#pulling him close holding him tight pulling down his mask tracing his scars kissing his lips | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghouljams · 28 days

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Genuinely cant stop thinking about Viking!Ghost... like you know he's pining after you, you can see the softness in his eyes when he looks at you, the way his gaze follows after you. He left you his cloak, sewed the fang you gave him into his leather, and went out of his way to see you before he left for the last excursion. You tend to keep to yourself, never really thought of family or husbands until he started coming around. Now all the excitement with your friend having her baby left you wanting, left you thinking of the giant Viking that's so often darkened your doorstep. He'd make pretty babies. You don't need to see his face to know it.

But he dances around you, he steps back when you try to step forward. He leaves when you threaten to get too close. And you- you find yourself shying away from the gentleness in his voice. Find your cheeks warm and your voice unsure when he reaches a hand to brush dirt off your cheek, when he adjusts his oversized cloak around your shoulders. His eyes always hold a warmth you've never found in another person, he's careful with you despite his size and it sends your head spinning. You've never been shy a day in your life, but for him... You see the wolf's fang on his leather and look away to cover your smile. He caries you around the world, but he hardly speaks a word to you. It makes your heart flutter.

You thought it would be harder to convince him to come in, to stay for dinner. He casts an unsure glance over his shoulder, watches the setting sun before nodding. You find yourself stalling when he pulls his mask off. Blond hair and honey colored eyes, your hands slip on the edge of the table when you lean to get a closer look. No one has ever called you proper, but it makes the lines around his eyes crease. Ghost pulls you onto his lap so eagerly, doesn't shy away from the fingers that trace over his cheeks, that sweep over the scars and his carefully closed eyes. You study him with such rapt fascination, and he leans into your touch.

You've never seen such a clean shaven Viking. It cuts his features so much more clearly, the lines of his mouth the hollow of his cheeks. He needs someone to feed him properly, you think. A good reason for you to keep him as your own. You mouth along his jaw, dragging your tongue over the shadow of a beard he keeps so neatly trimmed. Ghost's fingers tighten on your hips, dragging you against his swiftly hardening cock. He tips his head back following the dominion of your shadow as you straighten your back and lean against his broad chest. There's just a ring of gold when he opens his eyes, his iris eaten away by his pupils at the barest of your attentions.

He looks at you like you've seen the Völva look at the stars, with some understanding you'd never hope to gain. Eyes that have seen the gods. His lips part and you kiss him to hide the tremor in your resolve.

You don't feel quite so much like you're taking advantage of the man's kindness when your face is buried in the blankets, moans ripped from your throat as he pins you down and fucks you. Each hard thrust of his fat cock punching a new sound from your chest, lost in the mattress and furs until his hand wraps around your throat to pull you up. His lips find your temple, the shell of your ear, his breath panting against your cheek as he fucks his come into you. He pulls you up, lifts you to sit on his thick thighs as he pushes his cock into your sensitive cunt. The hand not holding your throat, keeping your head against his shoulder, spreads wide over your stomach. He rubs his thumb over the soft skin, squeezes you like a promise. Like he could keep you wrapped up with him for the rest of your life.

You blink tears away, each thrust using your own weight against you, forcing you to take him deeper until your legs shake from the tight heat of it. His tongue drags along the fresh bite on your shoulder, the edges of it red and throbbing, perfect impressions of his teeth. You flinch at the wet slip of blood, at the groan that seems to wreck itself on Ghost's vocal cords.

"Ride my cock love," his bloodies lips mumble against your ear, "show me how bad you want it and I'll keep you nice and full."

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost x you #f!reader #oc: goose #viking au #viking!ghost

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mcwhytubers · 1 year

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hmm..

#i am incredibly gay #joel talks #just thinking about my boyfriend #pulling him close holding him tight pulling down his mask tracing his scars kissing his lips #hmm #he’s so adorable and sweet and kind #despite our source I feel so good around him- so safe and warm and happy #im getting incredibly sappy and im gonna make myself cry so im just going to cut myself off while im ahead

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 month

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Yandere Short Stories:

Knight in Shining Armor

Yandere Monster Knight x Princess Reader

TW: delusional Yandere, Yandere behavior, kidnapping (mentioned), etc.

Ajax had always been princess (your name)’s confidant and source of solace… so why did he have her cornered on the bed of the inn? His large, muscular frame towered over her as his body trembled.

“I can’t do it… I can’t let you marry some other man.” Ajax whispered, his metal mask hiding his expression. There was no doubt in (your name)’s mind that he was shaken up about something. She had no clue why he’d be so upset about her getting married…

“Ajax, it was bound to happen eventually. It’s my duty as the kingdom’s princess-“ (your name) gasped when he closed the distance between them. Ajax’s large palms pulled her into a tight hug. The force of the hug caused them both to land on the small bed with a soft plop.

“Ajax-“ Ajax placed a finger on (your name)’s lips to pause her words.

“I won’t allow it… I won’t allow some other man to sully you.” Ajax’s deep voice made her body anxiously shake. “Not when I’ve wanted you for so many years…”

“Ajax-“ (your name)’s eyes widened when he finally removed the mask that’s concealed his face for over a decade. Ajax was half orc? (Your name) hadn’t a clue and she had been with him for so many years…

“I’m half monster, I thought you knew.” Ajax chuckled as his crimson eyes flitted over (Your name)’s frozen form. She was now a helpless lamb trapped in the maw of the wolf. “It’s why the other knights have been so cruel to me… why the maids avoid me like the plague and your father wanted to send me to war.”

(Your name)’s eyes can only take on his scarred and burned face in shock. Why was half the skin on his mouth missing and his tusks filed down? Who had hurt him so much that he didn’t confide in her, his best friend? What atrocities had he faced while she remained none the wiser?

(Your name) were shocked when he bent down to show you his teeth. His tusks were clumsily filed down to almost look like teeth but they were still rather sharp. “I did the tusk work, but they grow back rather quickly. The skin on my face is still healing from when there was an assassination attempt on you from your future husband’s concubines. Bastard was going to pour acid on your face.”

(Your name) reached up to trace the scars on his face while Ajax gave her a soft smile. “Ajax…”

“You’re the only one who’s never treated me like a monster… you’re so wonderful and kind.” Ajax moved his large, gloved hands to hold her hands. “That old king doesn’t deserve you. No one does!”

(Your name) blushed when Ajax brought her hands up to his lips to press tender kisses over each of her knuckles. Despite how badly Ajax wished to ravish her, he must keep his composure.

“You took this amount of damage for me?” (Your name)’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it made Ajax melt into a puddle.

“Of course I did. I will do anything for you.” Ajax moved himself to crouch on the corner of the bed, his head in a slight bow. Yet (your name) could feel the burning obsessed behind his crimson gaze. “I am in love with you. Madly, deeply, entirely devoted to you and only you.”

Ajax grasped (your name)’s bare foot and brought it up to his mouth to press tender kisses across the top of it. “I will love you until my skin rots off my body and I am nothing but bones. Yet even death could not separate me from you for I will be in every corner of your life like a permanent shadow of protection. I will protect you with my entire being and soul. I will haunt and dismember your enemies if you so much as give them a glance of distaste.”

(Your name) felt her blood run cold when Jax gave her a bright grin that reopened a few of the stitches across his cheeks. The blood dripped down his face and onto her foot, but he merely lapped it up with his longer tongue. “Now tell me… is what I feel not love? I may not be a handsome prince but I swear I’m your knight in shining armor.”

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sugatrapp · 2 years

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「 P u n i s h m e n t 」

•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•

Pairings: Severus Snape x Reader x Lucius Malfoy

Summary: When Lucius and Snape came home from work, they caught reader in the act without permission.

Warnings: NSFW / Sexual themes ~ Threesome ~ Use of "they" pronouns ~ Non-specified gender or genitalia of reader

AO3

Masterlist

Ko-Fi

•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•

Metal clinks together in an uneven rhythm throughout the room. Nails rake against mahogany wood, no doubt leaving hideous scars behind. Ragged breathing and gasps join the unholy cacophony as fatigue claws at their consciousness.

There, lying bare in the center of the massive bed, is them. They tug desperately at the silver chains binding their wrists and ankles to the four posters to no avail. He made sure each was skin tight, disallowing any movement that his narrowed gaze would miss. They are exposed in nearly every way possible, unable to hide even from the frigid temperature of the dim space. They shiver for what feels like the hundredth time, this time from the tsunami of pleasure crashing over their fleeting composure.

Their voice cracks as they shout to the high heavens, trembling thighs clamping around the head buried between their thighs. More frantic tugging at the chains proves fruitless. The head remains despite this, jet black hair masking the face of their torturer.

“No-No more, I c-can’t.”

A firm hand closes around their throat. They lift their heavy eyelids, meeting the stern grey eyes of the mastermind behind it all.

“What was that, love?” He asks, yet an ever-growing smirk is present on his handsome face.

“Luci…” they whine, jolting once more when the dark-haired man’s nose brushes against their sensitive skin.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He gestures below.

Pitifully whimpering and moaning, “Yes, but—”

“Then you should be thankful to receive what Severus is so generously providing. Maybe then you’ll be a good pet from now on.”

They are tempted to curse him and his smugness, but are catapulted into another orgasm. Their back arches as far as the chains will allow, toes curling. Their cries are suddenly muffled by lips pressing against theirs. Salty tears stream down their cheeks as he moves his blond hair over one shoulder. They feel the easing of pressure from below, letting out a small sigh in between kisses. But this insignificant noise alerts Lucius enough to shift his attention to Severus, whose chin and swollen lips glisten from his continued stimulation.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

“The poor thing’s all fucked out,” he drawls, tracing light patterns over their thigh with his fingers. They barely hold in a purr. “Perhaps they could be forgiven this once?”

Lucius hums, a pout on his lips. Silence falls over the group as they anxiously await his response. Suddenly, the smirk is back in full force. He leaves their side and strolls over to Severus. Leaning in close to the dark haired man, he murmurs though loud enough for them both to hear:

“How about I punish you as well?”

Severus’s eyes widen, his dark pupils blown. Pink dusts his cheeks and he gulps audibly.

“Would you like that, pet?” He turns towards them.

They nod frantically. “Yes.” He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, sir.”

“Good pet.”

Lucius pulls Severus into a heated kiss, taking off his clothing one piece at a time. Severus lets out a whimper of his own, clinging to his partner as their tongues explore. Despite being overstimulated, they bite their lip at the scene unfolding before them, their hips shifting of their own accord. The night will surely be a long one.

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stigandr-the-cat · 1 year

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Devouring Love

A/N : Minors DNI. If I see you, you will be blocked. Contains themes of D / S dynamics. Not much in the way of spice, more focused on aftercare as well as mutual comfort and love. Reader is fully neutral in appearance.

Levi should have realized the first inkling of trouble when the soft tug of lips left his ear for the delicate skin just below. But the dizzying feeling spinning his head and boiling his insides felt like that most tender feeling of love and in the middle of a scene, it was intoxicating this new feeling. But now there are teeth and sucking, already he knows there will be the fresh bloom of a bruise. His hand knotted in his partner's hair pulling them closer slips free. Gripping their neck tight and pushing those silvered honey lips away.

"I said no visible marks." He growls not so much frustrated as acting his part of the dominant.

"Sorry, sir." Their voice silk soft. Breath short from the slight squeeze of his fingers. The contrast of his ivory skin muscled and scared twitching against their own. Eyes half-lidded but he feels the pulse of lust between them.

He growls again. Thinking how he will have to try and cover it in the morning. Their eyes open fully and he watches the mask of bratty submission fall, his lover in true coming back to him.

"Levi? Did I go too far?" A warm hand trails up his back and over his shoulder to cup his cheek, shivering at the tender love.

"No baby, it's ok."

"Are you sure? I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd bruise so quickly."

"My love I would have used our safe word if it was too much." His own hand leaving the curve of their throat to rest on their cheek, a mirror in action.

"Sometimes I think you forget that." They murmur nuzzling into his palm kissing it.

It's true he wants to say. Never has sex offered him an out unless it was to decline the act. Even then the pushiness of some of his previous partners. Just because he dominates the screen the act doesn't mean he can't have his own limits. Till now no one has made sure to check in and offer comfort. Even the small act of making him tea while he changed the sheets after sex. Offering to wash his hair and back. Asking if it was good for him as well. It says 'i love you' and 'i value you' with different letters and words but he hears them all the same. It echoes in his chest.

