouache and ink, then usually finishing with marker, colored pencil, pastel and ink. it’s a lengthy process but a lot of fun lol. but sketches for me can be like.. 15 layers of different roughs until im happy with just the sketch. there were more images but im on mobile and theres a 10 image limit 😭😭 im a bit masochistic but i believe that if i dont have a good sketch i dont have a good painting!!

[dreamersparacosm]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐗

featuring bradley (rooster) bradshaw

shower sex (n): when two people have sex within the vicinity of a shower. (duhh)

nsfw!

note ; this is pretty self explanatory but rooster = sexy, reader + rooster in shower + established fwb situation = even sexier

warnings ; penetration, shower sex (lmfao??)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Before today, the logistics of shower sex have always been a little fuzzy. You've thought about the positions, the water, the temperature, and how to overcome your dread of being caught.

However, you two seem to have it figured out with Rooster's cock buried deep inside of you, one of your legs encircling his waist, the scalding hot water engraving marks into your skin.

Well, sort of figured out. There is that dark cloud that looms over you two when you so much as glance at each other, an unwavering tension, an undeniable attraction.

Yours and Rooster’s relationship has always been complicated. There’s the best friends situation, the whole knowing each other since birth thing, an evil trope that would put other romance novels to shame. There’s also the part where you blamed alcohol on your decision to make a move on Rooster that fateful night back in college, before you both decided to up sticks in need of a change and dedicate your life to the Navy. Yeah, that whole thing? Very intricate indeed.

But when he’s fucking you like this, with the adrenaline from being in the air still pumping in your veins, and the tip of his cock reaching your cervix, you forget about the dark cloud and the elaborate web of mistakes you entangled yourself into.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” His head falls into the crook of your neck, voice a breathy whisper. The crisp temperature of the wall against your spine eases the sickeningly sweet pleasure you’re enduring. His lips press against your scalding skin, whimpers escaping you, bouncing off the walls and echoing in your eardrum.

Any resolve you had to be quiet has been thrown out the window, tumbled off a ledge and flattened. His hips slam into yours, his pace unforgiving and relentless. There’s a dark gaze behind his eyes that clouded his vision ever since he stepped off the aircraft, nothing but clarity for what he wants fogging his brain. “Been needing this all day,” He states mindlessly, unaware of the way your heart thumps in its cages at the words.

Your eyes look up, meet his for a brief second and catch a glimpse of your best friend losing himself inside you; brunette locks damp and cascading over his face, mustache glistening, skin sun-kissed and glowing. And you admire his features, his broad shoulders that you rake your fingernails into and leave crescent-shaped indents in. You tug him closer into your body with your leg, let him reach deeper inside you.

“Roos, I’m gonna, I-I,” You’re almost embarrassed from your lack of coherent words, and you feel his mustache curl upwards against your skin, and you can picture the smirk that is surely painted across his face.

He’s been at this torturous pace for so long he’s shocked you haven’t let go sooner. But, because he’s your best friend and because he’s harboring some inner demons of his own, he slows down. Simmers down to a few lazy thrusts. “You’re gonna what?” He questions.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” You glare at him, and he gazes down at you, evil grin plastered onto his face like he’s won a trophy.

“Just wanna know what you’re gonna do,” His hand slowly, painfully, treacherously, moves downward to where your throbbing clit is. He presses one finger to it, teasing, allowing you to have a taste of what he can give you.

“Please don’t do this.”

Your legs tremble in desperation, the feeling of being full but not entirely satiated eating you alive. The expression on his face alone is enough to answer your plea.

“C’mon princess, I know you’ve got it in ya,” He lifts your leg higher up on his waist, a wince of undulating pleasure leaving your tongue. You want to speak, need to speak, and you normally would quip a snarky comment his way about how he’ll never make you cum the way you do with your own fingers, but this time is a shocking contrast.

You’re all out of words.

His finger resumes the tempo on your aching clitoris, the circles becoming erratic and sloppy. A string of curses leaves Rooster’s mouth as he feels your needy walls clench around his cock. You struggle out, “I’m gonna, I’m gonna — oh fuck!”

And Rooster doesn’t want to break, doesn’t want to give in to that lurching desire that makes him want to slam into you with all his might. The sound of the water pattering on the floor might be enough to drown out your screams, but a part of him wants everyone to hear, to know that he’s the one undoing you for all to see.

The thumb he skillfully uses speeds up, pleasures you just enough to speak the magic words. “Fuck, oh my god, I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Good girl.”

His words are followed by merciless thrusts, that have your toes curling and eyes rolling back into your head that you’re astounded none of your fellow pilots have wandered into the shower room to check what all the commotion is about.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, Roos, feels so fucking good —“ And your sentence is cut off by a wave that torments you, crashes over you. His name falls off your lips like a prayer, and he thinks he might be religious right then and there. Your legs clench around his body, sweat beading at your forehead.

He doesn’t last long after that. His cock twitches inside you, releases a load of hot semen that paints your walls and mixes with yours, a common occurrence that has you two playing with God more than you’d like. His orgasm wracks through his whole being, has him saying all sorts of senseless babble, as him seeing stars, “Oh shit, fuck, damnit [Y/N]. This pussy is so fucking good, I just — fuck. I love you, holy shit, I love you.”

I love you.

If you were content before, that all washes away with those three words. You suddenly feel a wave of nausea, light-headed, unwrap your legs from his body and let his limp cock fall out of you. He doesn’t notice the way your body slinks away from his, rested against the tiled wall, unaware of what words tumbled out of his mouth like vomit.

You don’t say anything about it.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, whispers, “God, I needed that,” and dives underneath the stream of water to clean himself off.

Later, a janitor might have to come peel your body off the wall.

So, yeah, this whole thing? Way past intricate. Way past complicated. Some would say past the point of no return.

But, for the sake of your friendship and your undying adoration for him and the countless other excuses you come up with in your brain, you join him under the stream of water and let the words fade into the clouds.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#angelina’s kinktober #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster blurb #rooster drabble #rooster #rooster imagine #rooster smut #rooster x reader #top gun maverick imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw drabble #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut

[crowborn666-writes]

League of Villains and the Soft Things They Do For You

(Hitting the dreaded writing block wall for my fics, figured I’d write something easy (feel bad cause I’ve got a request to do, but I’m sure they’ll understand lmao))

(As usual, tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible!)

