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shotmrmiller · 5 months

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I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar.

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink.

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?”

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!”

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison.

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up.

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice.

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder.

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!”

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.”

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out,

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,” grind—and you whimper in his ear, “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked.

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed.

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand, goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.”

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him. With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank.

“You have a condom?”

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it.

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.”

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise.

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.”

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock.

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back, stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length.

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it.

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.”

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x you #ghost cod #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley #call of duty smut

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greatooglymooglyyy · 28 days

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The Last Ride Chapter Six (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

series masterlist

contains: angst, mentions of parental death, parental abandonment, fluff, cussing, 2.8k words

“Fuck!”

I yank my fingers out from where they’ve been caught in the wooden gate, wrapping my other hand around them to try to alleviate the throbbing sensation that overtakes my every thought.

Chris tuts, running back to the truck to grab something while I blink back tears. I do not want to cry in front of him over a jammed finger, even if it hurts like a bitch. He jogs back quickly with the ice pack from our lunches that he’s wrapped in a bandana. “Let me see.”

I reluctantly place my hand in his and let him apply pressure to my fingers with the cold damp cloth, hissing when he makes contact.

We lock eyes for a second but I look away, taking the ice pack from him and pulling away. The last thing I want to do right now is give him another chance to create a meaningless moment between us.

Chris takes the hint, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “It looks like it’s gonna swell up on you. Maybe you should go find your uncle and take the day.”

I nod, examining my fingers and cautiously moving them. It strings but I doubt they’re broken. Still, any excuse to get a day off this ranch is one I’m willing to take. I start to head back towards the chickens, where I saw my uncle last when I hear Chris softly call my name.

Turning back, I give him a hard look of disdain. I can only assume the worst is to come out of his mouth. “What?”

His face drops and he shakes his head, muttering a low “never mind” before he heads back to the pickup truck. He’s actually given me a rare amount of space today after the weekend’s events, only speaking to me to give out tasks and then making himself scarce.

I watch him for a second, taking in his seemingly hurt expression. Something like sadness settles in my chest before I force myself to look away and shrug it off. I won’t allow myself to feel guilt over something that isn’t my fault.

Hopefully, he’s feeling regret after giving me yet another tragic date story to add to the books. That is if he’d even call it a date. Not that it matters. I’m here to pay off a debt, not worry about whether or not some small-town playboy is hot or cold.

*********************************************************

I wake up still a bit woozy from the pain medication that Aunt Birdie gave me when I got home. Not wanting to force myself back to sleep, I head into the living room to watch TV. I expected both of them to be sleeping by now, but Uncle Buck sits rocking gently in his chair when I enter the living room.

He looks up at me and gives me a gentle smile. “How ya feeling, darling? How’s the hand?”

I flex my fingers for him, only the slightest bit of tenderness still lingering. “I think I’ll keep it.” I joke, walking over to take the seat nearest him.

Buck laughs softly, bringing his beer can to his lips and taking a sip. He clears his throat before he speaks, trying to sound casual. “And Chris? You keepin’ him?”

I raise an eyebrow, leaning forward in surprise. “Not you too, Uncle Buck.” Birdie had tried for hours to convince me of Chris’ merits after Friday’s shit show but my uncle had kept silent. Until now.

He puts the beer down and runs a hand over his face as if he’s already exhausted of the conversation. “I don’t wanna get into young folks' business or nothin’. But I heard through the grapevine what went down.”

Rolling my eyes at the small-town rumor mill, I sit back with a sigh. “Uncle-”

“I just wanna make sure you’ve got the whole story, Y/N. That’s all. Y’all are more similar than I think y’know.”

He breathes out heavily as he starts, shaking his head like the story pains him.

“Chris’ mama and daddy were one of those old classic love stories. I mean real lovey-dovey shit, high school sweethearts, prom king and queen, write a song about it, whole nine yards. Never seen two people be in love quite like that.

They got hitched fresh out of school and had him not long after. We all thought they were seven fools for getting settled so young. But they didn’t care. They were happy as a tick on a fat dog. You’d catch ‘em round town, hand in hand with this little boy, lookin’ straight off a Hallmark card. Picture perfect for years.

But then she got sick. Somethin’ wrong with her heart. Docs say she needs this big scary surgery or she won’t see another year. But right before it’s scheduled… they find out she’s pregnant. All those years after Chris. A little girl. So she refuses the surgery. The whole town tried to talk sense to that woman but nothing worked. And his daddy… man it was like he was this shell of a person. Like he was already gone before she had a chance to get better.

So when she died giving birth and he took off a few months later, it wasn’t even a surprise to much of anybody. Something snapped inside of him and I’d bet my last dollar that wherever he is, he’s still broken.”

My heart feels like it’s straining against my chest as I listen to his story, the air seeming so thick I can’t breathe. “And Chris?”

Uncle Buck closes his eyes for a moment before he answers. “He grew up. He grew up way too fast. They moved them into their grandma’s house. Lord bless her. She was already well into her aging by then. Imagine that. Man of the house at fifteen years old. Raising a baby damn-near by yourself. I still remember the day he came knocking at my door, hat in hand, beggin’ for a job. He was just a twig of a thing then. But anybody could see he had the world on his shoulders and he was terrified of dropping it. He still is.

Now I ain’t tell you this so you’ll take him back. Or whatever it is you kids are gettin’ up to. I’m just saying… if you’re gonna put him down, do me a favor and set him down easy, he’s been dropped enough.”

*********************************************************

The next night, I wake up to a sharp knock on my window and sit up straight, a tinge of confusion setting in until I fully wake up. I rush over to the window and throw it open, knowing there’s only one person it could be. I passed him a note before I left work, asking him to visit me tonight. But I’d fallen asleep waiting on him when the night dragged on.

Chris leans awkwardly into the window, the energy so different from the last time we knelt here. He bites his lip, his eyes bouncing between my room and my face before he finally speaks. “Y/N. I am so fucking sorry. I didn’t think you wanted to hear it from me but it’s no excuse. I shoulda said it as soon as I saw you-”

Reaching out softly and lacing our hands together, I cut into his rambling, eager for him to know that it’s all okay now. “My uncle told me everything. I’m sorry too. It’s not fair of me to assume I’m the only one with a fucked up life.”

He grimaces, breathing out heavily through his nose. I can feel him fight the urge to shut down, relief engulfing me when he doesn’t pull away. “We should start a charity, huh? The deadbeat parents society. We’d make a fuckin’ killing.”

I smile weakly, knowing what it is to cover my pain with self-deprecating jokes. Knowing how it never once stopped me from hurting. Instead acting as a bandaid, simply covering the problem but not solving it.

Chris laughs out a bitter half-chuckle with a shake of his head. “It’s just ironic, you know? All those lessons, he’d drill into me. All that big talk about what it means to be a man. Just for him to turn around and walk out on his family. The one he had left. Some man he was.”

He clears his throat, trying to suppress the emotion in his voice, so I squeeze his hand in encouragement. He gives me a sad smile before he continues. “You know I used to think it was me. Like I wasn’t enough to make him want to stick around. But now? I look at Evie and it just don’t make sense. Ain’t a thing in the world could make me walk away from that face.”