"Brat, but it's ok your doing good. My good little brat." Tugging them close his lips just out of reach of a kiss. Letting them close the distance.

They do and he invades them like a man starved of love and he is. Devouring each scrap of kind smiles and sweet words of tender touches of holding hands and cuddling up for warmth. His partner gives it all to him, a fully devoted heart. He takes eating it, eating them whole. Tender kiss bruised flesh leaving behind love tucked safe behind his ribs. But in return he gives his own heart and devotion to them. Filling their heart like a well knowing it will sustain them both. He kisses like a man in love who knows heartache but feels it's outweighed by love when you give it wisely.

The hand on his cheek slips away, tracing down the path of his neck. It's nothing more than a feather kiss on the bruise but still, he winces at the touch. His lover pulls away. Levi opens his eyes to ask to demand they come back and let him devour them and the love they give so freely. But the concern in their eyes has him hesitating.

“You winced. I really did hurt you.”

“It's just a little bruise and it is fresh, pretty sure we’ve given each other worse before.” He watches a kiss swollen bottom lip pulled back and nibbled on, wanting nothing more than to replace those teeth with his own.

“Sure but Levi,” they sigh “you’ve never startled like that before.”

“I-” Levi stops how does he explain this?

When it’s true. He never has, a body built to take pain and pleasure like it's nothing. Years of fighting those dances with death and blood left his body numb till now. Where now under tender touch those dead scars feel new and raw and he aches for more. For nails to dig into his back as his love writhes beneath him mewling his name like the chant of prayer. For those same fingers to become silk when they put ointment on the marks they make. Those soft kisses climb down his back as he shivers feeling the guilt of a scene feeling too harsh shaken from him like dead leaves in winter.

“Let’s stop, for now. I want to really look at that bruise, then I can make us tea.” His lover lowers their hand to his chest over the wild drum of his heart that demands for them to climb inside and stay when so many have left.

“Are you sure? You're the one who pulled me here the second I walked in the door.” He tries to scoff but it comes out half-hearted.

“I did, but I’m fine with waiting for you. Unless you need to continue.”

Waiting for you, for him. It shouldn’t seem as much of a declaration of love screamed from rooftops as it does. It's the carving deeper of their name on his tree trunk heart but there is no blood. The pain though is more realization that this should have been what love was meant to be. Not the clawing in the dirt on broken knee blood in his eyes as it has been. Devotion isn’t supposed to be a war but a gentle collapse into warm welcoming arms.

“No, I’m fine.” Is what he gives in place of the dictionary that is inspired in his chest.

The tugging away of limbs called back to their owner as they separate. But linked still fingers that tug him to the bathroom. That stay linked as his lover kneels to grab the first aid kit. His body stiff, a growl rattling in his lungs that refuses to exhale. A retreating temptation of soft warmth around his aching need. Later, the kiss on his thigh promises.

They rise, eyes locking on his, and he finds he no longer remembers those that came before offering hearts made of briar. He has to let go and grip the counter to keep from losing his mind at the tenderness that is given him in those eyes. He should be long used to it now with the years they have given him of peace yet still he finds each day the walls of his past that have regrown again must be swallowed down again by a soft hand that hands him his perfect cup of tea. Eyes shutting against the onslaught of emotions that lashes in his gut.

“It doesn’t look too bad, but if you’re hurting at this you might be coming down with a cold.” Is the whispered words in his ear. “We don’t want that. You are going to drink some tea, share an orange or two, and we are going cuddle.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Is that right?”

“Yep, Doctor’s orders.”

“Demanding brat.” He turns to the warmth, a hand dancing up to their hair as he tugs them closer for a kiss. A surprised squeak that becomes a delighted purr at the touch.

He finds himself being tugged again but this time towards the couch.

“I can,” He starts when hands wave him to sit.

“Sit down and relax? Yes, you can, I’ll make tea and cut up the fruit.”

“Brat.” but he relents as hands push at his chest till he is about to fall. The steel of his body breaking under the cotton of theirs.

“Yea but you love me.” Their voice a laugh as they walk away. “What do you think of that tea with the cacao nibs to go with the oranges?”

“Perfect.” Levi lets his body relax against the cushions.

It shouldn’t be as hard as it is to relax but he can feel the rebellion of his body grow as he tries. Closing his eyes again in hopes to quell what feels like agony to just relax. Water pours from the tap before the stove clicks on. A soft humming from his lover as they slice the oranges the citrus smell in the air. The whistle of the kettle. A clink of porcelain as spoonfuls of leaves fall into the teapot than the hiss of water that follows the same path. More clattering and humming as teapot and orange slices are put on a serving tray with their cups. The hum stops when they walk over. He wants to smile, they think him asleep.

“Still awake.” He says.

“How?” they huff a small laugh.

“I know you, my love.” He looks at them as they set down the tray, pulling the coffee table closer to the couch. He remembers that he should be annoyed at the cockeye but instead treats it like it's love a simple move to make it easier to reach.

“You do,” they concede. “Want me to be little or big spoon?”

It shouldn’t be this hard to answer. To let go of the desire to be able to have them where he can grab them with ease and pull them to his chest like his arms are chains that will keep them tied to him. When he knows by the new glint of silver on their finger that they already offered themself as more than a possession to be outgrown, but a partner to stay with each season till they both fall into the winter of their lives and even after walking with him into the eternal dark.

“Big.” He finally lets out as an exhale.

They hum puffing a pillow for their back against the arm. Handing him one of the many weighted blankets scattered around the house. Pulling him till he is back between their legs in a different kind of intimacy. One that feels more venerable than being on his knees hands wrapped around bare thighs, or on his back exposed hand over his eyes another twisting the sheets as his lover kisses and tugs till his body is shaking. This vulnerability is made of a soft chest he leans against, the weight of the blanket creeping up his chest, and the gasp he makes as kisses are pressed into the back of his neck.

“Brat.” he grits the word out, shivering.

“Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t resist.” Lips shaping and whispering the words against his skin. He lets his fingers dig into the soft thighs that bracket him.

“Thought you wanted me to rest, this feels more like an invitation to fuck you against the couch.” He growls out, wondering how much longer until he breaks and does just that.

They pull away. “Tea first, I know you like it hot.” He hears the smirk curling their still kiss-swollen lips.

“Brat.” But he sits up to pour the tea, handing them his mug and watching the shock and adoration play across their face. He smiles as they blink away tears. This is his own offering of love without words. Not lip service to what he feels but action. As he feeds them a slice of orange he watches as the devouring fire he gives to his lover is reflected in their eyes. The promised later speeding to the present. The can always be reheated.

#babbling.brook.writing #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #last time this was posted it got nothing #fingers crossed this time it works

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cavalierious-whim · 2 years

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To Show Up an Old Man

Teasing, Childe calls Zhongli an old man in bed. Part of Etched in Stone.

CW: Zhongchi, Explicit Sexual Content, Teasing, Bickering and Bantering, Anal Sex, Breeding Kink, Overstimulation, Dirty Talk

Check out the fic here on AO3 for full list of content warnings.

Zhongli is spread out below him in the bed, pink-faced and sweaty. Scales line his face, dotting his skin. No horns—he isn’t that far gone—but the smooth, pale skin of his shoulder bleeds into obsidian. Glittering lines of Geo trail down his arms and curve around his wrists, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Childe smirks. Drags a hand down Zhongli’s sternum, dipping through that valley, tracing the hard line of his muscles. Fingers ghost over a nipple, tweaking it, dragging a groan from deep in Zhongli’s throat.

“What a sound,” he says in a cocksure tone. Childe leans forward, his hand still sweeping over Zhongli’s form before settling high over his pec. A scar from where Zhongli’s Gnosis once was, spiderwebbing across the skin. He used to hide it, a little self-conscious about the reminder of his divinity and the imperfection left behind in its wake. Childe caught him unawares one day before he could mask it, begging for him to never hide it again.

“Ajax—” Zhongli hisses, head tipping back as Childe rolls his hips, taking his cock deeper, clenching around it. His insides cling to Zhongli’s thick length as Childe rides him fast and hard, sweat dripping from his brow.

“Shit, and the way that you say my name.” It isn’t that Zhongli is quiet in bed, not with his curling words of praise, or heated debaucheries that he whispers right into Childe’s ear. But this—Zhongli’s breath hitches with every rise and fall of Childe’s hips. “Yeah, just like that, fuck.”

Zhongli holds him by the waist, claws digging into the soft skin of Childe’s sides. He helps him, guiding his hips and pace as Childe moves over him. Childe moans as his cock punches deep, full, and thick in his gut. His thighs tremble as he tries to hold the rhythm because even the sight of Zhongli like this is enough to send him over the edge.

Childe sinks down until his ass meets Zhongli’s thighs. Zhongli gasps, loosing a guttural curse as he bucks into him, grinding until Childe swears he can feel Zhongli’s cock in his throat. “Oh, oh—”

Zhongli watches him with a half-lidded, glowing and golden gaze. His neck strains, vein bulging. His fingers dig in deeper as he holds on. Holding back. Trying to maintain his cool, to keep from losing himself entirely. Perfect for teasing.

“Are you close?” Zhongli groans in response and Childe smiles. “Heh, you are. Old Lizard.” A fond tease, one that drips from Childe’s mouth low, like liquid honey. “Am I too much for you? Too young, too fresh?”

“Ajax—”

Childe nuzzles Zhongli’s jaw, kissing it. He hums softly, affectionately. “I know—I’m too tight. You can’t handle it, being buried so deep. All you can think about is breeding, stuffing me up until I can’t think of anything else. I’m too much for an old man to keep up with—”

Zhongli pulls his cock out abruptly and flips them. Childe’s easily overpowered, not that he’d put up a fight. He knows that Zhongli isn’t too old to satisfy but it’s fun to poke at the beast. Zhongli’s weight is heavy against him as he presses Childe into the mattress, chest shoved against the sheets.

“Bold words,” he whispers into Childe’s ear, breath searing hot as he licks across the shell of it with a forked tongue, “coming from a boy who loses himself so easily. Tell me, Ajax, how close are you, hm? If I slip back in, just how long will it take until you come?”

Not long. Childe was close, the fire in his gut blazing as he barrelled towards an orgasm. It’s been dulled these last few minutes as Zhongli strings him along, making him wait. “That’s—unfair.”

Zhongli spreads his asscheeks wide and looks. Takes his time, sweeping his thumbs over his loose, oil-slick rim before slipping them in. “Naughty,” he says, tugging at Childe’s hole, stretching it to peer right into his insides. “Good boys aren’t so easy in bed, right?”

“I’m not—Zhongli.”

“Or is it that you’re only easy for me?”

“Yes!” cries Childe as Zhongli drives three fingers in, fucking his sloppy hole, watching the way that it just swallows them down. “Fuck, fuck—”

“You shouldn’t tease me so readily, baobei, because it only makes me respond in kind.”

Which Childe knows and loves, Zhongli’s deep voice cooing terribly dirty things into his ear while fucking him raw. The love-making is wonderful but it’s fun to push his buttons and have to pay for it.

Zhongli slams his cock back into him hard enough to knock Childe’s breath loose. Childe moans, drowning in the silk sheets and the earthy scent of Zhongli that clings to them. The hard drag, slick and wet, the slap of sweaty skin, and Zhongli’s balls against his own.

“Oh, Gods. Oh, oh—”

“You mentioned the sounds that I make, but Ajax, I wish you could hear yourself. It’s as if you are hanging in the stars, you’re so lost. Does it feel that good?”

It feels better. Zhongli’s cock carves a home into his ass as though it belongs there. Childe chokes on a moan as he fucks back against him, doing his best to meet every hard thrust of Zhongli’s hips. Desperate and needy. Childe needs this, to come with Zhongli buried deep, Childe’s name tumbling from his lips. “Full,” he murmurs, “So, so full, fuck.”

“So tight for me,” says Zhongli, “but not too tight for this old lizard.”

Oh, he is—Childe definitely is and he knows it. He has Zhongli wrapped around his damn finger in bed and he uses that to his advantage. Zhongli grunts as he fucks him, fingers tight around the sharp jut of Childe’s hips as he pulls him into each thrust, but he hides it well between silver-tongued words that leave Childe’s heart skipping a beat.