Genre: fluff, Platonic

~~~~~~

Dabi

on cold nights, he’ll let you cling or huddle against him, you get warmth and he finds comfort in the gentle or firm touch you provide in return

Calm on the outside, would be losing his mind if he heard you ever got a burn. Whether it’s a minor burn, like from touching a pot without gloves on or turning the sink on too high, or a burn that causes others to wince in sympathy, like from a fire or a rope, he is on top of you, suggesting eighteen hundred different things to help with whatever damage your in

Sick? He can’t help much for the fever, but he’ll keep your soup warm for you!

In pain? He’s your heating pad now. No use racking up the electric bill when he’s around.

Tomura

a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to hygiene, will fall behind in his own hygiene needs but will be your moral boost for yours. Too mentally tired? He’ll set up your bath and get your comfy clothes for you. Sensory troubles regarding the water or your toothpaste? If you’re comfortable with it, he’ll sit with you and help distract your mind

Won’t admit it, but greatly appreciates your attempts to help him in return

“Who said something bad about you? That guy? Don’t worry I’ll take care of it.”

Late night walks for snacks together? At least three times a week

Twice

You wanna infodump about the most random ass hyperfixation you have? He’ll listen all day long

Actually! Asks! Questions! To! Show! He’s! Engaged!!!

If you’re like me with a vocal stim of randomly quoting vines and funny audios, this man will, one way or another, find said vines, memorize them, and then quote them with you

You, randomly: “what do you have?” Twice, across the entire goddamn base: “A KNIFE!” You, yelling back: “NO!”

Toga

bad breakup? An ex hurt you? Give her their locations, she just wants to talk

Afraid of needles?(like me) she doesn’t entirely understand the fear, but she’ll do her best to keep her needles out of your eyesight

Talks about crushes? Absolutely. Nail painting included if you’d like

Will stick herself in between you and some rando who made you uncomfortable in a heartbeat. Def will give them the “I will hurt you” smile too

#mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #mha #bnha #league of villains #league of villians x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #dabi x reader #twice x reader #toga x reader #mha tomura #bnha tomura #mha dabi #bnha dabi #mha touya #bnha touya #mha twice #bnha twice #mha toga #bnha toga

[keirawantstocry]

fitpacbo moving in together

that’s all

so true. cheering and clapping

Tubbo heaved a sigh as he set down the large box in the living room of his new apartment. His dumbass boyfriends were both still taking some of the largest boxes out of the moving truck, trying to compete to see who could lift the most. So Tubbo took the opportunity to look around the apartment. 

It wasn’t a large apartment, not with their budget and three kids but it was still a nice size. The living room had a nice little fake fireplace that Tubbo and Pac had been discussing how to figure out to make into a real fireplace. Fit advised them it was a horrible idea but Pac and Tubbo had easily brushed his concerns off. 

The kitchen was small but functional, Tubbo was sure nobody but Fit would be in it anyway. Right beyond the kitchen was their bedroom. They made sure to buy a king bed so they could all sleep together. And beyond their bedroom was the kids’ room. Tubbo grinned. He couldn’t wait to decorate it. Sunny had been nearly bouncing off the walls of their old room in excitement over the idea of being able to decorate. She and Pac had talked for hours about all the painting that they were going to do to her walls, all the graffiti. 

The door swung open again behind him and he whirled around to see Fit and Pac smiling at him from the entrance. 

“Hey, wanna help us with this?” Fit asked, angling his chin toward the box they were carrying in between them. 

“Oh yeah!” Tubbo dropped the box in his hands to come help them lower the large box onto the floor. “How did you two only manage to bring one box in?” 

“We tried our best,” Pac said, sticking his lip out in a frown. “It’s not our fault.” 

Fit laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t see you out there trying to help us.” 

“I was busy,” Tubbo said with an eye roll turning back to the walls. “I’m thinking we paint the living room blue.” 

“Hell yeah!” 

“You two want to paint everything blue,” Fit protested. 

Tubbo and Pac exchanged looks. “It’s a diverse, beautiful color,” Pac said. “You really aren’t appreciating it enough.” 

“Yeah what color do you want our walls to be? Fucking green?” Tubbo said. 

Fit stuttered in protest. “Hey! It’s a good color.” 

“It’s the color of puke,” Tubbo shot back. 

“It’s the color of trees,” Fit countered.

“Yeah and fucking dog shit.”  

“You're gross, man. Not everything needs to be so nasty.” 

“Suck my dick.” 

“Gladly.” 

“The kids are right outside, can you two not do this right now?” Pac reminded them. 

They both gave him sheepish looks and apologized. 

“Yeah, let's not fight over something as stupid as the color of the walls. We have plenty of time to decide how we want to decorate the place. And plenty of people to ask,” Fit said just as the kids barreled through the front door with matching grins.

“Speak of the little devils,” Fit teased. 

They all laughed, grabbing onto his legs. “Dad,” they all signed frantically as best as they could with their arms wrapped around his legs. 

“Show us to our room?” Sunny signed happily, bouncing around. 

“Yeah!!” Both Richas and Ramón agreed frantically. 

“Okay, okay,” Fit agreed, reaching down to rustle each of their little heads. “Let's go check it out, little darlings.”

#qsmp #my writing #fanfiction #fitpacbo #q!tubbo #poly morning crew #q!pac #q!fit #qsmp sunnysideup #qsmp ramon #qsmp rich #qsmp richarlyson

[waskatoshi]

A hundred and fifty

Atsumu Miya x F!Reader

HAIKYUU HOGWARTS AU! (+18) Enemies, Sadist!Atsumu, MasochistReader, Fingering, Exhibitionism, They get caught LOL, Explicit, Smut.

The corridors were always colder near the Slytherin dungeons. Atsumu hated having to go through the spooky aisles: he felt that the paintings were judging him, that the stairs intentionally changed every time he tried to climb them.

The Gryffindor boy wasn't happy, and it showed. Stiff as a wooden plate, he waited for his twin brother to come out of his dormitory, when suddenly, he heard a voice coming from behind his back.

— I didn't know they let trolls get into Hogwarts.- He turned around and laughed sarcastically.

— Something very daring coming from a domestic goblin to speak to his master like that.- You huffed, ready to fight back. The tall boy ogled you. You were a pretty girl, and a smart one too. Your house was proud about how many points you were bringing, the professors always complimented you… It was really a shame that you were a Slytherin, always making snarky remarks and comments, denying all his efforts to befriend you… They were all justified though. He made your potions classes and quidditch matches a living hell. Always pestering you, calling you dumb pet names and touching your hair and waist, saying how much of a perfect couple the two of you would make. It made your head (and heart) throb.

Before you could answer, a figure came out of the Slytherin portrait. It was Osamu Miya, looking rather tired.

—Hey sorry for making you wait. Do you have the thing?- Atsumu handed his brother a little yellowish box and smiled, murmuring something you didn't get.– Oh hi there. Didn't see you right there. Wanna come in?- You nodded and carefully entered the portrait, but not without leaving Atsumu with the last word (or at least you tried to)

—See you in the pitch. We are going to win this game, 150 - 0.

—Okay doll! Look around for the bludgers! You never know when one of them could hit you,- Finished Atsumu in a high pitched voice, laughing.

[…]

Fuming.

Atsumu was fuming.