His earnestness cracks me open and I bring my open hand up to cup the side of his face. “Take it from someone who’s got years of top dollar therapy behind them. None of it was your fault.”

Giving me a nod like he wants to believe me, Chris blinks at me slowly. “Maybe not.” He sighs and pulls away, drumming his fingers on the windowsill. “But last weekend was. What do you say, you let me try to make it up to you?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.” I lie for the second time in a row. But this time, the smile he gives me tells me he’s calling my bluff.

*********************************************************

“What if I told you I’ve never fished before in my life?” I say anxiously as I watch Chris set up my rod, trying my hardest to keep my disgust at the bait out of my tone.

I’ve never been on such a small boat either, it’s more fun to feel all the waves this way, but I definitely will not be telling him that.

He gives me a lopsided smile, looking up from his hands. “Was that supposed to be hard to believe or somethin’?”

“Well I don’t know, people usually have a dad there to take them out fishing, even some of my city friends, but my dad was too preoccupied with everything work-related.” I sigh, not expecting the innocent conversation to take such a sad turn. “But I’m a country girl now I gotta learn the ropes.” I mock a Southern accent, trying to bring light to the clouded atmosphere.

Chris just laughs, shaking his head as he hands me the fishing rod, bait now attached and swaying slightly. “That’s okay. No time like the present.”

I look between him and the rod a couple of times before I give him my best puppy dog eyes. “Can’t you just cast it for me?”

He scrunches up his nose and shakes his head back at me. “No can do, Scotch. If I do, you’ll never learn and then you’ll tell the next country boy you pull, I never taught you right. And that I cannot have.” He jokes, leaning over and adjusting my hold on the pole.

“Oh, I promise you, you’re the only boy who will ever get me on a fishing boat.”

He’s silent for a beat before he locks eyes with me, a glint I can’t place in his eyes. “Careful with those promises, darlin’. Round here we make you keep ‘em.”

Chris doesn’t let the moment hold long enough for me to reply, standing and moving to sit beside me on my bench. He moves my hand from where it had been lying on my leg to join the other one on the pole. “Take your index finger and hold the line. Not like that. Perfect.”

It’s so funny how easily he slips into a bossy voice but I kind of love it. I’m starting to realize how much I like every version of him. He whistles low for my attention and I glare at him. Okay, maybe not every version.

“Watch me, okay.” He says as he picks up his own rod, narrating his movements as I study him. “Pull back to about right here and then swing forward. Make sure you’re watching the water where you want to land. When you’re about here, let go of the line. Simple.”

Chris smiles at me but I just stare back blankly. If he thinks I got any of that he’s an idiot. But, I’m way too stubborn to ask him to show me again so I take a deep breath and try to imitate him.

To my surprise, my cast actually lands somewhat near where I was aiming for and I laugh in shock. “I did it.”

“You did!” Chris says, matching my excitement while he reaches over to close the bail for me. He takes the pole from my hand and places it into his holder. “Watch it now. If you see a tug, you gotta grab it fast.”

“Got it, captain.” I bring my fingers to my forehead, saluting the boy who’s shaking his head and avoiding eye contact with me.

In between laughs, he speaks. “You have got to be the corniest motherfucker alive.”

Before I can even muster a reply, I get distracted by the sight in front of me. Well, I get distracted by the boy in front of me, taking off his baseball hat and ruffling his hair before placing it back on his head.

For whatever reason the sight of him puts me in a trance, and it’s incredibly embarrassing. “Whatcha looking at sweetheart?” He asks, taking full advantage of my flusteredness.

I scoff, turning away to hide the blush that threatens to taint my smiley cheeks, keeping a firm grasp on the rod in front of me. “Don’t get cocky now, Christopher, it's a bad look even for you.”

“Somehow I get the feeling you don’t think I have many bad looks.” He taunts, only earning a punch to the shoulder. “Okay, Scotch. I’m kidding, I'm kidding, really, I’m flattered.” He places his hands on his heart, only furthering my annoyance.

“We’ll just forget all that talking you’ve been doing about me around town then yeah? People here seem to have an understanding that you speak highly of me.” I argue, proving my point when his eyes roll to the back of his head in annoyance.

“Is that why-” He starts, but from the corner of my eye, I notice my pole begin to bend towards the water and gasp.

“Oh! It’s moving!” I say, jumping up from my seat and cutting him off. I grab the rod, fumbling a bit and almost dropping it but Chris saves it before the fish can pull it under.

I flinch a bit, expecting him to yell about almost losing his rod but he just hands it to me with an encouraging smile. “Okay, babe. Pull it up to ‘bout 45 degrees. Okay reel down and then pull up. Keep doing it just like that.”

I do exactly what he says, watching the fish skip across the waves until he is squirming the air in front of us. I let out an excited yelp as Chris unhooks it and holds it up. “Damn, Scotch. This is a big sumofabitch for your first catch. You wanna take a picture?"

My excitement dwells a bit as I stare down at its beady little eyes and Chris laughs before he tosses it back. I lean over the boat, unsure why the tiny accomplishment is making me feel so emotional.

Giving him a huge grin, I turn to wrap my arms around Chris, still bouncing slightly with excitement. “I really caught one all by myself.” Any other time, I’d be embarrassed at how young I sound but right now I don’t care at all.

Chris returns my hug, laughing into my hair as we sway back and forth with the waves. I pull away slightly, staring up at him and admiring his icy blue eyes in the low moonlight. And before I can talk myself out of it, I lean up, pressing my lips to his in a fraction of a kiss. He looks stunned but leans back in, chasing my lips but letting me lead. I keep it chaste, wanting to know he wants this as much as me before I go any further.

He pulls back first, eyes scanning my face for any sense of discomfort, only finding my begging eyes. “I really like hanging around you, you know that right?”

I smile, relief washing over me when I come to the conclusion I didn’t make a complete fool of myself. “Yeah? Do I make the job of scooping up horse shit that much better?”

His hands lift to the sides of my face, practically covering my whole cheek with his palms. “So much better.” He leans back in, this time guiding the kiss, leaving me in a butterfly-filled puddle in his grasp.

Everything besides the two of us seems to dissipate around me, nothing but the warm rough feeling of his fingers on my cheek keeping me grounded.

When we finally pull away, Chris resting his forehead against mine as the lightening bugs flutter near the bay, I realize how insane I've been for ever once comparing him to Jace.

Jace couldn’t kiss like this if his entire life depended on it.

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

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hear me out: ghoap x reader (noncon) in an abandoned factory. Reader only has an unreasonably short amount of time to escape before they get to keep her and do whatever they want to her

1k game here - no more please! im trying to get through these but they're slow going because im incapable of writing anything less than a thousand words apparently

1.8k of ghoap (mostly ghost) x reader chasing very scared reader through a factory :/ this is very similar to everything else i've ever written so nothing new here folks. (aka noncon!!!) btw this one is just pwp, nothin else much here to see

Your breaths heave out of you in pants, almost violent in their intensity. You feel like you can hardly breathe, but it doesn't matter. all that matters is running, getting away from the monsters chasing you.

You can hear them. Or, one of them at least. Johnny - the Scottish one, the one you'd been stupid enough to follow out of the bar in the first place. His partner - either Ghost or Simon, Johnny had called him both - your sure is silent as he moves. He'd blended into the shadows for so long when you first woke up, and you know he's doing it again.

