#if were attending a con i just want to ignore you and let people who like us both talk to either person

[cherienymphe]

Smells Like Teen Spirit (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON/DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, attempted murder + suicide, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, underage drinking, jealousy, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ cont.

summary: Being one half of the royal couple of Figure 8 isn't what it's cracked up to be.

~

The first time Rafe hit you, it was on your birthday.

Like every year, your parents threw you a big party that hosted no less than a hundred people. A good number of those people were friends from school and familiar faces you’d grown up with. The other bunch were family friends that had more in common with your parents than you. You took their pretty cards filled with money and thanked them with a smile, relieved when they scampered off to congregate with the other forty somethings.

It was the same party every year. Half the people of Figure 8 in attendance, an abundance of gifts you could barely keep up with, and a light scold or two from your mother to smile and greet the next person who came in. Your hair was flawless and your dress was the perfect length.

The only difference this year was the presence of a boyfriend at your side.

“Rafe, if my dad sees us, I will never hear the end of it.”

Your tone was light and teasing, and you said it with a smile, but there was a hint of seriousness there. It really didn’t matter how older you grew to be, you were sure you’d always be your daddy’s little girl. The older man already hadn’t been the most excited when you told him you were dating Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son, and you were positive that the Cameron family’s reputation was Rafe’s only saving grace.

You’d just turned eighteen then after all and was already flaunting your new adult status.

The blue-eyed boy in front of you merely chuckled, tightening his arms around your waist and leaning in to kiss you again. The house and the yard were filled with almost too many people, so you hadn’t hesitated when Rafe discreetly guided you upstairs.

“He’s too busy talking about his new boat, isn’t he?” he wondered. “He’ll talk all night if they let him.”

You lightly tapped his chest, but you didn’t voice any disagreement.

Your back was leaning against your bedroom door, the muffled sounds of some classical music reaching your ears through the wall. Rafe’s hands were tight on your waist, and you both felt and heard him chuckle again, his lips still pressed against yours. Only this time, he kept laughing—softly and to himself—and you gave him a slight frown when he pulled away.

“I was just thinking…” Rafe pulled you close again. “How hilarious it would be if he was going on and on about that damn boat…none the wiser to his daughter getting fucked on her birthday right upstairs.”

This time you hit him a little harder, and Rafe only laughed again.

“You’re not funny,” you scolded, deflating a little as you pulled away from him. “Way to ruin the mood.”

You said it quietly as you sat down on the edge of your bed, but Rafe heard it clearly, and when you looked up at him, you recognized the look on his face instantly.

“Funny,” he started, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door. “Mentioning sex usually has the opposite effect on most people.”

You rolled your eyes with a turn of your head, looking towards your window. The atmosphere was different, now, and you didn’t know if it was your fault or Rafe’s. He joked like that sometimes, and you knew it, so you could recognize that maybe you were being too sensitive.

The topic at hand, however, was a sensitive one for you.

“I really don’t want to have this fight, right now,” you mumbled.

You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t return it, determined to just stare down at the people in your yard. The air was thick, the tension even thicker, and you reached up to rub your arms, trying to rid them of the goosebumps that had appeared. Rafe hated being ignored, and you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue the conversation because you knew what was brewing.

Rafe was the perfect boyfriend. He was pretty—the kind of pretty that even some girls would be jealous of. He came from the kind of family that taught him about manners and respect. He never hesitated to do what he could to make your life easier despite growing up wanting for nothing. You didn’t think it was possible for an already spoiled girl to be spoiled some more until you started dating Rafe and he proved you wrong. He treated you like a princess, so yes. Rafe was the perfect boyfriend.

Mostly.

“I’ve been really understanding, you know…”

Rafe’s voice was low, and your gaze dropped to your lap.

“…but we’ve been dating for what? Eight months?”

You swallowed, eyes burning.

“Do you know how hard Topper and Kelce would laugh at me if they knew my girlfriend of almost a year refuses to have sex with me?”

You scoffed, finally looking at him, brows pulled together.

“You make it sound like I’m punishing you,” you breathed. “Rafe, this has nothing to do with you, I… I’m just not ready.”

“…and still no ETA on when you will be, huh?”

You blinked at him, lips parting at his callous tone and words. You looked away, blinking back tears because you would hate it if you cried on your birthday of all days.

“You’re being an asshole.”

You whispered it, and you heard Rafe huff.

“I’m not trying to be,” he told you, and you heard him move closer. “…but come on. I get it…”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you, and you felt his hand on your face, fingers grazing your cheek.

“You’re nervous, and it seems scary, but you’re treating me like I’m some stranger on the street, and not…your boyfriend. You know I’ll take care of you. I always take care of you, and that’s why I don’t understand it,” he bit out. “I treat you like gold, and here I am, eight months in and wondering if you even feel the same way.”

You whipped your head around to stare at him in disbelief, looking between his eyes. You didn’t know how he could be serious, but as you gazed at him, you realized that Rafe was very serious. You took a moment to scoot away from him just a tad.

“I show you everyday how much you mean to me, Rafe…but because I won’t have sex with you that means I don’t love you? So just forget all the other stuff, I guess,” you sneered.

Rafe reached for you when you started to turn away, shaking your head and lightly pushing at his hands. Today was your birthday, and you were fighting with your boyfriend…because sex was something you just weren’t ready for. You snatched your arm out of his hold, standing on unsteady legs.

“When you first brought this up, I told you then that I wasn’t ready, and you made it clear you were okay with waiting. Was that a lie?” you asked him, meeting his gaze.

Rafe ran his hand down his face, huffing to himself.

“No, but I just didn’t think I’d still be waiting almost half a year later.”

He was standing, now too.

“So, why are you? No one’s forcing you to stay here, Rafe,” you sadly told him with a shrug. “You don’t have to be with me if sex is that damn important to you. There are plenty of other girls out there who will happily give you what I don’t want to.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“…and I know because I see the looks they give you…and the looks they give me.”

You were used to envy. You’d been on the receiving end of it all your life. Growing up on this side of the island guaranteed that from birth, but you also knew it was because your standing was only rivaled by Sarah Cameron. If Rafe’s sister were anyone else, you might have found yourself involved in some one-sided rivalry, but Sarah was a lot like you.

Just a girl born into fortunate circumstances.

However, what you weren’t used to was envy because of the man you loved. When it came to your house and your lifestyle and everything else, it never bothered you because no one could take those things from you. Rafe, on the other hand… You knew what he was like and what he was used to. It was why you’d been very honest about your sexual history and lack thereof from almost the beginning. If Rafe was going to leave you for someone else all because you wouldn’t have sex with him, you would have rather he do it early.

Not now…not eight months in because now you loved him, and the thought made you want to cry, and it would take just as many months to get over him.

“If I wanted any of those other spoiled bitches then I wouldn’t be here,” Rafe told you. “Besides, you think I’m just going to walk away with nothing after investing so much time and money and energy into you?”

You reared back at that, eyes widening just a tad, and Rafe seemed to realize how that came out. He sighed, reaching for you just as you stepped away from him. You heard him curse when you left the room, ignoring the sound of him calling your name as you hurried to mix yourself in with all of your guests downstairs.

Rafe talked about you like some business investment he was waiting to get a return on. It hurt, a lot, and while you wanted to believe he hadn’t meant it like that in his head, you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was really how he saw you. Your mother smiled at you when she saw your face, none the wiser to your temporary absence. Your own smile was forced as she introduced you to their new golfing buddies.

You didn’t know when Rafe came back downstairs, only quickly glancing away when your eyes connected with his after some time. If your parents noticed your distance from him, they didn’t comment on it, and after a while, you barely noticed it yourself. You immersed yourself in your friends, halfway listening to boyfriend troubles and semester woes.

This was the only thing you and Rafe ever fought about. Plenty of your friends had boyfriends before who tried to pressure them into doing things they didn’t want to do. You were always the friend to tell them to dump them without hesitation, so why hadn’t you done the same? Was it because Rafe was so perfect in all other aspects of your relationship? The back and forth hadn’t ever been so serious before…not until tonight.

As you sipped on the drink you weren’t supposed to be having, you remembered the hurt you felt when Rafe implied you didn’t love him. What a crazy thing to say. You treated him just as well as he treated you, never mind the fact that you told him every day how much you loved him…but because you wouldn’t fuck him that meant otherwise?

It was enough to make you angry.

“Finally stopped hiding from me…?”

You tensed up for half a second, relaxing with a sigh as you heard him come closer. You were out by the water, now, sitting on the boat dock with one leg swinging. It had been nothing but just you and your thoughts for a good thirty minutes, and you guessed it took that amount of time for Rafe to realize you were no longer in the house.

“I don’t know yet,” you honestly told him.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t,” Rafe quietly said, getting straight to the point.

“…but I don’t know. You don’t even think I love you just because I won’t have sex with you. For all I know, that’s exactly how you see me,” you mumbled.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the guy ruining my birthday!”

You were looking up at him, now, tearfully, and you shook your head. Saying it aloud made you realize just how shitty it was, and you sniffed, pulling yourself to your feet.

“Just go home, Rafe…”

He stopped you from walking by him, and you ignored anything he was trying to say. The more he leaned in, that was when you smelled it, and your frown deepened at the stench of alcohol on his breath. You didn’t know why the smell made you so angry. It was a party, after all, but maybe it was the fact that if anyone of the two of you deserved to drown their sorrows in booze, it was you. Not Rafe. Pushing at his chest, you scoffed.

“One argument…and you’re already getting drunk?”

You jerked your face away from his hand, glowering at him.

“Don’t you want to at least wait for Ward to give you the daily disappointment speech?”

The slap wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was hard enough to make your face burn.

You were staring at the water from when your head had whipped to the side, and when a nightly breeze blew by, kissing your skin, only then did the dull burning sensation fade away into a painful one. Your lips were parted in shock, and you were slow to reach up and touch your cheek. The silence was loud, and when you finally looked at Rafe, he looked as shocked as you felt.

All of your breath had left you, and your brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to reconcile your boyfriend with the same guy who’d just slapped you. It didn’t seem real, and yet the dull pain you felt said otherwise. A few tears escaped against your will, and it was only then did Rafe move. His face fell, but you were already backing away.

“Y/N-.”

“Don’t touch me,” you tearfully spat. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t listen, grabbing your arms anyway, and you were still in too much shock to really fight back. Rafe cooed at you, trying to take your face into his hands no matter how much you protested. You wanted him far away from you, and your brain was unsure of how to achieve that, still grappling with the memory of his palm connecting with your cheek.

“Hey, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Baby, stop.”

You shoved at his chest, hitting it, but he wasn’t deterred. He only rested his free hand on the back of your head, holding you against him, and the feel had more tears spilling over. You kept trying to get away, but Rafe refused to let you, repeatedly apologizing and shushing you. You could feel the cool metal of his ring against your scalp, his lips there too as he kept telling you he was sorry.

Your chest was so tight, and it ached just as much as your face. Your mind was still fighting to make sense of what had happened tonight, and despite Rafe’s apologies for his entire behavior, you told yourself that this was the last straw. Rafe had ruined your birthday in more ways than one, and you were done. You had to be.

…because you deserved better.

The first time you had sex with Rafe—with anyone ever—you’d been terrified.

…and drunk.

An entire month after your birthday, and you didn’t know if you were more shocked or angry that you stayed with Rafe. You had been so determined to leave him that night. He had ruined your birthday beyond repair, and you knew that anytime you looked back on the night you turned nineteen, you’d only remember Rafe slapping you on the dock.

…but you’d also remember his profuse apologies, and the tears in his eyes as he begged you to forgive him.

He was drunk. That was what he kept saying, that he was drunk and acted before thinking. It was barely a reason and certainly wasn’t an excuse, so why did you stay? It was stupid to stay…and yet you did. You let Rafe kiss your face and lead you back to the party that had long died and smile in the face of the parents whose daughter he’d just hit.

You’d answered the phone as he called you, taking almost half an hour to just tell you again how sorry he was and how he didn’t know what came over him and how it would never happen again. You’d never known Rafe to be so apologetic in all the time you’d been dating him. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for the circumstances, and the whole time, you’d only been able to listen in silence with your fingers grazing your face.

You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for days, going over it in your head again and again. Torn between listening to your gut and telling yourself that it had just been a one-off thing, a bad drunken night. After all, what you’d said to him hadn’t been the nicest, knowing how he felt in regard to Ward and his relationship with him. It didn’t make it right…but you had provoked Rafe. You’d said it to hurt him…to make him angry… Right?

…but that wasn’t the case a month later.

Things between you and Rafe hadn’t been the same since. He still doted on you, and your parents still adored him, and you were reluctant to admit you still loved him, but you could never get that night out of your mind. You could never forget how swift it had been, how no thought to you had been spared. Rafe had only been focused on retaliating, hurting you, and it was something you often struggled with. You believed it wouldn’t happen again…but what if it did?

Without even realizing it, you became less argumentative with the blond. You gave him less pushback, you smiled more and became more agreeable to his suggestions. You spent more time with him, making him happy. You believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again, but in the back of your mind, something in you was doing everything you could think of to make sure it didn’t.

…and that was why you still didn’t quite understand how the fight had started.

Something about Topper…or Kelce.

You were so drunk, it was hard to remember.

“I saw you!”

You had blinked at Rafe from your place on the couch, staring up at him in wonder and confusion. Another Friday meant another party, and promising your mother you’d be back by a certain time, you’d allowed Rafe to help you into his truck. Nothing about the night had been out of the ordinary, and it was why you found yourself wracking your brain.

“Rafe, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you softly told him, trying to understand why he was so mad.

The only son of Ward Cameron knocked the glass of water right out of your hand, and you flinched at the action, blinking at the sight of shattered glass on the floor. You’d gotten it to try and help you sober up before you went home, and you stared at the spilled water with parted lips. You were too drunk to fully grasp the severity of the situation you were now in.

Suddenly Rafe was there, too close, leaning down over you with his hands resting on the back of the couch. You leaned back and away from him, eyes wide as he looked at you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. Like he was so disgusted with the sight of you, and again, you wracked your brain to understand what you’d done. To understand how to fix this.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been cold, icy, and you hadn’t missed the tick of his jaw. The alcohol in your system hindered your thinking, and that had seemed to make Rafe angrier, like he was furious you couldn’t put it together. Read his mind. Overwhelmed, you hadn’t been able to stop a few tears of frustration from escaping, and that just seemed to really send him over the edge.

“You were in his lap,” he had bit out, and only then did you finally understand.

Your odd relationship with your boyfriend these days had driven you to drink more than you ever had. You’d been sloppy…clumsy, and Topper was nice enough to help you back to your feet after you’d quite literally fallen right onto his lap. You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but one look into Rafe’s eyes had you swallowing it down.

He was very serious…and very angry.

You reached for him, but Rafe only slapped your hands away, straightening and looking down his nose at you. It was a look that made you feel so…cold, and with one blink, you remembered that you were alone. Sarah was God knows where, and the remaining Camerons had gone out to eat. The house was usually empty during this time, but it wasn’t this Friday night.

It consisted of you…and your angry boyfriend.

“I should…I should go. Call my mom,” you mumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

Your attempts to get by Rafe went unsuccessful, and with each block to your path, something deep within your gut just…dropped. Your gaze met a familiar blue one, and nothing about it was warm, welcoming. Rafe seemed to be so mad at you about something so silly, but instead of just talking about it later when you were both much clearer headed…he didn’t want to let you leave.

“Is that what you’re gonna do?” he’d mocked, a mean look on his face. “Call mommy and daddy to come get you?”

Sarah.

You reminded of him of Sarah.

That was what he’d said, what he’d thrown at you. His tense relationship with the other girl was no secret to anyone, least of all you, and you winced at every insult he threw at you. Spoiled brat. Perfect princess. Uptight prude. It shocked you for a lot of reasons, but mostly because Rafe wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t sober, but you’d hardly seen him drink all night and not nearly as much as you, and he was insulting you with confidence, throwing all of these things at you that you never knew he felt.

“I’m just going to go home, okay? You’re being an asshole, and I don’t know why, so I just…”

At some point, your back was grazing the wall, and Rafe was hovering before you, a look in his eye like leaving was the very last thing he wanted you to do. Every move of yours was mirrored, every turn met with one of his own, and for the first time ever…you were afraid of your boyfriend.

When Rafe hit you that night, you hadn’t been scared. Not really. You’d been angry…shocked…disbelieving. Not scared though. You’d just wanted to be away from him, you had even wanted to hit him back, but not once did you remember feeling scared for your life. Not like this night, and you couldn’t keep it together.

“Rafe, please, I just…I just wanna go home,” you choked out, touching your temple. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You were so confused as to how you got here. The night had taken such an unexpected turn, and more than anything, you wanted to sleep it off and write the whole thing off as a bad dream. You wanted to get some more water and take a shower and skip to the part where you had a pounding headache in the morning. You didn’t understand how a night of partying had turned into an argument with your boyfriend.

Although, you supposed it wasn’t much of an argument. Mostly Rafe yelling at you and you trying to understand why. Rafe was determined to make this into something it wasn’t, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to let you leave without dead-ing this whole thing, you frowned at him.

“I fell. You know I fell, you know…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe rolled his eyes, and something in you was telling you that Rafe was going to believe what he wanted to believe. He was determined to make something true, and it startled you to realize that you’d lost this argument before it even began. Slipping from in between Rafe and the wall was a mistake.

A mistake that had consequences.

Your purse was halfway across the room before you could even grab it good, Rafe suddenly in your face again. He was yelling about a whole bunch of nothing, and when you turned from him again, Rafe made sure it was the last time, gripping your upper arm so hard that you actually cried out. His other hand followed suit, and he shook you, hard enough to make your head whip back and forth.

The only time he listened to you was when you asked him to let you go.

…and he did just that…shoving you in the process.

The kitchen counter slowed your fall only a bit, but it added to the pain more than anything else. Trying to get up proved fruitless, because Rafe was there, kneeling before you with one hand on the counter. The other was on your face, forcing you to look at him. You were too drunk to make full sense of everything he was saying, to grasp the danger you were in. When you finally did, it was too late.

…because Rafe was already ripping the dress he bought you a week ago.

You thought it was a joke at first—some awful and insensitive scare tactic—until you were reaching up to pull at the hand around your throat. Your other hand slapped at the cabinets below in panic, and with a knee between your legs, it was impossible to close them. You knew that you were alone, but that fact didn’t stop you from crying out.

“You really expect me to just watch you throw yourself at my friends? Huh?”

The kitchen floor was cool against your back.

“…and laugh about it?”

He was fumbling between you both, and the room was spinning too much for you to understand why. You felt nauseous, and Rafe was hurting you, and you were cold. Not to mention that your head had started to hurt, but you also realized that everything was hurting.

“But you won’t even touch me.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut…only lower.

The pain of Rafe’s intrusion had you wailing, and the difference in your reactions couldn’t have been starker. It was hard to decipher, but you were sure that Rafe had moaned, a low drawn-out sigh as he sheathed himself inside of you. You could feel Rafe’s chest heaving against yours, could feel his heartbeat, could even hear his shaky breath.

You, on the other hand…

You couldn’t move. You felt frozen, restricted by something unseen, and when you tried to fight against it, you gasped. One shift had you wincing, and tears spilled over almost immediately. Your hands were pressing against his chest, now, desperately trying to push Rafe away, pushing off of you… out of you. It was no good, Rafe in a whole other world you weren’t privy too as he pulled back.

The feel had you wincing again, and you thought…

Well, you thought wrong.

Your relief was short-lived, and Rafe ignored everything you said as he started to thrust inside of you. His hips barely left yours, only enough to create friction, and you pushed your forearm against his neck, fighting to get him to stop. The pain wasn’t something you could wrap your head around, and you didn’t know if you were grateful or not that you were so drunk.

Every snap of Rafe’s hips made you cry harder, harsh sobs escaping and echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. The sound of your bawling was only rivaled by the groans that escaped Rafe, your boyfriend pointedly ignoring your plight. One of his hands pushed against your face, forcing your head to the side…as if he didn’t want to see your face.

See the reality of what he was doing to you.

You thought at some point that the pain would go away, subside, but it felt like it only got worse with each thrust of his cock. Rafe was a man on a mission with only one objective in mind, and you were having the hardest time sorting your thoughts, realizing that in this moment you were a means to an end. An objective to be met through the use of your body.

…but you supposed it was more than just that.

Rafe was always entitled, a trait you found somewhat endearing much like towards an entitled child, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he’d feel entitled to you too. Before the night of your birthday, you knew the one thorn in your relationship, the one thing to actually put a crack in your relationship. Deep down somewhere, you expected Rafe to just leave you. After all, why wouldn’t you?

There was no universe in which you’d ever consider the possibility of the alternative.

The possibility that your boyfriend would just take what he wanted.

It didn’t last long—or maybe that was the alcohol in your system sparing you—but you couldn’t even be relieved. Even after Rafe pulled out, spent and satisfied and out of breath, the pain still remained. He was talking, and you didn’t know if he was talking to himself or you, but you paid it no mind. You could still feel him deep in your gut, and you rolled onto your side, curling into yourself.

You didn’t hear him the first time, but the second time Rafe told you to get up, he was forcing you to your feet. It hurt, and you could barely walk, and your confusion only grew. His hold was tight, and his tone sounded off, and you discovered why when headlights from the yard bled through the windows and into your line of sight.

He was rushing you to get upstairs, but you kept stumbling from both the pain and your blurry vision. Rafe didn’t let you go until you were just inside of his room, and as you collapsed to the floor, you could hear the door opening downstairs. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted to, and you hadn’t even realized Rafe had left—to give some half-baked excuse for the broken glass, no doubt—until he returned, suddenly kneeling at your side and begging you to stop crying.

You tried to push him away, but your movements were sluggish, weak, and you weren’t able to hold your own as he pulled you to your feet. Rafe stumbled into the bathroom with you, an arm around you and holding you up as he started the shower. You didn’t want him touching you, but you were physically unable to stop him. Every step hurt and made you stumble, every wave of your arm made you sway, and when the warm water ran over you both, there was nothing you could do as he washed away every remnant of his assault.

You were at Rafe’s side on his birthday, a small smile on your lips as he kept an arm around your waist. Rose thanked you for coming, not that she would expect anything different, and Wheezie asked if you would be staying over. The youngest Cameron had taken a liking to you—all of them did really—and she looked forward to having you around. You wanted to tell her no, but that wasn’t what you said. Instead, you said:

“Its’ Rafe’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I?”

The dark-haired girl beamed, adjusting her glasses, and her satisfaction was contagious. You knew that Rafe’s dynamic with his family was tricky at the best of times, and while you were sure they loved you just fine, something in you also wondered if they liked who Rafe was when he was around you. They were happy to host you for as long as they could.

They had no idea that it was only 24 hours earlier when Rafe tried to kill you.

Trying to leave Rafe resulted in the last thing you ever expected.

That night—and all the other nights that followed—haunted you. When you closed your eyes, you could only see Rafe at his lowest, holding you down and hurting you. You could only feel the pain of him forcing himself inside of you, and the pain that lingered when he was no longer there. The memory of bloody water swirling down the drain was a constant in your mind. As well as the memory of Rafe putting you in his bed, pulling his shirt down to your knees.

You should have left the night of your birthday, you should’ve gotten out then, and none of it would have ever happened, but you told yourself that late was better than never. You told yourself that you learned your lesson and you didn’t have to experience any more hurt to leave. Your eyes were open, and while you didn’t know if you’d ever go against Rafe legally for what he did, you did know that you were leaving him. You had to focus on each step at once. Trying to think so far ahead was enough to scare you.

Right now, you just needed to leave him.

His entire visage had been eerily calm as you broke up with him, voice shaking as you did. Even he hadn’t been able to deny how your relationship had deteriorated, become something unrecognizable and unhealthy. The morning after, you felt like you were existing outside of your body. You could see Rafe leaving apologetic kisses along your face as you stirred, but you couldn’t really feel it. You couldn’t feel his hands either, not until they found a home between your legs, at least.

Your protest was almost immediate, but Rafe had assured you it was fine…and you were scared.

So, you believed him.

Experiencing pain and pleasure at the same time was foreign to you. Rafe’s previous assault was not something to be ignored, but it felt odd to come around him and hiss from the pain of it at the same time. He was gentle, pressing his lips to yours and grazing his fingertips against your skin. His thrusts had been slow and careful, but the damage had been done, and every push of his hips brought out conflicting reactions.

That was how it always went.

Even after the pain and bruises were long gone, you couldn’t stop being afraid of Rafe. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t respect any kind of refusal from you. What kind of relationship was that? How could you thrive in that? Rafe may have been your first everything, but you weren’t naïve. He was an abusive asshole…and you were just too scared to do something about it.

Until last night.

You thought it would be easy. You even remembered internally laughing at yourself for how dramatic you’d made it in your mind. You thought… You thought that Rafe would move on, let you go. After all, he’d finally gotten what he wanted, and you had even exhaled when he nodded, a soft ‘okay’ soon to follow.

“Let me drive you home,” he’d said.

“Okay,” you’d replied.

You didn’t know why you thought it would be that easy.

Things with Rafe hadn’t been easy in months, and your attempted breakup was no different.

You realized that when the needle on the speedometer started to rapidly climb, the sound of Rafe’s revving engine loud in the truck. You asked him what was going on, where he was going, even though deep down you knew. You knew Rafe better than anyone probably, so you knew the answers to your questions before you even asked them.

“Rafe, stop,” you’d begged, reaching for his arm, but the blond simply fixed you with a wry smile.

“Why?” he’d wondered with a shrug. “So, you can leave me? Why would I want that?”

The houses and trees were flying past you outside the window, and you never felt more powerless than in the moment you were trapped in Rafe’s truck, unable to do a thing as he raced down the road towards the end he’d already picked out for the both of you. Any attempt to grab the wheel only resulted in Rafe jerking it—jerking the vehicle in the process—and scaring the shit out of you.

Retracting everything you’d said earlier only resulted in a harsh slap to the steering wheel, a dry laugh from Rafe soon to follow.

“You think I believe that load of shit? Huh?”

“Rafe-!”

“You just tried to break up with me not even thirty minutes ago,” he screamed.

He wasn’t wrong, and you still wanted to, but you were more afraid of dying than living a lie. You pleaded with your boyfriend, assuring him that you didn’t mean it. He only laughed again, and you got the feeling that Rafe was genuinely amused by you. By your tears, by your fear, and by your desperation.

Your heart was racing so fast it could be classified as painful. Your hands were sweating and constantly sliding against the door from where you tried to hold on to it. You pulled at his arm when he swerved into the other lane, swerving back just in time to miss an oncoming truck. Your stomach twisted painfully, bile rising in your throat, and at this point you couldn’t even see the road because of your tears.

“Rafe, please, please just talk to me,” you cried.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, blue eyes focused on the road with not a glance spared towards you, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. You looked out of the window again, unable to make out a thing, and when you reached for Rafe this time, he didn’t slap your hand away. He didn’t protest when you wrapped your arm around his waist, leaning into him and resting your hand against his chest.

You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, and you didn’t know if you stopped fighting as some unconscious tactic or simply because you were accepting what was impossible to escape. Rafe had to have been going a hundred miles an hour, this kind of speed something your brain could barely fathom. It was after some time when you felt his hand on your head and some time after that when you gradually felt the truck slowing.

You were still shaking long after it came to a stop in some wooded area, and the silence in the vehicle was loud. Rafe was just playing with your hair while you trembled against him, and when he stopped, it was only to trail his hand to your neck, gripping the back of it harshly as he forced you to sit up. You knew you looked as distraught as you felt, but Rafe…

Rafe looked calm and in control and nothing less.

His blue eyes ran over your face, drinking in your trembling lips and wet cheeks, lingering on your wide eyes the longest. You felt him rub his thumb along your skin, and when he hummed, it harshly pressed against the side of your neck. Suddenly, the corner of his pink lips curved just the slightest, and nothing about it was soothing.

“I wasn’t serious… You know that, right?”

You didn’t respond because he wasn’t kidding, and you both knew it. Rafe shifted, moving closer, and he brought his other hand up to touch your cheek, wiping your tears away. He studied your eyes, leaning in and grazing your lips.