Stomping through the pitch back to his dormitory he murmured insults to himself. How could he possibly loose the snitch on the last minute?! He was just centimeters away from catching it! But no, your dumb player had the audacity to jump up in the air and make a stupid move, stealing his opportunity to win the game.

He was so mad.

When he entered the main hall and a few Slytherins laughed. A familiar one stepped right beside him, grabbing his arm.

—Hi Tsumu!- You chirped. Your hair was unusually messy, a prove of how much you jumped around in the middle of the match. The boy started walking faster, but you kept up the pace.

—What happened Tsumu? Did the small kitty cat with a lion complex— Suddenly, he made a hard turn (interrupting what you were about to say) grabbing your waist and pushing you to the nearest wall, taking you completely by surprise.

—I'm so fucking mad right now, I don't need your stupid remarks.- You looked up to him, surprised. The size difference between the two was obvious. His hands on your waist were firm, the warm they emited was making you feel... funny. You opened your mouth to protest, but Atsumu was quick, grabbing your cheeks between his fingers.— Shshshh.- He hushed you.- You are always saying dumb stuff. You are always saying how smart you are… Do you wanna know what I think? I think you are pretty girl with an attitude problem.- He began to squeeze your cheeks harder and harder, making your mouth form a pout. Your eyes were tearing and your legs trembling. What was happening to you? Atsumu wasn't oblivious to this. He laughed and got near your right ear.– Don't tell me you like this... Are you some type of masochist? Don't get me wrong, I like that. See? I always said we were a perfect match.- He made you open your mouth.– If you say something dumb I'm either shutting you up with my fingers or with my cock.

He let go the hand on your cheeks to immediately kiss you. His kiss was desperate. As if it contained all his anger and frustration. His tongue caressed yours with an impressive hunger, your already trembling legs were starting to get wet.

—How could you loose that opportunity to— Truth to his word, the Gryffindor boy stuffed your mouth with his fingers, making you gag in response.

—You are so pretty like this. Why are you always mouthing something dumb? Aren't you a good girl?- The boy squeezed your waist harder, getting closer to you.

Atsumu broke away from the kiss and looked right into your eyes.

—You good? Its the first time I see you being so quiet.

—Fuck you, Atsumu.

—Yeah, I'm trying.

He started kissing you again and again. Droll was dripping down your chin. It was so messy, so filthy.

—Tsumu, please.- You plead. The boy nodded and moved your panties aside, finally touching your clit and massaging it. Your high pitched moans increased, even if you tried really hard to suppress them. But Atsumu was making it hard. Suddenly, a long finger entered you. Your juices rapidly coated it, making you a little embarrassed. One finger turned into two, and then three. His free hand find the way into your shirt, squeezing your left breast and pinching your nipple with his cold and calloused fingers.

Atsumu grabbed one of your legs, caressing your inner thigh and making all the way up into your skirt.

He had a moment of doubt, but when you grabbed his hand to make him touch your panties, it served him as enough confirmation to go on. The Gryffindor boy started touching you, teasing your entrance with the tip of his fingers. You moaned frustrated when he played with the elastic of the garment but didn't start anything. He laughed in between the kiss.

As the boy finger-fucked you, murmurs were heard in the distance. You got scared, breaking away from the kiss.

—Atsumu someone is coming.- The boy looked at you with a serious expression and moved his head in disagreement. He kept kissing you.

You let yourself get carried away in the heat of the moment, reciprocating the kiss, but still, you were trying to listen to your surroundings, but the only sound you heard was the squelching sounds coming from your pussy and Atsumus fingers. Your moans were getting louder, it was really hard to keep kissing him. You were so so close to cumming, your eyes were filled with tears mere seconds away from your release.

—DID YOU SEE THAT CATCH? IT WAS AMAZING! Slytherin in Quidditch is the BEST!

—That stupid Gryffindor lost the snitch in the last second.

Your heart stopped.

—Tsumu.- You looked into Atsumus eyes, fear crept into your face. The voices were so close where you two were.- Atsumu please.- You cried out, trying to getaway from the boy, but he didn't budge, he kept fingering your pussy and massaging your breasts, he even picked up the pace of his fingers for the new found incentive.

You tried and tried to separate from Atsumu, crying out his name, but the boy was so much stronger than you. He was practically manhandling your body into keeping that position.

Then you saw it, a few meters away. Someone with curly black hair and a Ravenclaw tunic. He crossed glances with your teary eyes and choked in shock.

You didn't know why, but you cummed, nice and hard.

Your vision became blurry. Maybe it was because of the tears in your eyes, or maybe for the mind-blowing orgasm you just had, but you couldn't connect a single thought. As you cummed and spasm around Atsumus fingers, the blonde Gryffindor smiled happily, giving you a pat on your head.

—Good girl.

#haikyuu smut #just busted a nut™ #atsumu smut #atsumu #hq smut #anime smut #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hogwarts au

[rreskk]

since you write submissive trevor so well, i want to request a short fic of north yankton trevor being publically used in public by the dominant reader. she has him sucking her fingers and playing with her boobs because hes desperate and needy

MMmmmmmmmmmm, North Yankton SUBMISSIVE Trevor. My favourite

Summary: He invited you to a night-out! And it subconsciously grew thick and heavy.

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

Word count: 1902

“Hello, beautiful.” Your ears rang at the sound of his slurred voice. Entering the dimly lit, booze-filled bar, you walked towards your man who was sharing a small booth with his other friends. They weren’t bothered by your presence and talked amongst themselves while Trevor immediately gave you grabby hands, tossing your body onto his lap and licking his lips like a hungry bidon.

It was obvious from the beginning – the way his tongue clumsily slipped out when speaking – that he was drunk with quite a few empty glasses placed on the wooden table. The moment you were (forcibly) thrown onto his lap, his hands offered no respect, fondling your backside, showing off your figure as if you were a piece of meat. The layers of your clothing had made it harder for him to sneak a few fingers around your waist, and he yearned for more.

Nonetheless, you didn’t have time to settle. Being sat down for less than 5 minutes and he had groped your thickness, groaning out some provocative compliments into your ear. You could feel his friends, Michael and Brad, attempt to ignore Trevor’s touchy nature. The table shifted and from the corner of your eye, they exited the booth and made an excuse to sit somewhere around the bar while you were left in proximity to this man-child.

“Take your coat off,” He whined from underneath, “C’mere. I need.”

His fingers tugged on your zip and dragged it down, maintaining this heavy, sickening eye-contact where them brown-coloured irises turned black as the Devil. You held discipline to stop him. When your hand snatched his wrist away from your clothes entirely, Trevor breathed against your naked neck and threatened to bite it, his teeth chattering and scraping up and down your skin. His breath left a damp sensation and you wiped it to express your displease with his current behaviour. Even when he’s drunk, the gesture twitched his eyebrow. He leaned forward, staring down at your lips, forgetting that your eyes existed for a moment.