You can't think about them. If you think about them for too long you'll spiral, and that is the last thing you need.

No, you have to run.

The old factory is a creepy place, cobwebs and dust covering everything, random creaking noises from machines, lights flickering on and off with no rhyme or reason. It takes all of your willpower not to scream when you feel a roach crawl across the toe of your heels.

The shoes are something you're still not sure if you made the right choice on - you can't walk silently in them, but you have absolutely no idea what you could possibly step on. The last thing you need is to somehow give yourself tetanus while running from your possible killers.

Still, the way you click-clack along the concrete floors makes you wince with every step.

"Where are you, bonnie?" Johnny echoes nearby. You've been trying to track him by listening to how many times his voice echoes, and he sounds very close now.

You duck into the first room you see, shoving yourself along a dark wall and fumbling around in the pitch black. The room must be windowless because there isn't even a hint of light, nothing that lets you see even vague shapes in the room.

Still, it's silent. You hear loud footsteps approach the door, and breathe out a large sigh of relief when they keep walking. Johnny shouts something indiscernible, and his voice fades into the distance.

You go limp against what you're sure is a wall, letting yourself breathe as heavily as you want now that you're sure there's no chance of being found.

The adrenaline makes your hands shake. Your lungs ache from the strain you've put them under, and you feel a little lightheaded from fear. But you try to shove all of that away - all that matters is that you stay away from your pursuers until morning.

The door opens.

Any peace you'd managed to find disappears in the blink of an eye, and you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your whimper. The door opens inwards, and whoever steps in can't see from around it. You're safe until he lets it fall closed behind him, plunging the room into darkness.

It's got to be Ghost. Even without knowing them all that well, you know Johnny wouldn't be able to resist taunting you. You hadn't seen much more than a silhouette, but you're sure this is Simon.

You can't try and move. Your shoes are too loud, and trying to kick them off would be just as loud as walking. Your only option is to stand still and pray he doesn't find you.

He's silent as he moves. You can't hear breathing, or footsteps, or even if he brushes over something. The room is as quiet as it was before he found it. But you can't relax. Your legs are tensed in preparation to run, and your heart beats so loudly you're sure he could hear it if he came close enough.

But he doesn't. The room is silent, and he doesn't find you.

There's a point where you're nearly convinced that he never came into the room at all. Is it possible that you hallucinated him? That your exhausted and terrified brain conjured up a threat that isn't real?

It takes a long, long time, but eventually you start to relax against the wall. It must've been nearly ten minutes of dead silence now, surely you've just started seeing things. No man could stand that still, stay so quiet, for so long.

You let your arm fall from your face, puffing breaths into the slightly musty air. Another few minutes, and you'll move again.

"Boo," a voice whispers in your ear, from directly next to you.

You scream, leaping away from the sudden wall of heat at your side. It doesn't let you, a hand snapping out and grabbing you by your upper arm before you can fall. You scream again as he pulls you closer, don't stop screaming as he turns you around and pins you by the chest to the wall.

He's all man and heat as he presses himself to your back, lips hovering by your ear, breaths ghosting over the sensitive shell.

"Got you," he whispers, nipping at your ear. "Stop your wailin', you're alright."

You do not, in fact, stop wailing. It feels impossible to swallow the sobs spilling from your throat, like if you close your mouth they'll choke you. So you stand pinned to the wall, tears already spilling down your cheeks as you blubber mindlessly.

Ghost laughs over your shoulder. "Little crybaby, aren't ya? That's alright, doll, I don't mind a few tears."

You can feel him undoing his belt behind you, and that only makes you more panicked. You throw yourself back against him, desperate to get him off, but you're nowhere near strong enough to do anything.

Ghost grunts over your shoulder, using one hand to force you flush with the wall again.

"Stay," he grunts, naked hips brushing against your ass as he flips your skirt up. "Unless you want me to get a little rougher? That what you want, love? Want me to throw you down and fuck you until you bleed?"

You keen loudly, shaking your head as best you can with your face forced into the wall. "No, no, nonono, please, please, you can't- oh God, please don't-"

He laughs lowly, rocking his hard cock between your thighs. "Just Ghost will do, love. Now, let's stretch you out a bit, hm? No need for blood when you're good for me."

You're bone dry between your thighs, no room for anything but fear in your head. Simon doesn't seem to mind, slowly stroking over your clit until your body betrays you.

"There we go," he murmurs as you first start to leak onto his fingers. "Little more for me, love, c'mon."

You've got no choice but to obey. It's like Ghost has a manual on how to make you feel best, stroking over all the parts that make your cunt drool, using just enough pleasure to keep things feeling horribly good.

You sob against the wall, pressing your forehead so hard into the rough surface that it hurts. All you can do is stand still and take what he gives you, forced to bear witness to your own destruction.

He's silent as he slips one finger, than another, inside of you. You whine against the intrusion, the slight sting a horrible pleasure.

"Hush, love," he soothes, rutting himself against your leg. "You're almost ready, won't be much longer now."

That only makes you more distressed, and you sob into the wall.

He's true to his word and doesn't spend much longer fingering you, his own intent seeming to be to spread you out enough to take him. You hope the fact that he only used two fingers means he isn't too large, but the size of each finger tells you otherwise.

You can't help but cry out when you feel his warm head rest against your entrance. Your hands fist against the wall as you fight back every urge to lash out, knowing that'll only make everything worse.

Ghost laughs over your shoulder, like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"Still for me now, good girl. Won't make you do any of the work, just gotta stand there and take it for me." He speaks as he pushes slowly into you, raising his voice enough to be heard over your sounds of pain and pleasure.

He's thick, so much thicker than the two fingers he stretched you with, and there's a moment where you think he really has made you bleed. The pain isn't sharp enough for that though, just a never ending push into the clutch of your body.

"There you go," he moans when his hips meet the meat of your ass, as deep inside of you as he can get at this angle. "You feel like heaven, doll, never felt a cunt this tight, fuck."

"Pl-please," you splutter, breath shaky. "Please don't, it hurts..."

"Oh yeah? It hurts?" He coos, hands stroking faux-comfortingly over your hip. "Poor thing, 'm just too big for your little hole, huh? You'll just have to relax, then, I'll make you feel good once I'm finished."

A little heartbroken noise slips from your throat, but you do your best to listen. There isn't much else to do but bear whatever he chooses to give, so you try to relax your muscles, letting the wall take your weight.

"Good girl, good girl for me," he breaths, grinding his hips deep into you.

You feel him inhale deeply against you and try to mimic the pace of his breathing, bracing yourself as he pulls out.

Mercifully, he's silent as he fucks you. He seems to be lost in your body, shoving his face into your neck and running his teeth over the thin skin over your pulse.

It feels almost dream-like, to be taken like this. You can't move with how closely he has you crowded, and the room remains the absolute pitch black - you can't even see the outline of Simon's form over your shoulder. It's like what's happening is stuck in only this room, and you tell yourself that when it's over, when you leave, you'll be able to pretend this never happened.

That illusion is ruined when the door opens, flooding the room with light.

You get another look at Ghost as he pulls his head away from your neck to look over - he's sweat-slicked and flushed, eyes narrowed as he looks to see the intruder.