“It was just…something I didn’t mean. You understand though. Doing things…saying things we don’t mean,” he slowly said to you, swiping his tongue between his lips. “Right…?”

The drop in his voice and the slight raise of his brows had you swallowing, and he was looking at you like he dared you to disagree. Fighting the urge to throw up, and with a shaky nod, you told Rafe what he wanted to hear.

“Right,” you whispered, and he chuckled.

“Alright,” he breathed with a blinding smile, pulling you into his side. “Kelce is throwing together some small thing at his house. I told him we might stop by…”

He trailed off, leaving room for a comment, and you only shrugged.

“That’s fine with me.”

Your voice was barely audible, but Rafe heard you fine, starting the truck and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I knew it would be.”

You’d been quiet the whole night, and you’d been quiet all day, only existing as silent support to Rafe on his birthday. If anyone noticed your reserved demeanor, no one commented on it. No one knew that as you wished Rafe a happy birthday, you were afraid of what could happen if you didn’t smile hard enough. When he kissed you, you could only think of how he’d kissed you after threatening to kill you both. Every time Rafe held your hand, it felt like a chain tethering you to him.

You dreaded the moment the party would thin out and everyone would start trickling from the home in pairs, heading back to the comfort of their own homes until just Rafe and his family remained. Eventually they would call it a night too, and you and Rafe would be alone, and you wouldn’t have a choice but to kiss him back when he eventually kissed you.

…and kiss you he did.

“You almost ruined my birthday, you know,” he mumbled into the kiss, making you pause for half a second.

Your only response was a quiet apology, and Rafe sighed into your mouth.

“That’s okay, baby,” the blond purred. “You know I’ll let you make it up to me.”

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and that was why you let him undress you. You let him wrap his arms around you and hold you close and press kisses to your skin. It was surreal to have sexy with someone you were afraid of, like you were being held hostage in your own body. If Rafe noticed—and you were sure that he did—he didn’t care.

He was content to lay you down and bury his face into the crook of your neck. In fact, you were sure Rafe liked your fear, liked that you were so scared of him. You thought it made it all the more fun for him to push his cock into you and feel you tremble in fear. You just knew there was something in Rafe that took great pleasure in making you momentarily sacrifice your fear of him for ecstasy instead.

He forced your head back, and your chest arched upwards into him. You gasped at the feel of his tongue on your skin, gliding over a hardened bud and tasting you. His hips came down slowly, like he was savoring the feel of you clinging to his cock. He sighed with every thrust, and you were never able to swallow down your own moans once Rafe started stroking that fire building within you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, nipping at your lip as he plunged his cock into you.

One of your legs were thrown over his shoulder, and the stretch burned in a way that wasn’t painful but wasn’t the best either. One of your hands was wrapping around his arm, trying to ground yourself as the other twisted into his sheets. You couldn’t stop gasping, clenching down on him every time Rafe hit that spot in you that made you lose your breath.

When he pushed your leg back more, you yelped in pain, but Rafe only hummed. His thrusts became rougher, and he only hummed again when you hissed. Your hand rested on his chest, pushing against him slightly—a nonverbal communication—but Rafe ignored it.

“Rafe…”

His hips were slapping against yours, and you couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it. Your other hand came up too, and he slapped it away, that same hand wrapped around your throat only moments later. You let out a choked cry, reaching up, but Rafe didn’t stop, continuing to fuck you and choke you.

“Look at me-look at me,” he quietly spat.

Too afraid not to, you did, your distressed gaze meeting his even one in the low lighting. He was so close, nose almost brushing against yours, and he looked between your eyes. His hand tightened around your neck, making your heart skip a beat, and his free hand covered your breast, squeezing it, and your free leg kicked at the sheets.

“I will kill you.”

Your nails pressed into the skin on his arm.

“Do you understand me? You try to leave me again…and I will kill you.”

Your heart was threatening to burst from your chest, and the ceiling behind Rafe’s face was starting to blur. The edges of your vision were growing faint, darkness creeping along the outer rim.

“I will dump your body on the side of the road, and I will get away with it.”

His words and cadence were slow, purposeful, and you knew that Rafe was entirely serious. Tears had long spilled over, and you couldn’t stop crying. Rafe shook you, your neck straining from the action, and the whole time he kept fucking you. His lower movements didn’t stop once, sliding into you over and over and stroking your walls all the while he threatened you.

He roughly let you go, and you coughed, touching your throat and shaking uncontrollably. When Rafe shifted, your leg falling to the bed, you pressed your hands to your face, sobbing into the palms of them. Rafe caged you in, thighs meeting yours with every thrust, and he didn’t seem to care at all at the sight of your distress. In fact, he kissed the back of your hands, humming with every stroke, and you could only think that if you had broken up with him on your birthday then he wouldn’t be threatening your life on his.

Ward Cameron may have felt a lot of things about Rafe, but he wasn’t going to let his only son go to jail.

You should have known that when you called the police, throat tight and phone call tearful as they asked what your emergency was. Telling the woman on the other side of the phone that you were hiding from Rafe Cameron inside of the bathroom wasn’t easy. Telling her that he had a gun was even harder, and something in you wondered if they would’ve been as urgent if they hadn’t heard his booming voice from the other side of the door as he threatened you.

You were sitting on the steps when a familiar car pulled into the driveway behind the cruiser, and you felt your face crumble. There was some relief as the older man went back and forth with Shoupe, but it dwindled the longer it went on. When Ward turned his head towards you, you dropped your gaze, eyes tracing the blood on your foot from where a few shards of glass had nicked it. You didn’t dare look up, not even when you heard his footsteps approaching despite the loud protests from the Sheriff.

When Ward said your name, it was cautious—gentle—and you shook your head.

“No.”

Your name rolled off of his tongue again, and you interrupted whatever he was going to say.

“No, no, no! No,” you cried.

You knew what he was going to say, where this was going, and you refused. You were tired, so tired, and each time you’d tried to do the right thing after your disastrous birthday, you got screwed over. Each time, Rafe was one step ahead or using that charming smile and devious words to convince you it would never happen again. Every slap, every shove, every hand around your throat was proof of all the lies that left his lips.

You were sure that the only truth Rafe had ever told was when he said he’d kill you.

 It was silent between you two for some time, and you heard Ward sigh. You bit your lip, worrying it so much you started to taste blood, and you sniffed, wiping your face as you refused to look at the man. When he took another step towards you, you flinched, and only then did you look up to see the way Ward’s face fell.

You watched him press his lips together, only a thin line, now.

“I want you to tell me what happened.”

You scoffed.

“You know what happened. I’m sure Shoupe told you,” you forced out, and Ward exhaled through his nose.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder, looking at his son in the back of the cop car.

“I want to hear it from you. I want to know how a couple’s quarrel turned into-.”

“A couple’s quarrel?” you repeated in disbelief, tears falling as you exhaled. “He threw a vase at me. He put a gun in my mouth.”

You couldn’t tell how Ward took your words, but he did put his hands on his hips.

“Now, Y/N…you know it’s a crime to lie to the police.”

His response didn’t surprise you, and you nodded, your laugh humorless. Ward knew you were telling the truth, he knew just how unhinged Rafe could be, but he didn’t want him in jail. He couldn’t have the Cameron name tarnished by the arrest of his only son on domestic violence charges. Ward would rather handle this in private, away from prying eyes…and it disgusted you.

“I’m not lying, and you know I’m not lying,” you choked out.

“Why would Rafe do this? Right out of the blue?”

You were on your feet, now, sneering at the other man.

“It’s not out of the blue. Rafe has been treating me like shit for months!”

“…and this is the first we’re hearing of it…?”

The eldest Cameron tilted his head to the side, studying you, and you felt your breath leave you. You watched him touch his chest, gaze soft as he seemed to plead with you.

“Now, I’m not saying that’s not true…but you know that’s what they’re going to ask you. They’re going to ask you why you didn’t tell anyone…and they’re going to note how convenient this all is.”

You knew that, and you looked away, hands falling at your side.

“Rafe says you dropped a vase, and it started an argument.”

“He’s lying-.”

“…and anyone can say you’re the liar.”

You pressed your hands to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell. Even through your lids, you could see the change in colors from the flash of the squad car, and when you opened your eyes again, the procession of red and blue lit the yard.

“That gun is legally his…and no one saw him do what you claim he did.”

“Why are you protecting him?” you loudly wondered, looking at the man in disbelief.

You’d eaten dinner with his family, even watched his daughter some nights, and he’d smiled in your face on numerous occasions, treating you like his own. Now, though…when push came to shove…Ward Cameron was showing you that you were not one of his own. Rafe was his own…and you were now a threat.

He took a step towards you, and you reached out to grip the rail to keep yourself from falling.

“I am just telling you what will happen if you continue with this,” he slowly started, and you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him. “They will take Rafe away, and I will pay his bail, and he’ll come home with me. There were no witnesses, and everything is pure speculation, a simple case of he said she said.”

You knew that he was right, and you felt yourself start to shake.

“…and in that scenario, I can’t help you.”

You knew what he was saying. You knew that he was talking about protecting you from more than just scrutiny and the law—he was also talking about protecting you from Rafe. Your lips parted, and you shakily exhaled. You felt like you were going to collapse, legs unsteady, and when you looked over…your eyes finally met a familiar blue pair.

You were positive that Rafe hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since they’d put handcuffs on him. If looks could kill, you were sure that you’d be six feet under, and you frantically blinked. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, and your stomach churned at the memory of his hand on the back of your neck. His other held the gun, angrily forcing the weapon into your mouth as he sneered at you.

Something about returning the smile from some pogue at The Wreck—blond and rowdy and kind of familiar.

You recalled that his name was JJ.

The fight had started almost as soon as you got inside, and you shuddered at the flare of pain in your arm, recalling the way Rafe had shoved you into the wall. You’d only slid down just in time to miss the flying vase. Just thinking about it was enough to paralyze you with fear…and then you thought about what would happen should you choose to have a legal battle with Rafe and his family.

…and lose.

You let out a choked sob, looking away, and letting your face fall into your hands. You collapsed back down onto the steps, Ward’s voice reaching you.

“You tell Shoupe this was all one big misunderstanding…and I can do so much more for you. …but I can’t help you if you go through with this.”

You couldn’t stop crying, because you were trapped…and you knew it. Your parents had money too, just as much as the Cameron’s, but that only evened the playing field, it gave you no advantage, and you were back to square one of your word vs Rafe’s. You knew he would be far more forgiving if you just…did what Ward said. You knew that if you went through with this and lost, Rafe would wring your neck.

“I won’t let my son go to jail, Y/N. One way or another…”

You knew he was telling the truth, the conviction in his tone matching the certainty in your chest.

“…but at least this way, I can help you.”

Your knees bounced as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your tearful gaze focused on the perfectly manicured grass. You curled in on yourself, head falling, and your shoulders shook from your sobs.

“He scares me,” you struggled to say, and Ward placated you.

“I know…I know he does, but you have to let me help you.”

You pulled the ends of your sleeves over your hands, wiping your face. The night was still lit up with red and blue, and you closed your eyes, stomach sinking. It took everything in you to give Ward a shaky nod, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Ward waved the other man over.

You felt like you were betraying yourself, arm still aching and throat still raw from all of your screaming. A lot of your trembling was still from what had happened hours ago, and like that day in his truck…and the night of his party…you’d really thought you were going to die. You couldn’t go through that again, but Ward said that he would protect you because you knew Rafe better than anyone, and you knew that if you tried to press charges against Rafe and didn’t succeed…

He would kill you.

“Y/N wants to talk to you.”

You glanced up at the sound of your name, holding Ward’s gaze for a few seconds before finally meeting Shoupe’s.

“I want… I don’t-I don’t wanna press charges.”

Your words tumbled out, and for a moment, you were sure that Shoupe hadn’t heard you properly. You came to realize that he heard you fine, and his confusion wasn’t from a lack of understanding. You watched him rest his hands on his hips, looking between you and Ward.

“Now, Y/N…” he started, seemingly trying to organize his thoughts. “I heard that phone call. I heard what you said and I heard him yelling.”

“It was just a regular argument, Shoupe,” you whispered with a shrug. “It was stupid. A stupid vase…”

“That he threw…”

The pause was heavy, and you glanced away.

“That I dropped.”

You shook your head when he said your name, and you licked your lips, gaze pleading as they met his again.

“Please, just let him go. He didn’t do anything to me. It was a stupid fight that I exaggerated because…I was angry and things got out of hand, and this just went way beyond what I intended, so…”

The other man didn’t look like he believed you, at all, and you watched him glance at Ward—who hadn’t said a thing—before looking back to you. He sighed, fixing you with a look you couldn’t name.

“Are you sure…?”

Your only response was a nod, unsure if you could lie any more without breaking down. With an aggravated sigh—aggravation at you or at Ward, you didn’t know—Shoupe signaled to his deputy to let Rafe go. Ward was pulled to the side as the two men had a hushed and heated conversation, going back and forth, while your gaze rested on Rafe.

You felt like you were doing the worst thing possible as you watched them guide him out of the backseat. He looked far from happy as they uncuffed him, and just like all night, his gaze refused to leave you. The flashing red and blue bathed him, blue eyes glinting almost dangerously, and you pressed your lips together while you watched him rub his now free wrists.

The other men were distracted as Rafe slowly made his way over, and you didn’t dare move. You were too scared to, and as much as you wanted to pull your eyes away, you couldn’t find the strength to. It was just hours ago that you’d stared into that face as he yelled at you for something as harmless as a smile. Only hours ago, he was pushing you around and threatening you.

…and now those same hands were reaching for you and pulling you to your feet.

You cried for so many reasons as Rafe wrapped his arms around you, rocking you from side to side and shushing you in what was meant to be a soothing voice. They were tight, and you cried harder, apologies slipping past your lips before you realized what you were doing. Rafe was always quick to forgive if you were quick to apologize.

“I know,” you heard and felt him murmur into your hair.

“Please, please don’t…”

You both knew what you were begging for, and he gently shushed you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out again, repeating it as many times as you thought you should, hoping and praying that it was enough. “You have to know that…”

Your words died in the air at the sound of his voice.

“I should be angry with you…but I understand,” he softly told you. “You were scared, and you should’ve been.”

You sniffed, staring at the red and blue grass.

“I went too far, and you were right to be scared.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there, telling you the words that brought you temporary relief.

“I forgive you.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction

[exhaslo]

Hiii！I love your stories!!But can you write about Miguel × hybridbunny！reader？that Miguel was a rich mafia or ceo and he bought reader from a black market or an auction.（ps：make reader sit on Miguel’s desk while he works and he ended up eating her out and fcking her hehehehehhehe）🐇🐇🐇🐇

Hehehehehehehehehehe

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were many pros and cons that came with being the CEO. Unfortunally, claiming ownership of Alchemax carried far more cons than the alternative. It did not help that Miguel took over the company from his corrupt father.

There were a lot of problems that needed to be fixed. Many were within the company itself; the associates to say the least. Miguel had to fire and clean up a lot of the corrupted associates' messes. This included having Miguel silently attend a black auction market.

Turned out, one of his former coworkers who worked in genetic splicing decided to test various animals on different people. While Miguel was so focused on Spiders that created Spiderman, his stupid coworker created hybrids and sold them on the black market.

Miguel just hoped that he could save as many people as he could. The work of tracking the others down was going to be a lot harder for him.

As Miguel sat in his VIP seat with a hood on, he watched the scum below him cheer with anticipation. None of these people cared. They just wanted new trophies. Miguel was going to buy as many hybrids were auctions and try to revert them back to regular humans.

-------

Miguel was about to lose faith. The auction was at the last bid and there had not been a single hybrid. Miguel did check and this was the only black market auction in the city. It was too dangerous for there to be anymore.

"Now! What you've all been waiting for, the most popular item during our shows! A hybrid!!" The announcer cheered.

Miguel nearly gasped, leaning forward as he watched the curtains unveil, revealing you.

"We got ourselves an adorable hybrid bunny!!! You know what they say about rabbits."

Miguel ignored the sea of laughter. You were standing on stand, shaking like a leaf. Before the announcer could even start the bid, Miguel yelled out an insane number. There were gasps in the crowd and barely anyone had the guts to go higher.

And just like that, you were bought by Miguel.

--------

You were hesitant as you followed your new 'owner' to his vehicle. The chain and collar still tight around your neck. Once you were seated in the back seat, you flinched as your tail got caught in the belt. You had to lower your ears, not wanting to hit the roof of the car.

"My apologizes, I'll get a bigger car." Miguel apologized as he entered the vehicle. You gave him a slight glare, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Just fuck me," You whispered.

"No," Miguel sighed as he took the collar off once the car started moving, "I'm trying to right the wrongs that the former CEO of my company did."

You touched your neck, watching Miguel very carefully. You had an inkling of where this conversation was going, and it started to make your heart and body shake.

"My name is Miguel. I have no intention of using you for any purpose, but to try and undo what Alchemax did to you, if you would let me."

"Hah, so am I the lucky test subject?"

"No. I want to find all those who were experimented on. You were the first one I saved." Miguel noticed your hesitation and offered you a bottled water, "I have a room set up for you. Anything you want or need, just let me know and I'll get it for you."

"I suppose freedom isn't an option?"

"You and I both know what will happen if I let you go."

"Yeah, I know. Just wanted to hear your answer." You scoffed and leaned forward slightly, "I actually worked at Alchemax as an assistant. I don't think it will be easy to undo my DNA now that its been changed."

"I can try."

---------

It had been a few months since you were bought by Miguel. It came as a surprise, but he did mean what he said. You were living comfortably and Miguel was trying his absolute best to cure you. As you guessed, nothing worked.

That didn't stop you from wanting to help Miguel with his endeavor. Miguel had even rescued a few more hybrids during your stay with him. You couldn't help but feel a little jealous that you weren't his only one now. There was a simple reason as to why you felt like that.

You fell in love with Miguel.

You wanted to believe that Miguel liked you too, but you weren't sure what was holding him back. Perhaps guilt? Needing to see him, you started to hurry to his office. Thanks to your rabbit DNA, you were a fast runner.

"Miguel? Can I come in?" You asked with a knock at his office door.

"Of course, (Y/N)." He said with a smile, opening the door for you.

Before entering, your nose caught whiff of something delicious. Sniffing around, you ended up next to Miguel. You gently gripped his jacket, sniffing against his collar.

"(Y-Y/N), are you alright? Do I smell?" Miguel cleared his throat, careful to hold you back.

"Hm? O-Oh, sorry. You just smelled really good." You laughed nervously, wondering what was coming over you.

Miguel patted your head, assuring you that it was okay. You could only feel embarrassed again. This wasn't the first time your rabbit DNA caused you to do something silly or embarrassing. You were still having a hard time getting over making a 'secret room' in the building when winter was coming.

"Want to help me with something?" Miguel offered, motioning towards his desk.

You hurried over, taking a seat on his desk as Miguel pulled out some paperwork. Since it was hard for you to sit in regular chairs due to your tail, Miguel allowed you to have a spot on his personal desk. It felt like you were a trophy for him. One you didn't mind.

"So, what are you working on?" You asked. Miguel chuckled towards you as he leaned back in his seat,

"Company business."

"So how can I help?"

"You already are," Miguel chuckled again and leaned closer towards you, "I feel better having you next to me. I'm not as stressed."

Your cheeks started to burn up at his confession. Your heart was racing and you could feel yourself getting hot. This was bad. Lately, whenever you thought about Miguel you would get into a small frenzy, needing to relieve yourself. It had to be because of your rabbit DNA.

"(Y/N), are you alright?" Miguel asked, his hand against your forehead.

"Mhm," You winced slightly, shaking from his touch alone, "M-Miguel, I should...g-go," You stuttered, finding it hard to keep yourself together.

Miguel furrowed his brows as he gave you a quick check up. He checked your eyes, noticing the glossy lustful look, then your heart rate. Miguel inhaled deeply once he finally noticed you rub your legs together and your nipples perk.

"You're in heat?" Miguel muttered lowly, glancing at your once more, "Let me take-"

"N-No, let me stay," You whined, holding onto Miguel, nibbling against his shoulder, "I-I'm only...like this because of...of you,"

"Oh," Miguel resisted a groan, gently pushing you back, "Then, I suppose I need to take responsibility for you, huh?"

Oh, how those words turned you on even more. You whimpered and moaned against his touch as Miguel took off your pants. Your panties were soaked. You swore Miguel mumbled something under his breathe, but you were so zoned out that you couldn't hear him.

Next thing you knew, Miguel had taken your panties off and laid you back against his desk. He brought your legs around his head, making sure your tail wasn't crushed under you. His head directly in front of your vagina,

"My, my (Y/N), you should have told me sooner about your little problem. I could have helped you happily,"

"B-But-Ah~ M-Miguel~" You cried out as his tongue started to swirl against your folds.

Your eyes widen and your body arched as Miguel feasted. His tongue touching you in ways that your fingers could not. His aggressive licks and swirls against your clit causing that knot inside you to grow tighter.

"Ah~ R-Right...t-there~" You moaned, crying out your orgasm.

Miguel cleaned up your mess, his tongue now threatening to enter your drenched hole. Your whimpers and moans were delicious. He wanted to hear more, but he also didn't want to take advantage of your state. Licking your insides, Miguel hummed at your sweet taste. Your legs wrapping around his head.

'Miguel~" You whined, grinding your hips slightly.

"Now, now my little bunny, if you don't behave I won't be able to control myself," He hummed, sucking against your clit.

"P-Please...f-fuck me...I need you~" You whimpered.

Miguel felt his restraints snap. He flipped you on your stomach and inserted a finger inside your cunt. Your body shock as you moaned louder than before. Miguel groaned at how your cunt sucked his fingers in.

"Does my little bunny want to be fucked that bad? Even using your tail to seduce me." Miguel huffed, using his free hand to play with your tail.

Unable to take the pleasure, you cried out another orgasm the moment Miguel touched your tail. It was so sensitive. Pressing your face against his desk, you whimpered, begging for Miguel to fuck you. You needed him. You wanted him to make you feel good.

"Alright, I'll give my bunny what she wants."

"Mhm~ Y-Yesh," You babbled.

A sharp gasp escaped your throat as you felt Miguel's dick push through your folds. His cock stretched you out and filling you so perfectly. Your body felt so hot as his tip threaten to push your cervix. You could feel his shape every time your pussy clenched around him.

"A perfect fit. My little horny bunny likes this right?" Miguel chuckled as he started to thrust his hips into you at a rough pace, "My little horny bunny going into heat because of me."

"Ah~ Mhm~ M-Miguel~"

You swore you started to lose your common sense. Miguel was pounding the life out of your cunt and the air out of your lungs. Your vision kept blurring as you just focused on the feeling of him filling you.

You gasped as Miguel lifted your hips ever so slightly. His dick hitting your g-spot with each thrust while his free hand was playing with your tail. You were losing count how many times this man was making you cum.

"Does my little bunny want me to fill her up?" Miguel leaned over you, whispering your ear,

"Mphm~"

"I can't hear you, are you too fucked out to answer?" Miguel nibbled against your ear.

You pressed your ass up, "Inside~" You begged.

Miguel complied as proceeded to fill you with his cum. He moaned lowly, giving you a few more pumps before coming to a stop. Miguel started to pull out, but heard you whine in protest. A chuckle escaped his throat as he continued to slap his hips into you.

Miguel continued to fuck you until your heat finally died out. By the end of what seemed like endless fucking, both you and Miguel were out of breathe. Miguel had you seated against his lap, resting your body against his.

You whimpered tiredly, cum pouring out of your cunt. Miguel rubbed your back, his hand nudging against your tail slightly.

"Mhm,"

"Shh, it was an accident, baby." Miguel whispered, rubbing your upper back, "You should have told me when these heats started. I can make some medicine to help you."

"You're fine," You whispered lowly. Miguel chuckled, kissing your head,

"If that's the case, then it would be easier for you to stay at my place. I have been looking for a wife,"

"Mhm...I'll gladly...take that role," You muttered tiredly.

Miguel resisted a chuckle. He waited for you to fall asleep before dressing the two of you. He had one of his assistants bring your stuff to his place as Miguel took you home. He was going to make you as comfortable as possible.

But first, you both needed a shower.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed!!!!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

[bunny-yan]

Yandere Bully x male reader

non-con touching, heavy depicts of violence, mockery, depression, abuse, forced relationships.

Like this dude is VIOLENT. Makes fun of the reader for doing anything. Him ruining the reader has always been enough, finding new ways to hurt him each day. But when the reader comes to school with a bruise bully knows he didn’t make, he’s furious. Going full “you’re fucking mine, you understand?” And anyone who dares touch what’s his? Don’t live to see another day.

He is bully’s plaything. He owns him.

— he’d probably hurt him too just for letting someone else touch him

I think this would be a really nice introduction for a new yan! I'll definitely expand using some of these ideas later and I would've tried to include it in here, but it was getting a little long and I wanted to introduce how they met >.< i hope you like it! bully!yan x male reader TW: violence, non-con touching, mockery, slight depictions of depression, abuse, forced relationships, minors DNI

—

It was a new school. One that you’d been anxious about coming to since your parents transferred you in the middle of a semester, but it wasn’t the first time, so what possible complaints could you have? You should be used to it by now, right?

You didn’t want to think of the roaring headache you’d have if you tried explaining why it wasn’t fair to you to pick up and move whenever it was convenient for them without asking you how you felt about it, so you let it go. Clearly, your opinion had no weight in their decisions, but it would’ve been nice if they treated you as more than just another piece of luggage to drag around. 

Saying goodbye to your friends was difficult because although you’d only been here for a couple of months, you met some people you were able to connect to, which was strange considering your short time at this school. 

Promises to keep in touch were met with smiles and quick hugs before you went home to pack your life away. 

There wasn’t much. You knew by now that it was a hassle to bring anything that you couldn’t fit in a suitcase, and the looks they would give if you asked to bring along anything that would’ve forced them to give up space in the moving truck was something you preferred to avoid. You’d be placated, told they could simply buy you whatever you needed when you moved to the next place, and the couple of times you tried to fight for something you cared about, you received a lecture that lasted for hours about how you needed to learn to be grateful that they could afford to replace whatever it is that you were so desperate to keep and learn to be considerate considering they were moving for the benefit of the entire family. To make a long story short, you were to shut up and be ready to be shipped out without being such a fucking hassle. 

After being assigned to your new room in a house, you couldn’t bother to acknowledge it as any different from the last, even though it lacked any sign of familiarity or comfort; you ignored the order to get unpacked and slept, wondering if you would be able to catch up in the classes you’d be attending the next day. 

A quick shower was all you bothered in the morning, and putting on a reasonably comfortable outfit that made you look decent was good enough for your first day. You weren’t desperate to stand out. Everything would be perfect if you could just get through the day with minimal issues, going unnoticed by most, and avoid being called out for being a new kid. 

The day was off to a good start. The teachers didn’t seem particularly interested in acclimating you, which was fine, considering it would only draw more attention to you. It was a bit of a hassle trying to find what rooms your classes were supposed to be in, but you managed. You always seemed to. 

Looking at a paper that listed off your schedule, you tried not to make it too obvious that you had no idea where you were going in the sea of bodies, but right as you were going to look up to see if you were heading in the right direction, you crashed into someone else.

Your arms reached out to steady them before they were sent flying backward, and you froze when your hands landed on a guy's hips. 

Looking around, you noticed weird stares from guys who seemed to be friends with the guy you had crashed into, and when you finally looked at him, you froze at the unexpected curiosity in his eyes.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice bleeding with concern, but the expression on his face seemed irritated. 

Noticing that you were still holding onto his waist, you quickly released your hold on him before backing up. Scratching the back of your neck, you apologized. 

With a bright smile, he clapped you on the shoulder. Leaning in, he whispered, “Watch yourself next time.”

You were shocked at how hostile his voice sounded, but he and his friends had walked away before you could even think to respond. 

It was strange, but there was little chance you’d ever encounter that guy again. 

You thought back to that moment as you stared at him on the ground, hand covering a bloody nose. His eyes held that same curiosity you’d seen the first time you ran into him, but it was paired with amusement. 

You were shoved back as one of his friends came to his defense, girls calling you a violent psycho as they flocked to the guy who was now grimacing in pain. A sea of students crowded around to see what was going on, and as you were eventually led to the principal’s office, you knew your hope of having a quiet transfer was ruined. 