“Trevor.” He watched your lips moved and smirked to himself – whatever fantasy was surfing his mind – it was nothing innocent, you could tell. And it weren’t a lie to detect how much booze he had considering his stench reeked. Your nostrils felt crucified, jaw quivering as it was hard to pass-by the musk.

“What’s wrong?” Trevor asked with zero interest, just using your distaste as an excuse to read your lips again.

“I thought you were gonna wait for me to drink.” Your fingers finding way to his mullet, dragging off the small beanie and brushing the long, thinning strands, occasionally massaging his scalp.

He was going to respond but the magic touch had made him disabled to do so. His eyes fell onto your neck, approaching your chest area. He mumbled something like “wanna see you” while fighting back the urge to groan at your saint-like stroke. Although it was a public setting, with people passing by, your innocent massages to his head remained unnoticeable, the only thing drawing some-sort of attention was Trevor’s hungry glower of his brows and cheeks. They darkened, covering up the arousal and blush painted on his face.

You’d giggle when seeing his skin flush with pale rose. He refused to look in your face, his head hanging down, forehead leaning against your collarbone.

“Is that the beer or weather?” You teased him more about his physical reaction to you playing with his hair.

“Shut up.” Foolishly, Trevor’s voice was husky and shallow.  

There was a individual light hovering above the table, the switches implanted nearby the wall. You reached over, slowly sliding off his lap, and turned the main beams off, leaving your shared booth to become one with the shadows; the candle-lit glows from other tables illuminating his combat boots and shiny, teary eyes.

He grew confused when you sat away. As you arms outstretched, causing the change of light, he blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness. The alcohol had made it hard to deal with changes and he was visibly struggling. He rubbed his forehead and grumbled something important again before the light kiss of your lips heated up his jaw. Trevor openly sighed when you had reintroduced yourself with his closeness, letting your mouth trail lines of affection down his jaw, kissing the stubble and ignoring his antsy lap. It felt empty – his lap. Even though you were cradled beside him in the darkness; hiding in your secrets, he didn’t like the freeness of no weight on him. There was no warmth.

Your kisses grew more sensual and you reached the corner of his mouth, kissing, sometimes licking the moustache that was the cause of all rashes between your legs from the past few months.

“Take it off.” He voiced, referring to your coat he held a grudge against.

“Why should I?” Your tongue slithered around his lips.

“Jesus, girl, you’re trying to kill your ol’ man?”

That grizzled, huffy expression softened when your coat began unzipped, routing your arms from them thick sleeves. Trevor’s front teeth dug into his bottom lip as you threw the coat aside on the opposite chairs, beginning to delayer your outfit one by one.

One by another painful one. You kept him waiting, strip-teasing so his cock hardened more and more. Alas, the outline of your body was beautifully illumining through the orange, dim lights. He released a longing moan and went to touch your exposed breasts, his cruel thumb circling around your nipple, goose-bumps picking at your spine and skin. They fit perfectly into his hand, like it belonged there. He was intensely murmuring your name, drool seeping from his mouth as well.  Trevor occupied both cups before you fondled his jaw to exact a sense of authority; sexual purpose in his satisfaction. If he was to feel great, you needed control over it. Furthermore, his head followed every tug of your hand. He was so in awe with your soft body. Your nipples were being praised and touched repeatedly, it weakened his core strength, the steamy atmosphere elevating from the booth you hogged.

His friends had already seen the state Trevor was in moments before you entered the bar, so it was no surprise when they heard unusual shuffles and whispers coming from the opposite side of the room. However, Michael’s head perked up from the stand when he heard some real dirty whispers evolving into hushed commands of restricted moans. He made eye-contact with Brad who smirked, having something to blackmail Trevor with for the next few weeks.

“I’m not even touching you, and you already wanna cum?” You degraded, his mouth rushing to suck your finger as he played with your breasts still, the skin reddening after his many minutes of poking fun. “You think this is for free?”

Trevor glared when you talked down his self-worth; something already crippled and non-existent. He licked around the tip of your finger and inserted it into his mouth, not caring that you were fighting back his urge to cum. His crotch was burning with fire. It made everything uncomfortable, everything so sexily torturous. It made him mangle your breasts like his life depended on it. You were firing him up, have been since the moment you had met. It was so easy to slap his face around and call him a pervert, because he is.

“You’re so hot.” His speech was muffled due to your finger sitting on his tongue. Despite that, he still sounded gory and raw, anger fresh and fury. It sounded like he was sexualising you out of spite.

“Oh yeah?” You spoke back, “Why should I let a pervert like you cum?”

 A whimper left his lips unintentionally. That was the only answer you gained.

“C’mon. Why should I? What are you worth?” Your volume grew, the bar being dominated by your sudden combative force.

Trevor’s saliva oozed down your finger and skin, strands disgustingly hanging and falling between the leather space between you both. His hand had weakly fell off your breast and he was now grabbing your thigh, head lowered, eyes closed.

“Are you worth anything? Do you think perverts are real men?”

“No.” He whispered back, shaking.

Excitement bubbled your veins. He was finally submitting. 

“Say it louder, baby.” You guided him with a gentle mumble.

“I don’t deserve to cum because I’m a fuckin’ pervert. I’m a horrible person. I’m worth nothing.” Trevor breathed, clawing your thighs now as he was approaching his orgasm. You grabbed a chunk of his hair and forced him to look up, staring down at him like a peasant, an unfortune soul. He looked good ruined. His eyes threatened to cry out of pure lust. He sniffled and gurgled something high-pitched, unable to keep his voice down low anymore. “I gotta cum so bad, [y/n]. I need you to rape the fuck out of my cock, I really need it!”

Of course, you weren’t going to touch him. He didn’t deserve your love, especially after his behaviour. Watching Trevor squirm and hide himself into the dark shadows of the booth, his body aching for your  touch, hands grabbing your jeans, working their way up to your naked stomach and chest. He kept on whispering your name, chanting curse words. It was too heavy that he didn’t even think about handling himself to cum. Trevor simply wanted you to do it, begging. Like he was praying your holy presence, you stayed silent and worked through his roots, your nails dragging along so he had some sort of foundation to cum to.

“C’mon.” Finally, you spoke.

He daringly groped your breasts again while thinking heavily to peruse the orgasm. Was she helping me? He faced delusions, Is she encouraging me? Trying to follow orders without rebelling was hard. Trevor wanted to touch himself, he wanted you to touch him. But here he was, being ordered to do it by himself, like a child growing independence.

“Fuckin’ help me!” Trevor illy protested with spikes of anger, “It hurts so bad. I just wanna cum!”

“You don’t need me.”

“Oh, do something! – “

“Man up and do something about it.” You yelled in his ear, and with the help of your fierce dominance, Trevor slammed his head against the table and cried out in agonising pleasure.

“FUCK!” His crotch area grew wet and creamy. Your fingers loosened his hair-strand and the poor man was breathing heavily, his orgasm lasting too long. It gave him hot-flushes, sweat tickling down his side-burns and stache.