"Aw, you started without me?" Johnny whines, leaving the door wide-open as he trots over to where you're pinned.

Ghost huffs a laugh over your shoulder, continuing to fuck you at his same pace, leaving you wracked with pleasure. "First come, first serve, Johnny - shoulda been faster if you wanted to play with her first."

Through teary eyes you can see that Johnny doesn't look all that upset as he leans on the wall next to you. He plants a hand in the center of your chest, pushing you back into Ghost to make just enough room for him to squeeze between him and the wall.

You're left using his body to hold yourself up, instinctually gripping his arms to keep from collapsing.

He nudges your chin up with one hand as Ghost starts to really pound into you, leaving you drooling onto his thumb.

"Don't worry, bonnie," he winks. "I don't mind sloppy seconds."

#sorry for that horrible last line LMFAO #ghoap x reader #bo writes #1k celebration

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heartfullofleeches · 24 days

Note

OOOO moth darling? I wanna throw my idea in too. Maybe a super kind and caring goth moth darling? Especially when they look super menacing (bcus they wear hardcore goth fashion) but their favorite game is smthn like animal crossing or they like super relaxing hobbies. (Also adonis could literally suffocate in the big tittie from his goth partner.) I hope you see my vision. PLEASE.

[Yan Butterfly + Goth Moth Darling]

Adonis is so weak for Darling.... He probably sneaks invites them into the buildings/homes he cleans for his job especially if there's been a murder or the home owners had some decor he knew they'd like. Adonis makes a fair amount of money from his cleaning gig, even moreso on contacts that are more "under the table" ergo shady folks looking to clean up any evidence left behind - but he's always spending his cash on gifts he knows Darling will like because he knows their preferred style of dress ain't always cheap.

Darling tells him they don't need it, but how can he stop when they're so kind to him? Making sure he eats, takes breaks, sleep. Butterfly boy may have worked himself to death by now if it wasn't for them. The long, grueling hours are worth it so long as he gets to come home and rest on their soft, warm ti- pillows...

"Brought you some sandwiches. Nothin' special, grabbed them from that gas station around the corner, but I knew you had to have something since you've been here all morning. Promise I'll grab something more filling next time"

An angel....An absolute angel gifted from the heavens above. Here you were bringing him food and checking up on him, yet you had the gull to believe it wasn't enough.

"...thanks...." Adonis shyly takes the bag from you, tensing as your fingers brush against his. You gaze around the living room as he clumsily works to untie its strings. The couch, TV stand, and coffee table had all been pushed towards the far walls - dark stains embedded into the carpet close to where the legs of the table once stood. You crouch to get a better look.

"Is this...." Your voice grows quiet - barely a whisper as you extend your hand. "Where it happened?"

"M....Mhm..." Adonis mouths through bitefuls of bread and cheese. The sandwich wasn't the best, or worst thing he'd ever eaten, but knowing it came from you made every bite heaven. He had given you some details of the incident that had taken place. A burglary gone wrong resulting in the death of an innocent man. Nobody even knew he was gone until bills began piling up. Never had many friends or close family.... Adonis wasn't close with his parents either... If something happened to him... you'd probably be the first and only to notice...

"Adonis?..."

"Y...Yeah?"

The butterfly freezes as your arms fall around him, pulling him towards your chest.

"Promise me that no matter what you'll text me at the end of every shift you have. It doesn't matter how late it is...All I care about is that you're safe."

You actually care.... Adonis has always know that, but hearing you say it out loud even if muffled by his face smothered by your chest...He knew it was an inappropriate time, but it was hard not to obsess over the contact with every beat of your heart playing like a melody in his ear. An angel, his angel. His saving grace he'll never let go.

"I will... Every night... I promise to I'll let you know whenever I get home.. I promise."

"Thank you....."

Adonis looks down at his half eaten sandwich. "...My bosses said I could take anything I wanted. I think there's still some clothes in the closet still that you might like if you're interested?"

"Raiding a dead guy's closet wasn't on my list of plans today...but I think I have enough space in my schedule."

#Adonis my oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere hybrid #yandere drabble

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 9 months

Text

imagine eddie is the lead singer of corroded coffin but his natural singing voice is naturally like josh kiszka's from greta van fleet

it hurts his throat a lot to try and sing in the loud, hoarse, raspy screams he feels like he should be, being a metal band and all, so one of the nights at the hideout he's like "Okay, this is kinda different from what we try to play, but shit's killing my throat so here's this instead."

his 'real' singing voice wakes up those 5 drunk regulars and the next week they bring more people (and so did eddie apparently, because he can see steve, robin, and nancy grinning up at him from the crowd).

the boys play one of their own scream-y more traditional metal songs, then another, then when they try to close with a cover, one of the regulars yells out "Play that highway one again!"

"…The what?"

"That shit you played last week, the one about a highway girl!"

Eddie looks around at his bandmates, who look just as confused as he feels.

"This one..?" he plays the first notes, and that one regular and a couple others whoop and holler.

"Hell yeah, play that one again!"

"Uh…yeah, sure man, you got it.." Eddie shrugs nonchalant, but damn! he wants to show off for his friends! that shit last week was a fluke, one of his own songs he was sure the other guys didn't want to play in the first place.

he glances around at his bandmates and they all look shocked but delighted at the request, so they play it again (after an unneeded apologetic look from eddie, they really like eddie's song!).

when they finish, the now 10 people in the bar cheer and hoot and holler, and when they make their way off the stage, there are a couple people who stop them with "That was really good, do you have any more like that?", "Never heard nothin' like that before, you kids got somethin' special.", and "Y'all better be back next week, 'cause I sure will be." from the patrons, and a harried, ecstatic "Dude, please tell me you have more," from Jeff.

and also something about how since that night all of steve's thoughts are consumed completely by eddie's voice because "Holy shit did you hear him, Robin??"

idk, just eddie being a songwriter that can't help but get his influences from his uncle's preference for blues and folk music when writing and then again, can't help but mix it with his love of hard/classic rock but him never using any of it or even suggesting it to the other guys because it wasn't corroded coffin's and wasn't metal but that being exactly what shoots them into stardom

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southern-gothic-comic · 2 months

Text

Page 51

Next 💜 Back 🖤 First

(Author Notes)

Panel 1: Back at the farmhouse Imogen hurriedly gets dressed. Laudna sits on the floor, looking nervous and guilty.

Imogen: I’ve always wanted to get out of Gelvaan. Now’s as good a time as any, I guess. Maybe now’s my chance to see what I can find at one of those libraries! We could go to Jrusar, or Ank’harel, or . . .

Laudna: You don’t -- you don’t have to come with me. I couldn’t ask you to leave your home and your life behind for me.

Panel 2: Imogen comes back to her and pets her bowed head.

Imogen: Laudna, there is no home or life for me here without you. If you’re goin’, I’m comin’ with you. Now, what do you say to Jrusar?

Laudna: (smiling weakly) All -- all right.

Panel 3: They startle at the sound of a shout from outside.

A Voice Outside: Come on out, Temult! We just want to have a word with you.

Panel 4: Relvin appears on the attic steps to check on Imogen, and is tellingly surprised and angry to find Laudna there.

Relvin: Imogen -- shit.

Imogen: Daddy, what is it? What’s goin’ on?