“You love it,” he says, voice mildly muffled by the bed. Childe turns his face. “You love me.”

Zhongli pauses, his cock settled deep, twitching slightly. He leans forward, nuzzling the back of Childe’s neck, fangs dragging across the skin there to nip at it lightly. Frames Childe’s head with charcoal-black arms, elbow digging into silk. His chest rests against Childe’s back as they melt together, legs tangled, bodies entwined, Zhongli’s dick shoved into him as far as it can go.

“I do. Celestia, you cannot begin to dream how much I love you.” Zhongli doesn’t fuck Childe hard and fast, now, he’s slowed to a crawl, opting for heavy thrusts that drag through Childe’s core. His cock is hot, branding him. Zhongli ruts with the perfect angle, the tip pounding into Childe’s swollen prostate with every slide.

And those words; Childe was content with his teasing, but fuck, if the romantic platitudes aren’t what always do him in. His dick aches, hard, trapped between his belly and the sheets. Zhongli’s face is close, cheeks pressed together as he leans over Childe’s shoulder, scales catching on smooth skin.

“Gods, yeah—” Childe moans.

“My darling,” says Zhongli. A thrust of hips. “Baobei.” Another thrust, this one stuttering, his pace lost in the heat of their passion. “What was it you said earlier? That all I think about is breeding you? I do—oh, how I do. Swollen and rounded with my come, with my—” Zhongli cuts himself off, refusing to finish the thought.

That’s a new one. The breeding kink, not so much, but— “With your what? Come on, old man. Tell me.”

Zhongli moans, the sound liquid in Childe’s ear. “Laogong,” he says, the foreign word rolling off his tongue. Childe has never heard this one, has no idea what it means but he loves it all the same, keening at the sound of it. “Fuck, you’re—Mhm.”

“I’m—I’m—”

Zhongli comes first, groaning, cock swelling as he spends himself inside Childe’s ass. Wet, hot warmth; being plugged full. Childe sinks into the sheets as Zhongli plasters himself close, words of love pouring into his ear as he rolls his hips gently, riding out his orgasm.

He hikes Childe’s hips up slightly, a hand sliding underneath him. A hand, tight against Childe’s cock as he gives it a few jerks. “Perfect for me. So tight, so handsome, and all mine. My precious Laogong.”

The word feels right, sinking into his chest, settling right near his heart. Childe will ask later, but for now, he fucks into the clenched grip of Zhongli’s hands, shuddering as arousal threatens to overtake him. “So good,” he hisses. “Archons.”

Zhongli chuckles against his nape, endlessly entertained by that particular curse. He jerks Childe’s cock. “Come for me. Show an old man just how you do it.”

Terrible dirty talk. Childe is caught between laughing and crying but comes, all the same, flying over the edge as he spills into Zhongli’s hand. Zhongli tugs him through it, fucking into him gently, stroking his cock into overstimulation. All the while Childe writhes in the sheets, toes curling as his ass clenches so tight that Zhongli loses his breath, his length still buried deep.

“Fuck.” Zhongli so rarely curses, usually in moments like this where he’s wholly overcome.

Childe finally laughs, and says, “See? You are old—”

Zhongli thrusts into him, cutting off his tease, cock already hardening to go again. “Old, but not infirm,” he teases. “Tell me, boy—how long until you’re ready to go again? Because I could fuck you like this all night long.”

A challenge. And Childe is a man who cannot turn away from such a thing. He grinds back against Zhongli, goading him on. “Are you offering to put me into my place? Because, yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Childe grins as he looks back over his shoulder, meeting a dangerous golden-eyed gaze. “Yes, please. Didn’t you want to breed me?”

Zhongli leans back, smirking. Smooths a hand over the swell of Childe’s ass, spreading a cheek to take a look. Childe can feel the way come leaks from his hole, around his dick. Zhongli slides his thumb through it with a soft hum. “Oh, it’ll be my pleasure,” he says, hiking his hips up for a better angle.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin smut #zhongchi #zhongli/childe

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doggirlswag · 2 years

Text

gn!reader/m!eden. cw for implied stockholm syndrome, descriptions of violence, and self-image issues. 1.14k words.

thinking about worshiping eden’s body.

it starts small. it has to. he’s not used to it. he’s sat in front of the fire, and something long-forgotten bubbles inside him when you bend over and kiss the scar on his cheek.

he doesn’t like it. are you making fun of him? it sure feels like it. your skin is so clear, so soft and smooth compared to his, rough and marred. it’s as if you’re taunting him when you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

there’s no malice in your smile, though. just warmth. he’s not sure what to think about that.

you’ve both lived hard lives. it’s not easy to relax. eden handles it differently than you do. he can bury himself in work or in you and pretend he's not afraid. he still tosses and turns most nights, but his sleep is only ever interrupted by you, teary-eyed and shaking as you curl up in his chest.

he traces his thumb over your cheek and pulls you close. “you’re okay,” he murmurs, voice low. he’ll keep you safe. he pulls his flannel open and you do your best to squirm inside, white-knuckled grip on his shoulders.

you’re not like this often. not anymore, at least. your eyes are red and puffy, bottom lip trembling while you hiccup. eden’s never been good with words, so he holds you tight and presses an uncharacteristically soft kiss to your neck.

it’s hard to be anxious in his arms. both protected and vulnerable, your breathing slows and you can begin to relax. there’s no bailey, no leighton, no doctors or buyers or nightmares when you’re held so tight.

you think you love him. you really hope you do.

whispering, you tell him you’re sorry for waking him up. you can make it up to him, though. he frowns. are you sure you’re up for this?

you throw the blanket off his bed and roll on top of him. “please. let me take care of you for once,” and he can’t bear to say “no” to you anymore. he doesn’t have time to worry about that, though. not when you kiss him so tenderly, like he’s worth kissing.

you pull away and press your lips to his cheek once again. he winces. the scar’s an old one, but he can’t cover it up like the ones that cross his chest. he tenses when you shift down to his pecs. there’s a fresh one there, one he wears thanks to you.

you still wanted to go to town. to check in on robin, to drop goodies off at the museum, to finish your classes and pretend that someday you might be able to have a normal life with a comfortable job and a little apartment. you were safer at eden’s than at the orphanage, but the trek through the forest was a long and lonely one. it was easy to get caught off guard, wild animals biting at your body, making you scream. you were lucky eden liked you so much - if anyone else had scared off his prey, he’d have been furious. but for you? he can fight off a wolf or two. maybe he was a bit too focused on your fragile frame tangled in the undergrowth to notice the claws tearing through his shirt and skin.

you hadn’t left the cabin for a while after that. it was a deep cut, and no matter how much he tried to hide it, the pain he was in destroyed you.

so you try to kiss it better. you’re so grateful for him, you appreciate how hard he works, you love the sound of his voice and the way he moves and the way he looks. he won’t believe you if you say it. instead, you trail down his body, running your hands over his soft muscles.

it’s always been a bit strange to you how much effort he puts into his appearance. something about it is endearing, but there’s a quiet sadness to it that he tries to mask.

you think he’s perfect. you try to show him, your tender gaze meeting his as you pepper his scars with gentle kisses.

i love you for you, not in spite of you, you think. you’re sure of it.

neither one of you will be satisfied like this, though. with a final kiss to the long scar stretching across his abdomen, you move further south and nuzzle your cheek against his thigh, lips brushing against his cock.

he raises an eyebrow when you press your lips to the side of his shaft, then position your face underneath it. it feels like it dwarfs your head in length. his eyes narrow, then squeeze shut when your tongue grazes his balls. he hisses through his teeth. he doesn’t particularly enjoy surprises, but he can make an exception just this once - it’s hard to be angry when he sees his dick stretched across your face, struggling to fit his low-hanging sack into your mouth. you’re torn between burying your nose in his pubes to take the full thing into your mouth and keeping your eyes on his, even as your cheeks burn.

you love every part of him. even the parts of him that don’t make you feel good. even the parts that he thinks are ugly, that he wants to hide from the world. you want to prove it.

you feel his cock throb against your face as you swallow more of him, lips wrapped around him. his legs tense up and his hands find their way to the back of your head, pushing you further down. your tongue finds itself swirling around him, reaching the backside of his sack while his precum drools onto you.

he’s never seemed so wild before. his grip is tight, not from a desire to control, but from a need for more. you like seeing him panting, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip.

you look a bit like a squirrel, cheeks stuffed with his nuts. it would make you laugh if you could form any coherent sounds. the vibrations in your throat seem to please him, though, since he groans and tangles his broad, calloused fingers into your hair.

“so good to me,” he mumbles, pulling your head back. you whine - you weren’t finished yet. but he’s taken the reins once more, pulling you up by your shoulders until your hips come to rest just above his. his cock twitches.

“if you’ve gotten all the sappy shit out of the way,” he huffs, “i’d love to get started.”

back to his comfort zone. to ignoring his feelings for a while longer. that’s fine. you have all the time in the world to show him just how wonderful he is.

you hope he’s got some idea after tonight.

#dol #degrees of lewdity #eden the hunter #this is... so pretentiously written. i just wanted to suck his balls.#side note i think eden gave me a pits fetish!#like hellooooo sailor i know you worked SO hard today. you must be all sweaty haha.#nooooo don't torment me by shoving my head in your pits!! gross!! haha i'm not gonna get scent-drunk or anything. that would be weird.#. i want to drink his sweat.#anyways. hope this came off more stockholmy-pc than it did me mischaracterizing eden (it did not)

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august-bleeds-red · 4 years

Text

A Job Well Done - Part Two

Jason Voorhees, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair and Michael Myers wet their S/O’s whistle (NSFW under the line)

Part One (Brahms Heelshire, Thomas Hewitt and Vincent Sinclair) here

Jason Voorhees (2009)

Summer is dying, the leaves changing to auburn and yellow, and Jason’s machete lies forgotten against the maple trunk. The tree stands alone in a large meadow of long grass, painted gold from the fading season, its crimson coat of leaves like fire against the azure September sky.

So many colours, yet the only shade you have eyes for is white.

You trace the patterns of Jason’s mask with your fingertips, like you don’t know them by heart already, couldn’t conjure the image in your mind from anywhere in the world. His hand rests easily on your skirt, the tip of one finger just brushing your thigh. You take his hand in yours and press it against the swell of your chest, leaning forward to plant a kiss at the place on his mask where his mouth would be.

“Jason.”

He’ll never grow tired of hearing his name spoken in your sweet voice. You begin to push your fingers beneath the hockey mask’s edge, pausing to kiss the exposed skin when his body freezes in fear. You’ve only seen his face once before – the first time you met – so you understand his hesitation to allow you a second view. When you get to his mouth, you kiss his twisted lips with enough passion to still his breath, and his hands grip tightly to your upper arms, holding you so close you can feel his heartbeat against your chest. The mask falls to the ground, gazing with empty eyes at the romantic scene playing out next to it. You feel so small, so safe, wrapped in his muscular arms, the heart beating beneath his torn shirt pulsing with vibrant life for you alone. Your hand trails down the bulky layers of clothing and settles on the crotch of his pants, causing him to shift in embarrassment at the hardness beneath. He’s still not used to the idea that his attraction to you won’t be met with disgust on your part. You chuckle and rub a little harder.

“It’s okay, baby.”

Struck by a sudden impulse, you get to your feet and look around the empty field to check that it’s . . . well, empty. The only sounds for miles are the rustling of leaves and the calling of birds; not even the faintest rumble of traffic reaches all the way out here. You pull your dress off in one quick movement, revealing the modest bra and boy-shorts you’re wearing underneath. You’ve never been this exposed under open sky before, and your heart dances as you unlatch the clasp at your back. You stand before him exposed to the world, the sun on your shoulders, the wind gently ruffling your hair. He rises to his full, considerable, height, his eyes never leaving yours, and backs you up against the trunk of the tree. The bark presses into your bare skin, imprinting the soul of the woods onto you as Jason leaves his own marks on the side of your neck.

“Hold still,” you whisper against his ear, dropping to your knees in the damp grass, your fingers already making short work of his belt buckle. He knows what you’re doing, although he can scarce believe it’s really happening. You, so pure, so perfect, blessing him with your beautiful lips and unconditional affection.

He’s even bigger than you thought he’d be. There’s no way you’re going balls-deep with this one, that’s for sure.

“A shower and a grower, huh?” you smirk up at him, appreciating the bashful expression that flits across his features.