You grinned before putting your layers back on, knowing he was finished for the night.

Trevor consciously whimpered as he tried to wipe away the wet-stain of his cum in his jeans. Tears were trickling down his cheek and his limbs were shaking with disguise. It was now influenced to the surrounding public the true meaning of the past noises as men who walked by, they all gave Trevor a subtle glare or smuggest smirk.

“It wasn’t so hard.” You kissed his cheek and zipped up your coat, turning the main beams on and ordering yourself more drinks, pretending like he wasn’t a quivering mess beside you for the rest of the night.

#grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips #grandtheftauto5 #grandtheftauto #my fanfic #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #requests #Thank you!

[daydream-cement]

Organs in the Wash Ch. 7

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Authors Note: Thank u v much to my beta baby @bri-sonat <3 This chapter is a little intense so please take care of yourself during and after reading <3 but if you wanna skip and come back for ch. 8 that's okay too :) I left part of some Deseret untranslated. I wonder if one of you can figure out the translation...

Warnings: Kidnapping, serial killers, blood, torture (cutting), and psychological abuse

Relinquishing his grip on your hair, the killer backed away, retreating back to a workbench. Now given the opportunity, you were able to glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. Concrete floors, walls lined with aged bricks, and the only light sources were a few dangling bulbs. Old metal shelves lined the walls, containing old paint buckets, tools, and miscellaneous housing fixtures that he had probably used to fix things in your apartment at one point or another. If you had to guess, you believed you were in the basement of your apartment building. But why would he choose to stay so close to where he had taken you from?

“You know... I always thought I was going to be a doctor. You can see by my handiwork that I have a steady hand. Maya was an interesting case... I bled her first. Hung her from the rafters above you and let it all run down the drain.” His tone was so casual, like he was describing his last trip to the grocery store. At the mention of Maya hanging from the rafters, you glance upwards and see a chain dangling overhead. The clinking of metal against the workbench draws your attention back down to him, “Washing the organs was the fun part for me. It really gave me an up close and personal look at each of them. After I called the police, I knew I had made a mistake by putting the organs in the wash.”

The effort to talk makes your entire body ache and your voice cracks as you speak, “...So you killed Abbey?” 

He turns around to look at you, delighted you were willing to have a conversation with him, “Exactly. I disemboweled her. I’m keeping her organs nice and fresh in some ethanol on the shelves over there.” He then gestured to the metal shelf with the paint cans that you now realized were filled with human organs, not paint, “She struggled so much. It was so annoying. The police will be lucky if they get an ID on her with what I did to her. With some patience and experimenting, hydrofluoric acid isn’t that hard to make yourself... The internet really is wonderful.”

He crosses the room, approaching a different workbench. Well, you thought it was a workbench, but the straps hanging off of it told you it was where he planned to torture you. Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t want to show your fear, but this was your nightmares come to life, “And why me?”

He paused what he was doing, only for a moment, to think. He resumed preparing the dissection table for you as he spoke, “At first... proximity. It was easy access, but in the end, it was for the challenge. I would have thought you had recognized my voice, but from the look on your face earlier, you really didn’t know it was me, did you?”

“No...”

“Of course, you didn’t... Girls are so stupid... You did surprise me with your ability to understand the Deseret Alphabet. I wasn’t particularly connected to the language, but every serial killer needs his thing, ya know?” He smiled fondly and gestured wildly with his hands, clearly passionate and remorseless in his killing, “You’re special. I’m going to let you choose the phrase I carve into you. Maybe we can write a sweet letter for your boyfriend to read when she finds your corpse.” 

------

“Repeat those phrases from the letter back to me again.” Robin requested as she moved slowly about your apartment, checking every nook and cranny for anything unusual other officers may have missed. 

Miranda pulled the notebook from her jacket, flipping through the pages to find the translation to the letter, “‘The answer is so near, yet you are blind to the possibilities. Many of these old buildings hold more secrets than you can even imagine.’ And it was also signed, ‘your neighbor.’”

Robin only hummed in response, her eyes trailing along the baseboards for anything that could indicate ‘secrets’ like hidden doors or passages that could have given the killer access to the apartment. Her eyes stopped when confronted with your bookcase and she called over to Miranda to help her, “Here, help me move this bookcase.” 

Tucking the notebook back in her vest, Miranda took two long strides to grasp at the bookcase, pushing while Robin pulled. The blonde huffed as she heaved the bookcase out of the way, “Do you think there is a hidden door or something?” 

“That’s what makes the most sense to me...” Robin shrugged, glancing around the bookcase to the exposed wall to find nothing out of the ordinary.

“Nothing... Robin... What am I going to do? I need to find her. I-” Miranda’s hands move up to her hair, ranking through the locks roughly as to take her aggression out somewhere. She began to pace across your apartment, her chest beginning to heave from the stress and panic that was setting in. The sound of Robin’s ringtone made both of the women stop in their tracks. 

“Just-” Robin pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced down at Adrian’s contact glowing on her home screen. Before she took the call, she looked at Miranda intently, providing her with a couple comforting words, “We will find her. She will be back with you in no time...” 

Answering the call, Robin placed it on speakerphone so she wouldn’t have to relay all of the information back to Miranda later on. Adrian spoke before either of the women could get a word out, “Get back down to the station. We caught him.”

Robin let out a light laugh, unable to believe Adrian could be talking about the serial killer they had been searching relentlessly for, “Caught who?”

“The killer. There is no reason for you to be in Ms. L/n’s apartment any longer.” Adrian’s voice was tainted with annoyance. 

Miranda’s eyes widened and she snatched the phone from Robin’s hand, holding the speaker up to her mouth. The way her voice filled with hope made Robin’s heart ache, “Is Y/n there? Is she with you? Can I talk to her?”

“We haven’t tracked her down yet. We are interrogating him right now to get her location. He keeps feeding us this bullshit that he doesn’t know who we are talking about. We are checking his ‘so-called’ alibis, but we are sure they will fall through.” Miranda’s face immediately fell at Adrian’s response, a scowl returning to her features. Robin and Miranda exchanged a glance, hesitant to believe they had found the killer so easily. The women were so confident in their suspicions the killer was still in the building that they doubted the other detective’s abilities. 

Robin took her phone back from Miranda with a roll of her eyes, “We are going to continue with our theories until you confirm or disprove his alibis.” 

“Waste of time, Griffin. I want you both-” 