Relvin: Nothin’ that concerns you. You two stay out of sight, y’hear me?

Relvin: That’s a lie, ain’t it. It’s always somethin’ concerning her. Dammit all why can’t they just leave us alone.

Panel 5: He goes out on the porch. Imogen is just barely visible peeking around the window curtains. The silhouettes of several townsfolk are gathered on the lawn, the same mob seen earlier at Laudna’s cabin, holding torches, farm tools, and some simple weapons.

Relvin: Now, what’s all this about?

Mob: Give up the witch, Temult! Or we’ll burn this whole place to the ground, startin’ with those pretty little horses of yours.

Relvin: Listen, folks. I know all y’all are upset, and some of y’all have reason to be. But I ain’t harborin’ no witch. We’ve been hit here by the fever just the same as you.

Mob: Then how come yore girl made it out alive when my three didn’t? Tell me that! She made a deal with that witch! Bring out the witch!

Panel 6: View of the tree out front, shadowed by the torchlight. The swing has been cut down, and the ropes refashioned into a pair of nooses.

Mob: We know there’s at least one in there!

#critical role #critical role fanart #critical role comic #imogen temult #laudna #imodna #southerngothic #imogen x laudna #relvin temult #webcomic #comics on tumblr #comics #a long road home #mintywolf

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lovingmayday · 10 months

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

warnings : fluff, cursing, innacurate-ish depictions of hobie's speech

notes : hobie is about 16-17 here (and so is the pov). halfway writing this, im overwhelmed by how much of an extrovert hobie actually is 😭 btw, i know nothing of classical music concerts so beware! all of this just because i wanted to write hobie sneaking in your window but i didnt even get to fit it in 😭😭

Two words that you've used as an excuse and an apology when you couldn't join your friends at house parties, when a classmate asks you out, or when your phone notifications go crazy because you still weren't home at 5 PM — it was a tiring cycle.

You know they were simply looking out for you but you can't help but feel overwhelmed and exhausted for always being monitored and left out. You couldn't possibly ask your peers to adjust to your parents' standards, you thought it shameless because they already had a hard time with your folks reaching out and interrogating them about your school and social life.

With so much of your life being tracked by them, you deserve at least one thing in your control, right?

Hobie Brown, the school troublemaker. Skips class, vandalizes school property, and actively participates in movements against authority. Frankly, he just does whatever he wants. And he had your respect (+ jealousy). It must've been nice to be so free.

You and Hobie were never given the chance to befriend each other before — you had some classes together but he rarely ever showed up to any of them. You had no reason to approach him and vice versa.

Until, Wednesday — your cello performance. God, you don't know why you insisted to your parents you could handle commuting to the concert venue on your own with the heavy as fuck cello slung around your torso. You had your book bag with you as well because you had just finished school. The bus stop was a few more blocks away but you were tired.

You weren't paying much attention to your surroundings, busy focusing on your aching shoulder. So once you saw the pedestrian lane green signal, you didn't think twice before walking, failing to notice the bicycle riding full speed to your direction. Your eyes widen when a strong force pulled you back, making you stumble a bit and see the bike dart just in front of you.

"Aye, watch it!" you hear the cyclist exclaim.

You back was leaning against the tall figure, looking up to see a familiar face. You regain your balance and face him — Hobie Brown, the boy that just saved your life. "I-It was green– green meant it was safe to walk... I should've looked first, 'm sorry," you say quietly.

"Nah yeah, it's straight. He was the arse," he replies, hands in his pockets. "Dunno where he got the audacity to tell you off when he was in the wrong. Don't worry abou' it." He gives you a reassuring smile, noticing your still dazed expression.

"Thank you, Hobie," you say, a small polite smile on your lips.

He smiles back and nods, "'Twas nothin'." His eyes hover on the unignorable instrument case you were carrying. "Ya headed somewhere?"

"Uhh, yeah," you say, watching the pedestrian stop light turn red again and pouting a bit. You probably won't be late to the performance but you'd miss most of final rehearsal. "Nueva Hall. I have a cello performance in a bit."

"Nueva Hall.. That fuckin' massive, fancy lookin' museum along 5th Ave?" he asks, his eyebrows rising a bit from amazement. "Didn't know you were a big shot musician. Let me get for ya, then." He swings the case from your torso and starts walking across the street before you could protest.

"Hey!" you exclaim, running after him, dodging the other pedestrians walking past you.

"It's a bit distant from here, innit? Let me take you there, I got time. Wouldn't want you to croak before the big show," he jests, turning around and walking backwards. "If it's fine with you, [Name], of course."

You weren't too keen on traveling alone; you only did so so that your parents would think you were independent enough. You consider it for a few moments. "Are you sure I wouldn't be bothering you with this?"

"'Course not. 'Was the one who suggested, wasn't I?" He smirks before turning back around to walk properly and you catch up to his side. "What're you playin'?"

"Tchaikovsky, Rococo Variation. It's a cello and orchestra performance and I got to play cello," you say excitedly. "You're in a band, right? It's like a lead singer but cello!"

He smiles softly at your energy, feeling his cheeks warm up a bit. "How'd you know I was in a band?" he asks almost teasingly.

"I walked by one of your public concerts with my family. I would've stayed if my parents let me," you answer with a small laugh. "You were amazing, by the way."

"Thanks, mate. You're probably not too bad yourself," he says, chuckling as you playfully hit his shoulder.

It was safe to say you hit it off well, which was surprising since you didn't think you would. You thought your personalities would clash, you being at the quieter side while Hobie, you could hear his ruckus from another dimension (and there was a tiny part of you that was intimidated at him, at first).

You arrived at the venue earlier than expected — still late to rehearsals but not by much. "Hey, thanks again. I really appreciate it," you say to him just outside the concert hall doors.

He handed you your cello and waved off your thank you. "It was a pleasure," he teases and you roll your eyes. "Break a leg, [Name]." You thank him once again before he turns around to leave.

Seeing him walk away gave you an unfamiliar ache in your chest. After a much needed self-courage-boost, you let out a soft but loud enough "Wait." for him to hear. He turns around with a small smile and raises an eyebrow, silently asking you to go on. You wet your lips before taking a deep breathe. "Do you want to stay for the show?"

His smile widens, a handsome grin reaching ear to ear. "Finally. 've been waitin' the entire trip for that offer." He laughs and jogs back to you.

He sits at the back row. When he entered the room, he got a few stares and hushed whispers from the other audiences but he couldn't care less, his attention was unwaveringly stuck on you. It was just rehearsals but it overwhelmed Hobie to think about how you'd do in the real thing. He was entranced by you the entire time. The movement of your bow and the emotions you protrayed. It was magnetic.

Once practice was over, the musicians left the stage for a bit as audiences started to pour in. With guests on the older side with more formal attires, it was so obvious that he was out of place.

Meanwhile, you were panicking a bit because after you got changed out of your school uniform, you neared the stage's curtains to check up on Hobie. Your mouth gapes when you see him sat at the back row, almost directly behind your parents. Your parents! You forgot about your parents!! How did you forget about your parents??! They'd go crazy once they knew that you had invited this boy to your performance — you never invite your friends, let alone anybody, to watch your performances.

The second it was time for the musicians to come on stage, Hobie's head rises from his phone and looks for your figure immediately, smiling once he notices your wardrobe change. It was a simple long-sleeve black dress but it was pretty on you. Hobie thought so.