He tastes like the wild, of soft earth and clear spring water. He bucks his hips involuntarily and the back of your head bumps the tree behind you, making you wince and rub your scalp. Leaning over slightly, Jason cups the base of your skull, protecting you from further injury.

“So thoughtful,” you smile, returning to your task, the shadow of his large torso now shielding you from any prying eyes. Not that anyone would need two guesses to know exactly what you were doing. You take him in as far as your throat will allow, and then a little further, so you gag a little on the thick head. He moans, deep and long, and you feel a surge of strange power – this giant oak of a man, brought to such tender passion by your hands, by your mouth. You run the flat of your tongue up the underside of his cock, feeling the bumpy veins against your sensitive taste-buds. You imagine how incredible it would feel to have this inside you, to have Jason pumping into you, spilling his seed into you, making you his and his alone.

You can tell he’s trying not to lose control, but his knees are shaking from the exertion of it. You’re determined to snap that final straw. Keeping one hand on his shaft, you lick at his balls, sucking them in and rolling them between your tongue and the roof of your mouth. He braces his free hand against the tree and begins to rock his hips in earnest, and you let your mouth drop open enough for cockhead to slide in and out freely.

He cums almost without warning, just two short spasms of his hips and your mouth is full of bitter-tasting seed, spilling out over your lips and dripping onto your exposed breasts. The sight of you coated with the evidence of his desires is almost too much for him. Swallowing what’s left on your tongue, you smile and wipe your lips as daintily as you can with your fingers.

Jason’s fingers hover over your chest, clearly wanting to help with the clear up but unsure if fondling your breasts is the best way to do it. Collecting as much of the translucent fluid on your finger, you put it to your lips and suck, keeping careful eye contact with the stunned man the entire time. You laugh as he tackles you to the ground, his eager lips already working their way down your body, large hands pushing your legs apart.

Looks like it’s your turn.

Bo Sinclair (warning: Daddy kink)

It’s not often that Bo condemns you to the garage basement, but when he does, you know its going to be a good few hours before you’re released. The man has the stamina of a jackrabbit and can go at least four times before he’s fully satisfied, or at least until he gets hungry and wants supper.

You try not to think of how many less compliant girls Bo has restrained in the chair as he tightens the straps around your wrists. Now that he has you, any victims are given straight to Vincent for the museum, but you know there have been many who have passed through his room first. As you watch him secure your ankles in place, you marvel at how such a beautiful countenance can conceal such a dark and twisted history. But, for your sins (and his), you love him.

“That not too tight for you, is it, sugar?” he asks. “Hate to mar this perfect skin of yours.”

His large hands cover your wrists over the buckles, the sleeves of his shirt riding up just enough for you to see his scars. You shake your head and he flashes a wicked smile. The chair has a crank on its side that adjusts the height, and you can only watch as he turns it round and round, the entire mechanism dropping you further down towards the floor. Ah, so he was in this kind of mood. He’s already undoing his belt, the clinking of metal like an orchestral warm-up to the main event. Lifting one leg high, he plants it firmly on the other side of the chair so he’s basically straddling your shoulders, his head silhouetted against the ceiling light.

“You go ahead and open those pretty lips nice and wide,” he says, stroking his cock languidly and rubbing the tip against your mouth. You know he likes to sing for his supper, likes to work for it a little, so you don’t give up the goods immediately, rolling your head to the side and keeping your lips firmly closed. Bo growls and cups your chin firmly between his fingers.

“I said open,” he squeezes harder and your mouth opens a crack, giving him an in to force his cock onto your tongue and straight to the back of your throat. You cough and splutter a little, but he doesn’t want to break you when you’ve just started playing.

“Y’like that, huh, bitch?” he moans. “Y’like taking daddy’s cock?”

In this space, in this world of just you and him, the words send a thrill right down to your toes. He frames your head with both hands, keeping you in place as he fucks your mouth. The back of your head bumps against the chair and your fingers flex against their bonds.

Bo hisses through his teeth, gripping and releasing your hair as he thrusts. “Fuuuuuck, babe. You feel so goddamn good.”

Reaching behind him, he forces his hand under the waistband of your jeans, two thick digits probing your slit, coming away wet.

“Such an eager slut,” he grins, sucking your juices from his fingers with obscene pleasure. “You’re so wet for my cock in your little whore mouth.”

You whimper around him, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, your tongue slick with precum. His rhythm is becoming more erratic, the dirty names coming thick and fast in the way they always do when he’s about to cum inside any of your holes. In these moments, he might call you a slut, a whore, a filthy bitch, but you’re his, goddamn it, and he’ll mark you as his territory a thousand times to let the whole world know it.

You screw your eyes shut tight as he cums in the back of your throat, forcing his hips as far forward as possible to ensure you can’t spit any of it out. You’re gasping for air when he finally pulls away, mascara smudged under your eyes, your hair tangled from his grasping fingers.

His eyes turn soft as he bends down to kiss you, fingers toying with the straps. “You want outta these?”

You know the answer he wants to hear, and this time, you’re gonna give it to him. His grin turns wolfish as you shake your head.

“That’s my girl.”

Lester Sinclair

“No offense, sweetie,” you say as you pull away from Lester, “but you kinda stink.”

He pulls a face and sniffs unceremoniously under his arms. “Ain’t no worse than Vinny.”

Okay, not true – the worst Vincent smells like is an accident in a Yankee Candle shop. “Well, I don’t share a bed with Vincent. In the tub, mister.”

Since you moved into the Sinclair family home, the extra efforts Lester had made during your courtships seemed to have slipped slightly. Not that you minded, really – you loved him anyway – but it was nice when he wasn’t sporting Eau de Man Smell.

“Tell you what,” you purr, running your fingers down his shirt to rest over his belt buckle. “You hop in that tub, and I’ll do things that Vinny will hear from the House of Wax.”

Like a racoon into a garbage can, Lester rips off his shirt and hops in the direction of the bathroom, one foot already tangled in the leg of his jeans. By the time he emerges, skin pink from the hot water, towel wrapped around his waist, you’re waiting on the bed. His dark eyes sweep over your body, naked and ready for him, and the bed practically bounces off the wall in his eagerness to reach you.

“Lie on your back,” you instruct, pulling the towel apart to reveal his dripping cock. He watches you with thinly-veiled adoration as you start to lick the head, fingers squeezing and rubbing along the shaft.

“Baby,” he strokes your hair and you raise your head to meet his gaze. “Turn ‘round.”

A knowing grin on your face, you swivel to face his feet, giving him a front-row view of your soft, moist slit. His hands on your hips ease you backwards, far enough for his tongue to reach you, and you lean down to take his cock back into your mouth. At this angle, it slips easily to the back of your throat, just big enough to make you gag when you try and hold it there too long. You moan as his warm tongue licks at you, inside you, and the vibration of your voice sends a thrill running through his body. As you bob up and down, licking the head of his cock like a popsicle, he alternates between worshiping the folds of your pussy, and sucking on your clit. The sheer intensity of his administrations combined with the taste of him on your tongue has you almost whimpering with arousal. You take him in as far as you can and swallow around him, making his hips buck and drawing a choke from your throat.

“Ah shit, baby, that’s feels so fucking good,” he moans, breath warm against your sex. You cum first. Lester feels the muscles inside you contracting again and again around his probing tongue, and soon after empties himself into your waiting mouth. Adjusting your position to right-side-up, you snuggle into his side, his arm holding you close, and breathe a contented sigh.

Sure, it might be a little annoying having to remind him to bathe, but if this was the pay-off, it was fucking worth it.

Michael Myers (warning: Michael likes it rough)

As the door slams shut, every muscle in your body tenses in the fight-or-flight response you’ve grown to ignore when around your boyfriend. When he’s in a good or apathetic mood, you never hear him coming, but when his mood turns sour, the foundations of the house rattle.

He’s dripping blood as he looms in the doorway, six-foot-eight of chest-heaving, seething anger. Usually an evening of mindless slaughter is enough to sate him in a dark mood, but when that fails, it comes down to you. You love him – you’ll always love him – but in these moments, you can’t deny the fear that spikes at the back of your neck.

“Hey, babe,” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “You . . . welcome home.”

You try not to wince as the bloodied knife in his hand sails through the air to land with a deadly *THUNK* in the wall behind you, dark crimson oozing down the wallpaper. You’ll have fun trying to explain that to the landlord.

“Michael—”

He crosses the room in three long strides, grabbing you by the elbow and yanking you to your feet.

“Ow! Hey, what’re you—”

Grabbing the back of your head in one enormous hand, he smothers your lips with his, forcing his tongue in deep in a kiss that tastes of blood, his teeth grinding cruelly against your mouth. It has the desired effect, stealing your voice as he drags you through to the bedroom and throws you down onto the bed. Still trying to catch your breath, you watch helplessly as Michael rips down the zip of his jumpsuit, pulling it down over his shoulders. His mask is thrown into a corner of the room, his long hair falling loose around his face. You catch a brief glimpse of his hard, muscular body, straining against the fabric of the black T-shirt he wears underneath, before he grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches you onto your back, not hard enough to hurt, but enough for you to know you’re to Stay Put. Your head hangs over the side of the bed and, from your upside-down perspective, you can see him working his long, thick cock into hardness.

Oh boy.

You just have time to open your mouth before he’s pushing inside, sliding easily to the back of your throat and then still further. Since you got together, your deepthroating skills have had to evolve quickly. Fisting handfuls of the bedsheets, you catch the smallest of breaths before his pace quickens, fucking your throat as he would your pussy, drawing out those deep, wet choking noises from you that get him even harder. He rumbles deep in his chest, hands wrapped around your throat to keep you in place, thumbs pressing on the spot where he can feel his cockhead bulging against your skin. He pulls out for a moment to let you gasp and cough before plunging in again, one hand at your neck, the other roughly fondling your breasts. You clutch at his thick wrist like a lifeline, nails digging in. Your eyes are streaming, your throat already raw from such a brutal attack, and you know this is just the first of many assaults.

Michael swears under his breath, voice low and animalistic, his body tensing like a marble statue as he cums directly down your throat, the taste barely touching your tongue.

Sinking to his knees beside the bed, you take a moment to catch your breath before rolling over and reaching out a tentative hand. His strong fingers grip yours – to stop you or feel your touch, you can’t tell – dark blond hair obscuring his face. Slowly, he draws your hand to his mouth, not to kiss, but to simply feel against his lips. It’s not always easy, having Michael Myers be the owner of your heart, but you’ve no desire to claim it back. Not when you know, in your soul, that you own his in return. He doesn’t push you away when you stroke his hair, even going so far as to move a little closer.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice hoarse. “You’re home now.”

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this! Also taking requests.

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thesightstoshowyou · 4 years

Note

Re: milestone event, maybe a continuation of your Tommy fic where one night the reader wakes up all hot thinking of him and finally seeks him out in the middle of the night to take care of it seeing as unfortunately he has yet to bust into the room to take them? Your fic for Tommy and Jason are my FAV just *mwah* fantastic I didn't realize I was into Tommy until you

I like the way you think anon ;)

Sweet Dreams

Thomas Hewitt x F Reader (NSFW)

Part 3

Read Part 2 here

Summary: You wake in the night burning with need. You seek Tommy out, earn his trust, and he repays you in kind. RIP to other guys but Thomas Hewitt is different.

Warnings: FLUFF holy shit, so much fluff, oral, praise kink, squirting, creampie

Hands, thick, strong hands caress your thighs, spreading you open as you cling to burly shoulders, sweat spilling from your brow until you taste salt on your lips—

Your eyes pop open. Moonlight spills through the curtains, the only light illuminating your dark room. It’s starting to feel less like a prison cell with every day that passes, but this thought does not bring you comfort. Very little comforts you here, in this house, in this rotting town. Only one thing, one person, prevents you from actively trying to escape….

You’d dreamt of him again. You grind your thighs together, trying to relieve the deep ache these excruciatingly vivid dreams bring. You have no idea how late it is, or how early. A sigh rushes past your lips. There’s no way anyone is up at this hour and you’re locked in your room until morning. God, you long to go to him.

The stomp of heavy footfalls coming down the hall reaches your ears. You’d recognize those steps anywhere. Thomas….

Ripping the covers off your sweaty form, you leap from the bed and cross the room in a flash. Gently, you knock on the door, not wishing to wake anyone else.