“Yeah, we will finish up here and get down to the station when we are done.” Robin noticed the way Miranda’s face fell at the imminent order from their superior, so she opted for the path of disobedience. She cut off Adrian mid-sentence and hung up when she ended her sentence. The brunette smirked at her partner, “Let’s find a killer.”

-------

“Now... Don’t be causing any trouble. You are going to get on this dissection table without any fuss or I’ll really make you regret it, hmm?” He spoke to you like you were a toddler which was incredibly infuriating. If you were going to die anyway, wouldn’t an attempt at escaping be worth the try? On the other hand, if you were going to die, would trying to escape be worth the additional torture? 

He pulls the dissection table to your side, a horrible scraping noise accompanying the action from the metal sliding against the concrete floors. 

“After you, I think I’ll move on to Brisbane... They have the medical school there. I’m sure with all of my experience, I could really impress them with my talents. University of Queensland Mayne... I could be a surgeon.” He situated the table meticulously and moved to fetch a large overhead light he would no doubt use to accurately carve his letter to Miranda into you. His delusional mindset made your brow furrow, “Think of all of the good you will be doing by allowing me to practice on you. This is very altruistic of you.” 

Monotone and dripping with sarcasm, you couldn’t help yourself, “Happy to help.” 

Flicking on the light, he adjusted it over the table and you were then blinded by the LED bulbs, “I knew you would understand. Now, let’s get you all set up here so we can get started.” 

He squatted in front of your chair, untying your legs and continuing his friendly chatter, “I could even continue my extra-curricular surgeries for practice when I’m in Brisbane, ya know? After we are done here, I have a little timer set up to burn this apartment building to the ground. I can collect on that insurance money and buy a couple properties in Brisbane, rent them out maybe? I have time to figure it all out.”

“Oh, sure.”

Circling the chair, he began to untie your hands, reminding you to behave before he continued telling you about his master plan, “Now, no running... I made pretty good money with the laundromat and as a landlord, but you really need to follow your dreams.”

From the moment the rope slipped from your wrists, you bolted, scrambling away from him as quickly as possible. He must not have been expecting you to run as he stumbled and tripped over the chair you had been sitting in. 

You really had no clue where to run, but you dashed past his work bench, pausing momentarily to lift the far side of it and send the tools crashing and skidding across the floor. Hopefully, if you made enough noise, someone nearby would be able to hear you calling for help. You screamed for help, calling out Miranda’s name, and calling out your own name for any passerby to hear. 

As you moved through the basement, you could hear his angry shouting behind you, “Get back here, you dumb bitch.”

Glancing back over your shoulder, he wasn’t any closer, but you figured you should keep throwing things in his path. Passing by one of his beloved shelves of organs, you yanked the shelf to the floor, taking seconds longer than you should have when you saw him sprinting even closer. The horrible smell of preserved organs and ethanol filled the air when the cans burst open upon hitting the floor. 

Continuing down a hallway, you realized the opportunity for you to be trapped was growing high. He groaned in frustration behind you, pausing momentarily to look at all of his hard work undone by your action. You attempted to rattle the handle on two different doors to only find them locked. Further down the hallway, there was a final door and metal bars moving up the wall, leading to a hatch in the ceiling. 

You could hear the sound of his feet hitting the floor- he must have jumped over the fallen shelf, resuming his pursuit of you. Ignoring the door, you assumed it would be locked like the others, so you choose to climb the ladder instead. Your heart dropped when your foot slipped on the second step, knowing you had wasted a split second and the odds of him grabbing your legs and pulling you to the floor was high. 

You made it up another two steps when your foot slipped again. The adrenaline and anxiety from being caught was making your entire body shake. A glimmer of hope shone through when your hand grasped the latch of the hatch, pushing upwards. It was beyond heavy, but you were able to shift it upwards an inch. 

A hand around your ankle causes you to yelp out a final cry for help through the small opening leading to the outside world. His other hand came to grasp the back of your shirt and he gave you a yank backwards and you were filled with self-disgust when your hands slipped from their places on the latch and ladder. He sent you flying to the floor, your head hitting the brick of the basement wall. 

The last thing you heard was the hatch slamming shut under the weight of itself. 

----

Miranda was trying her best to help Robin, but the pressure of finding you was starting to get to her. She began pacing back and forth across the back wall of your apartment while Robin continued searching for anything out of the ordinary. The shorter woman shot her partner an annoyed glance, wishing Miranda could set aside her feelings for you to make headway on finding you, “Miranda! Can you help me here?”

“I’m doing my best, Robin! Get off my ass!” Miranda shouted, stopping in her tracks and stomping her foot in defiance. A hollow sound from beneath her echoed from the strike of her boot. Furrowing her brow, Miranda glanced down to the floor, repeating the action once more and receiving the same response. Shifting over a meter, Miranda threw her foot down once more to hear solid ground instead of the echo. 

“There is no need to throw a tantrum, Hilmarson. We will figure this out.” Robin must not have noticed the change in noises like Miranda had as she rolled her eyes at the blonde. The brunette’s phone began to buzz in her pocket once more and she huffed in frustration at seeing Adrian’s contact once more. Accepting the call and shoving the phone to her ear, Robin was less than welcoming to her boss, “What?”

“Where the hell are you?” Adrian shouted into the receiver of his office phone. 

Robin glanced over at Miranda kneeling on the floor, her fingers dancing around the edges of floorboards, attempting to lift them from their place, “...investigating a lead.”

Miranda studied the floorboards, noting a different wear pattern at the edge of where the hollow noise began. Pulling a pocket knife from her vest, Miranda wedged it into the boards, prying up the board enough for her to push her fingers under it and lift. A group of boards were attached to one another, revealing a hole in the floor, a ladder lining one of the walls. 

“The suspect’s alibi is airtight. The dental records came back on the second victim. Her name was Abbey Moore.”  Robin was only paying partial attention to Adrian’s words as she watched Miranda. “Both the victims and this kid all have something in common; they are all tenants of the same landlord. We are thinking the landlord could be behind it all.”

At the sight of the secret tunnel, Robin’s eyes widened, a satisfied smile spreading across her face in knowing they had been right. It all made perfect sense that the landlord had been the one to frame his male tenant, kill the two women, and kidnap you. While she didn’t know his motive, he had the opportunity and access to harm his tenants, “It’s him. The landlord did it.”

“We need to- You knew?” Adrian couldn’t hide his shock at his detective’s statement. 

Robin crossed the apartment, filling Adrian in before she and Miranda continued their investigation, “We followed Hilmarson’s theory. Send backup back to the apartment building. She found a hatch leading somewhere. We are going to follow it down and see what we can find.”