The principal didn’t hesitate to inform you that violence would not be permitted in his school. You would be required to write a 500-word essay that lamented your actions and would serve a couple of weeks in after-school detention. It didn’t escape your notice that he hadn’t bothered to ask why you acted the way you did. 

You couldn’t even be sure why you reacted so quickly. You wouldn’t consider yourself incredibly violent, and even if someone said something that upset you, you had a decent amount of self-control. Even in a heated argument, you could be expected to keep a cool head, but one sentence from him had you seeing red before fists were flying. You couldn’t even be sure what he said. All you remember is him approaching you in the cafeteria with that same easy-going smile he’d always seemed to wear before his words made you want to crawl out of your skin, and you were moving before you could stop yourself. 

The principal informed you that your parents would hear about the altercation that transpired on your first day, and you couldn’t help the huge sigh you let out as you thought of how utterly fucked you were. 

You didn’t expect your victim to be waiting in the empty hallway. You also did not expect him to approach you with a smile on his still handsome face despite the bruise forming on his nose before entering your space with no hesitation. He forced you to back up the closer he got, but he pulled you to a stop by hooking his fingers into your belt buckle before pulling you forward. 

Leaning to the side, he said, “I was beginning to get bored again. Thanks for alleviating that.” 

You shoved him away, skin crawling as you slapped a hand over your ear, but he only laughed before walking away. 

The rest of the day was a blur. 

You walked to your next class, aware that eyes seemed to follow you as you sat in your seat, not just because you were coming in the middle of a lesson. Whispers flew, and you could hear them discuss what had transpired in the cafeteria. 

It was a struggle not to put your head down. 

Met with similar reactions in two of your other classes, you tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut when you attempted to talk to one of your classmates about an assignment before you were ignored. 

It was awkward. 

They stood there, pretending they couldn’t hear you, and you were left wondering what you were supposed to do. Either double down and seem like an asshole for intimidating another student or drown in embarrassment at being treated like you were invisible. Considering you were already marked as someone with anger issues, the first option was out. 

You returned to your desk, trying not to feel too out of place doing a group assignment by yourself, and attempted to convince yourself that everything would be fine. 

Sitting through the lecture you received, listening to how disappointed your parents were that you were causing problems at your new school despite it being your first day, you didn’t bother defending yourself. There was no point. You just needed to finish the essay, attend detention, wait a couple of months, and this whole situation would blow over. 

Except it didn’t. 

The days turned into months, and even after spending the required time in detention, you found no one you could approach even after gaining that time back. Your classmates continued to ignore you, the teachers treated you like a problem student, and you found yourself utterly alone day after day. 

You’d thought maybe enough time hadn’t passed to put the incident behind you. You would just need to be diligent in your studies and make more of an effort to get to know your classmates. 

Even if they acted as if they couldn’t hear a word you said. 

Even if everyone refused to meet your eyes. 

Even if some of the other students looked at you with disgust. 

Even if that guy’s friends seemed to remind you that you punched him anytime you saw them, passed them, existed in their space for more than a couple of seconds. 

The victim seemed content to watch things play out, not stopping his friends, egging them on, or coming to your defense. 

He just watched. 

His eyes seemed to follow you in the cafeteria as you filled up your tray before going to eat at a lone table in the corner by yourself. 

You would force the utensil in your mouth despite the fact that you couldn’t taste anything and feel embarrassed shame and disgust at the self-pity that began to overwhelm you. 

You tried telling yourself it was fine; it was expected that you would eat alone, but it didn’t change the gaping emptiness you felt. 

You felt eyes on you as you walked from class to class, and at first, you looked for the person who seemed to be staring holes into you, but you couldn’t hold his pointed stare when you managed to make eye contact across the room or in a crowd. 

It was uncomfortable. Chilling, almost, the way his eyes seemed to want to dissect you. 

You tried to ignore it, to ignore him, this entire situation, but a presence sitting across from your new hiding spot in a secluded part of the library shattered that idea. 

When you looked up, you felt like a deer in headlights, looking at the amused expression on his face.

Standing up, you gathered your things to leave, but his hand caught your wrist before you could grab your bag and walk away. 

“Where are you going?”

It was a simple question, but reminded you there was nowhere to go. No place with eyes that didn’t judge you from far away and remained incapable of seeing you up close. 

“Let go.”

“Or what?” he taunted, gripping your hand tighter. “Will you hit me again?”

You grit your teeth, wanting to yank your hand out of his grip, resisting the urge to say yes. 

“You could. You could probably take me in a fight. But that won’t change the fact that you’ll continue to be a social pariah.”

You looked into his eyes, and he could tell it had caught your attention. His expression turned smug as he gestured towards the chair you were just sitting in. 

“Sit.”

“What do you want?” you asked him, voice on the verge of being desperate. 

“Sit down and let’s talk about it.”

A part of you wanted to resist. You hated the confidence that seemed to roll off of him in waves, looking at you as if he knew you would obey regardless of how much of a fight you put up. A part of you was almost able to convince yourself to walk away. But remembering those cold stares,  the disinterest, and the unsettling anxiety you felt each morning you woke up had you reluctantly sitting back in your chair. 

Amused, he leaned forward to rest his hands on his interlocked fingers. “Let’s be friends.”

He was insane. 

“I could try to improve other people’s opinions of you and get my friends to stop talking behind your back, but it would be a lot simpler if we were friends, right?”

You blinked, still not understanding what he stood to gain from all of this. 

“We act as if we let bygones be bygones, and your life as a loner will be over. Two birds with one stone!”

“What do you get out of this?”

The smile on his face was unsettling. “Let’s just say I want to be charitable.”

You didn’t like it. It didn’t seem like there was anything for you to lose, and you weren’t sure you could trust his reasoning behind suddenly reaching out to you, but you didn’t like the alternative. 

Waking up every morning was a struggle. You had to convince yourself to get out of bed, the most menial tasks taking so much time and energy out of you; it was a miracle you didn’t just cut classes to do anything else. 

But if you missed one day, it would turn into two. Two would turn into three, eventually turning into a week until you weren’t going to school at all. Your parents would be called when your absence was noticed, if it was noticed, or they’d figure out you were playing hooky in some way and you would be forced to listen to another lecture without any consideration towards the reason behind your behavior. 

Wouldn’t it just be better to take his offer? 

~~

It was strange how quickly others went along with his antics. With an arm casually resting around your shoulders, you went from being an invisible nobody to others looking on, jealous about how you got so close to this guy. It was no wonder you hadn’t gotten anybody to talk to you. The number of people who came up to speak with him within the first hour of school starting was insane, and the line of people attempting to get his attention was endless. 

He knew almost everyone in this school. Kind to even those who would be considered the stereotypical outcasts. Everyone wanted to be close to the golden boy, yet no one seemed to notice the disgust on his face after any of his interactions. No one commented that he’d wipe his hands if he touched someone else or brush invisible dirt off his shoulders if someone made the fortunate mistake of running into him. 

It made you sick to your stomach. 

“How does it feel being popular by association?” he asked, the usual winning smile on his face as he waved at someone who called out to him. 

“You’re an asshole.”

He shrugged, his smile only getting wider. “No one else seems to mind. Why are you complaining?” He tapped your shoulder, making you self-conscious about how freely he was touching you. 

“Do you have to sit so close?” you asked, attempting to put distance between the two of you, but his hand grabbed your shoulder before pulling you into his chest. 

“We have to sell that we’re friends. Lighten up,” he said, pinching the side of your cheek. 

It took everything in you not to punch him across the face. 

Again. 

“Yo, man!” One of his actual friends called out, making you feel self-conscious from the way he was glaring daggers into you before he looked over at his carefree “friend.” “What’s the deal with you and psycho suddenly hanging out?”

Psycho. You winced at the nickname he didn’t bother hiding. 

“Oh, him?” he said, grip locking around your neck before he pulled you in closer and ruffled your hair despite your aggravated protests. “He was just being shy. Don’t be too harsh with him.”

You grit your teeth to avoid pulling away from him. It was fucking embarrassing being treated like someone who couldn’t correctly socialize despite the justifiable reality of the situation. 

His friend laughed before inviting him to a bar later in the week. You couldn’t help the bitter smile as a pity invite was also extended to you. 

You got what you wanted. They didn’t ignore you anymore, but somehow, this felt worse than before. 

The eyes didn’t leave. They grew more hostile if anything, and you couldn’t help but want to escape when people would come up to you to talk about the only thing they were interested in. 

Him. 

He always seemed to know when you were speaking to someone, and like the devil, he appeared whenever his name was mentioned, throwing an arm around your shoulders and acting uncomfortably familiar as he elegantly cut off whatever conversation you were having to introduce you to new, random faces you couldn’t hope to remember. A part of you was grateful not to have to endure such an awkward exchange, but it was suspicious how he would always appear whenever you seemed to talk to anyone by yourself. 

It could be someone you’d never spoken to or one of his friends. It didn’t matter. In his presence, you were to exist as eye candy and nothing else.

You tried mentioning it, but he would simply laugh, slapping you on the back before making an excuse about not wanting you to ruin his flawless reputation. 

It was utter bullshit. 

He had everyone at this school eating out of his hands, including the teachers. The minute you said anything that could be mistaken to be pessimistic, they’d look at you as if you had grown another head, and he would be sure to be informed before you managed to get to where you were going. 

He didn’t want to discuss it further, becoming annoyingly clingy to shut you up, and it worked. 

You spent hours agonizing over what to say to gain some space from this guy. You’d watch him interact with his friends, and although he was close to each of them, he never seemed to stick to them like he did to you. It was to the point where you found yourself visibly relaxing whenever you weren’t around him, noticing the tension in your body caused by his presence. 

You told yourself that you just had to put up with it. You didn’t like it when his hand grabbed the back of your neck or the way his fingers fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt whenever his arm was draped around your shoulder, but it was for your benefit. People would see how close the two of you were and naturally want to get closer to you. You could put up with some unsettling feelings if it meant not returning to being alone. 

Until you couldn’t excuse it. 

His lips pressed to yours, and you froze. 

The two of you were alone in a classroom after school. He asked you to stay behind because he wanted to talk to you about something that he refused to mention throughout the day despite your prodding to get the conversation over with, and the minute the two of you were alone, he approached you, hands cupping your face before you could even think. Before you could even realize what he was doing. 

 There was a moment when fear gripped your body, rendering you unable to move, but the minute you felt his tongue prod against your lips, you shivered before shoving him away. 

“What?” he laughed, cocking his head at your horrified expression. The silence hung between the two of you, unable to process what had just happened into words. His eyes turned hard as he became impatient with your continued silence. “What’s your problem?”

“Why did you do that?” you finally choked out. It didn’t make sense. After everything he’d done, it made no sense.

“What? Kiss you?” An easy laugh escaped his lips as he came closer. “Why are you being so sensitive about a little kiss?” he asked, reaching for your face, but your hand smacked his away. 

You couldn’t read the expression on his face as he looked between your eyes, but the easygoing charmer disappeared as his jaw ticked and his eyes flooded with cold rage. 

There was nothing to say. A restless fear urged you to leave, so you brushed past his shoulder, unable to take another step when his hand caught your arm in an ironclad grip. The minute you tried to yank your arm away, you felt yourself being thrown to the ground, a weight on top of you. You saw him rear his arm back before his fist collided with your face, giving you no time to defend yourself against his first few blows. 

“Get off of me!” you said through gritted teeth, attempting to throw him, but he held firm, continuing to throw blow after blow. His punches only landed harder when you managed to lift your arms to shield your face. 

“You’re fucking nothing without me.” he seethed, “You want to go back to being a loser, sitting alone in the cafeteria with no one to talk to? I can make your life miserable.”

Fear drove the sense of urgency at his words. 

Shoving a fist into his side, you took the opportunity to sprint for the door when he hunched over in pain, ignoring his choked order for you to come back. 

What were you going to do?

What the hell were you supposed to do now?

Showing up to school wasn’t a choice, and you couldn’t avoid him either. You felt your vision tunnel as your choices seemed to dwindle the harder you searched for an escape. 

Everything he said was true. 

Your breathing turned shallow. 

He could make your life miserable. 

Why would he do that? Why would he do that?

Had you given any indication that you were interested in him like that? You knew he was clingy, but you didn’t think-

Oh, god. 

Was he going to tell everyone that you came onto him? You could imagine the disgusted stares his friends would give and it made you nauseous to think of the nicknames they’d coin. Suddenly, psycho didn’t seem that bad. 

Maybe it would’ve been better to remain alone. 

It was stupid to think that things would get better in the first place. 

You wanted to run until you didn’t have to think about the fact that you had school the following day. You wouldn’t have to wonder how their eyes would change when they looked at you. You wouldn’t have to struggle to get out of bed. 

You choked to get air out. 

It was going to be a struggle to get out of bed. 

If you told your parents you were sick they wouldn’t bother taking you to the doctor, but you would have to come up with a really good excuse as to why you couldn’t go to school. No matter what you said, there was a good chance it would be a waste of time talking to them anyway. They didn’t trust you to be home alone and it would be a hassle for either of them to take off work to watch you. 

You had to go to school. There was no choice but to go. 

When you managed to make it home, you ran up the stairs to your room. Crashing into bed, you threw the comforter over your head, begging the knots in your stomach to loosen, pleading for your muscles to relax just long enough to let you fall asleep.  You didn’t want to think about this anymore. It hurt. You didn’t want to think about what was going to happen tomorrow. 

You ignored the pain in your face, in your hands, in your body as you begged for anything to prevent the next day from arriving, and if that didn’t work, you thought it’d be better if you just didn’t wake up at all. 

But you did wake up. 

From the little sleep you had gotten, it was clear the day was off to a bad start, and the headache pounding in your skull was the cherry on top.

You stripped to take a shower, and you turned the faucet to the hottest setting, barely flinching as the steaming water hit your body. 

Minutes felt like hours as you ran through the possible scenarios of how to day would transpire. 

None of the endings were good. 

There didn’t seem to be enough time to walk to school, and you felt your heart pound painfully in your chest as you stood in front of the school’s double doors. Other students glanced your way when you remained, stuck in place in front of the entrance, and you only managed to move when someone bumped into you, muttering a quick apology before running to catch up with their friends. 

It was… relieving. 

You looked around, nervous to hear any whispers, see any judging eyes, but no one seemed particularly interested in you. Managing to make it to your locker, you finally let out a breath. 

"Look who finally decided to show up."

His voice made you tense, turning to see him and his usual group of friends. It was hard to meet his eyes. They were having a conversation, but you didn't hear anything, couldn't as you stared at his feet, knowing his eyes were drilling holes into you.

When your gaze finally stumbled up to his, you held your breath at the usual easy-going smile on his face, but his eyes told a different story.

Narrowed, you could feel the anger that seemed to roll off of him in waves.

Eyes snapped back to the ground, as you tried to find something to say. Anything that would get you out of this conversation he was trying to force you into.

“I’ll catch you later,” you decided on, eyes glued to the ground as you tried to not make it seem like you were running away. 

You felt eyes burning through your body, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t go to your class or the cafeteria, you went straight to the little corner of the library, isolated from everyone else and comfortable. Safe. 

“Hey,” a chilling voice said. 

Until you weren’t. 

Your body was rigid as you regarded him. He found you so easily. 

“You seemed like you were in a rush back there. Are you good?”

It was mind-numbing. Watching him pretend as if nothing happened when you spent hours agonizing if you were even going to come to school. How could he smile as if nothing was wrong?

“What’s wrong?” he asked, studying your expression carefully. Walking closer, he cocked his head to the side when you took a step back. “Did I do something?” He didn’t hesitate to get into your space, frozen when you bumped into the table rendering you unable to retreat any further. “Why are you avoiding me?” 

It was hard not to think about what happened the day before. You couldn’t figure out why he made you so uncomfortable and now alarms were blaring in your head that you needed to leave. To go somewhere, anywhere you weren’t alone with him. 

“Back up,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” he asked, a charming smile stretching across his face. “Why are you being so cold?”

His hand came up to brush against your cheek and the expression on his face turned hard the minute you swatted it away, unhesitant to shove his hand between your legs before he grabbed you harshly. 

You winced, flinching away as you tried to back up, grabbing his hand when the desk simply groaned against your pressing weight, attempting to force him to release his grip.

“You don’t want to be my friend? How do you feel about being my bitch instead?” 

You couldn’t focus on the words he spit in your face, gritting your teeth as you tried to escape this situation without experiencing too much pain. 

“Let go,” you said, voice bordering desperate when he squeezed harder in response to your resistance. 

He chuckled, leaning in closer before resting his head on your shoulder. “You really love telling me what to do.”

You were hot. It was too much. He was making your skin crawl. 

Gritting your teeth, you shoved at him, barely managing to hold back a grunt of pain as he was finally forced back. You barely managed to dodge his fist, choosing to slip past him instead of fight just in case someone in the library witnessed your altercation. No matter how great the desire to punch him square across the face, things would only get worse if you were labeled the aggressor. 

Barely making it two steps before his hand tangled in the hair above your nape. His hand jerked your head towards him and you felt your heart drop in your stomach when you saw the heavy gaze he had on your lips. A flash of disgust was all you managed to feel when he pulled you in, lips parting to kiss you before your fist collided with his face. 

Stumbling back, he let out a laugh as he held his nose, the blood undeniable. 

When his manic eyes met yours, that same fear had alarms going off once again. “You’re fucking mine, you hear me?”

The panic in your gut didn’t allow you to stick around to let him finish. You could only pray to god that he’d pass off his injuries as a mistake rather than use it as a way to isolate you once again. 

You could only think of how easy it would be for him to trap you alone if no one bothered to see.

You should’ve just stayed invisible.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #ask #yandere male #male darling #male reader #yandere bully

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Bex would you be down to write a dom ethan and sub reader type dynamic smut? This isn’t a request just wondering if it’s something you’re into 😻

Anon of course this is something I am into. First time writing more dominant Ethan! I hope you like it Anon, I haven't posted a fic in over a fucking month! Everything has been so hetic and nuts, I've been working on this behind the scenes and I am hoping this gets me back into the swing of things! Let's go!

---

Now Or Never.

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K. Ethan Landry X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: DUB CON! Stalking. Creepy And Delusional Behaviour From Ethan. Obsessive Ethan. Man Handling. Degradation. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Raw Sex. Implied Cream Pie. Hold The Moan. Don’t Get Caught. 

---

Ethan has never been the kind of guy to really go after what he wants. He is much more passive, go with the flow, he doesn’t want to upset the apple cart nor ruin the image that people have of him. He knows it isn’t the best practice, he wants to get out of that, he wants to start doing things for him, maybe he should have made the call to start standing up for himself before agreeing to help his family avenge his brothers' death via a complex murder plot. However, Ethan was committed now, and he wasn’t going to back out, more importantly he saw no way how to, and so he stays. 

Assuming an identity in a new place and pretending to be someone he isn’t to infiltrate a group of people, pretend to be their friend just to be close enough to kill them was stressful. It felt like it was consuming his whole life, losing who he actually was in some regard, he needed a distraction, something to help give him purpose, ease his worries and the harsher edges of it all, or he’d go nuts. 

You were his outlet. 

Stalking just went along with what he did in service of the grand plan, you were not part of it, not involved, but you caught his eye in one of his classes. The first time, he was just going the same direction as you, he swears to God, he wasn’t being a creep, at first. That did not last long. He started to watch you, learn your schedule, get into your routine, and whenever he wasn’t having to continue his charade he was consumed getting lost in you. 

He knows where you live, he knows your class times, the coffee shop you frequent, your order at said shop, he knows what soap you use, the part-time job you hold and that one of your biggest pet peeves is when the tag in an item of clothing itches against your skin. 

He’s been watching you for an amount of time that he is sure if you knew would make you very fucking uncomfortable. You seemingly hadn’t caught on to what he was up to, which was good, it meant he could keep it up without worry, watching you living your life while you were totally oblivious. To be fair, how observant you are or are not, is not what he liked best about you, honestly what he liked is that you were the opposite to him in a lot of ways. No real responsibilities other than the ones you wanted to have, just living the way you want to, he felt some modicum of jealousy over that, he imagines what life could be like if he could get out of his current situation and have a more normal existence with you, it’s a good escape, but it’s just that, a fantasy, an unattainable one. 

It is getting harder and harder to ignore the situation he is stuck in, the same way it is becoming impossible to ignore the clawing feeling of dread in his chest. He wanted to stop feeling so helpless, wanted a sense of control, to feel like he was living for himself, even in a tiny sense. 

Time is running out, and he needs to correct this, or he might fuck up everything without some serious stress relief. 

Ethan learned about the Halloween party you were going to attend, and he thought maybe that would be good, to go and cut loose a little while near you. That plan changed, morphed, got away from him once he was actually there and near you in the costume you chose. 

He tried to keep distance, to just watch but between observing you having fun, the mounting pressure and the frankly bordering on painful erection in his jeans that would not stop throbbing finally a piece inside of him broke.

You had to know what you did to him. You had to know the effect you had on him, it was like you were aware you were being watched, doing this on purpose, it’s maddening. He could crush the red solo cup in his hand as he observes you dance with a friend, the way your hand rests on his arm, your head tips forward to press against his shoulder as you laugh, the sway of your hips, it should be him, why not him? He stews in his thoughts and the anger, the unfairness and the budding arousal threatening to boil over inside himself. 

He’d brought his Ghostface costume along, had it in his bag for something he needed to do later, it was like he acted on autopilot. He sneaks off, he got into the costume, and then he waits for the right moment. 

You are on your way to the bathroom, but not the main one people use, no these were your friends, and you knew about the lesser used one, he knew about it because of course, creep that Ethan was, he followed you there. When you are close enough he strikes, his hand over your mouth, his other arm loops around your middle, and he drags you the rest of the way to the bathroom. The door is already ajar, it’s no trouble to get you inside, a backwards swing of his foot to the wood makes the door close. The light is dim, there is a nightlight plugged into the wall outlet near the counter top by the mirror, so someone stumbling from the basement guest bedroom can find their way to the bathroom he assumes. 

You are struggling against him, squirming, muffled sounds trying to get out from behind his hand, but he is struck by just this. He is touching you for the first time, holding you, he draws you closer, makes it so you are flush against him. He’s thought about this countless times, you are warm and softer than anticipated, he can fucking smell you and it is intoxicating. He is so caught up in this, taking in every detail and small movement, he presses his hips forward, grinds himself on you through the layers of jeans and black fabric as he smells your hair and then what you do next? Ethan never would have thought in a million years you’d respond like this, by your eyes closing and you grinding back, pressing your ass closer to him with a sound behind his hand that might sound like a moan if he let you express it fully. 

You aren’t fighting him, not any longer, no you are rocking with him, trying to stimulate yourself in any way possible against him-

Oh.

You are better than he thought, he knew you were a slut, he’d seen you in your place, knew your porn search history and the collection of toys you owned, but to be down to fuck a masked stranger you hadn’t exchanged a single word with? You were a world-class whore, he was going to take advantage of this opportunity to the fullest. 

He knows he doesn’t need to hold you so closely, his arm releases your mid-section, his hand slides down your body and between your legs and up the short skirt of the costume you wore, fingers press to your underwear. You are already wet enough he can feel it through the thin material and his gloves. Your hips buck, wanting to get closer, feel more of him, it feeds his ego and emboldens him, you want him, and he isn’t going to deny you. 

He gets his glove off, he needs to feel you, skin on skin. His hand slides into your panties, his fingers dip as low as they can and feel the source of your extreme wetness, he presses, tease the hole carefully before his digits slide up through your folds, and he knows he finds what he needs when you gasp, head thrown back against his shoulder. 

His hand works, fingers circle over your clit, and you inhale sharply through your nose, brows furrow, and he watches you in the mirror. The way the pleasure plays out on your face as he teases you, he enjoys how your body responds, the small tremors of your limbs, the twisting and squirming of your form, the way your clit throbs under his touch as he presses harder. 

He needs to feel you inside. Fingers move, you whine, he dives inside, and he curls them, it causes the biggest reaction out of you yet. Your body pitching forward, hands on the counter and your walls clenching around his fingers. You are so soaked, soft, hot and so thoroughly alive. He can barely move them inside of you, but he does, he slips them in and out, presses to that same spot that got such a big reaction out of you, and he moans quietly, he swears he can feel you getting wetter. 

In and out, flex and push, you writhe, and he wants to hear you, he pulls his hand away, but before he does, he has one finger over your lips, that classic symbol of “shhh” and you nod, eyes half lidded and lust filled. You let out quiet moans, his palm grinds against your clit as his fingers fuck in and out, he can’t take much more. The simple movement, the motion, how hard he is rocking against your ass, he wants to be buried in you, wants to fuck you. 

So he does. 

His hand moves, fingers pulled out, and your eyes had slipped closed again, at the loss of him they open, confused and when you see him pulling the robe up you get the hint. You make your own move, shaky hands lift off the counter and your fingers hook under your skirt, you tug down your underwear and you step one foot out, leaving them hooked around your other ankle. He has the robe up and his pants open finally, the relief of pressure on his straining erection has him letting out a small sigh. His hands are on you, he adjusts you, one knee on the counter and pushing you forward, your hands braced on the sink, and you adjust too, your hips tilt and soon with a hand on your back and the other on the base of his cock he is lining up. 

It’s rushed and faster than he wants, but he just wants so much, it’s been so fucking long he can't stop it, can't help himself. He feels you, the heat coming off of you, the wetness on his tip, he lingers for only a moment before his hips move involuntarily, and then he is helpless. The first half inch pops in with no resistance, and you are perfect, you feel incredible it makes him let go of himself, hands lock on your hips, and he pushes further, slides deeper, and he watches you in the mirror. The way your mouth falls open, the exhalation, the way you tense in some regards and relax in others, but mostly he can’t focus on much else other than how your cunt feels around him as he settles in, finally to the base. 

He soaks you in for a second, you are more impatient than he, you whine again, needier than before, and you move first, pull your hips forward before sliding them back, and it makes any semblance of control break. He takes over, the grip on your hips tightens, and he pulls out almost totally before driving back in, you have to bite your lip to hold the moan back enough to not be overheard. The party is on the main floor, you are in the basement, but you are sure that he could make you alert everyone up there. 

This was insanely hot for you, a masked stranger pulling you away and touching you, groping you, fucking you without you seeing his face or uttering a single word? Unbearably hot, his fingers were good, but even two minutes in his dick puts his hands to shame. He is greedy. He touches more, he didn’t touch you enough before, his other glove comes off, and he touches your legs, your thigh, a firm squeeze of your ass, he feels up your sides and your chest. You lean closer into his touch, moving still with him, loving the pace he took as he fucked you, rough and quick, he pulls the top of your costume down, exposes your tits, palms them, and you moan louder than you probably should. 

This is good, but it could be better still, your hand is between your legs, you stroke your clit as he fucks you, the stretch of him is delicious, you find yourself gasping, arching your back a bit more so he hits that spot inside just a bit harder, a touch better. You are so close to the mirror you are in danger of fogging it up, but you want to look at him, you’d been staring at his masked face this whole time, wondering who is under it. 

You move back, press yourself closer to him and away from the mirror, and you get this urge. This urge that you don’t question or think about. Your back is to his chest, he is still preoccupied with fucking you and rolling your nipples between his fingers, perfectly distracted, huffing and letting out small sounds of pleasures, groans, you reach back behind him and the move is fast. You push the hood back, fingers grip, and you pull and twist, the mask comes off. He’s shocked.

He was so consumed with the feeling of getting to have you, with the mounting pleasure, he even had his eyes closed like an idiot, you got the drop on him. He stopped, held deep, and your eyes met in the mirror. 

He’s hot. Hotter than you thought possible, dark sweat soaked curls and hard eyes, pretty pink lips are wet and parted, he’s strong and has had no issue throwing you around and holding you down. The low orange light playing off your body and his face is going to be burned in your mind forever.

You don’t want him to stop, you want to keep going. You maintain eye contact, you move again, pull him out slightly before bucking back, he inhales hard, and you do it again, and again, slip more out and take him harder on every movement, and he comes back to himself. 