Your take deep breathes to calm your nerves before situating the cello between your thighs. You wait for the violins, the flutes, and the organ to start playing the intro before propping up the cello's bow. With your head held high, you play the first few notes — the position of your hands finding its own way around the fingerboard like muscle memory.

The music closes to an end, claps and praises erupt the venue. You smile and stand to find Hobie. He was already making his way to you. You leave the cello leaning safely on your chair as you scurry to the stairs of the sides of the stage.

"Hobie!" you greet as you reached him. "How did I do? Was I rushing? What'd you think of it?" you ask, rambling almost. If Spiderpunk gets his adrenaline from his fights, you get it from instances that make your heart feel like its about to burst into a million burnt pieces of flesh in your chest.

He smiles back at you, amused. He's never seen this side of you before. He's never seen anything of you other than your surface-level calmness and pliance. "'ts not usually my thing but I know to appreciate talent. Credit when credit is due and all tha' and, luv, you absolutely smashed it!" he exclaims as quietly as exclaiming can allow, placing both hands on you shoulders and shaking them.

"Thanks," you giggle out, placing your hands on his arm. From the corner of your peripheral vision, you notice your parents on their way to you, confused looks on their faces. Your smile falters as you gently loosen Hobie's hold on you, the adrenaline slowly dying down.

"[Name], amazing as always," your mother says, holding your hand in hers' and caressing your cheek with the other. "Who's your friend?" she quickly asks. Her judgmental eyes scan his appearance from head to toe, attempting to hide her expression with a faux smile.

Hobie was about to introduce himself when you cut him off. "–He's a classmate, Hobie Brown." You look into his eyes apologizing and almost pleading to him to go along with whatever you were about to say. "He came here by pure coincidence, could you believe that?!"

"Yeah, a friend gave me an invitation," he follows up seamlessly, a polite smile on his lips. "'Didn't know your daugh'er was performin'."

"Well, it's a nice surprise, isn't it?" you mother says, pulling you to her side.

Your father had yet to contribute to the conversation so you checked up on hi.. He was glaring at Hobie so harshly you could see burn marks starting to appear on his forehead. "Did you enjoy the show?" he finally asks, tone almost threatening.

Your cheeks start to flush in embarrassment. It wasn't uncommon for your parents to ask about the boys you talk to but it never felt any less humiliating every time it happens. You see each and every one of them get uncomfortable and you couldn't do anything to stop them because they'd think you were hiding something.

"Yeah, I enjoyed [Name]'s performance a lot. You must be very proud of her, Mr. [Last Name]," Hobie answers. You've talked to him long enough to notice the slight teasing in his voice. He smirks at you which makes your father's hands turn into fists.

"Honey," you mother calls, "We'll be late for our dinner reservation. It was really nice to meet you, Hobie, but we have to go." Her smile was still plastered across her face, you wonder why her cheeks hasn't hurt yet. She tells you to collect your stuff and you do so quickly. You bid Hobie an apologetic goodbye before you leave.

On the car to the restaurant, you were given the 'no boyfriends' talk again. You tried to respond with 'mhmm's and 'uh-huh's here and there but you weren't listening to a thing — having heard them repeat the same points many times before. You wondered how to approach Hobie the next day, thinking of stuff to say, how to bring it up, and how to act once he says he doesn't want to get involved with you anymore. It was a shame since you really enjoyed his company.

You wished that Hobie went to school the next day and he did, surprisingly. After classes, you catch up to him leaving the building to speak to him.

You were supposed to explain to him the situation but it seemed he was already up to pace and accepting. "The things is," you pause for a bit, "I really liked hanging out with you.." you confess.

"Hey, wait up!" you yell, running to reach him before he got too far. He paused in his tracks, hands in his vest pockets as he watches you catch your breath. "About yesterday..–"

"Nah, I get it," he interrupts you. "Strict parents and shit. It's cool if your folks don't want you hanging out with me anymore. It sucks but I get it." He was disappointed but chill about the entire thing which made your heart sink. You really didn't want to stop seeing him again. You wondered if he felt the same.

A small gentle smile stretches his lips. "I really liked hanging out with you, too. A lot. Best time I've had in a while, honestly."

You contemplate on what to say next — whether to let them out or not. You mouth gapes open, waiting on your next words. You were about to give him an apology but seeing his eyes, hearing that he liked your company maybe as much as you did, it made the decision so much more difficult. ..Fuck it. "I'd like to continue spending time with you.. even if it meant disobeying my parents. If it's alright with you, of course." You feel your ears heat up as you look down, scared of what the other's reaction might be.

It was rather obvious that Hobie didn't expect it, his eyes widening by a fraction. A big smirk appears on his face as he leans down to catch your eyes. "'Must've left quite the impression on you, huh?" he teases. He watches your eyes roll as you playfully shove his shoulder. "Well, I do love a good rebellion."

"It's not a rebellion."

"It's painfully close then, isn't it?"

#hobie #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #atsv hobie #hobie atsv #hobie brown atsv #hobie fluff #atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse

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kittievampire · 1 year

Note

Hello! Found your page recently and kicked myself to send in due to mammon and beel brainrot .-.

Anon because the filth req makes me shy lmao

Some ideas for ya (f!mc)

- 69 with Beel, but he's gagged with cloth, poor baby can only use his hands and whatever bit of tongue he can get out

- Exhibitionism and teasing from Mams (Cockwarming at the casino? Fingering on The Fall dance floor? These sound like bad porn titles oops)

- Beel wants a subtle spread leg MC dessert under the table at dinnertime (big hungry demon can't stay quiet and the other brothers def notice)

Also - folks HC that Mams would be too posessive to share MC but imo he'd prioritize MC's pleasure above anything soOoo..

- Sub mammon tied up and only getting kisses/ hj from MC while Beel hits it from the back

- DP with greedyboi and hungryboi (who prefers pussy/ ass? Writer's choice!)

- Beel gets a meal *cough pussy*, while Mams gets a beej

- Overstim feat. both of them, greed and gluttony means orgasms til they're satisfied. Get wrecked mc.

I feel both of them have a praise kink? Both giving and receiving. But this might just be me wanting to give the good boys a treat

*This turned into a long brain dump sorry lol feel free to take or leave any prompts :') My brain is now free and I pass the rot to you

Hoooollllyyyyy

Damn

I just

Damn

Yes

YES

Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Warnings: Smut, Switch!Fem!MC x Switch!Beelzebub x Switch!Mammon, Dacryphilia, Bondage, Overstim, Oral (f. receiving), Gagging, Concealed!Public Sex

Enjoy, you horny fucks.

"How you holding up, Beel?"

You gently stroked his large, hard cock with your small, soft hand, placing little kitten licks against the tip that was drooling with precum. His length was coated in your saliva as a result of you happily gagging and drooling all over it when it was in your mouth, as well as the stimulation you were getting from the Avatar of Gluttony's fingers.

You were so cruel.

When he tried to muffle a response through the red cloth that you'd shoved into his mouth, you couldn't help but giggle. You didn't even need to look at him, you could just tell that he was obscenely drooling at the sight of your cunt. You moaned, not only at the feeling of his thumb circling your clit while his fingers thrusted knuckles-deep into you, but also at the thought of how he looked right now.