Adrian barked an order, but it was no use. The constable and detective were too determined to save you and catch a killer, “Get out of there, Griffin. Wait until I get down there with a couple more constables. We don’t know what we are up against here.”

“There is no time. We will leave the hatch open for you to find, Adrian.” Robin shook her head, knowing if she or Miranda were to get hurt due to her continuous disobedience, she would be put on desk duty for the foreseeable future. Robin hung up and shoved her phone in her back pocket, “Okay, Hilmarson. You want to go first, or shall I?”

-------

The horrid agony of a scalpel digging into your forearm brought you back to consciousness. You could sense the blinding LEDs before you even opened your eyes. Your head throbbed and there was a tightness across your chest and legs. Straps held your body in place and your head hitting the bricks earlier had left you with a large gash in the back of your head. You attempted to cry out in pain, but your voice was muffled by a rag that tasted of wood stain causing a burning sensation on your tongue. 

Glancing up from his work, he now donned a pair of magnifying glasses to make sure his work was neat and tidy. He was using a rag doused in hydrogen peroxide to add an extra sting whenever he wiped away the blood, wanting you to suffer as much as possible, not giving you the opportunity to regain your breath between cuts, “You shouldn’t have done that. Now you wont get to choose the little note I leave on your corpse.”

He had only made his way through two words, 𐐔𐐨𐑉 𐐣𐐮𐑉𐐰𐑌𐐼𐐲, and tears had already flooded your eyes and were pouring down your cheeks. His movements were short strokes, making sure to leave enough room on your forearm for everything he wanted to say. If this experience were to be reflective of your death, this was going to be a prolonged and harrowing experience.

#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson x reader #top of the lake #gwendoline christie #fanfic #gwen christie #organs in the wash

[cowboyemeritus]

How Ever Fair and Pure (Papa III/Reader)

You’ve got to be one of the most repressed creatures Terzo has ever seen. He has to have you. As Papa, it’s his duty to extend a hand to poor souls like you, so desperately in need of carnal relief. (18+)

Read on AO3

I know we're all adults here, but please don't do what the reader does in this fic. It is so dangerous and bad. This was intentionally unrealistic because it's self-indulgent smut where I project onto her like crazy. Just wanna make sure everyone is safe out there.

Terzo has you pegged the moment you walk into the club. College girl, 20s, on the quiet side. Probably going for a liberal arts degree, but in something fun and exotic, like classical studies or philosophy. Definitely an academic type. The roommates are clearly more popular, but are sweet to you despite appearances. They without a doubt dragged you out here tonight. You spend too much time studying in your room, they say. And honestly? You know they’re right, but putting yourself out there has always been a little hard. If you were any less desperate for attention, and if you hadn’t obviously taken something before coming here, you likely wouldn’t be gracing his presence tonight.

You’ve got to be one of the most repressed creatures Terzo has ever seen, and you don’t even look Catholic. He has to have you. As Papa, it’s his duty to extend a hand to poor souls like you, so desperately in need of carnal relief. So he shoots a smug look at the Cardinal, who’s been sizing you up as well, before slinking away from the small booth. Omega and Alpha are unbothered by his wandering off, more than content to spend the evening feeding on the frenzied energy in the room. The rat-like man rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his bourbon, watching as Terzo approaches the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. Without his paints, which he had insisted on this evening, he is very quickly swallowed by the crowd.

The cinderblock wall is cold against your bare thighs. You’re shivering as soon as you feel it, teeth chattering as the stranger — you can’t remember his name — latches the stall door shut and hangs his expensive-looking jacket on a nearby hook.

When he turns his attention to you, odd mismatched eyes running up down your figure, your knees buckle. In the back of your mind, you briefly wonder if taking those shots on top of an edible was a good idea. You’re not sure how much you’ve had; alcohol goes down dangerously smooth after getting high.

He catches you, strong arms wrapping around your waist. Your face flushes when your bodies press together, his hardness making itself known against the soft flesh of your stomach. You’re not a virgin, not at all, but it’s been a while. Even if you could get any, though, college guys just don’t do it for you anymore. They’re boys, really, and you don’t think there’s anything less appealing than that, especially when they’re stumbling around the dorms on weekend nights. Some people have to study, for fuck’s sake.

“Careful now, bella” the stranger purrs. The sound of his voice is rich and melodic. It hits you like a glass of fine wine, pulling the thick blanket of fog further over your mind. He kisses you, harder now that you have more privacy, and you’re melting. You’re so far gone already you’re sure it’ll be embarrassing in the morning (or whenever you’re sober again).

His lips taste like cigarettes and a smoky kind of liquor. Oddly enough, you were expecting it; this man is old enough to be your father and it suits him perfectly. He’s so painfully out of place here, a wisened face in a crowd of drunken college students. 

Fuck, he could be a professor for all you know.

You moan into the stranger’s mouth, begging him to so something. Anything. Whatever he has to give you’ll take it. You just need it now. You need it yesterday.

The lack of oxygen hits you all once. Again, your legs nearly give out as you pull away for air. Your companion narrowly avoids being taken down with you, catching and deftly moving you to sit on the closed toilet lid. Leaning down, he cups your face to keep you steady and smothers your mouth with his. Your hands are on him instantly, grabbing at the front of his pants and climbing upwards to the clasp of his belt. You fumble with it for a while before groaning in anguish. The stranger pulls away with a chuckle, one hand remaining on your cheek while the other makes quick work of freeing himself. 

When it finally presses against your lips, his cock is startlingly warm. You open your mouth without hesitation, eyes shutting as he slides into your wet throat. The music booming outside is loud enough that you barely catch his pleased sigh. You’re able to get a breath in through your nose before he moves his hips, the fat head of his cock brushing against your soft palate. Surprisingly, though, you don’t gag. It doesn’t even cross your mind, and you swallow him down eagerly. The stranger shudders and lets out a heavy breath.

“Get it wet for me,” he says, using the hand cupping your face to move you along his length. You see no reason not to comply, reaching up with one hand to work whatever doesn’t fit in your mouth. He seems to approve of this, and gently strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. It’s rather sweet for a situation like this, and you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to kneel by him while he works at his desk, finally getting to suck him off at the end of a long day. 

Would he demand such service from you, or would he praise your for your initiative? The possibilities are equally as enticing.

Your other hand dips into your lap, delving beneath the fabric of your skirt and you moan around the stranger’s shaft. The vibrations pull a quiet groan from him, and the hand on your cheek is joined by the other grasping the back of your head. He must see you playing with yourself because he lets out a small laugh through his nose, fingers threading through your hair to hold you ever so slightly tighter.