“Tommy?” You ask quietly, praying he hears you. The footsteps abruptly pause just outside your door. You hold your breath as you hear rustling. The lock clicks.

You step out of the way, letting the door swing open. Thomas fills your doorway, hair still damp from a shower, wearing nothing but a pair of slacks. And the damn mask, of course. It looks as though he’d just thrown it on so he could open your door, one of the straps half-clasped. He’s watching you closely, furrow in his brow, most likely worried something is wrong.

“Hi,” you whisper with a small smile, “I’m okay. Just wanted to see you.” Thomas glances shyly away at your words and you take the opportunity to drag your gaze over his brawny shoulders, shoulders you’d just been dreaming about digging your nails into. You flush at the memory, suddenly nervous to ask for what you want.

Instead you close the distance between you, hesitantly reaching up to run your fingers along the slit in Thomas’ mask, brushing the digits over his lips. He tenses, hands coming up to settle timidly on your hips Do you dare…?

“Tommy,” you whisper, meeting his anxious stare. This is such a sensitive topic. How do you broach the subject without upsetting him? You swallow, “Tommy, I want to kiss you…without this.” You lay your hand against his cheek, thumb stroking the leather of his mask.

As you’d guessed, his eyes widen and he immediately steps away from you, shaking his head and turning to leave. Anxiously, you bite your lip, slipping your hand into his to keep him from fleeing.

“Tommy, you have no idea how bad I want you right now. All the time, actually,” you say quickly with a breathy laugh, “How bad I want all of you.” Thomas meets your gaze over his shoulder and you can see he’s frowning again, like he can’t believe you. Your heart breaks, chest constricting painfully.

You move to him again, pushing up on your tip toes to press your lips to his shoulder before moving to his neck. Deeply, you inhale the sharp scent of his soap as you nuzzle your nose just under his ear. Your hands roam across his chest, fingers tracing all the scars littering his torso. Thomas shudders, arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him. He clings to you like a lifeline, just like he had that first day in the cellar.

“You’re not gonna scare me away. I need you, Tommy, so, so bad. I love the way you make me feel. You…you don’t have to show me right now, but I hope that, someday, you will.”

Thomas moves to cup your cheeks, cradling your face in his huge palms. He searches your expression, your eyes, looking for a lie, for any hint of teasing. You meet his gaze, willing him to feel your sincerity. Blue eyes drop to your lips and he frowns again. You can see him thinking, weighing the pros and cons.

He must not find what he’s looking for because you see his eyes soften. Tommy lets out a tremulous breath and you give him a small, reassuring smile. Slowly, so slowly, as though his hands weigh a thousand pounds each, he reaches up to unbuckle the strap of his mask. You grip his shoulders to quiet his trembling.

Finally, Thomas lowers the mask from his face. You are hyper-aware of your expression, knowing Tommy will miss nothing. You keep your face passive, blank as you examine the missing nose, the lesions and scar tissue along the side of his mouth, his cheek. You wonder what caused it; a deformity? A disease?

Truthfully, you’d expected much worse. You’d been imagining the potential horrors under that mask from day one. It’s anticlimactic, really.

Thomas isn’t looking at you. He’s so tense, shoulders bunched under your hands, his eyes fixed on a spot past your left shoulder. You tip your head to the side, cupping his cheek and gently forcing him to meet your gaze. You smile warmly, bringing your other hand up to trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

“Can I kiss you now, Tommy?” you whisper. Thomas blinks, astonished. He lets out another huge breath and you realize he’d been holding it this hold time. You nod, assuring him you mean the truth, and pop up on your toes again to meet him halfway.

Shaking, Thomas wraps his arms around you again and presses his lips to yours. You sigh into his mouth, glad to have the barrier gone. You sigh becomes a squeak and a giggle when Tommy lifts you off your feet. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, clinging to him like he does you. The mask lays at his feet, forgotten.

“Take me to your room?” you murmur, brushing his hair out of the way to kiss the shell of his ear. You don’t have to ask twice. Tommy carries you down the hall, moving as silently as he can so as not to alert anyone else in the house.

Once safely inside his room, dark but for the moonlight bathing the room in soft light, Thomas gently sets you on the edge of his bed, hurrying across the room to close the door before promptly returning to you. You spread your thighs so he can kneel between them and you pull him flush against you, peppering his bare face with kisses, ending at his lips so you can slip your tongue in his mouth.

He’s clumsy at first, but Tommy once again proves to be a fast learner, lips and tongue matching your earnest movements. You break away to catch your breath, grinning wide. Biting your lip, you tug your shirt over your head, slowly, so you can make a show of it.

Reverently, Thomas smooths the palms of his hands up your abdomen, cupping your breasts and timidly leaning in to capture a nipple with his lips. He gives the hardening flesh an experimental suck and you release a hushed moan, fingers tangling in his hair to encourage him.

He moves to the other side, repeating the action until you buck your hips into him, a whispered, “Oh fuck,” spilling from your parted lips. Eagerly, Thomas eases your shorts off your hips, tossing them away and scooping up handfuls of your ass to pull you to the very edge of the bed. He wastes no time before burying his face between your parted thighs.

You must clap your hand over your mouth to stifle the surprised moan when Tommy drags his tongue through your folds. He remembers what you like from your teaching session that first day in the cellar. Shockingly fast, he finds your clit and teases it with his tongue. He sucks, licks with the tip and then the flat of his tongue, experiments with different techniques until he finds the ones that makes you squeal behind your hand.

You cum like that, hand in his hair, Thomas’ fingers digging into your hips while you buck into his mouth. You shudder, legs quivering, toes tingling, cunt dripping onto the floor. Dazedly, you wonder how long he’d been waiting to do that, as enthusiastic as he was.

“Oh my god, Tommy,” you gasp, sitting up and pulling him into another heated kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, swallow his needy whine. Hastily, you urge him to stand, popping the button on his pants and shoving them off his hips.

You scoot back on the bed, pulling him by the hand at the same time until he’s hovering over you. You’re worried you’re going to burn up, your skin ablaze everywhere he touches you. He lifts your hips off the mattress and begins the measured process of pushing his maddeningly thick cock past your soaked folds.

Your hand returns to your mouth and you wrap your legs around his waist, arching your back when Thomas stuffs you completely full of him. You twitch, free hand fisting in the sheets when he rolls his hips, the incredible stretch now more addictive than painful. You meet his gaze as much as you can in the dark, nodding your head to urge him on.

“Yes, Tommy, please, so g-good, oh god, just like that,” you whisper, quickly biting down on your lip to stifle a cry when Thomas’ grip tightens and he bucks his hips forward. The hand in the sheets flies to the headboard to keep you from sliding up the mattress as Tommy starts pummeling your insides, using his grip on your waist to pull you into each thrust.

It’s so hard not to scream, not to wake everyone else in the house when every nerve in your body is alight with sensation, pleasure coiling so intensely in your gut you wonder if you’ll burst. Tommy groans at the feeling of your slippery muscles fluttering around him and that is enough to send you plummeting into ecstasy.

You come undone, unravelling at the seams, back arching, cunt gushing around the cock that fills it so completely. You bite the palm of your hand to quiet the euphoric shriek that erupts from your throat. Thomas emits a strangled moan as his hips stutter before slamming forward, hilting himself as he fills you to the brim.

Tommy lowers you back to the mattress before tipping forward, hands braced on either side of your head. You crane your neck, bringing your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down so he rests between your trembling thighs. You chuckle quietly when he sets his forehead against yours, his panting breaths washing over your sweat slicked face.

“You’re getting too good at that,” you murmur, giggling when he huffs out a laugh. Thomas rolls to the side, pulling you to his chest and resting his chin on top of your head. Gradually, his breathing slows, the deep, rhythmic inhales and exhales lulling you, making your eyelids droop.

It’s easy to fall asleep in Tommy’s arms. You’ve never felt more secure. You let your eyes fall shut and, before long, you join him in sleep.

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface #leatherface x reader #tcm #tcm the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #n sfw #my writing #reader insert #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #thank you for the ask

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candyopala · 3 years

Text

The good kind of genjutsu, part II

This was a request from the lovely @passionateuchiha

Chapter 2/2

Summary: Obito punishes Y/N.

WARNING 18+ MINORS DNI

“Good girl”

With the sound of his voice, the illusion dissipates in front of your eyes, revealing that you still were, in fact in your room. The man stands in front of you in silence, still having you cornered on the wall of your cold room in the hideout.

“Obito you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to”

He grabs both of your hands and puts it under his mask. You can feel that one side of his face is rougher, it is littered with appear to be scars. Maybe that is why he has refused to show his face to you until now; he might be insecure about you seeing it.

Obito tries to back away by taking a step back and trying to remove your hands from his face, but you are quicker and with one swift move you pull the whole mask away, finally revealing his face.

His face…

You have never seen a man so handsome in your life. His strong jawline, the way his hair falls over just a little bit, the way his eyes are shaped in such a violent but tender manner, it all makes a shocking impression on you. However, nothing astounds you more than that scar going through his lower right lip.

He surprises you by getting close to you again and grabbing you by the neck with force, making you choke. His sharingan activates again, boring holes in your skull.

“Are you disgusted by me?”

“N-no”

He lets go of you, making you fall on the floor. He lowers himself to meet you face to face:

“I knew you would be disgusted by m-“

You barely let him finish his sentence, jumping over him and straddling yourself over him. It is a wonder he has not used kamui to escape yet.

Once again, you touch his face, this time looking him in the eye while doing it. He tries to break eye contact, but you hold his face so that he cannot look away. You feel every crease and every scar under the touch of your fingers. Tracing your way to his mouth, you finally feel that damned scar, but that is not enough.

His gloved hand reaches your hair taking it away from your face at first, but he is quick to bunch it up on the back and pull on it just strong enough to halt your actions.

“I’m not disgusted by you”

“Why are you playing with me like this?”

“I…” You break eye contact; you cannot bare to admit that while looking him on the face. “I want you”

Obito lets go of your hair and picks you up with immense strength. Wrapping your legs onto his torso, he brings you over to your bed in the other corner of the room, making you fall under him on the soft cushion.

Getting you off guard, he connects his lips onto yours. He is persistent and invasive, very sloppy in his technique, but also very dominant. You cannot help but relish in biting his lower lip back, fighting for control but failing when his tongue intrudes on your mouth. Your walls fall down more and more with each second, and when the kiss breaks so that the both of you can breathe, you know you have fully opened yourself up to him.

He attacks your neck next, biting and leaving marks on the whole area, acting like a crazed animal. You slide your hands under his black shirt, feeling his muscles tense. Even though he is obviously insecure at first, he allows you to take it off him, revealing his toned figure divided by the middle by yet another scar.

You fail to see him removing his gloves from his hands while you are touching his defined abs, so when you feel his touch reaching your sleeping shorts you are caught off guard. Without much technique, he touches your clitoris in rough irregular movements, then inserting one finger into you.

Not being able to hold it in, you gasp loudly when he inserts yet another one and arches them, just reaching the right spot inside you. Instead of continuing his ministrations as expected, he removes his fingers at once and puts them into his own mouth, cleaning it from your juices. He then places a hand over your mouth, giving you a stern look and saying:

“Be a good girl and stay quiet, will you?”

He then lowers his pants just enough to reveal his hard member. It is even better than the fake vision. Taken away by your own lust, you try to get yourself over him and take control over the situation, not being able to wait it any longer to have it inside you. Obito has other plans. He holds you down and puts your hands over your head, opening your thighs even more.

Obito pulls your large shorts and underwear to the side with one of his hands, thrusting himself in at once. You try to prevent yourself from screaming by the sheer pleasure this causes. His pace is languid at first, and you can see by his face that he is also overwhelmed by the sensation of being inside you.

He lets out a huff of breath and looks at you straight in the eyes, letting go of your hands and caressing your face delicately. His hands then move to your hips, gripping onto them with force.

He then starts to quicken his pace, picking up an almost violent rhythm. He thrusts in and out, as an animal lost into his instincts. Trying not to scream again, you put your hands over your mouth, trying to stop the noises of pleasure that insist in leaving your mouth and body.

As you feel a coil tighten into your core, you know you are close, and by the sloppiness of his pace, you know he is too. You begin to clench involuntarily around him, which causes him now to not be able to control his own noises. He lowers himself and gives you yet another sloppy kiss, finally resting his head on your shoulder, letting out small raspy moans and huffs of pleasure.