Were his eyes blown out?

Did he look ready to pounce?

How was he still keeping himself together?

"D-Don't worry, baby, just a little while longer, I promise." You'd said that many times over, and yet, you still haven't given him the privilege of ravaging your pussy like the starving glutton he was. You felt him inch close to your opening and pressed your tongue and lips against his cock, sloppily kissing and drooling all over it once more. "The m-more you struggle, the more time it will take for you to taste me, Beel," You cooed, pushing yourself down against his fingers, earning a lewd squelch sound and for some of your juices to land on his face.

He groaned, and you could hear a low rumble in his stomach.

"Almost done, Beel, promise."

To be quite honest, talking to his opponents, playing poker, and trying to keep you quiet was a lot of work. You were planted on his lap, cock pushed past your folds and the tip snuggled against your cervix.

"Royal Flush, baby! Looks like ya better cough up!" Mammon exclaimed with a snarky grin on his face, bouncing his leg, which caused you to move up and down on his cock. You blushed, biting down on your bottom lip to hold back your noises.

Thankfully, his opponents were too drunk to notice your reaction to his movements. "G'dammit. Double or nothin'!" One of the demons said, to which Mammon threw his head back and cackled.

You almost let out a whine, knowing that one more game means more time that you'd have to sit there and warm his cock, nothing else. Mammon leaned forward, lips close to your ear so he could whisper ever so quietly, "Ya heard that, Treasure?" He gripped your thighs tightly, making sure you wouldn't move. "One more game, yeah? You can last for a while longer, can't ya?"

You shuddered.

Your pussy was aching to be thoroughly fucked, and at this point, you wouldn't care if he bent you over the table. But you didn't want to disobey him.

Your walls clenched around his cock and he grunted. He pecked your cheek. "Good girl," He cooed before turning back to face his opponents.

Beel completely caught you off-guard.

You honestly didn't expect him to grab your thighs from under the table and push them apart, nor did you expect for him to be under the table in the first place. You looked down, eyes wide in shock as he pulled down your panties. He looked up at you and smiled sweetly before attaching his lips to your cunt.

It was all happening way too fast, and you were at the table having dinner! With his brothers, no less!

You nearly choked as you felt him drag his tongue lazily over your folds, a shudder running down your spine as a dark blush formed on your face. You clenched your teeth to suppress a gasp, covering your mouth as your eyes darted over toward the brothers.

Thankfully, Mammon was causing a bit of a ruckus at the dinner table, so none of their eyes were on you at the moment.

Beel's grip on your thighs only tightened as you squirmed, shoving his tongue into your cunt, groaning softly as he got a taste of your walls. You muffled a whimper into your hand as you closed your eyes, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit to further stimulate you. He wanted the sweetness of your release, and he wanted it as soon as possible. The lewd slurping against your cunt, as well as your soft whimpers, only made it through your fuzzy head when you looked up to see six pairs of eyes staring you down.

I'm gonna go ahead and make the three-ways in a seperate part. I'll link it once it's posted, but I hope you liked it, anon!

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me beelzebub #obey me beelzebub smut #obey me mammon #obey me mammon smut #mammon obey me smut #beelzebub obey me smut #mammon smut #beelzebub smut #omswd smut

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yggdrasilhypno · 2 months

Text

Come here to gamble your days away, huh?

Not to say that I can blame ya much, seems like about everyone comes in here hoping to score big on somethin’.

Lucky day for you though, I’ve been needing a new volunteer for our newest attraction.

You see, ol’ hoss upstairs has been wanting new games out on the floor. You know, to get the ol’ folks all riled up.

They want the new fancy shmancy stuff, meanwhile we’re a bit more old fashioned.

We like our classics.

And what’s more classic than a good game of cards?

Though, we run things a bit differently here, of course.

Instead of the simple blackjacks or pokers, we prefer the game we dub “Eyeball.”

Never heard of it? It’s easy, I’ll show ya.

All you gotta do is keep your eyes on the cards in front of you and bet on the one in my hand, that’s all it is to it.

Sounds like a magic trick, huh? Kinda is, I gotta admit.

But, whatever gets people through the doors, you know?

So then, let’s start easy. Heck, I’ll give ya a freebie round, just to learn.

Four cards here on the table.

Simple ones too.

We got an Ace of Spades, Ace of Clubs, Ace of Hearts, and Ace of Diamonds.

All you gotta do is watch this Ace of Clubs for me, gotcha?

Keep those eyes on the card, because now it’s going in my deck.

All four cards bein’ shifted around in my hands, keeping those pretty eyes on my Ace of Clubs.

Just keep those eyes on me here, darlin’.

Each card moving around blurrin’ just a bit more in your eyes.

It gets hard to keep track of after a while anyways.

Maybe it’s best if you sit still and really focus on your card.

After all, you gotta win, right?

You want that big payout.

And so, those eyes are just glued to the card, shiftin’ all round now.

And, boom. Here we are.

Four cards on the table. All flipped over.

Which one’s that Ace of Clubs, darlin?

Hard to remember? Come on, you can throw out a guess for me.

Tell you what, guess right and you get some chips, on me.

Just don’t tell my ol’ boss about this, you hear?

Alright, go right on ahead and choose.

Hey hey, you got it right.

Feels amazing when you get it right on the money, huh?

Like you’ve been rocked with endless euphoria under the warmest of suns?

Yeah, that’s the hit of a gambler, alright.

Tell you what, I’ll give you another round here.

But, I throw in the full deck, just so that you get all my rules. Deal?

Good to hear, partner. Let’s hit this one on the head then.

You’ll be looking for this exact Ace of Hearts.

Got your eyes glued on tight onto it?

Keep those eyes on it now.

We don’t want you losing any money now, do we?

Of course, your brain could think about that right now, but it’s too caught up focusing on my cards shuffling and shifting around in my hands.

It’s way easier to worry about which card is gonna make you a winner here, you know.

Keep those eyes on it as my hands go faster and that Ace of Hearts gets thrown around more and more.

My careful hands, seemingly teasing you with the way I’m pulling and pushing the card around in front of you, almost giving away the answer.

Right before i stop, just like that brain of yours.

Right in its tracks.

And I set the cards all down.

And we wait now.

Tell me what card’s yours, hotshot.

Hard to tell, ain’t it?

You know what? I’m a nice guy, we’ll just slide this one as a win for me and you can keep enjoying that nice feeling of nothin’ in your head.

Don’t worry, I’ll just take a few chips here and there while you keep watchin’ the pretty cards a-movin’.

After all, it’s a way better feeling knowing those chips are going right back to the hands that keep shuffling that ol’ brain around, right?

Exactly.

Speaking of that brain, I’m guessing you can hear the casino slowing down around us, huh?

The roulette wheel spinnin, much like that brain o’ yours going around and around, each thought being spun outta control with each game.

Maybe you can hear the slots spinning round and round too, seemingly mixing up your thoughts one by one.

The pretty coins coming out of the machine, shiny and distracting as that pure metal creates that cha-ching you can’t help but love.

Those sounds all creating that perfect atmosphere for a jackpot.

Ah, you felt that? Very good.

Whenever people hear jackpot, they get all antsy.