“Patience,” he murmurs. Despite the loud house music, you hear him clearly. It’s like he’s in your mind. “I will take care of you.” He fucks into your mouth a handful of times before slowing to a stop. Your eyes open after a beat of stillness passes. When he withdraws from your mouth entirely, a string of saliva connecting the tip of his cock and your tongue, your gaze meets his. That mysterious white eye seems to be glowing in the dark.

He takes a step back, flicking a lock of raven hair out of his face. The loss of his body against yours is devastating and you immediately rise to your feet, knees suddenly stable again. You chase him until his back is to the door, the latch rattling loudly at the impact. The bathroom is crowded, and for a moment, you wonder just how many people bothered to look to your tiny end stall. But who really gives a shit? Already starved of him, you press your open mouth to his, tongue quickly slipping past his lips. Even through your clothes his arousal presses into you like a hot iron.

With a low growl that says enough, the stranger moves you off of him. Clumsily, you maneuver so that the two of you trade places, bracing yourself on your forearms against the door. Your skirt has already ridden up so that when you press back into him, you feel his searing hardness directly against your ass. Skilled fingers dip into your wet folds and hook around the crotch of your thong. It’s a lacy, skimpy thing, impossible to banish from your mind when wearing. Normally, you would opt for something more comfortable, but it’s the only clean pair you had left. The intrigued noise the stranger makes at the sight of it, however, tells you neglecting your laundry has worked out in your favor.

He leans in close to whisper into your ear. “I see you got dressed up.” His words, and the tickle of his breath against your skin, have your pussy clenching around nothing. You want to whine, to beg him to fuck you already, but it seems the stranger is feeling merciful tonight. The tip of his cock presses against your opening and he rubs it through your slick, teasing your clit on the down strokes.

“Relax,” he commands. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your shoulders dropping. He presses into you, just enough to work the head inside, and you’re already shaking. Clapping a hand over your mouth, you let out a high-pitched moan and push your ass back into him. Another inch sinks in.

“Please,” you beg, hoping he can still hear. Regardless, the stranger obliges, bottoming out inside your dripping cunt. He groans, and you feel the vibrations where his chest is pressed to your back. Hands coming to rest on your hips, he starts thrusting into you at a steady pace and — oh fuck — you can’t tell if it’s the high or the circumstances, but you’re way more sensitive than normal. You let out a breathy sigh as a wave of pleasure rolls through you and your partner hums in approval.

“I’m not-“ You have to smother another moan with a balled fist. The stranger leans in again. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last.” He lets out another laugh through his nose.

“Piccolina, I know.” There’s a singsongy lilt in his voice. “You were wanting this from the moment you walked in.” He punctuates himself with a perfectly angled thrust, the head of his cock pressing into your sweet spot. You keen, insides fluttering.

“I don’t do shit like this,” you protest, pressing your ass into him despite yourself. One of his hands moves from your hip to the apex of your thighs. There’s no touch, he just keeps it there while his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“But I am not wrong,” he taunts. “We both know this. I see what you are.” For emphasis, he snaps the waistband of your flimsy little thong.

“What the fuck are you- oh.” Fingers graze over your outer lips and your hips cant wildly, craving more. If he keeps messing with you like this, you might just cry. If the other people in the bathroom aren’t privy to what’s going on, they will be soon.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers. “I can’t give it to you until you say it.” His tone is demanding, but gentle. This stranger has absolutely no authority over you, and yet every word and touch makes you want to submit. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you haven’t been fantasizing about someone like him — an actual man, not a boy — for a long time.

“Touch me.” You have no pride left to swallow. “Fuck me harder. I need it.” At long last, his fingers descend on your clit. “Oh fuck! Just like that.” The stranger’s breathing is heavy as he thrusts into you with more force.

“You’re a very good girl,” he coos. You can’t remember the last time someone called you that. Your pussy clenches and he groans softly into your ear. The taught feeling in your gut swells like the tide, building into what you know will be a devastating orgasm. It won’t be long now until it spills over, and In the back of your mind, you hope your trembling legs will be able to withstand that kind of force.

The shuffling and talking in the bathroom, the music outside, the groans and pants of the stranger, everything. It all starts to fade out and you know you’re done for. You cant your hips back harder and faster; it’s the only way you can think to tell him. Somehow, he understands, and his fingers swipe furious circles around your clit. The other hand reaches around to grope at one of your breasts, teasing the nipple through the fabric of your shirt.

You have to bite your hand when you finally cum. Otherwise, you’re sure they’d be able to hear you from the street. Waves of ecstasy, stronger than anything you’ve felt, either sober or high, slam into your body, and you thrash against the stranger like a cornered animal. That must do something for him, as he presses into you with a deep, rumbling moan. The rush of his warm seed is enough to pull one last whimper out of you before you nearly collapse, forehead coming to rest against the stall door. You and the stranger remain like this, panting as he slowly softens inside you.

Like a true gentleman, he’s helping you clean yourself up when a loud knock assaults your senses. Your head whips towards the door, panic creeping in as you’re starting to sober up. Completely unbothered, the stranger continues dabbing at your smudged makeup with a piece of toilet paper.

“One moment,” he calls. You’re honestly surprised he’s stuck around this long, thinking he would just leave the second he was done pumping cum into you. Being taken care of like this is nice, you decide. It’s refreshing after having your shit absolutely rocked.

“You have a phone call,” another accented voice responds. “It’s the old man.” The stranger rolls his eyes and gives a petulant huff.

“Tell him I am busy!”

“He says it is urgent.” The man gives a sigh of exasperation and his shoulders slump. After a final inspection of your face, he tosses the wad of tissue in the garbage can, grabs his jacket, and unlatches the stall door. You turn and find yourself looking at a man with a pencil thin mustache and the same green and white eyes as your partner.

“Ciao,” he says curtly, trying not to meet your gaze. You give him a nod.

“Hi there.”

The two men escort you out of the crowded bathroom. No one pays you any mind, which you’re incredibly thankful for, but you choose to keep your head down anyway. The odds are low, but you would die of embarrassment if someone you knew saw you like this. That would make for a very awkward conversation before class on Monday.

Back on the club floor, you quickly spot your roommates in the middle of the crowd. You go to thank the handsome stranger, to kiss him one last time before you part ways, but he’s already gone. Ghosts of his touch still linger on your body and you’re left reeling, wondering if he was even real at all. You blink once, twice, and you're still in the club, keenly aware of his release dripping out of you.

You decide to go get a drink before joining your friends again.

#my writing #papa emeritus iii x reader #the band ghost x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #anyway... time to go to class ig #lmk what yall think