“You want it inside, don’t you?”

“Yes, please!” Is your response, against all your principles.

With that, his grip on your waist tightens, enough to leave marks later, and with his other hand, he grips on your throat enough to drive a wave of pleasure over your body. The coil finally releases itself into an explosive orgasm, making you have spasms all over and making you let out a scream that you cannot possibly hold back. As you ride out your high, you feel him twitching inside of you, filling you up with his warm seed.

After a couple of seconds, you both ride out your highs and Obito finally takes himself out of you. He collapses beside you on the small bed.

You immediately get insecure, thinking he will discard you after this, or even kill you for becoming a liability. A million of awful scenarios fun over your head, making you want to run away and hide.

Instead of doing any of this, he approaches you again and hugs you. A hug so tight, so vulnerable, so intimate, more intimate than everything you both have just done. He raises his head and smiles at you, a smile that fully takes your breath away. You cannot help but smile back at him.

#obito x reader #obito x you

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spottedenchants · 3 years

Text

(helping the self through another- recollected sorrows rest upon those who got out, who survived.)

(cw: vague references to Caleb’s backstory)

A forceful series of knocks reaches all the way to Caleb’s bedchamber and he is suddenly very awake, hazily pleasant dreams shattered.

This is strange, entirely abnormal.

Frightening, almost.

Without much thought, he rises and throws on a robe, passing through door and door to the final one.

He opens this third door, the one out to the rest of the tower, to find its only other current resident at his threshold, eye-to-eye.

The height is unsurprising given Essek’s favored locomotion.

But Caleb has never seen Essek like this.

A deeply haunted, half-present look in his red-rimmed eyes, his ears entirely away, followed by disheveled hair and rumpled clothing, an entire deconstruction of his usual well kept presentation. Arms crossed and clinging to his sides, clenched against the fabric there.

He’s shivering.

It’s concerning.

Concerning enough to call forth a faint echo of a cold, cold tower, a lingering memory of a warm, warm dorm room, and Caleb’s forearms itch at the involuntary recall, despite how weak he’s managed it to be.

But he keeps his hands away. Takes some breaths to stave off slight nausea.

This can’t be that. It’s not. This is different, Caleb knows. He knows.

But that look. And why is Essek shaking?

Caleb’s words escape as a hiss wrapped in worry.

“Essek, what is wr-?”

But dismay jolts his voice to a stop when Essek immediately glides even closer - very close - and raises a trembling hand to Caleb’s throat, wordless with shallow breaths, eyes narrowed, a slightly unfocused scowl pulling at his pretty lips and drawing his brows together.

Caleb dare not move in this moment, dare not swallow or breathe too deep, dare not react to this uncharacteristically bold motion because there is no hunger in Essek’s shining, panicked eyes, and atrophied habit carries no follow-up without it present.

Essek’s cold fingertips - is he actually cold or is this only further remembrance? - find that particularly vulnerable soft spot between jaw and neck and press gently, firmly, likely just enough to feel Caleb’s rapidly beating pulse.

Ah, that’s what this is.

Caleb dare not move, dare not scare Essek from this oddly executed assurance, this check he must be making with those intent eyes of now-dripping violet as they shift to bore into Caleb’s chest.

Right where Essek palpates cautious fingers against clothed scar tissue.

Right above the residence of Caleb’s hammering heart.

After an unbearably tense second or century, Essek’s face, his entire form, seems to crumple small as he lets out a shaky breath, hands tightening against Caleb’s robe, head bowed and tears now unseen.

Caleb dips his head, trying to catch Essek’s eyes.

“I’m alive.”

Essek looks away further, nods, and his breathing stutters into rough sniffles as he releases Caleb’s robe, voice watery.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Hands still raised and now directionless, Essek’s tensed fingers fidget with themselves, thumbnail sides pinched by fingertips, before swiping at his eyes, as if his teardrops are frivolous things to be plucked and crushed.

Caleb opens his arms, extending them to his sides and proffering a quiet warmth.

Essek trusts him to be here and this is different from so long ago.

This is not comfort for survival; it’s a conscious vulnerability on both their parts.

But Essek flinches at the motion, drifting back and away from Caleb’s embrace, away from this room they have spent time sharing, like they would catch and trap him, and he rights himself uncannily well despite the ways his face still leaks.

Disappointment, concern, and relief all burn together.

Essek does not need Caleb like that.

Even so, his muted, jarringly pleasant façade is askew; it doesn’t fit quite right anymore now that Essek has grown to encompass more than another vizard underneath. Caleb knows, can see hesitance slip through the cracks in the way Essek clenches his hands motionless.

Seeming to remember his magic, Essek clears his face and throat, mending the mask some.

“I’ll go. Thank you.”

Still, Essek stays of his own volition, untethered even to the ground.

This current bond between them is something very different from what Caleb had before, very different from what he and Essek had before; it’s something grown newer, blooming fresh of their own choosing, tended to on purpose.

This is alright.

So what can Caleb do but continue to pay forward a gesture of goodwill and good intent, born to soothe memory and fostered to mark safe opportunity, among other hopeful sentiments?

Slowly, slowly, as Essek watches with a level gaze, meeting his eyes all the while, Caleb takes a careful step out of the room.

Over the course of an eon, he raises a single hand to ghost fingertips over Essek’s cheek, to steady himself, to ensure Essek is willing to accept this smaller touch, and waits.

Though he does not flinch again through these snail-paced motions, does not back away from Caleb any farther, the mask slips as Essek seems to realize what Caleb is planning and he bows his head.

Squeezes his eyes shut and buries them under taut brows like he’s anticipating a swat.

This is nothing of the sort.

Caleb leans in and up, and presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s forehead before withdrawing both hand and face, volunteering no further touch.

He keeps the quiet, the closeness, but still asks, head dipped and voice soft, a murmur.

“Sit with me?”

No response, only the same grimace, the same clenched jaw. Tear trails reappear.

“I can show you how to count.”

Essek’s eyes open, violet deep as pre-dawn dusk and framed by dew-melt clung hoarfrost lashes, and they grow sharper, more focused.

“I know numbers fine.”

His eyebrows slant with what could even be read as defiance against presumed patronizing.

Good, good, welcome back.

Caleb crooks a gentle grin, feels the steep upturn of his brow line.

“But do you know my way?”

A tiny fleck of curiosity lightens Essek’s eyes, lifts his ears; it’s a shift imperceptible enough that Caleb would miss it had he not spent time deliberately learning the difference between its presence and absence.

So Caleb turns aside and pulls a cat-call cord, gesturing through the door to their well-familiar couch, before following his own guide. He takes the middle rather than his corner and pats Essek’s side of the seat, looking back to him, keeping his face open.

Essek follows and settles into his place, drifting down and pulling small, clearing his face again.

A moment more and then Gretchen, dutiful as ever, waltzes into the room with a chirp, making a point to rub against Essek’s idle hands as she jumps onto the couch on her way to Caleb.

“Hot cocoa, ice water, and some snacks, those little finger foods with fiddly bits that Jester brought last time, for my friend and I, ja?”

Gretchen purrs as Caleb scratches on either side of her jaw before she disengages, pesters Essek again to receive a few more disjointed pets, and pads away to fulfill the request.

As they wait, Caleb demonstrates how he counts for breath when difficult thoughts swarm and tension grabs his lungs tight.

Staying quiet, Essek breathes along, seeming to sink further into the couch with each exhale.

Cats come and go, filling the low table in front of the couch with drinks and nibbling tidbits.

Perhaps it would be best to keep such things handy and readily present, Caleb notes.

Just in case.

Without much deliberation, Essek claims a mug of cocoa, holding it between both hands, staring in as steam matches the jumbled swirls of his hair.

So he does want some warmth.

Having no specific appetite, Caleb only keeps watch on the fireplace, ready to follow along with whatever Essek decides next, even if that means Essek leaves entirely.

The hearth plays a crackling solo to the room.

Ice makes a single clink to glass.

“Verin taught me that, a long time ago.”

Caleb glances to Essek- he’s gripping his mug tight.

“Checking the pulse?”

“Mh... And I-”

Caleb waits, listens.

A sharp inhale.

“I apologize. For barging in and- doing that. I realize it was strange, unseemly, invasive. I couldn’t collect my thoughts well enough to say anything meaningful, but I should have kept boundaries in mind instead of falling to…”

Essek’s lips push flat as he releases his breath through his nose, an expression of consideration, Caleb decides.

“Buried… habit.”

Habit, hm.

Caleb absently runs a hand down his sleeved forearm before resting his hands together, held loose in his lap. Fingers to palm back, he kneads one thumb to the heel of the other, and looks back to the flames.

“Well, I’ll be prepared should it happen again.”

“Ah.”

Firelight catches in condensation, bejewelling the water pitcher with golden cabochons and veins of amber.

Caleb glances aside.

“Would you like to stay?”

Tired violet eyes turn to Caleb when he asks this, wide as the saucers on the low table.

Then Essek looks back to his untouched drink, nods reticent.

The ice in the pitcher catches Caleb’s ear when it shifts upon melting some from the fire’s warmth.

He tips his head to Essek.

“Would you like me to stay?”

Essek gives a wry huff to his cocoa.

“Would that be selfish?”

“I’d like to stay.”

A quick shift of violet to Caleb before Essek’s gaze returns to the mug.

“Then be my guest. Or- oh. I…. Ha.”

It could be a trick of the shifting firelight, could be Caleb’s sleepy eyes, but Essek’s expression seems to turn just a little tender, just a touch softer on the edges, as his voice lilts a murmur.

“I suppose I’m yours, hm?”

A gentle smile pulls at Caleb’s lips, and he watches as Essek traces the rim of his mug with a thumb, fingers and palms still held against its warming sides, the contents inside rippling slightly.

“Is there anything else you’d like? Anything to help?”

A glinting fang worries a lip. But no words.

“Show me?”

Essek looks up from his mug to Caleb, eyes flicking between Caleb’s, brows softly furrowed, but he neither says nor does anything further than the glance.

No matter what Essek could ask for, Caleb knows this is safe.

“I won’t run.”

A moment.

Caleb will give Essek all the time he needs to consider.

A moment more.

Then, careful and slow, not spilling a drop of his drink, Essek unfurls and abandons his corner in favor of tucking himself next to Caleb, going so far as to nestle his way under Caleb’s arm and press against his side, shoulder to hip, legs folded up and feet drawn under.

This close, Caleb can feel Essek’s tremors immediately lessen, can feel Essek’s chest expand and contract alongside his own.

Caleb can feel Essek’s fluttering heartbeat, rather in sync with his own.

They are both very alive, present together.

“This, if it’s alright?”

Caleb remains stationary, not wanting to spook Essek from this rare moment of outreach, looking into those too-careful, entreating eyes.

His heart feels fit to burst.

“Ja, this is alright.”

Essek blinks, nods, settles further into place and turns his eyes to the fire.

And so they sit, leaning side-by-side, breathing together, sweet steam warming the air around them, the fireplace casting its gentle warm light through crystalline ice water.

Essek’s eyes grow unfocused as he watches the flames.

Deep in thought, Caleb assumes.

Muscles held taut relax, slowly, slowly.

Eventually, Essek takes a sip of his drink.

Caleb, drowsy, comfortable, definitely does not stare when Essek reflexively licks the chocolate from his lips.

He definitely does not wonder how it would taste.

The water pitcher’s ice shifts again.

The hearth cracks in reply.

Caleb holds Essek close until he wants his space again.

Read I Lean In and Kiss Him [Right Here] on AO3

T, M/M, No Archive Warnings apply, Complete (5 Chapters, 10.9k)

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #critical role fanfiction #i just really like this bit #chanse writing

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rhenuvee · 4 years

Text

PDA pt2 (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: No story line, just moments :P

Warnings: The gif... + it’s in the title, George having enough of your bs again, mention of the booty, suggestive moments

Link to pt 1: PDA pt1 (Yeah so there’s 500+ freakin notes on it holy crap)

Yeah so I just kinda wrote this during my English class...

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

You always enjoyed the free days you got from work. You usually helped out in the shop when you weren’t working your regular job. Fred insisted you relax in the flat, but you wanted to spend more time with him, which meant working.