You like this, like him, you liked him as a stranger doing this, but you were still into this now made it even better. He takes over again, he fucks you harder while still meeting your eyes in the mirror. He wasn’t going to stop now until you came around him, and he filled you up.

God, he needed this. 

#BHF asks #BHF writing #Ethan Landry x reader #Scream 6 x reader #Ghostface x reader #HEY BITCHES I'M BACKKKKK #ENJOY IT #EAT UP

[keeponquinning]

Yes, Professor — Part One of Three.

Joseph Quinn x Erotica Novelist Fem!Reader. 18+

Word Count — 4.6k

Summary — slightly based on this, but mainly. You're Joseph's secret writer girlfriend who you met amidst the start of his convention tours, things are hot and heavy between you two, though strained for the inconvenience of not living in the same city and not being official. You're forced to spend a week apart but plan to meet up with him back in London on the last day of his Con appearance, and after teasing him for his Professor type choice of outfits, well, you just couldn't resist showing up dressed as your professor's favorite student, now could you? We thought not.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Part One — He's in London, you? Are not. In a party for you best friend's boyfriend, you manage to get him in a call, hearing his voice, laughing, conversations wishing to see his face, but you can take what you can get.

Preview —

Warnings — Not too many, nothing really smutty happens this part, maybe some dirty talk. Established relationship, it is a big ol' RPF and my first attempt. If not your thing, that's valid AF, just don't be mean / a dick about it. I am but a drop in this massive ocean called Tumblr, just swim on past and enjoy the waves without me if it bothers, I beg. There's also cursing. 18+ so minors, PLEASE, DNI!

Notes — Oh, this came out sooner than my last one, huh?? Mainly because I decided to split this into three parts instead of one big ol' one shot. I def learned my lesson lmao I had a lot of fun writing this, dialogue and banter are my fave things and there was a lot of that in this. Kinda fell in love with these two and planning on doing an actual multi-chaptered fic with them, how they met, all that jazz, let me know if it's something you'd want. Or not, if I get just one person like "yes, please" I'll do it bc people pleasing tendencies fuel me. I've left Reader pretty vague and ambiguous but we do have her mentioning Joseph's British-ness and obviously not living in the same continent because transatlantic romance is so rom com it hurts, but, feel free to ignore that and implant your own background on her, kinda the point, right?? Alright, hope you like this! Like, Reblog and Comment, they fuel me and make my heart go pitter patter!

Taglist — @lunaapis , @munsons-mayhem28 , @inourtownofhawkins , @hopperscock ( i fucking love this url you have no idea )

"What are you wearing?"

You hear an amused chuckle on the other end of the call, along with a distinct clicking of tongue. "...don't I get a hello first or are you missing me that much?"

A snort comes out your way, totally undignified, but he'd never call you out on it. "I mean, I am, but... Shut up." He's cackling now, that laugh that makes you smile stupidly and you're glad you're on an audio call rather than face time — though you wouldn't mind seeing his stupidly pretty face. "I'm serious, what are you wearing?"

"Why are you asking?" his voice strained, amused, but strained. He must be smiling, his laughter barely dying down.

Taking a deep breath, you explain, "Because I haven't seen you in a week and from the photos I've been seeing of you all day today... I need to prepare myself for when I see you tomorrow."

"I need you to repeat that, not the nonsense about my clothes but the...seeing me tomorrow bit."

Your eyes closed, lips stretching in a smile that, in the crowded room you were in the middle of, you tried to suppress. Teeth biting your lip, eyes cautiously looking around the party you were attending but your mind being on a man across the pond as it were, you let out a soft scoff. "....I need to prepare myself for when I see you tomorrow."

"Damn fucking right you will," his voice low, almost a growl that was...unfortunate, considering your surroundings. But more important, his tone was wistful. You heard the sound of gentle squeak, taking to mean that he sat on his bed, one that you missed very much at the moment. "I can't wait for that, and you will be needing to prepare yourself once we're alone... I fucking miss you."

"Mmm, your voice notes kinda gave that impression, yeah," you chuckled, hearing his as well. "Though I enjoyed hearing them when I wake up. It's lame, but, I do miss hearing your voice first thing in the morning." You hear him take a deep breath, exhaling with a soft hum. "Among other things. Hotel beds are just a bit too cold without you."

"Mhm, feeling the same way with my own bed, darling. Have to remind myself it's just been a week, but, feels a bit longer. Can't wait to have you back, though I know, temporarily."

"I know," this time it was you that sounded wistful. You knew you shouldn't, it was a good reason you'd be away from him. The latest in your book series was out there, digitally and in a week, in physical form. The gap between that and the previous book a bit too wide for your liking, or that of your publisher and readers. It was good that you finally finished it, but in that, included a tour of the book, which meant away from him, your sort of boyfriend. "At least you'll have me for a week, well, between your filming, anyway. Enough time for your friends to get sick of me and then wish I went away to have you to themselves again and for my friends to miss the me that isn't attached to your hip."

"Hah," he scoffed, a sound of a stretch that you could only assume was him laying down on his bed. "My friends are sick of me now, keep complaining about how I miss you. Even have Wes saying if I'm this needy without you, can't imagine how you handle me by your side, so, you've somehow got their sympathy and on your side, I'm the problem now, apparently." You couldn't hold in the laugh that barked its way out of you, and you could hear the offense even from the other line. "Oi. Don't laugh, you knew I was needy from the get go, I made no attempt to hide that."

Recovering from the laugh, you have a nod, though you knew he couldn't see, "Yeah, you are a bit of a clinger." Your smile still lingering, eyes soft, "But... It's...kinda one of your more endearing qualities, so... I'll take it."

"Oh, how gracious of you, accepting that I fucking adore you to the point of being miserable enough without you and getting on my friends fucking nerves"

He always made you laugh, you didn't even know if he intended to, but you could hear him laughing alongside you, so he must have, right? "God, hearing you curse is the best, y'know? You seem like a nice, proper boy, but then you curse and it..." You shake your head, "Makes me miss you more."

You heard him scoff, a wet sound, and you could almost see him licking his lips with a smile. "I know, dead sexy and all that... Hard to resist."

A shrug of your shoulders, more to yourself, of course, "...it kinda is. Makes me wanna do things to you to make you curse more..."

He groaned, which was also a lovely noise on its own. "Don't say things like that when you're not in grabbing distance, it's not fair."

You smiled, almost wickedly, eyes catching sight of your best friend, the only reason you were away from him at the moment. "Yeah, well, at least you're alone on your bed, I'm surrounded by people in my pretty dress, not getting grabbed and kissed by you and..." you trailed off as said best friend stopped in front of you, a pointed brow arched. You cleared your throat, smile still in place, "Which is totally fine, because I'm here to support my best friend and her crazy talented boyfriend on his birthday and album release and I'm totally fine with it."

"Mhm," she let out with a nod, "What I thought. Hi, Joe, can you two say goodbye because said boyfriend is gonna start up in a few minutes and I will not have you two have phone sex while he's performing, thank you."

"Excuse me!"

"You're not excused! You're so not excused — you're not allowed."

"That's just—" you were about to say rude when you very clearly hear the cackling on the other end of your call. "Stop laughing! You're not allowed to laugh right now, that's not fair."

"I'm sorry!" he let out, his voice thin, high, and you could hear an attempt to calm the laughter — but an attempt he did not win as more laughter came rolling out, making your lips twist and wanting to laugh despite yourself. Why did his laugh have to be so infectious sometimes? "I'll stop, I swear..." he continued, making you roll your eyes, looking at the smirking face of your best friend. "....oh, god... Tell Jen I said hello."

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, looking over at her, "The painfully British one says hello, because manners maketh the man I'm sure."

Jen cackled as well, shaking her head, "I'll give you two like, ten minutes, tops. You're introducing them, remember?"

"Of course. Ten minutes." A mock salute given, you watch as she turned toward the stage of the intimate venue, just a smaller group of closest friends. Taking a deep breath, directing your attention to your phone, "J o e."

"Oh, no, not Joe. I'm always in trouble when I get Joe instead of your usual Joseph."

"Damn right, that was not cool, I know we're not official, but, you have to have my back. It's the most chivalrous thing to do."

He snickered, "I'm... I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But, well," you heard him release a soft laugh, then heard, "...not to point fingers but you did start the conversation asking me what I was wearing... So was that...not where this was heading...?"

You clicked your tongue off the roof of your mouth very disappointingly, kind of. "No, you perv, I just wanted to know if my sort of boyfriend is going to continue dressing up as a slutty professor so I can figure out how to handle seeing that in person."

"I—" he started, but words cut off with a snicker, and then a proper laugh. "You—Okay. Several things. Don't fucking call me your sort of boyfriend. I am your boyfriend, just.... Well. Secret boyfriend. At least for now—"

"—until your publicist deems me worthy of being known to be dating you."

"No, just... Until we're more established, is all. And I am looking forward to that, taking you to events and such. I'd love to go to the book tour with you, show off how fucking proud I am of you and this book. But... I also don't want to overshadow your accomplishment, the way it's so mad right now. But I am your boyfriend, I know you say it in a joking manner with Jen and our friends, I get it, but... And it's fine to joke about it. Really. But I need you to know it's real for me and I hope it is for you, too. It... It is, isn't it?"

You smiled softly, his words warming your heart more than they should, once again blown away by his sense of sincerity. You never really dated anyone like that before and sometimes, it honestly takes you by surprise. "... Yeah, I know. And I don't mind it, honestly. I'd end things if I did... You're my boyfriend and I'm your girlfriend and...if my joking around hurt you in any way, then I'm sorry, you know I don't mean it. Not with something like this. You...mean a lot to me in a very short amount of time and...it's kind of overwhelming sometimes."

There was a soft sigh, a pleased one, from the other end of the call. "I know. I feel the same. Was never expecting you, or anyone, not like this. And no, you didn't hurt me, not one bit. There's no worry of that. I just needed you to know, I'm in this with you."

Though you certainly didn't need to hear it, there's a lightness from within your chest at his words, a light ease in your breathing and your soft smile grew wide. You didn't need him to confirm what you already knew, but, it was lovely to hear. "Me too. I'm in this, too. Especially if you're going to be sweet like that," you end with a light chuckle, joined by his own. "Not fair on your part. But, I'll let it pass."

"My girlfriend is very gracious like that, I'm so lucky to have her."

"Don't you forget it. Okay. I'm assuming you had more to say?"

"Yes, thank you for that. Was quickly getting side tracked... I just wanted it to be known that I am severely disappointed that phone sex is off the table, that broke my heart since we've been in an almost constant state of phone tag, its ridiculous," you giggled at that, actually giggled which was rare. And he knew it, you could hear his chuckle, and though you couldn't see him, you knew he was pleased with that smug little smirk on his lips. "But, I'll survive that. Also. Slutty professor? I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. You dress like a romantic, slutty professor to these things and you know it."

"I think someone's too far into their own erotica stories and confusing some things, I... Dress as a professional. I have to. My stylist deems it so and I just...do as I'm told."

"...Joseph. What were you wearing today, and don't lie, I've seen the pictures. I just wanna hear you say it."

"You're being absolutely ridiculous, I... My loafers, my favorite ones, trousers, erm... Blue button shirt and... Well, a cardigan..." There was a pause, and you knew he was rethinking it all. "...beige cardigan and.....my dark grey...coat—okay. Maybe... Maybe it was a bit professor-ish. You...might be on to something there..."

"Uh-huh. Dressed like a professor who cares and has long office hours for any of his students to come by to unwind..."

"Stop that," he let out with a laugh. "That should be your next book."

"Oh, who says it won't be? I'll dedicate it to you, for inspiration. I'm assuming you'd be open for me to come to you for...brainstorming? Test out scenes, just, y'know, for the sake of art and authenticity?"

"Morning, noon and night, yes, I'm all yours and your....creativity." He chuckled, softly, there was a lingering silence between the two of you, and then a groan from his end. "Just out of curiosity... Would... I dunno, say...a sweater vest, erm... Like....Oof, a grey one with a dark jacket, that um... Is that slutty professor chic, you think?"

"I fucking knew it."

"Hold on! It was... It was a thought... Are you into the slutty professor look, though?"

"Why do you think I called you in the first place? Yes, of course I'm into it. Do you know what it's like, seeing your pics all over my social media, people sending me pics of you with that cardigan and long coat and just... Do you?"

You could almost hear his smug smile as he let out an even soft chuckle. "I do, actually... You're wearing that burgundy dress aren't you?" Your brows rose, though you didn't say anything, not yet. A soft little hum buzzing into your ear through your phone. "I've been stalking your instagram the past week, so I saw the picture you posted today. It's that burgundy dress I like. The one with the bow at the hip and the... The matching choker with the jewelry that you think is almost tacky but... I like it. Gave me something to look at the other time you wore it, remember that? Was it New Years? Took you to an empty room right before countdown, lifted your skirt and—"

"S t o p, we're not doing that, not now," though you smiled, remembering the moment quite clearly, feeling your skin flush especially as he laughed then. He had such a nice, deep, warm laugh sometimes. "...okay, so, yes, I'm wearing that dress... It's not the same, though, like, aside from that choker you love so much, it's pretty tame in comparison..."

"Mm, not for me. I love that color on you. I love anything on you if it means I can take it off of you. And—a cardigan's tame. A long coat is tame."

"The hell a long coat is tame, that's... Anyway, you wear the slutty professor really well and it's not fair. Especially if you're going to to do tomorrow. After being away from you a week... That's cruel, baby. I won't even be able to touch you until the con's over." You heard him hum, probably thinking the very same. A thought comes, making you chuckle suddenly, "I should retaliate."

"...oh god," he let out, clearly recognizing when a wicked thought comes to mind. "Pray tell, how?"

"Why... Professor..."

"....Oh, fuck."

"Yup. By dressing up as one of your favorite students, of course."

"....jesus fucking christ." You heard a small groan, "God, you would, wouldn't you? I don't know if I could take that. It's been a week, body going in withdrawal without you and the sight of you with knee high socks..."

"Hmm. Telling that the knee high is the first thing you go to. Noted."

He chuckled, "Yes, well... The thought of you in knee highs is rather... I wouldn't take them off. Not the entire time."

Your smile widened, biting your bottom lip. "Yeah? Mmm. Well, good, because I'd definitely wear your favorite colors, just for you, Professor."

"Fuck off," he said softly, though, and when you laughed, you heard him let out a breath. "Shit. I can't shake the image, now. My favorite student, dressed so pretty for me. Looking nice and soft...with uh..." He exhaled, "Burgundy knee highs, snug and soft..."

You kept a careful eye around you, trying so hard to suppress your smile. But the sound of his voice was so...alluring, finding yourself squeezing your thighs a little bit. "Keeping up with the color theme, I see..."

"It is my favorite color at the moment, especially on you."

You hummed, "Okay. Question, knee highs or thigh highs?"

"No," his voice instant, "Gotta be the knee highs. I'd want... I'd want your thighs absolutely bare. For my fingers to run and roam over the skin... And...then, y'know... I wouldn't be able to resist to kiss you there as well. Gentle ones of course, but, being away from you this time...wouldn't be long until I start biting..."

A breathless laugh escapes you, now not even caring if anyone looked or listened in on you. It had been a while since you talked to him in real time, without having to push play, it was too good to cut away from. "For someone that says they can't write for the life of them, you're not doing too bad, Professor. You might give a run for my money if you ever decide to go into the erotica business."

"Mmm, tempting, but no. I'll leave that to you. It'd just be a novel of me fucking you and I'd rather have the real thing. But... Was I good enough to get you wet for me, darling?"

It shouldn't make you blush, you built your whole career in literary dirty talk and seducing your readers with your words... But when Joseph did it, his words and voice always struck you deep. Much deeper than any other partner had, which was slightly scary and mainly thrilling. You felt the heat creeping up your neck, a soft giggle being awarded to him. "....you know you are." You heard a pleased sigh from him, taking in a deep breath as you try to calm yourself. That no, sneaking off wasn't an option, that the growing ache between your legs would have to wait, even if you wouldn't have him talk you through it, guide you toward climax in the only way he could. But. "You got me wet and feeling it now every time I walk around in my pretty burgundy dress in a room filled with people."

"Well... I'm alone in my lonely room with a very bothersome hard on and... Probably feel lonelier still when we say our goodbyes and I'll only have my hand and thoughts of you in your pretty burgundy dress, wet, wishing I can feel just how wet you are."

You let out a breath, closing your eyes a moment. "...and I'd wish it was my hand, my mouth, on that...bothersome hard cock," you heard him groan, making your heart flutter, as well as your cunt. "Like I've been fantasizing this past week."

He took a deep breath, you could hear the exhale produce static on your end, a soft hum. "Same here, love. Suppose we'll be doing the same thing tonight..."

With a dejected sigh, you have an affirming hum, "Our ten minutes are about done. Otherwise I'd sneak to a room somewhere and..." You chuckled, "Tell you in excruciating detail the things I'd do to you to make you curse." His laugh comes out at that, making your smile spread further on your face. "But. I am due on stage to introduce my best friend's boyfriend and his band, so... She'd kill me if I missed that, and then would go and kill you, and no one wants that."

"No, no, we do not. That's fine. More to release when I see you tomorrow. Probably keep you to myself for the rest of the week, fair warning, darling."

"Yes, Professor. I'm very okay with that."

The way he groaned at that made your heart flutter again, as well between your legs. You did miss him, terribly, your fingers and toys did little to satisfy you, not without his warmth, his kiss, the moans you'd swallow and hunger for more. "...keep that up and I won't want you to call me anything else."

"Is it bad I kinda like it? P r o f e s s o r?"

He gave a helpless laugh, "Shit, it is. It's very bad of you. Naughty, even. Wicked. My poor coc—"

"Tomorrow, only until tomorrow. And then I'll make it up to you, in any way you want me to. I'll call you professor if you want me to."

"I knew there was a reason you're my favorite student..." You smiled and you could feel he was smiling too. "Okay. I'm going to give you back to your best friend, again. Thank her for me, for letting me have you to myself for this long."

"I will, she'll expecting nothing less. Think of me?"

He chuckled, and you could picture him shaking his head. "When am I not? Especially right now, left to my own devices... Until I have you to myself again." You heard him take a sharp intake of breath, "Have fun, yeah? I love you."

You felt like a teenager again, at the sound of those three words, said recently, right before you left. A slip of the tongue, but meant with sincerity from you both. "I love you, too. I'll see you... Bye."

"Bye, darling. I can't wait."

There was a heaviness that weighed on you as you ended the call, knowing it had to be you, otherwise you wouldn't end it at all. The warmth of his voice lingered, the image of his face imprinted on your brain, curling your fingers around your phone. A thought hitting you like lightning, going to messages and tapping quickly.

Send me a voice note. I wanna hear you.

He liked it.

Your smile widening as you turned around, dumping your phone into your purse and with your heels, made it toward the small stage where the band were setting up. Hands went to Jen's shoulders, hugging her from behind. "I'm all yours, now. He said thank you for letting him have me for the call."

She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "Gross, you guys are gross."

"Shut up, we're cute." Jen seeming unconvinced. "Whatever, I'm happy."

Your best friend gave a shrug, "Then that's okay." You pulled away and stood beside her, and she took a breath. "He does seem to make you happy and... I don't hate that. Just the whole...secret relationship thing gives me pause." Crossing her arms, she looked to you, raising her brow. "Be honest.... You really okay with it? Because if you are, I'll back off and be one hundred percent for you guys. Because he is nice and seems crazy about you and I haven't seen you this happy in a while... I just don't want you hurt, y'know? I'm not being a bitch—"

"You're never a bitch—" you interjected, pausing as you two looked at each other, and you smirked. "Okay, well, yeah, you are, but for good reasons. A boss bitch, through and through." You paused a bit, giving a shrug of your shoulders. "I dunno. We talked about it... I kinda get it, he kinda blew up overnight and doing...so many things and I... I can't even imagine. I got booktok and like... Well, this book tour, but, obviously nothing on his level. He seems more concerned about if it came out, he'd overshadow my book and the press for it." Which you did appreciate, you worked hard, but part of the reason you got the book done as fast as you did was his encouragement. Being the first to read your pages, his excitement over the story you crafted holding a huge part. "It would have been nice to dedicate the book to him, but, since we aren't....out, didn't really feel right."

"Mmhm..."

"But. I don't know, at first it was kind of fun, sneaking around, dodging photographers, you know. Secret affair type of thing except not being horrible with spouses to cheat on, that kind of thing? And we were casual at first, seeing other people, until... We weren't and...not casual anymore. I mean, it's kind of still fun but also...not."

Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "And how long until it's not kind of fun for you?"

Looking over at her, you frowned, hating that she had a point. "I don't know. I'm not there yet... And I'm hoping it doesn't come to that because... I'm really fucking happy with him." Raising your brow, you give her a reassuring smile. "I'll be careful. And if I'm not, you can kick my ass about it."

"Deal," she agreed to, seeming a little lighter about the situation. "So, is he still going to dress all Mr. Darcy as a Professor when you see him?"

"I swear, he's a walking Jane Austen leading man, like it's just straight up Professor without him even trying." She laughed, you joining in. "It's gotta be a British thing, it has to." Laughing a bit harder, "I teased him with an idea, though, dressing up like a student."

"Oh? Oh, that'd be perfect. Are you meeting him after that con or...?"

A sly smile comes across your face, then, looking at her with a slight chuckle. "Mmm... Don't laugh, but... I actually planned on surprising him at the con?" Your smile widened as she gasped, looking at you agape. "I bought a photo and autograph with him. I knew there'd be no chance on the day of and I thought it'd be cute, you know? He doesn't know."

"Oh, God, I hate to say it, but that's fucking adorable! And kinda genius." Her eyes widened, "You know, though... I mean... The set up's too perfect, you have to dress all slutty student."

"Hey, slutty is for Halloween, I'd be dressed as his favorite student, with knee highs, he seemed very into that."

If her eyes could widen even further, Jen's would, letting out a bark of a laugh. "Oh my god, knee—no, no," shaking her head. "You are doing this. You are gonna do this. Listen...we're gonna make this happen."

"We don't have time, I'm getting the red eye, remember? And by the time this is over—"

But she was determined, shaking her head, "Nope, look. You're gonna introduce the band, because you are my amazing writer friend and words are your thing. We'll stay for a few songs, and then I'm going to take you shopping, okay? I'm making this happen, I'm gonna make this happen for you."

"I thought he gave you pause and you're gonna work this hard to make a fantasy come true for him?"

She wagged her finger from side to side, "Oh, no, no. Not for him, for you. Look, he seems great and he probably is, and maybe there will be a time where he's like a brother to me, but right now? I believe you when you say he makes you happy and that you're happy with him, I see it, so, I'm doing this for you. Because you are my best friend and that's love, bitch."

"I love you. Like... You'll always be my first love, in a totally platonic kind of way. Only because of the fact that you're annoyingly straight."

Jen sighed, "I know, it's a pain, but, we'll always have each other's backs and our hearts, before anyone else." Her gaze going toward the stage, her musician boyfriend giving her a nod, releasing a soft smile. "We didn't do so bad, though. You're up. Make me proud of my boyfriend, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, how do you want me to go about it? Soft and emotional, very serious or...roast him but from the heart?" You both looked at each other for a moment, the answer quite clear.

"Roast him."

for your consideration....

#words did come hither — writings #joseph quinn — writings #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x fem!reader smut #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader

[very-much-asleep]

𝐋 ➝ 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷⟷

Let’s be honest here. It’s probably not going to be a very healthy relationship. (He doesn’t treat you badly, per se; it’s more a case of him not treating you in the first place.)

The reason I say probably is that if you knew each other from a very, very young age and grew up together in Wammy’s House, you both trust each other enough with your emotions and secrets to be more open to each other, and be aware of the other’s needs and habits. In this instance, you may have a shot at having a semi-normal relationship (if we ignore the fact that you hardly ever see each other and are always attending to your respective jobs.)

In any other case, and you meet later, even if L really, really loves you, he won’t open up to you. 

Well, maybe he will a tiny bit—he might invite you to help him on his cases and occasionally ask you for any input just to see what you say, but he will never go as far to tell you his real name or open up to you emotionally. One reason may be that he cares about you: knowing all this about him could put you in danger, and if possible, he’d rather avoid that, but the main reason is that he simply doesn’t trust you enough.

Again, if you did grow up together when you were very young, you probably told each other all this before you each became so guarded, meaning that you’re open to each other and already know each other’s secrets. But in any other circumstance, not a chance.

Also (again, unless it’s that particular childhood friends scenario), he’s willing to put you in danger to gather information or solve a case. He will definitely hesitate at first, yes, and try his hardest to find another way around it, but if it comes down to it and there really are no alternative options, he would sacrifice you or put you in harm’s potential way if it means solving his case. He would be very relieved if nothing happens and you come out unscathed, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take if the odds of you getting harmed are low.

(Obviously, he won’t throw you into harm’s way for the sake of it and without thinking through the odds of this plan working, and if the cons outweigh the pros he would never do it, but if there’s a big enough chance for this course of action to work and no other options, he will seize it.)

He’s also very emotionally distant (once again, unless it’s that specific scenario.) He’s very busy and has hardly any time for himself, much less other people. If you have some problem, he will try to help, but this help usually comes in the form of logical solutions to fix your problem, and not emotional support. He may try to make you feel better—perhaps share a sweet with you—but he won’t be very good at verbal comfort. If he’s particularly busy, he will still pick up on your mood with ease, but may not pay any attention to helping you through it until the case is solved.

He makes sure you’re well-attended to in everyday life; he sets aside lots of funds should you ever need them, and keeps you close enough so that he can keep an eye on you when he’s busy, but unless you’re working on a case together, he rarely visits you, and you rarely see him. Sometimes you have the occasional phone call, but mostly it’s silence.

If you are working on the same case, he will appreciate having you near him and working with you, but this happens rarely. 

Basically, you need to be ready for him to be this distant—both physically and emotionally—if you want to be in a relationship with him. If you’re someone who craves emotional intimacy and closeness, this won’t work out for you.

By this point, you may think that he doesn’t care all that much about you. However, in what feels like once in a million years, there are brief, shining moments when he shows that he does care. He may come to you after a long case to find some peace in your arms, or ensure that you get a good night’s rest when you insist on staying with him throughout the night while he’s working on a case. Maybe he’ll share some cake with you.

The thing is, L does care. He really, really does. But after a lifetime of only knowing logic and facts, he doesn’t know how to soften himself to accept the imperfect and confusing nature of love. He doesn’t know how to show it, how to show you that he cares besides making sure you’re safe whenever possible and spending the occasional moment with you when he can. He wants to trust you with his identity, with his feelings, with his name; but he can’t. He can never bring himself to, because he just doesn’t know how. 

And he does sometimes get apprehensive—scared, one might go as far to say—that you’ll leave. That you’ll finally tire of the unjust way he treats you, and how he seems to care more about his cases and spend more time with his suspects than with you. Somewhere, deep down, he’s afraid that one day, you’ll go and never return.

Of course, he has the means to forcefully keep you by his side; but he could never do that. If you leave, he has no right to stop you or change your mind, because he knows that he’s the one in the wrong, and forcing you to stay would make him no better than those he spends his time—time he should be spending with you—on catching.

Sometimes he wonders why you haven’t done it yet: just walked out and left. It would be so easy. He wonders why you’re still here; why you’ve stayed. He wonders why you love him in the first place.

He is a monster, after all. A liar. And why should such a monster be worthy of love?

Now, these few moments of vulnerability don’t excuse how neglectful he usually is, or how coldly he can treat you; but he does love you. He may not know why—and perhaps he never will—but what he does know is that his feelings for you exist, and they are very, very true.

He only hopes that one day, he may be able to learn how to love like you do.

#sleep’s collection ➝ headcanons #death note x reader #l x reader #l lawliet x reader

[itsclydebitches]

Holy shit go to the RTX website and go to where they list their badge tiers for the con. Fucking 650 for 2 lottery chances for a autograph. 1500 for 2 guaranteed autographs. Also cost 20 to watch live streams from home, but those streams will have cut out any exclusive announcements or teasers. What a shit company.