They can’t help but get excited and overjoyed for obvious reasons.

That payout coupled with all the flashing lights and pleasure that comes with is euphoric.

That’s why whenever I say jackpot, I like to put an emphasis on it.

To really get you to understand how lucky you are.

How lucky you are to be at my table.

How lucky you are for me to handle your chips here.

How lucky you are to be doing so well right now.

You’re on a hot streak, after all.

So keep watching the cards in my hand, shuffling your brain all around.

Scrambling your mind as only I can.

Looking for the cards I tell you to.

Already forgot your card? No problem at all, darlin’.

Just keep those eyes on the cards and no doubt you’ll find one you like.

You do want the jackpot, right?

You wanna win that big burst of pleasure?

Then all you gotta do is give me aaaaall those chips of yours.

Every one of your thoughts, in every one of those chips.

No need to think anymore when you have nothing to think about, right?

Then you can get back to being happy n’ hollow, just the way you should be.

After all, having all those chips is so stressful.

So many numbers and things to keep up with.

It’s better when my words are tellin’ ya what cards you need and what thoughts you think.

It’s better when you’re just watching the cards shuffle your brain all around, like a twister of bliss.

It’s better when you don’t have a single thing to worry about.

It’s better when you’re all out of chips, darlin’.

So why don’t we make a wager then?

All in for the jackpot. What do you say?

That’s what I like to hear.

So then, let’s see if you can find the Ace of Spades here.

Keep your eyes on the card and keep your mind off the game.

All those noises in the background just letting you go deeper into this state of pure bliss.

All you want is that jackpot.

That explosion of euphoria and pleasure.

And you’ll get it soon enough.

Just find me the Ace of Spades when I…

Stop.

And put down one card on the table.

Wanna tell me what it is, darlin’?

Right-o, Ace of Spades.

Jackpot.

Ride it out, feel that high hit your brain and let aaaaaall those thoughts go away.

All those chips go to me.

All your thoughts are mine.

And finally, that mind is all on me right now.

So then, wanna play a few more rounds?

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #brainwashing #hypnodomme #hypnosub #hypnotized #mind control #brainless #covert hypnosis #casino series

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magnifigal · 9 months

Text

Nothin to see here folks, just your average Lamenter and his emotional Support Death Metal Troupemistress

#wh40k #warhammer 40k #magnificart #lamenter #lamenters #harlequin #harlequins #space marine #space marines #successor chapter #troupe mistress #troupe master #fanmasque #blackmassque #troupemaster #troupemistress

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shotmrmiller · 5 months

Text

Maybe dessert first.

Pairings: Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish x afab!reader

MDNI 18+

TW: explicit content, oral sex, MINOR religious depiction or talks of it and heavy scott slang that i couldnt tell you if its right or not. anything else yall know da deal please lmk anything i need to put on here.

Johnny on leave loves taking you out on dates, which is how you ended up stumbling through your apartment door right after a movie and a couple of drinks at a bar—his fingers hooked in the belt loops on your jeans to pull you towards him and you bring your arms up around, pressing your clothed chest against his.

Johnny places open-mouthed kisses on your jawline, trailing down to below your ear, and your fingernails lightly dig into his scalp as his attention erupts your flesh in goosebumps. Teeth biting down on your shoulder, his stubble rubbing your sensitive skin raw— your nerves feel exposed, you’re so hypersensitive.

“Ye look positively bonnie t’night, lass.”

“I’m wearing what I usually wear, Johnny.”

“Aye, and you’re as beautiful as you’ve always been.”

Knees bending, Johnny picks you up by the back of your thighs— fingers digging into the meat of your hips— as if you weighed nothing. Your mouths come together, fervent and hot as he walks the both of you to the dinner table. You open your mouth to ask why he put you here when he hooks his thumb over the back of your bottom teeth, forcing your mouth to stay open. Your reaction to this is visceral.

Johnny’s crystal eyes flick from your own down to the saliva drop at the tip of your tongue that drips onto his thumb. He lifts a corner of his mouth and snags his bottom lip with his teeth as he tips his head to the side, admiring his work.

“Yer a work of art, sweet girl.”

He finally leans in and drags his tongue up along yours, at the same time grinding his covered length against your center and you’re keening.

“Anno the filthy way you love to be kissed, bonnie, I haven’t forgotten.”

Stepping back a bit, he tucks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and knickers and you lift your hips to remove both articles of clothing in one go. As if he could read your mind Johnny says, “ Yer here because I’m about to eat and mi Mam always said proper folk eat dinner on the table.”

This man is gonna be the death of you. A small death, if anything. You recline back to support your upper body on your arms behind you as you see Johnny kneel between your legs with a look of reverence as if your hips are an altar— and if Johnny had anything to say about it, you are his place of worship.

“C’mere, lass. Dinnae keep a lad waitin’.”

You scoot closer to the edge of the table and his hot breath fanning out over your leaking pussy has you clenching around nothing almost desperate. Johnny presses light prickly kisses on your inner thighs and he works his way up to where you need him and yet he won’t give you attention where you need it most. Your thighs are trembling as he skims over your clit to love on your pussy lips and with every exhale his breath stimulates your nub and it’s so good but still not enough—

“Johnny, baby plea-”

And he finally, finally licks from the bottom of your slit to your clit, pointing his tongue to move it in circles before he goes back down to stick his tongue in and he curls it, collecting your slick like a parched man finding an oasis and he moans into your pussy before moving back and you can see him savor your nectar before he says, “My lass never has to beg me fer nothin.’ I’d lower the stars and have you walk with heaven at your feet if ye asked me.”

If his words didn’t almost have you about to bawl and ruin the erotic mood, you’d find his current actions crossing his adoring words almost lascivious. He brings you back to the moment with his hands underneath your ass, bringing you closer to him and his honeyed tongue. He encircles your clit with his lips, then flicks his tongue out, again and again.

You’re digging your nails into the table as you get closer to the edge, biting your lip to keep from being too loud and Johnny is having none of it. Hand going up to your face, he uses his thumb to pull your bottom lip from in between your teeth and says, “Absolutely not. Let the neighbors know who’s doing this to ya, bonnie.” and goes right back in.

You're dripping onto the dinner table, orgasm building under his mouth, and you swear you hear Johnny moaning as loud as you— and you’re so close, it feels like a rubber band ready to snap— and as he slaps your ass to get your attention and make eye contact, he tucks the pointed tip of his tongue under your clit and closes his lips around it and sucks.

You chant Johnny’s name like a prayer as you come— head tipped forward, chin dropping down to your chest as you shake— and Johnny flattens his tongue on your clit to feel it pulse, like a heartbeat, and the extra stimulation of it lets you ride out your pleasure.

Resting heavily on your arms, body completely boneless, you see Johnny pull back and his mouth and chin are dripping slick, and you can't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. He puts his hands on your knees and grunts as he pulls himself up from the floor and of course, Johnny’s the type to be even harder after eating pussy for half an hour. His erection twitches in his pants and you have no doubt he’s painfully rock solid but his face is that of a cat who's got the cream. And you suppose he did get cream, didn't he?

“Dinnae worry, lassie. I won’t fuck you here. I’d hate to break this table, knowing how much you like it.”

♡ ♡ ♡

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #cod mwii #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap smut #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mwii #john mactavish

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