You didn’t mind it really. His shop was full of excitement, you’d take it over a boring office job any day.

“Love! Where’d you go?” called his voice from the top floor. You were sitting on the counter on the bottom floor already ready, and taking a sip of your tea. Your ears perked as you watched your boyfriend fiddling with his tie. As soon as he spotted you, a toothy grin came upon his face but quickly disappeared once he saw you on the counter.

“(Y/n)...” he sighed quickly trotting down the stairs while fixing his tie up and heading towards you. You hopped off the counter and leaned your back on it, knowing he was going to say the same thing again.

“Why don’t you go back up and rest?” he asked rather quietly while stroking your cheek. You put down your teacup.

“Freddie, you don’t need to worry about me, I’m wide awake.” You were hoping your cheerful voice would convince him- you were telling the truth after all. He sighed again, crossing his arms.

“I don’t want you to work on your free day.”

“And I’m not. I just want to spend more time with you.”

Yours and Fred’s relationship consisted of lots and lots of affection- George was unfortunately a witness to it. You loved the cuddling after a long day after work, the tight hugs once you came home, the silly kisses when Fred was hyper... Maybe it was just missing him after your hours apart during work, or purely being so proud of what he accomplished.

“Addiction? That’s not very good, love.” he teased, smirking. You gave his arm a light push and shook your head. A tease he was. “And I offered you to join me in the shower, but you said no.”

“Because every time you ask me and I say yes, your hand is on my butt before I even step foot into the shower.” He laughs at this, which you push him a little harder for. You pause and turn your head to the front of the shop, where the ‘No PDA’ sign sat in all it’s cardboard glory.

“Are we being too much? I don’t like being annoying to George.” you said biting your lip.

“Hm? Don’t worry about George, he’s just being crabby. And I thought you liked breaking the rules.” The shit-eating grin on his face made your face hot. He pinned you against the counter, hand brushing your waist.

“Well, I don’t, until you rubbed off me.” You poked his chest playfully.

“Did I?” He asked teasingly and getting closer to you. Before you could answer, the door flung open and a few customers entered.

You quickly pried yourself off your boyfriend and fixed your shirt which was ruffled by the counter. You glared at him and scrunched your nose. He in turn winked and stuck out his tongue at you. Fred chuckled at how frantic you looked, compared to the customers who were too late to notice the PDA that was about to happen.

---

There weren’t any problems with customers, and the day seemed to be passing slowly. It wasn’t until there were only a couple of people in the shop at the moment, and your boyfriend decided to walk towards you. He wrapped his built arms around your waist, and his chin rested atop your head. You were a bit surprised, but smiled when you felt the familiarity of his touch.

“Fred, you almost scared me.” You said putting one hand atop his, and the other pushing the skiving snackboxes to look nice. He didn’t say anything.

“What is it Freddie?”

“Nothing...” he mumbled. “Just- you gotta stop being so bloody cute.” He took your free hand and rubbed it with his thumb. His head was in the clouds lately, you noticed. You remembered that was the same hand you had the scars from the blood quill. Your heart swelled at how sweet he was being.

“There are people still here.” you whispered. “Merlin, no wonder George can’t stand you.” you scoffed. He unwrapped his arms around you to turn you to face him.

“But that’s because we broke the no PDA rule...” You noticed that he mumbled the last bit, trailing off a little. You were left speechless as his hand was brought up- his index finger to tilt your chin up and his thumb to trace your bottom lip. You never realized when he got so close to you, but you did now as he leaned in and-

“Excuse me, Mr. Weasley!” You quickly coughed and pulled away. A small kid about eight years old tapped Fred. The little boy cocked his head in confusion as he saw both of you in an- *cough* interesting pose. Your boyfriend, quick and clever as ever, pretended and made an excuse.

“Hello, sorry I was fixing her... apron!” He said quickly bringing a hand to your back and fiddling with the tied string. You rolled your eyes, the boy giggled at how silly Fred’s tone was.

“You know how clumsy she gets- now what did you need help with?” You glared at him as he was whisked away by the kid, but also noticing that your apron strings were now undone. You shook your head at how much of a troublemaker Fred was.

---

As soon as Fred was done recommending a product to the boy, he walked over to where you were standing with your arms crossed. You were lucky that the last few customers had already exited before this. Surprising as well, since it was just before your lunch break.

“Yes?” He asked. You stayed put in your crossed arm form.

“’Yes?’ You call your girlfriend clumsy and you say ‘yes’?”

“Well, you didn’t let me finish, darling.” Fred leaned against the shelf slightly and threaded one of this hands through your loose hair. “She’s a little clumsy, yes- but she’s also smart, funny, kind, drop dead gorgeous...” He placed a kiss somewhere on your face for each thing he listed. You blushed at his words and placed your hands on his forearms.

“And sometimes she looks like a pygmy puff early in the mornings, but- hey! Ow!”

“Well then I think you’re just a right prat.” He gasped dramatically at your statement which made you laugh.

“That hurts...” he said softly with a pout trying to sound in pain. “Care to make it up to me?” And just like that, his cheeky nature returned. He asked the question while tapping his lips with his index finger- you knew what he was implying.

“You, Fred Weasley are too much for me.” You sighed bringing him in for the kiss he was wanting all this time. He happily leaned in as well, connecting your lips together and moving in sync.

You couldn’t even focus, let alone control where those hands of his were touching you; one on the nape of your neck, and the other on your waist. He purposely backed you up a little against the shelf, careful not to knock any of the products over. It caused him to push his lips more, and soon slipped his tongue in your mouth.

“Fred. (Y/n).” called George quietly from just outside his room. You heard him, but Fred didn’t seem to.

“Fred...-” you said in between breaths, hardly able to say his name. You tapped him on the shoulder to signal him to pull away. He groaned as he listened, not wanting to stop.

“To be fair she was staring at my arse, first.”

“Fred!”

“Ew... fix your clothes wouldn’t you, children.” said George putting the jacket he was holding in front of him to cover the view of you.

“George, where have you been, mate? Haven’t seen you much this morning.” inquired Fred. He was right now that he mentioned it. You only saw George a bit this morning, but he often seemed like he was rushing.

“I have a date.” He said. You and Fred’s eyebrows raised. You were all living with each other yet he gets a date out of the blue?!

“Georgie, that’s great! Who’s your date?” you said happily before your boyfriend could spit out something offensive.

“I have a date with Angelina.” He said pursing his lips and nodding his head. His behaviour was oddly monotone despite having a date. You squealed in excitement for your two best friends who have finally got the courage to make something happen.

“Oh bloody hell, I have a date with Angelina... what am I going to do, what do I say?” Turns out George was just a little nervous. You and Fred both giggled. You bid George goodbye as he walked out the shop door. You were happy for him, and Angelina- you noticed the shy smile on his face as he walked out. You knew it was going to go well for them.

Just as a short moment of silence came over, Fred suddenly had a thought in mind.

“Wait, does this mean that ‘No PDA’ sign is no more?” He asked with a large grin upon his face. Oh god, you knew how this conversation was going to end.

“We don’t know if George’s date is going to go well.” You said shrugging. You knew it would, but you were trying to counter him. Fred’s eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘really?’

“Well...” he started with a smirk appearing and his hands reaching to your hips again. “Why don’t we find out? Test out its limits?”

You shook your head, both at how sneaky he was being, and to also try to mask the red on your face.

“Frederic Gideon Weasley...” you said in a tone attempting to be demanding. You watched as he bit his lip, clearly knowing what you were going to say. Why did your boyfriend have to be so attractive? You were also leaning into his touch, and that’s how he knew he had you.

“You are way too much trouble.” you said pointing a finger to him.

“Was that a yes?” he asked cheekily. He knew you were trying to avoid his question.

“It wasn’t a no.” you said trying to supress the smile on your face as you were whisked away to your bedroom by your loving boyfriend.

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

If you want to be added to my taglist, please message me and specify what you want to be tagged in!

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley one shot #george weasley #weasley twins #fred and george #fred and george weasley

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

I know I sent in a request like this week but I saw your post about you being sick so if you want something to do I’ve always had a headcanon that Mando would take his helmet off in front of the kid so what about he’s playing with the kid while you’re supposed to be off the crest but you come back early and see him and he gets all angst but then he’s like I wanted to marry you before anyway this just gives me a reason

Also I really hope you get better soon I hate being sick so if there’s anything I can do to lighten your day let me know!!!

Children with Din Djarin

DAY SIX: Children with Din Djarin [requested by @cobb--vanth but thankyou @100layersofdaddyissues for submitting this specific request weeks ago! I'm sorry it took so long to complete but I figured it was the perfect time to combine both the prompt and the request. I hope this is okay/what you imagined!]

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos

December Writing Challenge: @mandos-blaster @silent-and-resigned @valentinasubmarina

December Writing Challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Word count: 1.8k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mention of recreational drug (spice), pregnancy, mentions of sex but nothing explicit.

The beskar helmet was on the mantle in the hull of the ship when you returned— although you hadn't noticed. You hadn't thought to assume it would be there. You figured it would be on your boyfriend's head. It always was. You had come back from the farmers market about half an hour earlier than expected, with a paper bag filled with sourberries and powdered caf. You placed the paper bag by the door, tapping a few buttons on the Crest's panel and watched it slide shut. You sighed, rolling your shoulders and letting out a tired yawn before padding to the cockpit.

"Grogu," Din called, his unmodulated voice was soft like honey. The helmet had certainly enhanced the gruffness and his rasp, but he didn't sound completely unfamiliar. The little green bean gargled at the calling of his name and Din let out a chuckle. "On three I want you to grab the ball," Din ordered, holding the metal ball between his gloved finger tips. "One… two…." the metal ball shot out of his hand and into Grogu's tiny green claws. "Dank Farrik!" Din gasped, slapping his knee. "Great job kid, but I said on the count of three. It's all about timing, remember-"

The cockpit door slid open and you entered with a sigh. You hadn't told Din why you were really so desperate to visit the farmer's market. "Can't it wait?" he would ask, to which you replied with a simple shake of the head. He wouldn't fight with you. He wouldn't argue with you. If you wanted to visit the market then that would be your next stop. "Maybe spice will help your nausea?" Din suggested, but if your intuition was correct, there'd be no way you'd be taking recreational spice anytime soon. You had told Din you'd just look for some more bacta. It's not what you needed, but it was a good excuse since he was running low on it last time you checked the medbox.

"The market didn't have any bacta pods; we'll have to stop some place on the way to-" you froze, your voice coming to a halt when you saw him. The Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian you had fallen in love with. You met him around eight months ago during one of his bounties on Corellia. He picked you up, assigned you as 'crew' on his ship and not only did he save your life— he changed your life. He gave you hope and meaning and purpose. Your feelings weren't one sided.

Din was enamoured with you. It started with the way you were with the child, so gentle and caring. It was the way you tended to his injuries when he came back after a bounty. "Sweet girl," he'd mutter, his mind in a euphoric haze from all the bacta as you bandaged him up. "So soft. So pretty."

You pushed away the comments. Focusing on them would do you no good. You knew enough about his creed to know that any romantic interaction between you would render pointless. Besides, he was a bounty hunter. He was too busy. He wouldn't want to settle down. Or so you thought.

He was going to ask. He had to ask. Your relationship with Din had got physical in the last few months. It started with gentle touches, the slight grazing of bare skin. When he held you, you felt safe—protected—untouchable. In his strong arms, it was like nobody could get you. Nobody would tear you away. Din would often find ways to satisfy himself, or at least visit a brothel in the depths of the inner-rim that would keep him going for a few days tops.

He swore with you it could just be a one time thing. With Din, that's all sex was meant to be. One time. No strings attached. Easy. But it wasn't. Din could shut out his feelings as much as he wanted but in that moment when the lights went out and he removed his helmet, placing gentle kisses in between your thighs and towards your core, there was no denying the emotion and the chemistry.

So it wasn't just a one time thing. It became a regular occurrence. And you loved it as much as he did. But now, look where you were.

He had brown locks of hair, dark brown and wavy, curling at the nape of his neck. The curve in his nose looked as though it had been crafted by the Maker himself, it was so perfect. His skin was tan, and the golden bronze rendered you somewhat speechless as you wondered where he had found the time to remove his helmet and catch a little sun. It must've been natural. He was beautiful. You recognised his stubble. When you saw it, you could place it with the memory of feeling it when he nestled between your legs. You pursed your lips into a fine line at the memory.