Everyone's talking about this today and for good reason. I mean, this would be an eyebrow-raiser at any time, but specifically now, in 2022? I know a lot of people have reached a point where they're acting like the pandemic is over (it's not), but even if that were the case, we're smack-dab in the middle of all the long-term repercussions. Unemployment rates have just barely made it back to what they were pre-2020. Gas prices are skyrocketing. Generally speaking, the cost of living is insane right now. If you want to hop a plane to RTX be prepared for a hefty bill and the risk of another summer Covid surge (to say nothing of, you know, being there). If someone told me I had to shell out 650 for a pass and two autographs — on top of all the other expenses of going — I would have laughed and said sorry, I can't swing that. But that price for just the chance of autographs? That's where it gets insulting. These prices are steep for a lot of fans, especially right now. The very least RT can do is guarantee a reward that makes shelling out hundreds of dollars worth it.

And what's the point of paying for a stream if they're going to cut out what 99% of the fanbase is there for? I mean sure, people enjoy the rest of the panel, but that's the kind of stuff that if you're not already there in person — or getting it for free — you're probably fine with looking up later as a transcription of what was said, a shitty phone recording, etc. It's been over a year since the end of Volume 8. People want information on Volume 9. So eliminating that precise information rather defeats the purpose of tuning in. Or, more specifically, defeats the purpose of giving 20 bucks for the privilege of tuning in. To be honest I don't think 20 is a bad price at all for virtually attending the event, but that opinion rests entirely on the buyer getting to watch the important bits.

I get that they need to make money — they're a company, after all — but there will always be fans with the desire and the means to pay for certain perks. You can turn a profit without pissing off the majority of the fanbase. In my experience, stunts like this just encourage people to pirate and/or ignore the event until information is free. It'll probably be the latter given that excluding announcements and teasers is likely a way to keep people from screen recording and sharing the content... but fans always find a way lol. And if they can't, the result certainly won't be to pay for an event that doesn't include what they wanted in the first place...

Also, not to be That Person™, but are RT peeps worth 650 for an autograph, let alone just the chance at an autograph? I mean yes, that price is for the event as a whole too, but let's be real, the rest of the additional stuff (lanyard, 10% discount on the store — which is easily eaten up by this price — early access to exhibition hall) aren't really what most fans will be interested in paying that kind of money for. It's the autograph. And I'm by no means an autograph expert, but most of those I've come across are 50-100, reaching up into the 400-500 range for A-list celebrities... which I wouldn't call the RT crew. It just seems WAY too expensive to me, all on its own, but right now when so many in the U.S. are struggling, travel simply isn't an option for most, there's risk involved, etc.? That's insane. Obviously it's been like this for a very long time, but we've absolutely left the "RWBY is a passion project made by nerds just like you who want to share their creativity ^_^" like no RT isn't just looking for fair compensation for a popular product, they're out to squeeze as much money as possible out of your wallet during the worst possible time. I hope the higher tiers/the virtual stream bombs, showing them that no, this is not a good way to get your fanbase excited to pay for your content.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

[milesaerach]

I’m through xD

#and now for something completeley different #it's #text #i'm so so so brainfried #and im scrolling through a blog #laughing at the irony #some people aren't good for you yeah we are not good for each other #im getting better and im actually getting help a year before you even threw that as an insult you stupid git #im gonna rant in the tags so len fuck off and let me be #one: no one should feel pressured into thinking they need to pick a side #were both the bad people here so don't you dare go and make me look like a bad pos bc i didnt want to stick around naymore #youd let our friendship bleed to death if i wouldn't have stuck my feathers out #and the i wanna take a break from your internet persona shit #like gimme a break man #the only thing different between me here and irl is my filter #my obsessions are annoying well that sounds like smt a friend would say right #i wanna stay internet friends eh yeah no fuck off mate #brackets!!! #if were attending a con i just want to ignore you and let people who like us both talk to either person #so if we both get down and collect our adult brain cells #it's better like this #instead of pushing each other around #you know what made me sarcastic? your sarcasm and down right mean words #if theres smt i cant stand its people treating me like im bad and not willing to change #you should KNOW how much ive changed #but nope #lament somewhere about how bad and toxic i am #or better come talk in leuven its only 1h54min the same time it'd take me to go to your place #leuven is only 30 min from brussels you rat #a friendship is not merit based you dirty capitalist

[silverdecepticon93]

A Charming Fan

💮Requested by Anon: Hi!! May I please request a story in which Eddie is a huge fan of a female reader? Perhaps he attends a con + reader finds his enthusiasm cute? Thank you!!

💮Requested by Anon: can i get more yandere eddie please? 👉👈 especially sappy/hopeless romantic eddie, pretty please?? thank you thank you thank you! 🥰😍❤

Edward, surprisingly, was not a fan of the mystery genre. He hadn’t been for a long time, now. Maybe back when he was a bright-eyed young kid who was easy to dupe but he quickly grew out of that phase, one of the downsides of being so smart is that he would solve the entire plot of the book after reading the first chapter, maybe even in pages less than that. Basically, he simply was too smart for his own good once more and it had long since dampened his love of the fictional mystery genre. Then you started writing.

You, lovely sweet little you. He remembered when Jonathan recommended one of your books to him, insisting that he would very much enjoy your writing and while Edward was skeptical since he couldn’t even enjoy the so-called ‘best of the best’ mystery writer’s works, what would make yours so different? He hadn’t even heard of you before but yet, Jonathan insisted that your works were right up his alley. He didn’t read the book right away, he let it sit on his nightstand for a few days but after one night of obsessively trying to best the Batman, he gave up and plopped on his bed, tired and frustrated. When he looked up, he saw your book on his nightstand and sighed. Oh well, he may as well humor it, perhaps the few 3 minutes of entertainment could help give his brain a little break from the restlessness and buzzing of his overworked mind. Getting into a comfortable position while grabbing the book, he opened it up and began to read…

And then he was enthralled.

It was commendable writing he’d admit. The way your characters acted, spoke, and interacted were so human. The motives and the ‘whodunnit’ enjoyably complex and pulling him in deeper to the mystery and on a few special occasions, actually surprised him with delightful twists and turns. What he liked the most about your writing was how you portrayed your villains, while he liked your characters, your villains were never just pure evil and if they were, it was for their own complex reasons and tragic reasons. Almost like himself.

Such a poet with your words, a genius with your mysteries, and so many other things soon had Edward wondering who was this miraculous writing genius that wrote so beautifully and admirably?

He decided to look you up, finding out as much as he could about you. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when he found out that not only were you around his age but you were stunningly beautiful!

You didn’t have your picture printed on the back of your book like most authors, he’s lucky you didn’t or else he’d probably be too distracted by your photo to ever even start reading your book...and probably end up seething in anger as he thought about the thousands of other people who bought your book, but that didn’t seem to be a problem the more he found out. According to most of your interviews, you didn’t have as many as much as you’d like to have, some of them complaining that your books were too complicated or too hard to figure out, which only made Edward scowl in distaste as he read some of the complaints on book reviews people made on your novels.

Of course it was supposed to be complicated and hard to figure out, it was a mystery book for a reason!

Yet it was another reason why he adored you, because you both were the same. Two underappreciated geniuses that were taken for granted by the small-minded people that surrounded you both. If only he could meet you, to have the chance to talk to you and let you know that at least he appreciated your talents and you as a person in general. So imagine the thrill he felt when he heard you would be attending a local book convention being hosted in Gotham City.

How fortunate for him.

~~~~~~

You sighed softly as you saw people passing your stand, staring bitterly at the neighboring stands that were certainly getting more fans than you were. Was it kinda shallow for you to be jealous of other writers and their countless fans, ones who seemed to simply just give them all the praise in the world and complimented them on their genius and their work well done?

Eh, you didn’t care. All you knew was that you felt like a fool, sitting at your book stand just watching as people passed you like you were invisible, only a couple of few fans really visited you (two or three at the most) the entire day and the rest of the people just asking you where another author’s stand was. As if you weren’t already feeling the sting of being a horrible author.

You sighed and laid your head on the table. You felt like a goddamn fool.

“Ahem, excuse me? Miss (L/n)?” A voice spoke up from above you.

You looked up from your state of self-pity before meeting the green eyes of a rather attractive man. He looked to be around your age, if not a bit older, and had neatly styled brown hair and wore a charming lime green vest over his white dress shirt. He was very dapper looking and spoke so intelligently that it took you rather off-guard.

However what surprised you the most was that you noticed the book in his hands, more specifically, your book. He was a fan?

“I apologize if I’m bothering you.” He began sheepishly. You tried to return your kindest smile towards him while trying to contain your internal excitement, “Don’t be. I’m always delighted to meet people who don’t think I’m an over eccentric nut.”

You laughed lightly at your own joke while the brunet merely began to ramble in response to what you had said.

“Of course not! In fact, I find it rather trivial that some people can’t understand the genius behind your books! Your plots are very well-written, as are your characters, and I- Well, look at me going on.” He grinned nervously at you. Your smile became softer as you tilted your head slightly, “By all means do, it’s not often I get complimented by a fan, a cute one at that.”

The way his smile grew into a wide and goofy one made you chuckle once more as he shyly held his book out to you and slid it across the table with one gloved hand.

“If you would be so kind.” He spoke with a giddy and nervous tone, like a boy asking out their crush.

“Of course!” You beamed in happiness as you grabbed the book and took out your horribly underused pen that had been neglected most of the day, “and who am I making this out to?”

“Edward.” The man, Edward, answered.

He didn’t want to risk the chance of scaring you in case you happened to know about The Riddler, then again, he read that you lived in Central City so he highly doubts that costumed villains with extreme gimmicks aren’t exactly known to you.

“Edward.” You repeated, and goosebumps began to rise from his skin the moment you repeated his name.

He wasn’t sure why but there was something so angelic about the way you said it, something that made his heart skip a beat and his grin grow wider. Everything was enchanting about you that Edward was damn near overwhelmed, feeling as though he’d drown in your very presence alone. A sweet death, if you asked him.

“What a darling name.” You hummed as you slid the book back to him, which he snatched eagerly and continued to smile down at you, trying to ignore the loud thumping of his heart that became deafening in his ears.

“Um, miss (L/n)-”

“Please, call me (Y/n).” You insisted.

(Y/n). Edward had planned to be formal, to want to charm and impress you but it seems as though you were turning the tables on him. He had whispered your name from his mouth before, his mouth unable to suppress a grin whenever he did. If only you’d known how he’d repeated your name over and over again as though it were some kind of chant, or the way he’d obsessively written your name as (Y/n) Nygma when he was too frustrated by Batman to calm him. But to hear you insist that he call you by your name, your name that he had grown so in love with, was a euphoric feeling.

“(Y/n),” He corrected as he clutched the book to his chest, “I was wondering if perhaps I could fulfill that lack of praise you so rightly deserve over a cup of coffee sometime later?”

You blinked dumbfoundedly, well, he certainly wasn’t very shy. Again, if only you had been there when he had obsessively practiced that simple line to ask you out the moment he found out you were coming to Gotham. However, you didn’t know this, and that’s why you took him up on his offer.

“Well, I am in the city for the week. I’d be delighted to have a guide.” You accepted. The way he exhaled in relief and jokingly spoke, “Oh thank God, I thought that wouldn’t’ve worked!” made you giggle once more, which sent him higher than cloud nine.

You both exchanged each other's contact information and bidded each other good day, you already missing him and his company, and him yours. But you shouldn’t worry, darling, if everything goes according to plan, Edward would make sure that your stay for the week would be extended considerably.

#The Riddler x reader #The Riddler x you #Dc x reader #Dc x you #Edward Nygma x reader #Edward Nygma x you #Ed Nygma x reader #Ed Nygma x you #Yandere Dc x reader #Yandere DC x you #I Only Date Villains #Yandere Riddler x reader #Yandere Riddler x you #Gotham Rogues x reader #Gotham Rogues x you #Like I said I only write soft obsessive yanderes like this #Thank you for your request! #Yandere Edward Nygma x reader #Yandere Edward Nygma x you

[tojiaesth]

boyfriend

gojo satoru x f!reader

summary: you and gojo had some sort of unspoken agreement in which you refused to adhere to labels and instead chose to have fun. except neither of you would ever admit the hold you had on each other.

warning: heavy smut, 18 +, minors dni, fingering, oral (fem receiving), rough handling of reader, marking, dom!gojo, sub!reader, choking/breath play, overstim, raw sex, tummy bulge, ?slight breeding kink, jealousy and possessiveness, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

tags: college au, fratboy!gojo, friends with benefits, unlabelled relationships, bisexual!gojo, bisexual!reader, fluff at the end <3

A/N: inspired by ariana herself <3 so i recommend at least listening to the song before you read, if you’re like me and can’t read and listen :p

It was loud. That was the first thing you picked up on before you even entered the sweaty house. Your friends begged you to come, as if there weren’t parties every week and missing one would change the world. You struggled to find a parking space, choosing to walk the rest of the way. The deafening thump of bass could be heard a few blocks down and you wondered how there was never any noise complaints.

Satoru probably threw money at them.

You smiled, it was such a him thing to do. The cold air nipped at your dress, having left your coat in your car. You had chosen to wear an emerald green satin body con dress that stopped mid thigh. It accompanied a criss cross pattern that exposed your back. You first saw it online and had fallen in love, it partly being the reason why you had said yes. You wanted him to see you in the dress, already craving the dark look in his eyes when he was turned on.

Gojo Satoru, college senior, with his charismatic personality had a very big presence at the college. Almost never alone and surrounded by a group of admirers, both men and women fell at his feet. If someone had told you back in your first year that you’d be sleeping with this man on the regular you’d think they were crazy. He honestly, despite being very handsome, was not your kind of man. Too pretty, very cocky and had serious commitment issues, bedding half the campus. But it had started at the beginning of the year, your friendship groups overlapping as you had grown close with Suguru Getou and Shoko Ieiri having been studying the same subject. You found yourself around him a lot, eventually going out with just each other and things quickly progressed.

Soon enough he was between your thighs, lapping at your cunt with fervour and sucking gently on your clit, two slender fingers hitting that spot. He did that a lot, seeming to relish in the way you fell apart on his tongue, your slippery walls pulsating as you softly said his name like a prayer. He’d nonchalantly get up, sometimes not even asking for anything in return and it surprised you. You pegged him as more of a receiver than a giver but it suited you fine.

You became pretty popular on campus as you hung out with them, attending parties and making life long friendships. You usually weren’t someone who slept around, but that quickly changed. So did your care for a steady relationship. You were 21, life was short, you had a great body and a pretty face, opting to have fun.

You found yourself caught in Gojo’s trap, legs wound around his waist on a weekly basis, his hard cock driving into you with such force you thought you’d break. Your legs clenched just thinking about it, a thin layer of slickness coating your panties.

Your thoughts were brought back to reality when you entered the frat house, NalinA by Block B was being blasted at full volume through the house and you already felt a course of excitement run through your veins. You couldn’t wait to let loose and find your friends. The house, just short of a mansion, had been decorated with l.e.d lights, a soft red and blue glow painting your skin. There was alcohol everywhere, sweaty bodies and the strong smell of weed.

“Y/N! Over here.” You looked over to see the majority of your friends on a sofa, catching sight of Satoru with a girl on his lap. His hand was caressing her ass, as she pouted saying something to him. She was pretty, and you tried your best not to care. Their faces were sweaty, with cups in their hands, indicating they had stopped dancing. You walked in their direction, plopping yourself next to the person behind the voice.

“Hey Mei-Mei. You look hot.” You said casually and she automatically pulled you to sit on her knee. You smiled and took her cup, whatever bitter liquid sliding down your throat. You and Mei were another short lived fling, sleeping together a handful of times and besides Satoru, no one else could compare to that sinful mouth of hers. A queen at teasing, she brought her hand to your waist and lightly began tracing shapes with her fingers.

“You look hot, that dress is making me want to do things to you.”

You chuckled as you stared at each other, tensions running high as the song changed to one you were familiar with. You wanted to dance.

“God, please make out.”

You ignored the annoying comment from Sukuna who was sat diagonally from you, blatantly checking you out. You told him to shut up, your mouth twitching as he looked completely unfazed. Looking away, you ran your fingers through Mei’s soft hair,

“Come, let’s dance.” You whispered, breath hot on her ear as she shivered. You loved how easily you could fluster Mei, knowing the more you worked her up the more she’d punish you for it later.

You both got up and your arms were grabbed by Shoko,

“We’re coming, we’d rather not watch Sukuna hunt for a girl like an animal or Gojo practically fuck in front of us.” She said, shuddering and dragging a very amused Getou. Your eyes flickered to Satoru, finding that he was already watching you. The girl was now straddling him and the buttons on his shirt looked undone, his hands rubbing circles on her thighs. He refused to break eye contact with you, kissing her neck as she moaned, smirking as you looked away, grasping Mei’s hand.

You don’t know what he was trying to do, but it pissed you off. It annoyed you more that he’d groan in your ear some nights, grabbing your neck and claiming you were his and his only. Not wanting you to touch or look at anyone else. The next morning? Business as usual as he was all over some girl. You deducted that him saying those things to you were just in the heat of the moment, recalling how your clit would throb as he would rub slow circles, staking his claim. You liked how possessive he could get, the rough sex, and how occasionally he’d surprise you with a gift. All without having to actually be in a relationship.

You didn’t care about labels and neither did he. So why? Why did his eyes say, he wanted you to get jealous? You sighed, these mind games and mixed signals were your least favourite part of Satoru.

The beginning of an all too familiar riff began to thump through the walls and you all squealed in delight. As ‘Do I Wanna Know’ began you swayed your hips and lip synced, literally letting your hair down as Mei came up behind you. Shoko began recording you without your knowledge, watching as your head fell onto Mei’s shoulder, her hands ghosting around the space between your breasts, purposefully ignoring how your nipples hardened as she whispered something lewd into your ear.

“She’s gonna kill you if you post that.” Suguru watched as Shoko posted the video to her story, her eyes shining with amusement as almost instantly people replied asking who you were.

Satoru on the other hand could not take his eyes off of you. He studied you as you wrapped your arms around Mei and he was exasperated. She was addictive, he thought, those pouty and full lips had a hold on him, his dick twitched thinking about them wrapped around him. Her body was something else, those breasts of hers heaving against her dress. Shit. He almost got hard. The girl currently giving him a hickey was just not doing it for him. In fact no girl or guy was, he had tried countless times only his encounters with Y/N fulfilling his desires. In spite of that, he would not tell her this, not wanting to ruin the game of cat and mouse they had going.

“Satoru, let’s go somewhere.” The girl whined, hips grinding against his crotch. He suddenly got up and pushed her off of him,

“Nah, not in the mood. I’m sure Sukuna would be interested. He has a habit of going after my sloppy seconds.” Gojo snapped, sick of the way he was gazing at you, eyes darkened with lust.

He ignored the girls cuss words directed at him as she stormed off and Sukuna snickered, looking up from his phone.

“She’s fuckable but I have my eye on something else tonight.” He thrust his phone in Satoru’s face, only to be met with Shoko’s story, full of Y/N dancing suggestively.

He willed himself not to show anger and hummed,

“Like you could pull her.” His voice dripping with fake amusement as Sukuna tensed in irritation.

Satoru walked in the direction of his friends, still dancing crazily and singing very out of tune to ‘Kiss me more’, you were now dancing with Suguru and laughing loudly as he tried to attempt some sort of dance move so terribly, Satoru could not decipher what it was supposed to be. Your lips were glossy, eyes twinkling as he picked you up and twirled you around, ribs hurting from laughing so much. You never laughed that much with him.

Satoru pursed his lips, he was just so irritated. Suguru put you down when the song finished and you fixed his hair that your arm had messed up,

“Your hairs gone so long now, I love it.” You said cheerily, fingers twirling on a stray strand as Suguru bent down slightly so he could hear you over the music.

“It suits you.” You stated softly, unable to look away from his intuitive eyes. The lights were casting a glow across his face, bringing his jaw to attention as you traced it slowly. He was a different kind of handsome you thought, more your type than Satoru was and you thought about how his eyes were a warm brown, compared to Satoru’s cerulean ones. You scolded yourself internally for still finding ways to think about Satoru, you just couldn’t shake him.

Suguru smirked and focused on the feeling of your hands, now running through his hair and eventually resting on the back of his neck. You smelt so good, he thought, he wanted to kiss you. He leaned down and you realised his intentions, your hands paused on his biceps that were coated in tattoos. As you closed your eyes, thoughts wild and slightly clouded by the shots you did with Shoko, you braced yourself to kiss the god-like man that was Getou Suguru, pulse racing.

“Y/N!” Your head automatically snapped at your name being called, sheepishly looking at Suguru whose eyes were now filled with something you couldn’t quite figure out. Satoru was in front of you both, promptly grabbing your hand and dragging you away. Eyes bewildered you looked back at Suguru who looked entertained at the whole situation. You found yourself at the focus of everyone’s stares, all curious as to why Gojo had a dark look in his eyes.

“Satoru, what the fuck? Let go-“ His large hands were gripping your smaller ones hard, uncomfortably squishing your fingers together. He said nothing, back to you as he hauled you up the stairs and into his room. His door slammed as you stumbled into the dimly lit room, turning around in utter confusion at Gojo’s behaviour.

“Fuck, what is your problem?” You were enraged at how he just did what he pleased with you and how you just let him. You massaged your wrist, now slightly red at Satoru’s force.

“Why the fuck would you try and kiss him? Seriously, Suguru? You’re such a fucking whore.” Gojo clenched his jaw, finding himself even angrier at the thought of you underneath Suguru, moaning, sweat dripping off your backs.

You were baffled. A whore?

“Firstly, you’re literally the definition of a whore and secondly, why the fuck do you care?!” You stepped closer to him, cheeks flushed in anger at Satoru’s audacity,

“You have no fucking right to care about who I fuck. Got it? You’re not my boyfriend.”

Satoru moved closer to you, your nose in line with his chest as the man’s eyes changed suddenly. For once, he had no comeback or witty remark, you were right but he’d had enough. Just the thought of his best friend between your legs snapped him into action and he had to come to terms with his feelings. His fingers lifted your chin, your eyes willing itself not to melt at his touch, goosebumps already littering your arm. He silently moved to your lips, thumb pressing against your mouth, encouraging you to open.

You were so unbelievably confused, this man blew hot and cold. One minute so angry he couldn’t speak and then next initiating a kiss.

“Satoru-“

His lips were against yours before you had time to think, furiously pressing against them and swiping his tongue across. You relaxed into his touch and opened your mouth. His tongue found yours in an instant and lightly sucked it, your breathless moans pleasuring his senses as his hands pulled your body closer to him. He explored your body, cupping your ass while you simultaneously wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers drowning in his soft white locks. Eventually he pulled away, cupping your face gently like you were a porcelain doll,

“I don’t want you to see anyone else or kiss them like that. I’m not playing any more games. You’re mine.” He stated firmly, blue eyes framed by his ash coloured lashes, gazing into your soul.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tease him. Gojo...was serious. All those extra knowing glances you’d give each other, the fiery arguments, the passionate sex, the pang of jealousy at his lips on another girls neck and the way his eyes would linger a little too long when you spoke to a guy, you realised the both of you were stupid. Too busy trying to convince yourselves you didn’t care you both buried your thoughts away, afraid to articulate them in case you were rejected.

You found yourself repeating after him, his eyes almost hypnotising you as you stuttered,

“I-i’m yours.”

Satoru lightly kissed you on the lips and motioned you to jump up, supporting your legs as you wrapped them securely around his waist. He gingerly placed you on his bed, hovering over you as his hands slowly rid up your leg, ghosting around your inner thigh and you suppressed a moan. His touch was magnetic, something as simple as stroking your thigh with Satoru becomes so much more, a tingly sensation jolting through you when his hands brushed between your clothed folds. Meanwhile he began kissing his way down, starting with your neck and sucking furiously at the spot above your collarbone. You mewled against him as he licked the now marked spot, your hips desperately finding his to grind against.

“Patience, baby. I’m taking my time with you.”

You whined at his remark, you just needed him inside you, now.

“Such a whiny brat.” His voice slipped through your ears like silk as he slowly slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders, the new stimuli adding to the experience. You were never more glad to have not worn a bra. He focused on your exposed breasts, nipples hard and swollen and he groaned at the sight.

A warm sensation reached your nipples and you cried out in pleasure, looking down at Satoru lapping up your soft mounds. His seductive gaze ripped through you as he began to trace slow circles with his tongue. His fingers kept your other breast occupied, rolling around your left nipple with his fingers, constantly switching sides and worshipping them.

His attention switched to your lower stomach, kissing your skin with affection as you anticipated his lips between your thighs. You could feel the damp spot slowly spreading on your panties and the swell of your clit, begging to be touched.

“Fuck, Satoru you tease.” You breathed out in gaspy moans, he had completely removed your dress by now and was blowing warm breaths against your knickers. Satoru brought a single digit to rub against the wet spot, moaning as he felt the tent in his pants. He loved teasing you but it required self control, wanting nothing more than to release his large cock from its restraints and into your warm hole, throbbing at the thought.

He finally pulled your panties to the side at your delight and your whimpers filled the room as his fingers brushed against your soaked clit. He played around with your pussy, stroking up and down and noting the creamy juices that were flowing out your hole. The sight of his fingers coated in your juices and he almost came right there. The lewd squelching of your cunt was slightly covered up by your cries of pleasure as he entered two slender fingers inside you, stimulating your sensitive walls. He reached down and took your clit into his mouth, humming at the taste.

“F-fuck, right there Toru” You moaned, attempting to wriggle but Satoru quickly used his arms to clamp your thighs into place, his sensual mouth causing white dots to appear in your vision. Your stomach fluttered at the slow, familiar build up of your climax, not even embarrassed that he had only been eating you out for five minutes. You were just so sensitive today and paired with Satoru laying claim to you, your body was responding to each and every one of his touches.

“Ah, k-keep going baby, fuck. You’re so good at it.” The praises fell from your lips as the deep pleasure in your stomach changed, indicating you were near.

Satoru was persistent, his insatiable need to feel your cunt quiver against his tongue caused him to add one more digit, scissoring his fingers against your gummy walls. He could feel you frantically clenching, chuckling at his inability to move as fast as his fingers were in a death trap. He kept his eyes on you, watching as your hand came up to your mouth to stifle your sobs, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“I’m close.” You whispered and you made a mistake of looking down at Satoru, his tongue was pressing down against your sensitive nub, saliva dripping onto his bed. His fingers went even faster, determined to make you cum.

“Shit, shit, shit. I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me princess.”

That was all you needed. You legs squeezed frantically against his head, the euphoric sensations causing your back to refuse to rest against the bed. Satoru paid no mind to your repetitive whimpers as you began to come down from your high, his lips still stubbornly attached to your clit. It was too much, the previously pleasurable feel was now borderline painful, his sticky fingers removing themselves from your cunt.

You legs jolted occasionally each time he purposely grazed the bundle of nerves, continuing his efforts by using his tongue to tease around the now sensitive area, chuckling when your hips wriggled.

“Delicious.” His velvety tongue swiped his lips and he brought his fingers into your mouth. The tangy but familiar taste of your undoings were accompanied by his soft fingers, swirling around your tongue until your saliva created a mess.

“Shit, you’re so hot.” He groaned, the twitching of his cock was unrelenting. You pressed your legs together, the achy feeling of need returning. Reaching to kiss him, your hands started to undo his belt buckle,

“I want you.” You whispered, unable to look away from his eyes.

His lecherous eyes stared back at you, his fingers curling around your back as he brought you closer, now hovering above you.

“I want you too.”

In one swift movement, his cock was freed and he entered you, the new feeling causing you to cry out as he slowly bottomed out.

“Shit, you’re clenching like crazy baby.”

You couldn’t even reply, his thick shaft splitting you open, Satoru stared down at how you sucked him in, a creamy ring of your juices at the base of his cock. You felt him harden even more, he hadn’t wasted any time by helping you adjust. He started a rough pace, watching your perky tits bounce as he reached down and placed a nipple into his mouth. You were truly addicting, he thought, your whimpers becoming louder with the sticky sound of your cunt. Your pussy seemed to fit him like a glove, Satoru’s eyes wandered towards your soft tummy, at the faint bulge of his devouring and his eyes widened, using a hand to press against it and his ears welcomed your high pitched gasps.

“What’s the matter baby girl?” He cooed, chuckling at your stifled sobs and flushed cheeks.

“‘is too much...” You managed, barely able to communicate as he fucked you dumb.

You were so sexy, he thought.

You scooted away, his rough movements almost resulting in your head banging against the headboard but without missing a beat Satoru pulled you back, cock sinking into you with a new sensation.

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart. You’re gonna lie there and take it.”

His hands ghosted at your waist, using the soft tissue as a grip as he forcefully used your body, eyes unable to look away at how you took his thick, veiny member. Your pussy twitched as he licked a stripe at the side of your neck,

“Oh...you like that?” He muttered, sucking on your weak spot, he groaned when you tightened against him, knowing the tip of his cock was red and angry, your walls were too much.

You blink, eyes glossy and lips swollen from his kisses, Satoru’s marks were littered across your body, evidence of his ravishing as he continued his strong pace, cock driving into you with hunger. Your moans changed pitch,

“t’s...too much...can’t...too big.” You babbled, a new, insurmountable pleasure was ripping into your stomach.

“It’s too big?,”

Satoru wrapped his slender fingers around your neck, pressing down lightly as he smirked,

“I know.”

Your breath was slowly snatched from you as he gripped your neck harder, it somehow heightening the feeling of him around your cunt. His groans were turning you on, you always loved how vocal Satoru was.

Satoru paid attention to you, removing his hands and watching as you gasped for breaths. He grinned at how crazy your pussy went whenever he did that, he had really met his match. His cock twitched, indicating his nearing climax and you creamed shamelessly around him when his thumb lightly brushed your rosy clit. Your legs had gone to jelly at this point, but you securely clamped them around Satoru’s waist, bringing him even closer as your eyes closed in pleasurable agony.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?” The way you cried and babbled nonsense, mouth messy with saliva as you drooled around his fingers, Satoru pressed at the pad of your tongue, cerulean eyes gleaming at where you connected. As he sinked into you again and again, the intemperate need to feel you squirt around him, he took your soft mounds into his mouth once more and before he knew it, you let out a long, drawn out moan as you found your release.

The white hot pleasure against your stomach snapped and as you orgasmed for the second time, a new warm sensation splashed against Satoru’s cock. Your juices dripped onto the bed, your pussy quivering and legs shaking as you rode it out.

“Fuck.” His azure eyes twinkled with amazement and you didn’t think he could possibly get any harder, as his member remained snug against your cunt.

Satisfied at your mess and how your slimy walls squeezed so torturously against him, Satoru’s own release was not far behind. With one last sound of pleasure, another warm feeling filled your pussy, spurts of the familiar white liquid spilling out of you as he slowed down his thrusts, emptying his balls into you with his repeated moans.

He pulled out, watching the results of his orgasm dribble onto his sheets. Using his fingers, he pushed the remaining liquid deep into you as a low moan escaped your lips. He brought his coated fingers to your mouth, and you licked them clean, humming against him.

As he hovered over you, his captivating eyes caught in the moonlight peaking through the curtains, illuminating his spacious room. He was so beautiful, you thought, mind now unclouded as your high disappeared. Instead, a lighter but warm feeling fluttered through you as Satoru bent down to give you butterfly kisses across your stomach.

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered and he felt you smile against the top of his head, white tendrils tickling your nose as he placed himself on your tummy, careful not to crush you.

A comfortable silence lingered in the air, for the first time neither of you needed to fill it in with pointless words. You stroked his hair, content that he was still here and showing you affection even after sex, a concept new to the both of you.

After some time, with the both of you deep in thought about each other, Satoru’s head lifted and he made eye contact with you.

“I meant what I said earlier. I know this is new to the both of us so we can take it slow and I’ll probably fuck things up a few times but...I really do care about you, Y/N.”

Your eyes softened, as he glanced nervously at you. You had never seen him so vulnerable before and somehow it made you like him even more.

You extended your arm, your fingers tapping against his cheek,

“I care about you a lot too, Satoru. More than I’d like to admit.” You looked away, confused at how quickly the atmosphere changed from the desperate grappling of hands against skin to soft eyes and shy kisses. You were shy around him. You really did care about him but you also weren’t the best at articulating your thoughts, Satoru was always one upping you with his smooth talking.

His smile softened before his eyes changed, amusement dancing across his face.

“Well why wouldn’t you like me? I’m amazing.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, his hands grabbing you and placing warm kisses around your neck. You melted into his touch, only now realising he hadn’t even properly undressed, unlike you who was completely bare.

He paused as you wriggled uncomfortably in the messy and slightly damp sheets, the both of you a tangle of limbs.

“Is this a bad time to ask if you’re on the pill?”

You stared at him.

“You are such an idiot.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you

[lewisdiary]

Amber Lounge

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

WARNING: 18+, NSFW, explicit, alcohol, drugs, unprotected sex.

Word count: 3,600+

What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a club all by herself?

Another party, this time in Monaco. Your glass, filled with what seemed like a very expensive gin, vibrated to the the loud music playing in the club.

Let loose. You thought to yourself slightly lowering your body-con black dress and searching for familiar faces.

You looked around the VIP party you had been invited to. Ever since your dad's business put him on the "Forbes Richest" list your reputation had skyrocketed along with it. You were an A-lister yourself at this point, everyone longed for your appearance at their events, and as if your life depended on it, you attended. Your social media and events presence had helped you befriend the hottest models and richest rappers in the game and you quite enjoyed the lavish lifestyle.

You and your dad had flown down for the Monaco GP weekend, courtesy of the team principal of the most popular F1 team, Toto Wolff. Surprisingly, it was your first Grand Prix, and probably your last. The hospitality was, as usual, amazing but you found watching cars go around in circles slightly boring.

You took a rather large sip of your gin and started to tune into the beat, your body processing the large quantities of alcohol you had decided to ingest.

Because you hadn't been invited to the Grand Prix by a driver in particular and had failed to engage with any during the "boring" weekend, you found yourself attending the party and having to fit in all by yourself. Making your way through the club you encountered a few drivers, whom you recognised and recognised you, and their respective guests. You knew you weren't an easy face to forget, so it didn't take long before a few people started commenting about your presence.

Making yourself comfortable around the younger squad of drivers, your body swayed to the loud music that hit your ears. Your eyes shut as you engaged with the environment, allowing the melodies and strong base to sway you in.

"You're a Mercedes guest, aren't you?" A familiar voice rang through. Russell. Your eyes opened to look at the briton who stood very close to your ear, making sure his words were getting to you just fine. You nodded quickly, downing your drink before replying to him "Well, my dad is. I just tagged along"

His lips turned into a small smile as he took a good glance at you, leaning closer again he chatted a bit more; "and what did you think of it?"

"Not my vibe" You shrugged jokingly. "This though, is!" You put your empty glass down in a nearby table and pulled George into what seemed like a circle of people dancing, as In Da Club by 50 Cent started playing.

You both started dancing to the song, George's friends joined, and in no time you set yourself in the party ambient, drenching yourself in alcohol as more bottles were brought in at the request of Russell, Latifi, and a few other younger drivers you hadn't gotten your way around.

0 To 100 / The Catch up - by Drake came through the speaker.

This DJ knew his set you thought, before excusing yourself from the crowd that had embraced you. Feeling the need for a switch of environment you made your way to the bar. On your way, you drunkly greeted a few familiar faces, Bella Hadid and what looked like some actors who had come down for the Grand Prix.

Sitting on an empty stool at one of the bars in the Amber Lounge you asked the bartender for a glass of your favourite, gin. Your head nodded to the beat, it pounded hard. You knew you were more than tipsy at that point, but there was no sign of slowing down.

"Ayo! Bring us a bottle of your most expensive Prosecco!" You heard a voice yell through a line of people standing at the bar. A familiar voice.

His voice sang along to the lyrics, you were tempted to turn around to check who was yelling right behind your ear but your motion to turn was interrupted by the glass of gin you had requested being brought to you.

As you fiddled with the purse that hung around your shoulder, looking for your card, the familiar voice spoke again: "I've got that for you. On my tab, Mikey!" This time much closer to you.

You turned to your left, wanting to finally put a face to the voice your alcohol-filled brain didn't seem to recognise. Looking at the 5'9 figure standing next to you, it hit you that: you had failed to engage with any driver during the Grand Prix except for one.

It was more than obvious that you weren't going to be at the Mercedes garage and not meet their prominent stars. Lewis Hamilton and Valtteri Bottas. It was Qualifying day and after an amazing performance from both drivers, Toto, at the request of your dad had introduced you to his prodigies. You had gotten the chance to meet the drivers and congratulate them both for their front-row quali positions.

Bottas was the quiet one, after meeting you and your dad he excused himself to his driver room. Lewis was more of a personality, he knew your dad from reading about him and their conversation seemed to flow from F1 to business to possible future lunch meetings. He glanced at you from time to time, the conversation didn't interest you but he somewhat did.

You knew Lewis was quite the party boy and a ladies man, it suited his champion attitude, so seeing him at the club did not surprise you at all. He had won the Grand Prix you remembered, your mind doing a little backflip to being at the back of the garage and giving him a quick hug after your dad had burst into "here's the man of the evening" compliments.

Your altered system forced you to bite your lip at the thought of Lewis Hamilton standing in front of you.

"Hey, it's you!" His eyes widened at the realisation, his breath smelled like nothing but expensive alcohol. He was drunk as a skunk, and to your liking, he looked extremely hot.

You widened your eyes jokingly, following his cue. "It is I!" you laughed slightly, trying to mock his accent.

"I met you on Saturday, no? Your dad is Toto's friend. What's your name again?" He grabbed the Prosecco bottle that had been handed to him and moved an inch closer to you.

"Yep, that's my dad! Y/N!" you yelled through the gap left between the two of you.

"And what's a beautiful girl like you doing in the club all by herself?" He asked before singing to a few lyrics of the song that currently burst through the speakers that were placed at the bar.

"Enjoying herself." You grabbed your glass and, nodding at him as a thank you for the drink, you stepped down the stool and made your way to the dance-floor. Nervously nibbling on your bottom lip at your choice of words you wondered if a little mystery was enough to keep Lewis interested.

Your hips moved at the sound of Ginza by J Balvin and almost immediately, you felt a body swaying along with yours. Him.

Lewis took a sip of the Prosecco bottle he was meant to take back to his group of friends as his own hips fell in somewhat of a sync with yours, his free hand grabbing your left thigh pulling you closer to his body. His motion felt like a cue for you to bend slightly and begin to grind on the "man of the evening", he deserved a little fun after the hard-work he put out on the track.

Eyes started turning to you two, as your bodies got carried away by the effects of the alcohol you had been consuming. You shrugged out the thought of being watched. If Lewis was comfortable, you were too.

"Y yo hoy estoy aquí imaginando. Sexy baila y me deja con las ganas" Lewis sang along to J Balvin but he sang it so close to your ear, he knew it was meant just for you to listen. His raspy voice sent chills down your spine, you didn't know what the words meant but he made them sound sexy and it empowered you. You chewed on your bottom lip as the DJ switched songs and moving away from him you sipped on your gin, cheering at the former drivers that had put you in the mood to party, who shot you back just as happy glances.

"Come to my table! Let's have some fun!" Lewis' drunk voice echoed through the pounds of your head. He was quick to grab your arm and pull you through the crowd to a more secluded area.

"Y/N everyone!!" He yelled once you approached a group of what looked like more mature and older people. Everyone turned their heads at the two of you and cheered loudly at Lewis' introduction of you, almost as if they were celebrating you tonight.

Daniel Ricciardo. Winnie Harlow. Neymar Jr were some of the faces you were able to recognise at first glance, everyone seemed as slapped as you, some of the girls were high as kites twerking on anything they could put their asses to. Now this was more your vibe.

As the night went on; more drinks came, you danced and enjoyed yourself. Sexual tension between you and Lewis had become hard to ignore and the amount of alcohol in your body had you craving him... all over you.

It's now or never you thought to yourself.

Downing your, God knows what number, cup you looked at Lewis who found himself having fun with his mates, his smile widely spread across is face, revealing his perfectly sharpened canine teeth.

If anything, we blame it on the alcohol.

You mentally thanked the Dj as Wild Thoughts by DJ Khaled started playing. Lewis' eyes darkened as he noticed you approaching him. Your dress hugged your body perfectly, making your figure hard to look away from. In a blink of an eye you had found your groins against one another's grinding on each other to the beat.

As the song went on, Lewis spun you around, having you against him drove him crazy. His hips thrusted your back, his fingers digging the skin on your thigh. He licked his lips at the thought of you, and almost as if he had been waiting for this moment the whole night, his lips met your bare shoulder.

Without ungluing his figure to yours, his tongue slowly traced your neck, sending chills down your spine. "Have I told you how beautiful you look?" He mumbled in between kisses on your bare skin. He didn't have to win you over with compliments, he already had you.

You could feel death glares from Lewis' female guests because of the moment you and the world champion were sharing. You used the uncomfortable stares as your cue to leave, turning to Lewis for the first time in what seemed like a long night, you stared into his - slightly droopy from the alcohol - brown eyes. Your arms automatically swung to his neck, he had yet another bottle in his hand but did not hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist.

"I don't think your friends are enjoying this little show we're putting on" You mumbled, signalling to the ladies who stood in the corner. Your eyes went from staring into his to looking at his lips, your breathing had become intense as you felt Lewis's body awfully close to yours, his member slowly caressing your upper thigh. He licked his lips, noticing how badly you stared. At that point of the night neither of you could contain how much you craved one another.

"They don't have to watch" Lewis whispered, shooting a quick glance at the models who seemed rather upset with his lack of attention on them; back to you, before grabbing your arm and pulling you through a back door that was close to the VIP area you were in, he mumbled: "I know a place".

You found yourself stumbling through the front entrance of a rather fancy building. Lewis lived conveniently close to the Amber Lounge, and in no time, his body guards had escorted the two of you to the penthouse.

Thanking his driver, you made your way into the elevator, and as soon as the doors shut close, Lewis had you pinned against the back wall. His eyes darkened again, his breathing hard over your lips.

Even drunk as a skunk, he looked and smelled amazing.

You watched him bite his lip as he leaned closer, making you crave his lips on yours even more.

It felt like heaven. When Lewis finally crashed his lips on to yours, his body weight causing you to lean further against the wall... it felt like heaven.

You groaned as the kiss didn't last as much as you wished to, the ding from the elevator interrupting it.

You were given no time to take in the surroundings of Lewis' perky home. He placed his arms on your hips and you automatically straddled him, the heat was back like it had never left, your lips were on his yet again. He kissed you so passionately you thought he was compensating from not doing it earlier. He knew his way through his home, and as your tongues met, he quickly found his way through his living room to his astounding suite.

Lewis dropped you on his bed, his eyes filled with lust and hunger. Behind him, the view of Monaco’s nightlife and beach shone through his large windows, the moonlight setting the perfect ambiance for what seemed like an exciting night for the both of you.

Your thoughts were distracted by Lewis’s touch. He had quickly removed his shirt and tossed it aside, his fingers now rested on top of your wet panties, his thumb caressing your clit. His body hoovered over yours, you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, allowing your body to feel Lewis’ movements on your area.

“Look at me” He demanded, his voice as deep as you’d ever hear it. “You’re so wet” He mumbled once your eyes obediently met his. Starving for him inside of you, you pulled your dress up your waist not once breaking eye contact, which caused Lewis to smirk. He attacked your neck, sucking and nibbling on your bare skin, his fingers slid your panties to the side, and with a small bite to your neck he inserted two fingers into you. You gasped at his sudden movement and your walls clenched in pleasure.

“Fuck!” Lewis muttered as he felt your juices coating his fingers. As instinct your knees bent, allowing Lewis to get a better grip of your inside walls. He picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. As your moans started getting louder, you feared Lewis had neighbours so you instantly bit your lip trying to contain your pleasure-filled screams.

“L-Lewis” you stumbled on your words, he knew just how deep to thrust and how much to curl his fingers. You longed for him inside you, your fingernails digging his tattooed back and your head titled back.

“Yes, baby?” He was enjoying watching you squirm in pleasure, his member hardening at the sound of your voice in his room.

"Don't make me wait" you pleaded, not being able to contain your hormones any longer. You wanted him inside you: “I want you. I want you to cum with me”

As if your wish was his command, Lewis’ drunk figure moved his hand away, he stood in front of the bed, and you took the moment to remove your dress, revealing your perfectly shaped and tanned body. Lewis, on his turn dropped his jeans. Both of you stood in awe of one another for awhile, hunger rising. He observed your breasts, and you engulfed the length of his now erect shaft.

You slowly removed your panties and dangled it in front of him, teasing the man that was going to eat you alive, the room smelled like expensive cologne and Prosecco. Lewis jaw hardened, his tattoos made his muscles more prominent... You just wanted to dig your fingernails on his biceps at that stance. He grabbed the panties off your hand and threw them to the side along with your dress and swiftly made his way on top of you. Cupping your breast with one hand, his thumb played with your nipple whilst the other filled his mouth. You lowered your hand and began to stroke Lewis’ cock; as soft and deep moans leaving his throat, your spine shivered.

“I want you so bad” You whispered, placing Lewis right at your entrance, the tip of him rubbing against your wet and now throbbing clit.

“How bad, baby?” He asked, pecking your lips. With his voice in a demanding whisper, you were quick to realise how much of a tease Lewis was, he enjoyed making his victims beg for him. He knew how good he was.

“So… so bad” You moaned into his lips. Just as much as Lewis, you knew what you wanted and you too knew how good you were. Not wanting to waste another second you took charge, placing his shaft at your entrance you helped him penetrate you. Lewis broke the kiss he had engaged in with you, a loud moan leaving his mouth once he felt how tight you were.

It took you a second to adjust to Lewis’ length as he made his way in and out of you, although intoxicated, he noticed your slight discomfort: “Are you alright?” he questioned, his furry brows tightening.

“Shh… don’t stop” You reassured him. With your hand around his neck you brought his head down to yours, you had grown to love his soft lips around the flesh of your neck. At your call, Lewis lowered his weight on to you and steadily picked up the pace. Every thrust brought you closer to an orgasm, his cock rubbing on your perfect spot.

You clenched your walls, digging your nails through his tattooed back. “Fuuuck!” You heard Lewis scream in absolute pleasure at the tightness around him. Lewis’ thrusts became deeper and faster, his forehead had grown sweaty, the room steamy. As he picked up his pace, all you could hear was small grunts from his perfectly sound voice and the clapping of his thighs against yours.

“I’m gonna cum” He moaned through shortened breaths. His warning brought you to your dominance senses. The thought of having Sir Lewis Hamilton begging you to cum extolled your ego. Without thinking twice you shifted your weight to the side, motioning what was well understood by Lewis. It was your turn to be on top.

Lewis, at the realisation that he was sleeping with a woman who knew what she wanted, eagerly obeyed and placed himself closer to the headboard of his king sized bed, not minding that you had interrupted his almost-orgasm.

Feeling good about impressing the seven-time world champion you slowly crawled up to the man that looked at you so hungrily, lust in his eyes only becoming more and more visible. His jaw clenched again as you straddled his waist, his now, thanks to you, cream-full cock entering your threshold again. Another loud moan, this time from the both of you. You bent over slightly, placing your hands on Lewis’ shoulders for support as you started bouncing on him.

“Just like that baby” He sang to you, one hand was tightly wrapped around your neck, and the other slapped your ass as hard as he could bring himself to. It drove you crazy, it made you want more of him in you.

Your breathing had gotten harder and your forehead had met his. “I want you to cum for me” You demanded. Lewis knew he was close to his finish line, but wanted you to finish with him. As you seemed to enjoy, he kept his veiny and robust hand around your neck, giving it light squeezes every time he felt you really deep.

His free hand moved to your clit and you shot your head back in utter pleasure.

“Right there… Keep it right there” You begged, knowing exactly what was going to happen in the next thirty seconds. Lewis, in satisfaction, rubbed on your throbbing bud whilst his own hardened at every movement of yours. His teeth met his bottom lip and his eyes fell shut. You knew he was ready to release, but you weren’t going to let him off easy.

“Look at me” You called. Your ego growing with every sign of obedience from Lewis. His eyes watered a little, you knew you had him, and every thrust brought you both closer to your orgasm.

“Baby…” he whispered, his hand still in circular motions around your clit, his grip becoming weaker “Please” he begged, at no point breaking the eye contact you called for. Pleased with his submission, you mumbled: "Don't stop", and he understood the assignment. You both picked up the pace, his finger on your wet clit in circular motions and you on top of his cock, bouncing up and down.

Before you could say knife you felt your legs shaking, your whole body trembled as you released all your juices on Lewis' hand and cock, a loud moan leaving your throat, your voice echoing in the penthouse.

Sorry neighbours.

And with no time to digest the wonders that Lewis had done to your body, he quickly pushed you off him and you obeyed, his pulsating cock releasing right then and there, on his six-pack filled torso.

You were both breathing heavily, laying on your backs. The comfort of Lewis' bed took you in, your head pounding again from the intoxication, the large amount of alcohol still in your system. He chuckled slightly at the turn of events of that Monaco GP Sunday, his gaze never leaving his ceiling.

Eager and starving for more of you, Lewis found in his deep breaths strength to ask: "When do you leave?"

#f1 imagines #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagines #f1 x reader #short fiction #short story #formula one imagine

[creamwh0re]

Treasure

Warnings: dub con?, piss kink,cum eating ,spit, choking, slight restraining,blood,gore,really bad Niragi,knife play, violence Word count:2k remember that idea I had but never got around to it? Yep came back to the idea and with a different plot and stuff A/N ;@niragis-right-hand-rabbit

“♡︎” You arrived at the Beach not to long ago but you already hated it here, this hell hole was terrible the man behind it all being a flawed man. As man as you wanted to say that his plan sucked and it was flawed you couldn’t begin yourself to tell him so you mind your business atleast you had electricity and food to keep you clean and fed as you continued playing games for your life.

You don’t even know how this happened? How does the world just randomly end and now your stuck in this world, what if the world never ended and this all an illusion? So many thought and possibility you didn’t know what to think so you didn’t think about it to much. This was a fresh start for everyone, messed up in the real world? Oh well you can practice being a better person here. Had troubles with family or friends, being treated wrong? You could get revenge or start over. This is your new life basically.

You were low on the list when it came to who would be on the list leaving but you didn’t care cause your old life was rather basic this was a care of events, but you missed your friends and everything they were nowhere to found at the beach.

There were the militants , they had access to the weapons and protecting the beach if rules were broken then oh your in big trouble that Niragi guy with the slick back hair with his machine gun, he mostly got the females they broke rules and it wasn’t good for them. Let’s just say their fate was worse than death. Sitting next to Kuina in the lobby you and talked about your life back in the real world. Kuina saying she doesn’t really care anymore what happens she just wants to see her mom one more time.

It’s sad to see what she had to go through with her parents but that’s just how people are you feel empathy for her you really do. She left saying she had a meeting to attend you dismissing her, you got up and made your out the main area ignoring all the people catcalling you. Getting into the pool you relaxed tuning out all the noises around you, you heard people voice get quiet looking around you saw them. Niragi walking to a woman with a peach jacket on with short with a male that looked dirty.

Niragi causing a bunch of unwanted drama by ordering the male with the sword to grab the girl getting closer to her the male that looked dirty defended her your skin crawls knowing how battles like this end their blood all over the swords while their balled up on the floor slowly fading into darkness. It’s why no one tries to help or defend anyone your really not suppose to trust anyone here but people don’t listen like always. The battle ends with Aguni calling both of them back and scolding them he gives you the chills the most so calm you’ve never seen him blink it creeps you out.

Hopping out the pool grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body making your way to your room stopping by the bathroom to do a quick check up you stumble upon a group of girls in the bathroom surrounding a stall scolding someone in there.

Excuse me, is everything alright “ they look at you up and down better responding “our friend is a little sick and we don't wanna mess with her”You look at the girl puking into the toilet trying her absolute hardest to make sure hair doesn't get in the way walking over to her you pull her hair into a ponytail gently she can't even react to action as she's back to throwing up.

The girl starts talking “Do you wanna join the conversation with us”you nod your head before the girl with orange hair takes a puff from her vape before blowing out “We were talking about the executives and the militants”The 2 girls look at while the other two roll their eyes the girl raises her head coughing slightly as the other girl runs water under a paper towel walking over to me and handing it to me you wipe off her face throwing the paper towel in the toilet and flushing it.

The girl stands up smiling “Thank you for the help I got kind of carried away while drinking” patting her back gently jumping on the restroom counter clearing your throat “it's okay we all have those days” you guys continue talking until your uncomfortable from the wetness of your swimsuit you tell them your leaving and they wave as you leave the bathroom.

You finally make your room freshening up and getting clean clothes checking yourself out in the mirror before heading right back out your room it’s the only thing you can do chilling in your room alone is boring cause you have no one to talk you and your not sleepy yet.

You spot Kuina talking to the male from earlier but you rather not interrupt their conversation. Laying against a wall and closing your eyes you can feel the presence of someone walking up to you making you open your eyes to see Niragi. “hey beautiful I saw you looking at me you like what you see” he stuck his tongue out making it visible clear he has a piercing declining his offer he gets angry. Trying harder to  persuade you but your budging he goes physically grabbing your waist your body having a quick reflect swinging your foot up around kicking him the nose, he stumbles backwards almost falling. 

You can see the anger in the eyes everyone silence a lot of people leaving the room while others look the other way, he walks up to you grabbing you by your hair making sure it hurts as he drags you out the room you cry out from the pain as it burns feeling like your scalp is being ripped off. You look around for anyone to intervene but your on your own begging and kicking for him to let go some people looking at you with worried and sad faces as the door closes loudly. Bringing you up still gripping your hair he drags you all the way to his room throwing you into hard flooring not caring if your hurt or not.

Grabbing your jaw tightly his hot breath hitting your face “Now, you listen here you little slut I don’t who you think your are but your whole night is about be ruined” letting go of your jaw as you fall back hitting your head on the floor. He fumbles with his leather pants he pulls them off along with his underwear, you gasp at the size you’ve never had sex before and you don’t want to with him. Sliding backward Niragi grabs your legs dragging you back to him putting you on your necks infront of him, his tip oozing with precum he spreads it against your lips “open” you don’t want to open your mouth but your afraid what for what’s to come if you don’t obey him.

Opening your mouth he inches his cock into your mouth staying in place feeling your warm and tight mouth, you can feel how heavy he is on your tongue he grips your hair as he starts thrusting it your mouth not far enough to hit your throat but far enough for you to gag on his cock. He keeps fucking your mouth carelessly and sloppily pulling all the out your mouth just to shove it right back in. He pulls out your mouth once more thrusting all the way to the point of hitting the back of your throat you choke around his cock drooling pouring out the corners of your mouth onto your chest.

He floods your mouth with his cum not pulling out making sure you choke on it “swallow it savor it” He slides his cock out of your mouth allowing you to swallow his cum it’s salty making you scrunch your nose up while swallowing it down. He grabs you kissing you despite his cum still in your mouth he throws you on the bed disappearing to grab something, coming back he has a knife in his hand you shake your head nothing wanting any marking but he just chuckled at you and your pathetic attempt to move grabbing your legs and holding them. He drags the blade on your top cutting the thin fabric off the blade glazing your skin making you shiver it’s cold against your hot body your core damp already from the previous action. Trying to keep it hidden from him he drags the knife a little bit slower on your lower region you don’t move at all your frozen if you move anything could happened.

Discarding the fabric he turns the knife over on the handle part hitting your nipples the handle part still frozen at the action this is risky play. Taking the other side of the knife and placing on your stomach trailing downwards making you quiver a sadistic smirk tugging at his lips. Throwing the knife away he spreads your legs to see your pussy it’s dripping wet as he takes a finger, dipping it into your folds you letting a soft whimper as he invades your insides rubbing and thrusting his finger inside you. Not to long after he adds another the stretching sensation making you moan out it feels good he takes his other hand and slaps you across the face “slut. Your getting off to this” he’s completely right your getting off to being used as a toy. Tears are at the brims of your eyes from the stinging pain on the left side of your cheek, thrusting his fingers into your hole curling them hitting your spongy bits making you moan out.

Thrusting his finger inside you hitting the spongy part over and over your breathe getting ragged, your eyes hooded as he keeps thrust inside you moving up and rubbing circle on your clit making your body jolt, you don’t feel an orgasm it feels different and familiar, shaking under his touch you start begging him to stop “s—stop please !!” the feeling getting stronger and stronger until you can’t handle it anymore, pidding all over Niragi finger. He stops to admire you, your chest heaving up and down,tears rolling down your face as your lower region covered in your essences.

He spits on your core using his cock to rub it in using it as lube he looks up at you as you look scared at what’s to come he thrusts into you pushing all of it in at once you letting out a loud scream that’s cut off by Niragi hand around your throat gripping so tight it might cut off your air flow, he continues thrusting into your pussy dragging in and out teasing the tip inside slamming it right back in everytime you tried to scream or something he gripped onto your throat. It was very pleasureful it was rather painful your not sure were pain ends and the pleasure starts but you hope it starts soon, you look so pathetic under him maybe next time you know not fight someone who has more power as you.

Small moans leave your mouth your lips as Niragi has one your legs resting on his shoulder allowing him to enter deeper, he throws his head back groaning out as he continues fucking into you like a fucktoy just what you are to him. He growls thrusting faster and faster making your boobs move and down as moans continue to stream out your mouth, curses following by. He’s getting closer to climax as his pace is getting faster, he bottoms out inside of you cumming filling you up as he continues fucking you overstimulation the both of you.

Stopping and pulling out as his cum oozing out leaving you there a mess as he quickly fixes himself up “Look at you fucked out pathetic under me such a little bitch” and with that he disappears out the room leaving you to clean yourself up.

#alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader #aib fanfic #aib niragi #aib x reader #alice in borderland niragi #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi smut #niragi fic

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 14 - Sinking Deeper [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤ 

Ps: Special thanks to Bea for helping me!

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 4180

Summary: Not every night is for sleeping.

All things considered, you were sure that you were supposed to be more stressed out than you were right now. The FBI still had nothing on the copycat killer that had sent you flowers, or any of the others that were running wild all over the country. BAU was working nonstop because there was more and more pressure coming from the supervisors and higher ups, and Spencer had told you something about the profile evolving but hadn’t gotten into details.

Not that you would ever ask him to, what you heard was more than enough.

Despite all that, whenever you were with him, you managed to feel almost…peaceful. It was so unfamiliar to you that it had taken you a moment to acknowledge what it was.

Happiness. Pure happiness, enough to get rid of the mind-numbing panic and worries about the future.

Or, as your sister had so eloquently put it, you were so, so screwed.

You took a sip of your mimosa, texting Spencer under the table, barely aware of the conversation taking place but you had to look up when you heard your name being called.

“Would you want to, Y/N?” your mother asked and you frowned.

“Hm?” you asked, your eyes stopping on Lily playing with her dolls by the corner of the huge living room before you looked at Mina and Kenzie, “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“There’s this opera—“

“Nope,” you shook your head fervently, “No way. It’s Mina’s turn.”

Mina let out a whine, “I hate you so much right now.”

“She has a point,” your mother pointed at Mina, “Your sister was the one who came to the charity ball, you can come to this one.”

Mina heaved a sigh while Kenzie reached out to hold her hand.

“Babe come on, it could be fun.”

“Exactly!” your mother said, “Thank you, Kenzie. Besides, Nolan is coming as well, so we will be two couples there. Y/N, of course if you want you can bring Spencer—“

“I’m not exaggerating when I say I’d rather spend an hour in my serial killer father’s cell with Spencer.”

Your mother rolled her eyes and Mina tilted her head.

“Nolan Yates is coming too?” she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’m spending a whole night with the boss of my boss?”

“You two should get to know each other!” Your mother said, “Besides, there’s no harm in telling your bosses that you should become a partner already—“

“Mom,” Mina cut her off, “We talked about this. I will earn that position by myself, not because of anyone’s influence. Including yours.”

Your mother sipped her drink, “It’s as if you like struggling, Mina.”

Kenzie looked between them and smiled brightly, trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m actually pretty curious about him,” she said, “Since you’re a couple now, I just need to see what kind of a person he is.”

“There’s nothing to see, babe.” Mina murmured, “The guy looks like he spends millions alone on his beard care and wears bowties to bed.”

“Yeah but bowties are cool,” you grinned and a silence fell upon the table.

“I will get back to you sleeping with my boss’ boss in a minute mom but—“ Mina cleared her throat and turned to you, “I’m sorry, was that a Doctor Who reference?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I started watching it because Spencer likes it so much. It’s actually pretty fun, he said we could go to Sonic-Con next year if I want.”

“Comic-Con.” Kenzie corrected you helpfully and Mina blinked a couple of times.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t get it,” Kenzie said, “I told you to watch it with me and you said, and I quote It has like one billion episodes Kenz, I don’t have time for that.”

Mina stole a look at Lily to make sure she couldn’t hear you before she turned to Kenzie, “Yeah, the difference is that you weren’t dicking her down.”

“Nobody is dicking me down!” you whispered, and your mother gasped, putting her mimosa glass down.

“Girls, not at the breakfast table!” she insisted, “Not that this kind of language is acceptable anywhere…”

“Yeah Mina, leave her alone,” Kenzie said, “I think it’s sweet.”

“What’s next? You will want to get a doctorate as well because he likes them so much?”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” your mother mused out loud, “Y/N, I know the lovely dean of—“

“No!” you pointed at them, “No to both of you. And thank you Kenzie.”

Before your mother could say anything, Lily ran to you to climb into your lap.

“Hi there bug.”

“Can we play after brunch?” she looked up at you, making you smile at her before you pinched her chubby cheek, making her giggle.

“Of course,” you said, “Dibs on green unicorn.”

“I like pink better,” she nicked a piece of cheese from your plate, “Are you talking about your prince?”

Mina smiled into her glass, “Something like that sweetheart.”

“Lily, why don’t you ask auntie what you asked me the other day?” Kenzie told her and Lily nodded fervently.

“Can I wear pink on your wedding?”

“Whoa-“ you cleared your throat, “Lily, baby, there’s no wedding.”

Kenzie and your mother grinned at each other and turned to you and Lily but she looked as if she was confused.

“But if he’s your prince…” she trailed off and Kenzie cleared her throat.

“I would like to come up with a tamer version of that question,” she said, “When do we get to meet him?”

“Mom and Mina already have,” you said but your mother shook her head.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Because you treated him like you were going to hire him?”

“Oh you did the same to him as well?” Kenzie asked your mother, “I thought Mina would have a heart attack when you did that to me.”

“I honestly thought you would break up with me after that.”

You fixed the huge bow on top of Lily’s hair while she sat still in your lap, listening to the conversation.

“How about dinner?” your mother said, “It’d help us to get to know him better.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, “It’s too early.”

“Oh come on Y/N!”

“I will introduce him to you guys when I’m sure you can behave.”

“He has spent hours with dad, you do realize that?” Mina asked with a small laugh, “You think he behaves? The guy is a—“

“Mina.” Kenzie nodded at Lily and Mina stopped herself immediately but Lily had already heard it.

“I thought your dad was a bad man, mommy.”

“He is, baby,” she nodded, “That’s why he’s far away, remember?”

“Then why is auntie Y/N’s prince talking to him?”

“Because he catches bad people, bug.”

Lily gasped and looked up at you, her eyes shining with excitement, “Like a superhero?!”

“Mm hm, like a superhero,” you grinned at her and she fidgeted in your lap.

“When will I meet him?”

“Yeah Y/N, when will we meet him?” Kenzie batted her lashes and you pointed at her.

“That’s evil, you know that right?” you asked, ignoring Mina’s laughter, “Low blow.”

                                                 ***

Towards the evening, right before it was time to meet Spencer he had texted you, saying that they would be doing overtime at work. You were bummed, but you still texted back to tell him it was alright, that you would be going home and he could drop by whenever he was done.

After having dinner, you went to the couch with a bottle of wine and turned your laptop on to take a look at the files your assistant had sent you. Campbell wedding was almost done, Vincent had sent you a couple of new ideas to add into the theme, and you had to email back two pastry shops to confirm the wedding cake orders.

You were so lost in work that you had barely realized downing the half of the bottle and it was only when your phone started buzzing on the coffee table that you looked away from the screen of the laptop.

“Hi Lincoln,” you answered the phone, still typing your replies to your assistant and he took a deep breath.

“Hey,” he said, “Are you watching it?”

“Watching what?”

“TV. They’re talking about the copycat killers.”

“What?” you grabbed the remote to turn on the TV and of course, the first TV channel you found was already covering the story.

“The FBI has confirmed that the body that was found dead earlier today belonged to one of the copycat killers that has been—“

“What the fuck?” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the screen and he cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know it’s creepy but I mean…I don’t know, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Someone killed one of the copycat killers?” you asked, “That makes no sense at all.”

“Do you think it’s the same one?” he asked, “From the charity ball?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, “I didn’t know if I should call, but…”

“No no, I’m glad you did.” You muted the TV, then filled your glass again, “What’re you doing?”

“Just leaving work,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Linc, it’s eleven p.m.”

“I had to attend a meeting overseas.”

“Workaholic.”

“I prefer the term hard working,” he chuckled, “How about you? You weren’t sleeping, right?”

“Nah, I was waiting for my boyfriend,” you said, making him pause for a moment, “And checking client files. And drinking.”

“You’re lucky you can deal with your job while drinking, these sharks would pounce on me if they ever saw me like that.”

You took a look at the TV and typed in the copycat killer’s name into the search bar, sipping your wine.

“You’re being safe, right?” he asked you, “I haven’t heard from you for like a week or so, you’re alright?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to decide whether to tell him about the flowers or not, but in the end you decided not to.

“Family drama,” you said, “I’ve been running everywhere, and what with work and everything…Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be silly,” he chuckled, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright, that’s all.”

“I’m alright—“ you started but then looked over your shoulder when you heard the doorbell ring, “Gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, see you,” he said and hung up, so you jumped over the couch to rush to the door before you opened it to see Spencer standing there.

“Hey,” you smiled at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, “Long day?”

He nodded silently and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you closer to inhale your scent.

“Hi,” he muttered into your hair, “Yeah. Long day.”

“I have wine?” you said as you pulled back, and closed the door after he stepped in, “I also have a bathtub even you could lose yourself in.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he said and hesitated for a moment, “On second thought, do you have coffee?”

“Are you sure you want to drink coffee at eleven at night?”

“I still have some reports to go over,” he said, stepping into the living room while you put the coffee on and his eyes stopped on the huge screen that was still giving details about the copycat killer.

“You saw that huh?”

“Mm hm,” you watched him as he dropped his satchel and you went to sit down next to him on the couch. “I was checking the other news. That’s why you had to work overtime?”

He rubbed at his eyes and ran a hand through his fluffy hair as if it would help, “We thought the profile was changing but this whole thing just proves someone is trying to keep it stable.”

You pulled your brows together, “What?”

“The victimology didn’t match with the last two victims, and now one of the copycats ended up dead, probably the one who went rogue.”

“How did it not match?” you blinked a couple of times, “They all left a flower in the crime scene, no?”

“Well yeah, but the rest—“ he stopped for a moment, staring at you, “You never actually checked his victimology?”

“I never watched any of those interviews he gave after he was imprisoned, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, and those interviews are the reason why we still don’t have a specific suspect because everyone knows everything about him, and most of your family life,” he heaved a sigh, “But you know what his victims had in common?”

“They all bled out while he watched,” you crossed your arms, leaning back to the arm of the couch, “I know that. He liked watching that.”

“Your father never killed anyone outside his social circle,” he reminded you, “They were all wealthy and overly successful people, remember? That’s why it took FBI so long to find him, because the previous profile was wrong. They thought it was someone who didn’t have access to the same resources, the same wealth and status, and it was for revenge.”

“Yeah but Spencer, he killed those people because he is evil.”

“He killed those people because in his mind, he was creating this…perfect business environment. Most of the people who got murdered were either failing business people or people who failed to meet his expectations. He was very successful, he expected the same from everyone. That’s his victimology. The flowers on the crime scene, they were just his signature. Well, his signature and his small offering to you.”

You thought for a moment, then went to the kitchen to pour him a cup of coffee before walking back to the couch.

“I still think this is a bad idea professor,” you muttered as you gave him the cup and he smiled at you, then took a sip while you lit up a cigarette.

“So then,” you crossed your legs, “His victims were the cream of society and that means something? Other than the fact that he was a psychopath?”

“That means a lot of things,” he said, “So far, most of the victims had a higher status in society, it means that the copycats actually wanted to continue his legacy from where he left off. Maybe not the people who disappointed them per se, but until these last two victims, they all had higher financial status, either family money or with their own successful companies but last month, someone first killed a bartender and then a social worker. The only thing that told us it was remotely connected was the flower in the crime scene.”

“That’s why the profile was changing,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay. Is that normal?”

“No, not at all,” he shook his head, “It’s very unfamiliar. It did prove our multiple copycat killers theory but other than that, it was going to make things incredibly harder until…” he nodded at the TV and you pulled your brows together.

“Hold on,” you sat up straighter, your mind working nonstop, “Multiple copycats who are trying to continue that monster’s legacy, and one happens to taint that legacy by going rogue…”

“And he gets killed,” he finished your sentence for you, “Exactly.”

“It was one of the copycats who killed him?”

“That’s my theory.”

“So they’re not actually working together then?” you asked, exhaling the smoke, “Or- or- wait, you said there could be one copycat that was controlling the others, maybe they did it?”

Spencer took a sip of his coffee, “It could also mean that the leader wouldn’t want to take chances like this again,” he said, “Someone tainted the legacy, he might begin to believe he cannot trust anyone with that again.”

You let out a breath, stubbing the cigarette, “What does that mean then? For…all of this?”

“It means that someone cares so much about your father’s legacy that they’re ready to kill anyone and everyone over it, even their partners,” he said, “It also means that their whole operation is starting to crack. It’s only a matter of time someone makes a mistake and ends up getting caught.”

You massaged your temples, “Well, at least one of us can see the light at the end of this psycho murder tunnel.”

“You can’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “It feels like it won’t stop,” you croaked out, “It’s like… It’s like I can’t wake up without dread filling me. It’s always there, at some corner of my mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel like—“ you stopped yourself and Spencer frowned, putting his coffee down.

“What?”

“You don’t want to hear that, trust me.”

“Try me.”

“The more I feel like it will go on until the day I die.”

“It’s impossible for this case to take that long, Y/N—“

“I didn’t say it’d take long,” you took a sip of your wine and heaved a sigh before you looked up at him, the expression on his face almost hurting your heart physically, “Told you that you didn’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t say that.”

You forced a small laugh and got up from the couch, suddenly restless.

“You said it yourself,” you said, pacing in the living room, “His victimology. He went after the people who disappointed him, right? Can you guess who’s disappointing him right now by not turning into the monster that he is?”

“That’s not what I—“ he shook his head fervently and stood up from the couch as well, “No. No way. It’s his victimology, but none of the psychiatric evaluations or anything on his file, including the list of his victims suggest that he would go after his family. There was a reason why he never tried to hurt you or Mina or your mother even back then—“

“No I’m sure they’re safe,” you said, “But Mina didn’t get flowers, professor. I have.”

“If our theory of him being in contact with the copycat is right, it means that your father is involved as well—hey,” he stopped you from pacing, reaching out to hold your hands in his, “Listen to me. Whoever it is, they will never, ever touch you. I’ll make sure of that.”

A painful smile pulled at your lips, “Spencer, that’s not your responsibility.”

“It is.”

“FBI can’t—“

“I’m not talking about the FBI, I’m talking about me.”

You took a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest as you swayed slightly.

“Is it okay if we stay like this for a moment?” you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to another “I don’t— I can’t sit still, I don’t know why.”

“Do you want to hear the reason why?” he ran his fingertips over your spine up and down, as if trying to soothe you and you nodded.

“Yes please.”

“You feel threatened, so your brain is trying to understand where the danger is coming from. It’s telling you to either stand or run away, so it’s pumping adrenaline into your system. We call that nervous energy.”

“That could be my stripper name,” you mumbled, making a chuckle vibrate deeply in his chest, “Tell me more.”

“The nervous energy happens when you’re under stress,” he said, “Our primitive brain is used to physical threats and it created this system in order to protect us. The threat you’re afraid of is not here, not physical, but your brain is still sending that energy to your limbs so that you can attack that physical threat, or run away to somewhere safe. It’s all a part of your defense mechanism.”

You hmmed into his chest, still holding him tight as if someone would take him away from you before you sniffled and pulled back to look up at him.

“You know, I think I got something you can’t explain with science.”

He raised his brows, “Debatable.”

“Do you want to bet? If I win, you’ll tell me what you planned for the next date.”

“What if I win?”

You wiped at your nose, “Tell me your price, professor.”

“There’s this conference on smoking and its effects on health next week, if I win you will attend that with me.”

“That’s a very indirect way to say that you hate my smoking.”

“I mean, it’s better if you see the effects in that conference, I think it’ll be good for you. It has five sessions, so it’s around….7 hours, including breaks.”

You blinked a couple of times, then nodded. “7 hours? That’s— okay. Yeah, I’m sure— I’m sure it’ll be fun.”  

A smile pulled at his lips, “Okay,” he said, “What is it?”

“It’s just,” you nibbled on your lip, trying to find the right words, “I was thinking and I realized something. I— I think it’s instinctual somehow, you can’t really explain it with science but when you’re here…” you paused, “With me, I mean, this whole panic dissolves. I feel safe, and it’s so unfamiliar that I don’t—“ you let out a small laugh, “I don’t know how to deal with that. I normally don’t feel safe, ever.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and he tilted his head, his warm gaze focused on you. You scrunched up your nose.

“Don’t tell me science can explain that.”

“Oxytocin.”

“God damn it!” you exclaimed, making him laugh, “Oxytocin?”

“Yeah, oxytocin. It’s a hormone that ensures that you trust people along with everything else. Basically, your brain— when you’re attracted to someone, your brain releases dopamine, so your serotonin levels rise and it produces oxytocin. It’s a big part of romantic attachment, it’s released during sex as well.”

You arched a brow, a small smirk flashing over your face and he pressed his lips together, a look of mischief appearing on his face.

“It strengthens fidelity as well,” he explained, “Seeing your partner as more attractive than others, and preferring to interact more with your partner than strangers.”

You clicked your tongue, “7 hours of conference, here we come.”

“It’ll be fun, I heard they’re bringing a real lung.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered and entwined your fingers with his, “Well for what it’s worth professor, I have a lot of oxytocin for you.”

He cleared his throat, “Scientifically, one of the most important aspects of it is reproduction, in females it triggers labor and in males it moves sperm so having a lot of oxytocin can be—“

“Spencer, I’m trying to talk dirty in a scientific way!” you groaned, a fire spreading over your face because of embarrassment and you took a step to walk away from him but he grabbed your hand to turn you around and tug you closer to him, making you let out a whine.

“I feel like an idiot,” you murmured and he shook his head fervently,

“No, of course not,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear, “Hey. I don’t know anything about weddings. So we complete each other if you ask me.”

You scoffed a laugh and looked up at him, your brows furrowed together, “You really think that?”

He nodded and you heaved a sigh.

“Okay.”

“And…for your information,” he swallowed thickly, “I have a lot of oxytocin for you too.”

A giggle you couldn’t stop escaped from you as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss, making your stomach do a pleasant flip. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lungs full of his scent, making you dizzy.

“They’ll take away your doctorates for that joke, professor,” you breathed out as he pulled back, resting his forehead on yours while you raked your nails over the back of his neck gently.

“Worth it,” he murmured to your lips, leaning in to kiss you again, this time pressing you closer to his body and your heart started beating in your throat, a whine climbing up to your throat, desire filling your system faster than any other drug.

“Would you like to stay the night?” you whispered, and his eyes shot up to yours, both of you aware what you were really asking. He looked almost hypnotized by the sight of you in his arms and he blinked a couple of times, as if trying to focus before he nodded.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse and you took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your whole being consumed by this moment. “Yeah, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You could swear he could hear your heartbeat echoing through the room,

“No scientific explanation this time, professor?” you whispered against his lips and his fingers caressed the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver from there to your whole body.

“No,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “Not this time. Not for the lady who imparadises my mind.”

The lady who imparadises my mind.

That was how Dante described Beatrice in Paradise.

You stood on your tiptoes to pull him into a kiss, then tugged at his hand to lead him into your bedroom.

Chapter 15

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds #spencer #reid #spencer x reader #reid x reader #spencer imagine #reid imagines #cm #spencer imagines #reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #twisted

[cherienymphe]

Rapture (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, loss of virginity

!!! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !!!

➥ {page breaks done by @firefly-graphics​ }

summary: taking on the case of the disappearance of your father, Sherlock Holmes finds himself drawn to you, the daughter who holds more mystery than any riddle he’s ever encountered

~

“Y/N, keep your chin up, dear.”

Swallowing down your ire, you listened to your mother and did just that, raising your chin and pushing your shoulders back. A soft breeze ruffled the skirt of your dress, and goosebumps erupted over your arms underneath your sleeves. You could hear your mother fussing over your sister, lightly scolding her for the dress she’d picked out, something about the color.

“We want to look our best for when Mr. Holmes arrives,” you heard her say.

You heard your sister let out a soft huff, having no desire to hide her annoyance. Those classes your mother made her attend weren’t doing much for her character, but she was young. No longer a child but not yet a woman, instead stuck in that place in between. You did not yearn for those days…

You did once, longed for the innocence and ignorance that clouded your childhood, but adulthood had long taught you that ignorance was not bliss. Ignorance kept people blind from the truth, and some truths needed to be known.

Your mother’s change in tone alerted you to the carriage that was being pulled into the yard. A soft sigh escaped you as it drew near, a far cry from your sister’s intrigue, eyes wide and neck strained in order to get a better look. The three of you were poised on the steps in front of the grand house, having been patiently waiting for Mr. Holmes’ arrival.

Sherlock Holmes.

The detective whose name was known far and wide was arriving to help none other than your family. Out of all of the possibilities that had taken up residence in your mind, the infamous Sherlock Holmes taking on the case of your missing father had never been one of them. You supposed that you shouldn’t be shocked that the mysterious disappearance of the wealthy patriarch had caught the man’s attention. It was all anyone could seem to talk about these days…

All three of you watched the mountain of a man step out of the carriage, but for three very different reasons. Your sister was curious, intrigued by this new person, a new puzzle to figure out, a thing to study and observe. Outside of father, your sister had never interacted with many males in her life. Your mother looked at the dark-haired gentleman like a beacon of hope, a savior to bring her peace in some form or another. You, on the other hand, you watched him like a snake would a hawk.

If you didn’t keep an eye on him, he could very well eat you alive.

“Mr. Holmes,” your mother rushed to greet him, and the contents of your stomach tossed at the relief you heard in her voice.

In her mind, he had already solved the case and returned your missing father to you. She was comforted by the detective’s mere presence, and you grimaced.

“It is an honor to have you here. Truly. You do not know what it means to me and my girls,” she told him, voice already shaking.

“It is no great deal to me, madam. I wish to find your husband just as much as you do, to bring peace and relief back to your household.”

You shifted on your feet, hands clasped in front of you as the low timber of his voice reached your ears. It was smooth, soft even, but no means wavering. His steady diction exhibited his refined background that you’d heard so much about, and you warily eyed him.

He towered over your mother, making the strong woman look so incredibly fragile to the point that it scared you. You suddenly had the urge to push him away. As your mother conversed with him, your sister tiptoed to your side, admiration in her voice as her lips brushed your ear.

“He is quite handsome, isn’t he?” she said, surprising you.

She had never expressed any interest in boys, but Mr. Holmes clearly struck something in her that even she could not ignore. As you ran your eyes over him, you found you were unable to deny the truth in her words. His features were indeed striking, the kind of face that artists begged to paint. His dark brows and hair complimented his eyes, strong jawline and pink lips moving fluidly as he talked to your mother. His curls gave a boyish quality to his otherwise manly countenance, and you had the brief thought of touching them, wondering if they were as soft as they looked.

“…and these are my daughters,” your mother’s voice reached you as she neared, the imposing man a step behind her.

Both you and your sister greeted him properly, your sister’s name falling from his lips as your mother honed in on her. You sent him a small smile when your mother gestured to you, and he returned it, eyes alight as she introduced you.

“This is my oldest, Y/N. My pride and joy,” she praised.

Your sister squirmed beside you, and you frowned.

“Mother,” you quietly admonished to which she quickly brushed off.

“Oh, hush. She will bring greatness to our name just as her father did. Rest assured, she will be a great help to you,” she told him.

He eyed you with something unknown as your mother continued to speak praises to your name, and you looked away, gaze landing on your sister instead as you took her hand. She had begun to shrink in on herself, and you swallowed down a sigh.

Your mother wanted her youngest to be something she was not. She wanted her to be you, but the young girl couldn’t ever be anyone but herself. And you didn’t understand why mother would want her to. It was a great source of insecurity and frustration for your sister, to constantly be compared to yourself, and it hurt you to see the adventurous girl make herself small.

“Do come in,” your mother ushered him inside.

Mr. Holmes followed her, and you and your sister him, your eyes never straying from his broad form. You’d heard of his skills, his observation, but of course you had never seen the man in action before. At first glance, it seemed like an innocent perusal, as if he were simply taking in the new scenery, admiring it. However, it didn’t take long to realize that he was taking note of every detail. Every plant, every painting that was askew, even the liquor cabinet, eyeing which liquors were consumed the most.

Your mother was prattling on about nonsense, and Mr. Holmes had already begun to work.

“Tell me, when did Mr. Y/L/N disappear?” he suddenly murmured, fingering a plant on a nearby table.

“Tomorrow will make it…what is it? Three weeks without him?”

She looked to the two of you, and you both nodded.

“Three weeks,” she confirmed. “We only noticed his absence the next morning, so it had to have been that Wednesday night. At the very latest, the early hours of Thursday morning.”

“…and you are sure it was a Wednesday?”

She thought for a moment before nodding.

“I’m sure of it. It rained all day the next day, finally making the ground soft enough for my dear Y/N to start her garden. She adores plants,” she told him with a smile.

Your heart sank to your stomach, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you realized what was happening here. Leave it to your mother to prioritize finding you a husband while investigating your father’s disappearance. Mr. Holmes’ gaze met yours, and you held it until he was forced to look away. At least she thought highly enough of you to think you worthy of someone like Sherlock Holmes.

All three of you watched him pace around the living room, a soft hum leaving his lips here and there. Again, he returned to that plant that he’d been fingering, eyeing the carpet beneath the table before finally looking to your mother.

“I’d like to take a look at the rest of the house.”

With a wide smile, she was all too happy to oblige. Your sister bid him goodbye with a soft smile, and you did the same when his eyes met yours, face falling as soon as he turned his back to you.

“Do you think he will find father?”

You glanced up from your breakfast to gaze at your sister, her anxious eyes already on you. You swallowed, wiping your mouth before offering her a shrug.

“Who is to say…”

“He must! He’s the best detective there is. He’s only been here for two days, and already he seems far more diligent than the others,” she quietly argued.

“I cannot argue with that,” you admitted.

You were unnerved by the unfamiliar man. He was indeed great at his job, and his acceptance of your mother’s offer to stay in one of the many rooms here only gave him more time and free reign to gather clues as to where your father could have gone. He spent the first day with your mother, having her recount everything she could remember, anything that could help. The next day was your sister, so you knew it was only a matter of time before he demanded your time and attention as well.

You didn’t like the thought of being alone with the man. His piercing eyes were scarily perceptive, taking note of much more than you could possibly give him credit for. They were ever watchful, and that unnerved you to no end. True to your suspicions, he entered the dining room just as you were finishing up, heavy gaze finding yours, and you bid your sister adieu.

“Your mother said that you went to bed early Wednesday night,” was the first thing he said as soon as you sat down across from him in the dimly lit living room.

The dark curtains allowed for little sunlight to peak through, and shadows casted over his aristocratic features.

“I did.”

He hummed, a faint smile on his lips, so small you could miss it if you blinked.

“Tired?”

“Extremely. I don’t sleep very well,” you honestly told him. “…and so I figured the earlier I rested my head, the earlier my eyes would follow suit.”

He nodded at that, eyes trailing over the room.

“Does gardening help with that?”

“…sometimes,” you answered.

“Does your mother or sister help out with that? Or is it just you?”

“It’s just me.”

His eyes were on yours again, gaze inquiring, yet guarded. He was probing for something, and you knew it was his job, but it filled your mouth with distaste.

“…so you are the only one who attends to the plants in the house?”

“Yes.”

He stared at you for a moment before releasing a small sigh. He stood, and you did as well, eyeing him as he paused at your movement before slowly beginning to pace about the room.

“I am here to help…Ms. Y/L/N.”

His voice reeked of well-hidden frustration, and you sighed as well.

“I know that,” you responded, briefly closing your eyes. “…and I am cooperating, am I not?”

He paused, and his eyes met yours again, flickering between your irises before humming.

“Indeed, you are, but I want you to cooperate because you want to. Not because you feel like you have to. I am merely here to help, to find your father’s whereabouts, so I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“I am,” you lied.

He knew that you were lying, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, but he let it go.

“Your mother and sister said that you all searched the grounds for him all day. Enlisting the help of the police for the next week and a half before the search was eventually called off,” he suddenly said, moving on.

“Yes. No stone was left unturned. My mother felt it was best to leave this in the hands of detectives, but the lot of them were…incompetent at best.”

Disdain and disgust coated your words, and Mr. Holmes eyed you.

“…and at worst?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pursing your lips.

“Greedy perverts trying to get their hands on our money,” you admitted.

You threw him a humorless smile, and the corner of his lips quirked up just the slightest as he turned away.

“None of them sparked your fancy?”

He was teasing, and you fought back a smile.

“No. I don’t daydream about marriage, Mr. Holmes. Of course, it is what my mother wishes for me, and I know that I am to settle down eventually for it is the way of the world, but I am certainly in no rush. Marriage does not appeal to me in the slightest.”

It was the one wedge in you and your mother’s relationship: your lack of prospects. However, no amount of snide comments from your mother about your age would sway you.

“Surely, your parents’ marriage must have softened your heart just a little…”

When you looked up, his eyes were once again on you, something in them that you could not name, and you held his gaze, a fond smile on your lips.

“Their marriage was like any other, I suppose. Of course, they had the occasional spat over the most trivial of things like all married couples do, but they were happy,” you replied.

He simply nodded, gaze lingering before pulling his eyes away, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say reluctantly so. His casual interrogation that wasn’t really an interrogation didn’t last for much longer, and somehow, you felt more nervous leaving the room than you did when you entered it.

Your mother and sister did not seem to share your sentiments. Indeed, they were ever comfortable around the dark-haired man. Part of you wondered if the holes in their heart that were left by father were temporarily being filled by Mr. Holmes. Having a man around the house again surely brought some mild comfort to them, even if they knew it was only momentary.

They happily invited him to eat with you all, participate in small talk, even showing him your garden. You felt that it was all unnecessary, distracting even. Mr. Holmes had a job to do, and the sooner he left, the better. You didn’t know how much more of his analyzing gaze you could take.

It didn’t matter that he would be engaged in conversation with your sister or mother for his eyes always found their way back to you somehow. He wasn’t a man of many words, but it seemed that you were an exception. Your mother did not miss how he always attempted to draw you into conversation, get you to talk more. It was becoming rather tiresome to explain to her that the man was simply doing his job.

Hell, it was becoming tiresome to remind yourself of that. It was his job to pry, to observe, to snoop even. The day that you’d found him in your chambers, standing by your bed, gazing around with his hands folded behind his back, you’d almost suffered a heart attack. It took the will of God to remind you that he was a detective, and that he was simply doing his job.

Sherlock Holmes was doing what he was hired to do.

And that was the problem.

You could hear footsteps approaching from below, and you paused on your reading, sticking a finger in the page before closing your book. The branch that you’d chosen to lounge on was higher than the usual, and you craned your head ever so slightly to look down below.

Mr. Holmes decided to make himself at home beneath the tree, leaning back against the trunk. His suit jacket was gone, one knee bent, and you watched as the autumn breeze ruffled his soft curls. You blinked, wondering to yourself how he managed to look both intimidating and vulnerable at the same time?

“No one in town seems to have any legitimate idea of where your father could have gone.”

His voice traveled to you from below, and you chuckled before you could stop yourself.

“No, I would imagine not. Despite what they may think, none of the townspeople know my father, at all,” you told him.

You could feel his eyes on you as you descended, and you brushed your dress off when you finally made it to the ground. He looked up at you with such intrigue, brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concentration. You cleared your throat.

“You’re staring, Mr. Holmes.”

He slowly blinked at you.

“Indeed, I am,” he said, rising to join you. “I do apologize. I was having a rather strong sense of déjà vu.”

Now it was your turn to frown in confusion, and he continued.

“My sister…she loves to hide away in a tree with a good book just as well as you.”

He ran his eyes over your face, drinking you in, and the hair on your arms stood on end.

“…you remind me of her in some ways,” he murmured.

“Well, she sounds like a remarkable young woman then,” you complimented.

“She is getting there,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “Although, just like her, so much of you remains a mystery to me.”

You squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze, looking away from his narrowed eyes to walk towards your garden. You could both feel and hear him behind you, and you felt your face grow hot as the weight of his stare pressed down on you.

“You have a rather impressive garden,” he praised.

You looked to him, a small smile slow to spread along your lips.

“Thank you.”

“Crown Imperials,” he noted, and your smile fell. “They seem to be a favorite of yours.”

“They are. The bright blooms are so pretty to me,” you truthfully replied.

“You spend a great deal of time out here,” he hummed.

You bent down to finger a petal, a genuine smile on your face now.

“I find comfort out here. Looking at this garden, basking in its presence, puts me at ease. Flowers that bloom in the colder months, when all the leaves have fallen and the animals have scurried away to hibernate, symbolize rebirth to me. New beginnings,” you whispered, eyes unfocused as you let your hand fall.

You slowly stood, stomach flipping when your eyes met his as you turned around. His hands were at his side, broad form much closer than you remembered, and your eyes zeroed in on the way he flexed his fingers. Mr. Holmes opened his mouth to speak, but you interrupted him.

“I should get back inside to assist my sister with her studies,” you told him.

You bid him goodbye and scurried past him before he could utter a word.

The next night, you made your way downstairs in the darkness as you did every night. Your mother and sister were fast asleep in their rooms, Mr. Holmes having long gone to bed as well. With a soft sigh, you approached the front door, locking it with a resounding click. You pressed your hand against the wood, heart aching for your mother, pitying her even, before you turned around.

“Why do you lock the door every night?”

A scream threatened to escape your throat, but you swallowed it down as light flooded the foyer. You pressed your hand to your chest, glaring at the detective as he stood across from you…dressed for bed. You blinked at the sight of his bare chest, and you quickly looked away, face heating up.

“Mr. Holmes,” you slowly began, forcing your heart to slow. “…you frightened me.”

“You did not answer my question,” was his only response, and you frowned at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

He took a step towards you, and you resisted the urge to take a step back.

“Mrs. Y/L/N leaves it unlocked every night in hopes that her husband, your father, will return. She told me so, and you come down every night to lock it. Why?”

You heaved a sigh, guilt flooding you.

“…because it is sad. I hope for his return just as much as my mother, but I will not be so foolish as to leave me and my family completely vulnerable while we sleep.”

He didn’t respond, so you continued.

“My father, her husband, is God knows where, and I understand that she is worried, but she is beginning to lose all sense of reason ever since his disappearance. Someone must keep this house together,” you complained.

He eventually nodded at that, seeming to accept this, and your eyes fell to the floor, uncomfortable with his close proximity and inappropriate state of dress. Your eyes caught the end of your nightgown, and you realized with a start that you both were inappropriately dressed for this conversation. Especially one so late at night. You shuddered to imagine what your mother would think if she came downstairs this very moment.

You looked up, startled, when he stepped closer, and your throat felt incredibly dry all of a sudden. Your sister’s words that first day came back to you, and you thought to yourself that Sherlock Holmes was much more handsome than she knew. You took a step back, back grazing the door as you eyed his face, him doing the same.

“You brew medicine for your mother, making salves as well,” he suddenly murmured, and you frowned. “I saw them in her room. The herbs used to make them I found in the kitchen.”

Your frown deepened, unsure of how this was relevant to anything.

“I did not know she was unwell,” he probed.

You cleared your throat, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“She isn’t…unwell, I mean. At least…not really. As she said, it rained that Thursday after my father’s disappearance. She was worried and distraught and did not take note of the slippery steps. She fell, and the salve and medicine are simply to help with the bruising and the pain,” you explained.

He only hummed at that, and you made to move around him, a bidding of goodnight on your lips, but he blocked your path. You looked to him with wide eyes, heart beginning to race again, although you didn’t know why.

Even in the thin and exposing nightgown, you felt your body heat up under his heavy gaze, his eyes running over your frame in a way that you were familiar with. However, the disgust that normally coursed through you at such an action was nowhere to be found. Instead, something unfamiliar swirled in the pit of your stomach, and this scared you.

It must have been written on your face, that fear, or at the very least visible in your eyes for Mr. Holmes took a step back. You noticed that his jaw was clenched, face pinched in a pensive manner that was becoming all too familiar to you. He suddenly wished you a goodnight, and you did the same, feeling his heated gaze searing into your back as you ascended the stairs.

Sleep did not come easy to you. In fact, it smoothly evaded you for days, and the already dark circles beneath your eyes became even more prominent. Your mother and sister were used to your inconsistent sleep schedule, accustomed to the haggard appearance your face would take sometimes. If Mr. Holmes noticed, however, he did not mention it. Of course, that was a silly thing to think. He noticed everything, and it was no surprise to you to find him in the lounge room late one night.

The flames licked at the inside of the fireplace, casting a low light over the room. His daunting form was seated in your father’s chair, and neither one of you greeted each other as you made your way into the room. Sometimes on particularly trying nights, you liked to curl up with a book by the fireplace in hopes that it would lull you to sleep. You had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Holmes knew this, hence his presence, and you sighed.

You didn’t wish to be alone with him, and you had every intention of making your way back to bed, but some part of you scolded yourself for your treatment of the detective. He was only doing his job, after all. You knew that your wariness of him was no fault of his, and you guiltily made your way to your father’s bar.

“Would you like a drink before I head back to bed?” you asked him, already reaching for a glass.

He didn’t respond, and you glanced up to find his gaze still on the roaring flames, a hand resting against his mouth, eyes thoughtful. You reached for one of your father’s more expensive selections just as Mr. Holmes spoke.

“He’s beneath the garden…isn’t he?”

You did not falter in your movements, but you could not stop the way your stomach churned, threatening to expel everything you’d eaten that day. You set the bottle down, and your hand shook around it. Your lips parted, but no words came out, and you snapped them shut, swallowing.

“I beg your pardon?” you eventually responded.

“I took on this case to pass some time really. It seemed simple enough to me. Your father had been murdered…that much was clear,” he quietly said.

Your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden, and your heart clenched in your chest, painfully so.

“However, it was only a matter of who.”

You felt tears spring forth, but they held off, collecting in your eyes as he continued.

“Your mother seemed the obvious choice, too obvious even, and I was proven right when I met her. She loved your father dearly, and I’d be a fool to think she could ever bring harm to him. I considered your sister next. Naturally. She is impulsive and wild, but that is precisely why she was ruled out. She’s not, how would my brother say it, refined?”

You briefly closed your eyes in defeat.

“No. Not like you…”

He stood to face you, and the tears finally spilled over when his troubled gaze met yours in the low lighting.

“She has not mastered the skills to truly be a lady. She has not learned to hold her tongue or hide her thoughts or school her features so that they are the picture-perfect vision of decorum and poise…to show the world only what you wish for them to see.”

His smooth voice did not bring you comfort, and you fought to hold his gaze as he neared you.

“…but you have. You’ve mastered it quite well, in fact.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out, only a shaky exhale.

“Many people in town mentioned your mother’s clumsiness. Her constant aches and faint bruises…bruises you’ve been tending to for a while…”

He stopped before you, eyes somber.

“He was hitting her. Probably much more than that. When did you first discover it?”

Again, words failed you, and he shook his head, a dark curl brushing his forehead.

“That tidbit is not relevant, so don’t bother to answer that.”

“Mr. Holmes-.”

“You referred to their marriage in the past tense. You lock the door at night because you know that he is never coming home.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Crown imperial is an interesting flower to plant, most people avoiding them because of the putrid smell. Of course, a flower like that would cover up the smell of decaying flesh rather nicely,” he mused. “I know it happened in the living room.”

Your eyes widened at that.

“That plant on the table…there’s hardly any soil in it at all, the only one in the entire house like it. That and the pinches of soil on the carpet beneath it tells me that it had been knocked over. It matches the few grains found in your sheets,” he explained.

You blinked at him.

“You were evidently in a hurry to clean it up and get back into bed. After all, it must have been rather early in the morning at that point… This was after you buried him correct?”

Reluctantly, you gave a shaky nod, confirming his accusations for the first time. He pressed his hand to his mouth again, the other on his hip as he paced, brows furrowed.

“The only thing I cannot seem to figure out is how you did it…”

“…belladonna,” you softly said, speaking for the first time that evening.

He looked at you, and you held his gaze, tears at bay for the moment.

“My father never misses a nightcap,” you told him with a shrug. “Large doses of belladonna can be-.”

“Fatal,” he finished for you, and you looked away.

“So…what happens now? Surely you mean to turn me in…hand me over to the police to answer for my crime,” you tearfully said.

He didn’t say anything, and the only noise in the room for a while was that of the crackling fireplace. Eventually, you heard him approach you again, and you flinched when his hands landed on your arms. Reluctantly, you looked at him, and his eyes flitted over your face, unsure of what to settle on. His thumbs brushed along your bare skin, and your throat bobbed.

“I should,” he whispered to himself, brows drawn together as he studied you. “I should turn you in immediately.”

He stepped closer, and you could feel his body heat, practically feel his heartbeat beneath his chest. His hands tightened on you for a brief moment before loosening his hold.

“…but I can’t,” he confessed through clenched teeth.

Confusion filled you, and your lips parted in shock. His eyes seemed to be drawn to the action, gaze lingering on your mouth for far too long.

“I…I don’t understand…”

He drank you in, gaze vexed, like you confounded him. One of his hands slid to your neck, fingers brushing your jaw, and you sharply inhaled, lips trembling.

“Even now…I still cannot figure you out,” he murmured to himself.

Your confusion grew, frown deepening, and you watched as he suddenly blinked, taking a step back. It took longer for him to finally let you go, and his face appeared strained, movements stiff as if it took everything in him to do so. He took a few more steps back, getting as far away from you as possible before he spoke again.

“There is no doubt in my mind that you very well could kill me in my sleep, but I trust that you won’t.”

Your eyes widened when he made to leave, and you called to him. He paused in the doorway, fists clenched at his side as he refused to look at you.

“W-what…what will you tell them? What will you tell my mother?”

Your voice was but a whisper, disbelief coursing through you at this turn of events. His shoulders heaved as he sighed.

“…nothing for you to worry about…Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of your name falling from his lips, and before you could process what he had said, he was gone.

“He…he’s simply run off?”

You leaned your head against the wall as you listened in on the conversation taking place in the dining room, and your heart constricted as her soft sobs reached your ears. You couldn’t imagine the feeling of fretting over someone for weeks, fearful for their wellbeing only to discover that they weren’t hurt at all. The opposite, in fact.

Only, it was a lie.

As you listened to Mr. Holmes spin the believable tale of your father running off with some mistress, you thought to yourself that the truth would have been better. Your mother could move past the truth. She could heal from the truth. How was she meant to heal from this?

You quietly pushed yourself off of the wall and made your way past the doorway. As you passed, your eyes caught those of Mr. Holmes, his heavy stare boring into you, and guilt tore through you as you caught sight of your mother’s distraught form.

No, the truth would have been far better. Your mother, the loving and strong woman that she was, deserved to know the truth, and you intended to give it to her.

Hours later when darkness fell, you found yourself outside, yanking out flower and vegetable roots. Thunder rumbled far off in the distance, and a light sprinkle of rain dampened your hair and dress. Tears soaked your cheeks as you dug through the dirt, sobs wracking your frame. You had buried him deep, and now that had come back to haunt you.

Or so you thought.

A startled gasp left your lips as firm hands yanked you to your feet from behind, and your eyes were wide as you were spun around to face none other than Sherlock Holmes. Lightning flashed behind him, illuminating his angry features, and you shrank in on yourself underneath his harsh gaze.

“What the devil do you think you are doing?”

More tears fell, and you shook your head.

“I cannot do this! I cannot go along with this lie any longer,” you told him.

His eyes softened, but his jaw ticked at your words.

“Y/N,” he sighed your name.

“Thank you for what you’ve done, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot bear to see my mother hurting like this over a lie. The truth…the truth will be much easier for her heart to bear,” you gasped.

You fought to get out of his hold, but he proved to be as strong as he looked.

“I cannot allow you to do this-.”

“Why not? You’ve solved the case! The great Sherlock Holmes figured it out, and soon my name and face will be plastered on papers everywhere as everyone learns what I did,” you cried.

“You were protecting your mother,” he argued.

“In the eyes of the law, I am still a murderess. I have reason to believe that you would agree with them,” you scoffed. “…why are you protecting me?”

He didn’t respond, and you huffed, jerking in his hold again, but he wouldn’t budge. The rain was coming down a little harder now, and your vision was blurry from both the weather and your tears. Your knees started to buckle as your movements slowed, and you would have collapsed to the ground if Mr. Holmes hadn’t been holding you.

He leaned you against your tree, and your fingers twisted into his rain-soaked shirt as tears skipped down your cheeks. He still hadn’t answered your question, and your eyes reluctantly met his. He looked at you like he had been looking at you for weeks, and that unfamiliar feeling returned…as well as the fear.

“You are not nearly as fragile as I initially thought you to be,” he quietly said, puzzling you.

He continued before you could voice your confusion.

“…but you are not nearly as tough as I thought you to be either.”

He reached up to brush his thumb over your lip, and you jerked, eyes widening at the action. Your heart felt like it was threatening to leap from your chest, and a thought suddenly occurred to you that had never occurred to you before.

“You have plagued my thoughts for weeks,” he confessed, making you freeze. “…entering my dreams the very moment I first had my suspicions.”

“Mr. Holmes…”

“Who would think that someone like you would be capable of such a thing,” he mused, genuine bewilderment on his features. “…and yet…I still want you so.”

Dread began to fester in your gut, and you pushed against his chest, but it proved to be useless. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes boring into your own.

“Sh-Sherlock,” you said, hoping that hearing his name from your lips would snap him out of it, knock some clarity into him, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

His fingers tightened, enough to make you wince, and his eyes fluttered close, a long exhale leaving him.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name like it was a prayer. “How do you manage…to be half heaven…and half hell?”

The words had barely left his lips before he fiercely pressed them against yours, startling you. A horrified gasp left you, and he clutched you to him, breathing you in as he moved his mouth over yours. He only seemed to take note of his actions when your palm met his cheek.

You stumbled back, hands grasping along your tree as he took a step back. His lips were swollen, hair damp and eyes troubled as he blinked at you. You pressed one hand into the tree behind you, the other to your chest as you stared at him in fear. Your chest was heaving just as much as his.

“Forgive me,” he whispered.

He swallowed, at least having the gall to look ashamed. You stared at one another for a painfully long time, ruminating on what he’d done, the line that he’d crossed. You didn’t move, too afraid to, and Sherlock’s jaw clenched as he eyed you.

His hands curled into fists at his side, features twisted with a myriad of emotions that you couldn’t place. There seemed to be a struggle going on, and your lip trembled as he dragged his eyes over your wet frame, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His dark hair was damp from the rain, the strands curling around his ears and kissing his forehead.

His lips parted ever so slightly, and he straightened as his eyes finally met yours again. You watched the way his nostrils flared, a carnal hunger in his eyes that terrified you to the bone.

“Forgive me,” he whispered again, apologizing for something that he hadn’t done, but was instead about to do.

You turned and ran past your tree, but he was already upon you before you could even get in three steps. His muscular arms wrapped around you, holding you to him as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, lips trailing kisses over your damp skin.

You reached back to tangle your fingers in his hair, attempting to pull his head away from you, but he only groaned against your skin. Fresh tears escaped, and you shuddered as he pressed himself against you, hard and threatening against your dress.

Your back met your tree, and Sherlock was quick in pressing his lips to yours. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, noises of protest escaping your lips as you pushed against him. You were sobbing when he finally broke the kiss, and you shook your head, pleas falling from your lips.

“Don’t do this,” you begged, knowing you were no match for him and accepting that pleading was your only chance. “Please, don’t- you’ll ruin me.”

Your eyes searched his.

“I’ll never be able to find a husband, to give my mother some form of happiness again after what I did. Let me make her happy,” you shakily whispered.

His brows were furrowed as he gazed at you, and his hands felt incredibly hot on your waist. The light rain had passed now, leaving only a partly cloudy sky and a bright moon to shine down on you. Sherlock closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours, thumbs tracing patterns into your waist.

“…I suppose I will be your husband then.”

He gently shushed you as you cried, softly pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t budge no matter how hard you pushed against him, and you shook as he hooked one of your legs onto his waist. One of his hands pressed into the back of your head while the other tore at the skirt of your dress, all the while he kept you pinned between him and the tree.

It suddenly occurred to you that this was your punishment. This was your comeuppance for what you’d done. It didn’t matter that your father hurt your mother on a regular basis, murder was wrong, and you were being punished for it.

You cried harder when you both felt and heard him releasing himself, and the cool air you felt against your core told you that Sherlock had ripped away every barrier between you two. His lips were gentle on yours, and his entry did not differ from that.

He was slow in pushing inside of you, and you hit against his shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream as he stretched you. Your nails dug into him when he could go no further, and a long moan lowly left his lips, satisfaction dripping from every note. You blinked back tears as he pressed his hands into the bottom of your thighs, keeping them at his waist as he held you to him.

He slowly moved within you, and one hand held onto him to keep from falling while the other dug into the bark of the tree behind you. He kissed you again, and you turned your head away. He let out a soft growl of frustration before pulling away from the tree.

You yelped and shuddered when your back met the cold damp ground, but your yelp turned into a gasp when he firmly thrust into you. It was a feeling unlike any other you’d ever known, and you squeezed your eyes shut, one hand fisted into his shirt while the other did the same to the grass.

You felt full, but it was an uneasy feeling, like you shouldn’t be full. Every drag of his member pulled a whimper from you, and your face crumbled when he pressed kisses to it, trying to bring some comfort to you while he had his way with you.

“You feel exactly as I dreamed you would,” he whispered.

You sniffed beneath him, core protesting his assault, no matter how gentle it was. You pushed against him again, but he gripped your hand, bringing it to his mouth, and a shiver traveled down your spine as he brushed his lips over the inside of your wrist. He held your gaze as he held your wrist to his lips, and the intensity behind his eyes scared you.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I have every intention of marrying you.”

Somehow, the fact that he was telling the truth scared you more than the thought of him abandoning you. He was going to take you away from your mother and sister, and then who would look out for them? A shaky sob escaped your lips, and he shushed you again, hips curving into yours over and over.

“No one will ever discover what you did. I’ll see to it,” he told you, kissing you again. “…and I’ll make sure your family is well cared for.”

His breath hitched, pace changing, and your toes curled on their own accord.

“Why?” you tearfully gasped as he nipped at your neck. “Why…?”

He paused his movements, holding himself inside of you as he looked down at you. You felt defeated, and the only thing left was confusion, bafflement at why you. He brushed his fingers over your tear-stained cheek, eventually ghosting them over your swollen lips. Sherlock looked at you like you were the most magnificent creature he’d ever seen, and your stomach turned.

“…so much of you is still a mystery to me, and even if I never figure you out…”

He brushed his soft lips against yours.

“…at least you are mine.”

  ~

tags:  @darkficreposter​​ @xoxabs88xox​​ @harryspet​​ @readermia​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @nickyl316h​​ @captainchrisstan​​ @sebabestianstan101​​ @villanellevi​​ @lokislastlove​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @coconutqueen21​​ @hurricanerin​ @trinittyy​ @hyoyeoniie​ @kellyn1604​ @sherrybaby14​ @jtargaryen18​

#dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #dark fic #sherlock x reader #henry cavill

[darkmulti]

hey, i love your work! Can u do a Non-con smut with a y!psychiatric patient!BTS? Uhm, any member would do sjaksjjs...the reader is a psychiatrist who is assigned to cure the patient. he's had uhm, committed a crim that's why he is in a secluded area of the hospital. yea sjakksskk Thank you;!

-> sorry for any mistakes

-> jk like always

⚠️: NON CON

You were working another late night shift

You were supposed to be off at 17:15 but the clock read 20:30

You rub your temples and continue filling out the paper work for the patient you saw today

You were assigned a new patient this morning so you wanted to read over his file

Apparently this patient had the worse background out of all your patients

Jeon Jungkook was the patient’s name

He’s killed more than 30 people in the last year

The police didn’t actually catch him, he turned himself in

When they asked him why he killed innocent people, he said that the people were telling him to

He kept pointing at the wall saying that they wanted him to take revenge, so he did

“Jungkook was rather calm in the interrogation room. He didn’t struggle nor fight with us. His face held an upset expression, which makes me think he might need a psychological evaluation.”

It seems like he was suffering from schizophrenia

The voices in his head telling him to kill, but his heart knows that’s not right

You closed your laptop and left work so you can come back early tomorrow to meet Mr. Jeon

The next day

You came to work early, just like you planned

After doing some paper work for your new patient, it was finally time to meet him

He was already in his room, waiting for you

The security guard escorted you to his room and unlocked the bullet proof doors

You entered in alone but the security guard stood at the door

Jungkook was sitting on a chair with his hands cuffed behind his back

You sat in the chair in front of him so he can take a look at you

“Hello, Mr. Jeon. I’m Dr. Y/N L/N, your psychotherapist. I’m just going to ask you a couple of questions. Is that okay with you?”

He nodded in agreement but kept his head down

You started off with basic questions, asking about his family life and his childhood

Then you asked him when the voice started

He said they started when he was 10

It was a small voice encouraging him to make bad decisions like sneaking out at night

Soon the voice got louder and encouraged him to take someone’s life

When Jungkook took someone’s life for the first time, dopamine released in his body, causing him to get addicted to the feeling

He felt happy and free

He continued to listen to the voices and hallucinations

That’s all you needed to hear

You got up and thanked him for his time and cooperation

The day went normally, and you got off at your regular time

The sun’s down and the moon’s out

You were doing your night routine when you heard your closet door creek open

That was strange because you had a brand new house and there was no heat on

You ignored your gut feeling and crawled into bed, exhausted

You fell asleep faster than expected

You planned on watching T.V for a bit but your eyes needed a break

22:34

“Please! Stop, Mr. Jeon! I- if you need money, I- I can give you some but not this!”

Your whole body was pinned down by his own

Your hands were tied together behind your back with a tie

He pulled your pants down along with your underwear

“No! Stop! Please! I- I can...”

“I don’t want money, I just want your body.”

His tip teased your entrance

You were terrified

There was no way you could call for help

He thrusted in without permission and didn’t hold back his hidden anger

Jungkook had been waiting for this moment for years

He attended the same high school as you but you never noticed him

He was a very quiet and shy kid who didn’t like any sort of attention

Except for your attention, of course

However, you never gave him any attention which caused him to go even more insane than he already was

He started stalking you for years

His appearance changed over time and he became more confident

Jungkook had masterbated over 30 times to the thought of you under him, cumming on his cock over and over

He craved for you

He purposely turned himself in just to see you

And you know what?

His plan worked

You’re under him, vulnerable and afraid

He’s drilling his cock in your tight hole, repeatedly

Not planning to ever stop

He ripped your top off, wanting to see your whole body nude

His mouth attacked you breast while his hips kept going

You were in an uncomfortable position so he removed the tie so you can wrap your hands around his neck

When he finally let your hands free, you tried running but simply weren’t strong enough

He pulled you back effortlessly, and went harder

“Don’t play hard to get now. I’ve finally won. Say goodbye to everything around you, because you won’t ever see it again.”

#non con #jungkook smut #mail: 📭