Din was frozen too. He didn't even blink, instead, staring at the child as if Grogu would give him the answer he so desperately required. This was it. No living thing (besides Grogu), had seen Din without his helmet since he had sworn to the creed when he was just a young boy. He wanted you to see him— he really did. So much so he had considered marriage, and the ring crafted from solid beskar felt like the heaviest weight in his pocket right now— as you stood in the door frame with your lips perfectly parted. He was just waiting for the perfect time. But now, all that had been taken away from him and he only had himself to blame.

You whispered his name timidly, tears pricking your eyes. "I'm sorry." you said quietly and waited a few moments for a response. But nothing. Just the sounds of your hitched breathing and the child's confused babbling echoed through the cockpit. You sniffed, walking back into the hull of the ship and picking up his helmet. You closed your eyes out of politeness and handed Din his helmet. He took it from you and placed it on his lap, his finger tracing the curves and edges. He realised you were still standing there with your eyes closed. You were waiting for him to put on his mask so you could open your eyes.

A million thoughts raced in your mind. Was this going to be it? What if he was going to kick you off his ship? Or even worse, would he kill you? Would The Mandalorian have you terminated? No… surely not, you knew your Mando… but the silence in the room was deafening. You were half expecting him to quick draw his blaster and shoot you in the heart, get the job over and done with.

But Din done no such thing. He placed his helmet on the chair next to Grogu and took the beskar ring out of his pocket, polishing it slightly with the leather of his mustard gloves. He threw his gloves aimlessly to one side and dropped down to one knee.

"I've taken my helmet off," he lied through his teeth. You did consider his voice sounded strangely unmodulated, but you didn't think too much of it. After all, surely Din wasn't going to be dishonest about such a thing.

You opened your eyes, gasping when you were greeted with Din down on one knee holding the most beautiful ring up. "Cyare, will you marry me?" he asked.

You were too taken aback by his face than the ring. Beautiful. A glint in his dark eyes, the way his pink lips curled into a positive smile. He was perfect. How could someone as rugged and experienced as the Mandalorian look so damn beautiful under all that beskar?

"Din…" your voice was barely audible as a lonely tear fell down your cheek. "If this is because I saw you without your helmet…"

"No sweet girl," he told you, nervously biting his lip. "I've been carrying this ring around for months just waiting for the right moment. I've wanted this for a long time." he revealed, causing your heart to flutter.

"Are you sure?" you croaked, smiling and finally diverting your eyes to the gorgeous silver ring.

"I've never been so certain about anything in my life," Din replied quickly. "Cyare, please, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

"Yes!" you cried, tears falling down your cheeks as he slid the ring onto your finger. You wrapped your arms around The Mandalorian and he held you tight, picking you up and spinning you around.

"I love you so much," He mumbled in your ear, biting down on your love gently as you brought your hands to cup his cheeks. "Is it what you imagined?" he asked, gesturing towards his face as you took in every single detail. Every freckle and scar.

"So much better." you told him, noticing a small pink blush crawl over his cheeks. "Din." your tone was like velvet as it interrupted the adoring silence.

"Mm?" Din mumbled, his hands falling to your waist. You pulled off him slightly so you could look at him in the eyes.

"I don't need bacta for my nausea," you revealed nervously. "And I can't take spice because… well, I think. I'm pregnant."

Din blinked, staring at you. "Wh- pregnant?"

"I was so scared to say anything but I have a gut feeling… I can't describe. It's just like… I know. I can feel it." you told him. Din was speechless.

Grogu shimmied out of the copilot chair and reached up to your stomach, closing his eyes and reaching out. "What's he doing?" Din asked eventually as Grogu hummed a deep breath. You felt it. You closed your eyes and knelt to the child's level so he could place his claw on your lower tummy.

"He feels it too," you whispered. "It's true. I am pregnant." you confirmed and Din's lips curved into an ecstatic smile.

"This is a happy day," Din said, picking up the child and cradling him in one arm while he wrapped his free arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest. "The happiest day of my life."

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #the Mandalorian #the Mandalorian x reader

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angelic-slasher · 4 years

Text

i’m sorry

summary: the day michael comes back home is like no other. with plans to end your reunion, it all goes downhill in an instant.

warnings: rape, violence, character death, agonizing gut wrenching heartbreak, suicide, ooc!michael

word count: 1,794

October 31st is the day you dread. It was Halloween. And Halloween was not your favorite holiday. Haddonfield, Illinois was small, so every single child was out trick-or-treating. You read newspapers about Michael's disappearance from Smith's Grove Psychiatric Ward. It was blessing the police never came to the Myers' old childhood home. You had stayed behind, knowing Michael was going to come back. And when he did, you were ecstatic to greet your childhood best friend.

He looked broader and extremely tall, close to seven feet tall. His blonde hair was dark and longer, as well as his full beard. Michael hasn't recognized you at first as you stood there, small and timid, his height towering over you.

"Remember me, Mikey?” You spoke quietly, his confused as taking in every detail of you.

The sound of his old nickname leaving your lips made his eye widen. He slowly stepped towards you, his large boots thundering against the dirty wooden floor. His large, dirtied hand raises up to your face. You're close to tears as his fingertips trace the small scar above your eyebrow. You remembered how you got it.

It was during Halloween years ago. You and Michael were sitting in your treehouse munching on candy corns and bite sized snickers. You had trouble unwrapping a lollipop and ended up punching yourself in the face, your small ring nicking you on your brow bone.

Michael's fingers slid down to your cheek, moving his hands further down until his knuckles came in contact with your collarbones. It was silent. You stared up at the mammoth man. His fingers curled around the dirty, gold necklace around your delicate neck. He opened the locket easily with his thumb. Inside was a picture of you and Michael at age 8. When he finally looked into your glistening eyes, he dropped to his knees and buried his head against your stomach.

You let out a sob mixed with a wet laugh, readings streaming freely down your rosy cheeks. You held Michael's head and dug your fingers in his grimy hair. Michael's hands held your hips as pulled you closer.

"Oh, I've missed you so much, Mikey,” you whispered.

"Y/N,” he grumbles, standing to his full height and peering down at you.

His voice was gruff and deep and manly, unlike the young and high pitched voice you were used to hearing back then.

"Did you miss me too?" You shyly asked, your hands slowly and hesitantly cupping his cheeks.

MichaelMs shoulders slouched and his head bowed so his face reached your hands. His eyes closed as he took in your gentle touch. Your hands were small and warm and soft and felt like home.

"Missed you,” he mumbled, eyes squeezing tight as he moved passed you and into the basement.

He looked around at the broken down area and the broken floorboards. He knelt down and pulled up a floorboard. Inside was his beloved mask and crusted kitchen knife. You followed him and stood at the doorway, watching as he pulled on his mask, clutching the knife tightly in his hands. He stood up straight and walked towards you, breathing heavily, waiting to hear you protest. You knew where he was going. You knew what he did as a child. You kept it a secret. And you'd do it again.

"Be careful, Mikey,” you whispered.

You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down to your small height. You pressed your lips against the lips of his mask and gave him a quick kiss. You blushed and quickly released him, but he stayed still and stared into your eyes.

"Come back to me, okay? I lost you once. I don't need to lose you again,” you mumbled, feeling intimidated by his intense gaze.

Michael straightened his back and lifts his hand to stroke your cheek. "Promise."

You smile and watch as he left through the back door. You hand reached up to your neck as you cradled the locket in your palm. You smile. You finally got your Mikey back.

►◄

It was nearing midnight. You had been on the rotten couch all day worrying about your precious Michael. You anxiously tapped your foot and fiddled with the hem of your red dress. You wore it just for Michael, only because his favorite color was red. You immediately shot up from your seat when you heard the front door open, followed by footsteps. However, there were more than one pair of footsteps.

"Look at what we got here, boys. Little pretty dolly trespassing."

A man stands in the doorway of the living room, behind him was three other men. They all looked in their mid 40s with trucker caps and dirty clothes. The leader stared at you and smirked.

"You—You shouldn't be in here,” you stammered, taking a step back with your hand outstretched in front of you as they took a step forward.

"Why? Cause of the boogeyman?" As the man said the word 'boogeyman', he take a large step forward, making you take many steps back.

He chuckles, as well as his buddies. You were trembling in your flats. Where was Michael? You prayed in your head as the men inches closer to your frozen body. The leader stood too close and sniffed your hair, gliding his hand down your arm.

"She's mighty fine. Ain't she, fellas?" He asked, earning approving grunts from the other three men.

You went to charge, but one of them grabbed you and hauled you up. You screamed and began beating at him from behind. Your legs kicked as the other men laughed. You were thrown into the wall, your face slammed into the dry wall. You fell to the floor as you felt blood leak out of your nose. You felt hands grab your wrists, pulling you across the floor. You screamed and cried as one of the men behind you held you down.

"Otis, shut her up!!" The leader bellowed.

You felt a hard punch land across your jaw. You whimpered and tasted copper from the blood leaking from your gums. The leader kneeled in front of your body and forcefully spread your thighs. You kicked and screamed, earning another hard punch.

"Pete, for God's sake, hold her damn legs!" The leader yelled as he began unbuckling his belt.

"Please don't do this. Please, please, please,” you sobbed, feeling your underwear being torn apart from your battered body.

You felt bruises form on your arms and thighs, as well as your face. Otis punched you more times as the leader painfully thrusts into you. You scream echoed the house as he went brutal and quick. Your toes curled in pain as the size of him tore you apart. Your throat was raw and burned as you screamed for help. A hand smacked over your mouth to silence your screams.

It must've been an hour later as all men finished their many rounds. Your vaginal area was bloody and torn. Your face ached and was caked with blood and cuts. Your inner and outer thighs had deep bruises from fat fingerprints. You were too tired to to scream. You were too tired to cry.

"What do we do now?" Otis panted as he stood up and buckled his belt, wiping the beads of sweat on his brow with the back of his hand.

"We kill the bitch,” the leader states, pulling out a long hunters knife from his back pocket. "She knows our faces and names. Might as well finish the job."

He leans down between your spread legs.

You licked your dry lips, and with another breath, you whispered, "Fuck you."

The leader sucked his teeth and shook his head. "Such a shame...you were so pretty."

Your mouth fell open at the feeling of a sharp knife harshly pushing into your stomach. Then the knife was being pulled out before he stabbed you in the chest. Your eyes widened and you gurgled, blood leaking from your mouth. As he stood, he sent one last look at you and scoffed at the tear falling down your temple. Your eyes were trained on the ceiling as you felt your body begin to numb out. You heard screams from behind you coming from the men. You didn't know why. You didn't care. You were dying.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the leader being thrown across the room. Then, Michael was into view, stabbing him in the chest and lifting him into the air. He wrapped a large hand around his neck and retracted his knife before slamming it into the leader's chest many brutal times. He fell to the ground with a thud. Michael stood before him, breathing heavy, chest rising and falling quickly.

"M—Mich—Michael..” you wheezed.

He turned around and spotted you, bloody, battered, and slowly losing life. He dropped his knife, and it fell to the ground with a clutter. He made his over to you and knelt down. He spotted the bruises on your thighs and ripped off his mask angrily. Your hand shook as you reached for his.

"I'm s—sorry, Mi—Michael. I'm so—so sorry for not v—visiting you. I'm sorry M—Michael,” you weakly whimpered, eyes falling shut at the pain you were starting to feel, not from the stab wounds, but from your broken heart at the thought of leaving Michael forever.

"Shhh,” he whispered, lip trembling as they formed a snarl.

The loud roar he released is one of heartbreak and pain. His voice cracked as he cried heavily. He rocked back and forth and cradled your hand to his chest.

"I lo—love you, Michael M—Myers,” you whimpered, tears escaping your eyes as you let out a final wheezing breath.

Michael releases another deep roar, tears now streaming down his cheeks. He let go of your bloody hand and looks at you. He kisses your lips gently and touched your check, as it was wet and warm with blood. He looks around at the mess of dead bodies and felt his chest hurt. Michael shakily stood and walked over to where his knife was. He bent down and picked up the weapon. He looks at the bloodied blade and walks over to your lifeless body. He stared down in pain and pressed the tip of his knife to his chest.

"I love you too,” he whispered and pushed the knife as deep as it could go into his chest.

Michael grunts at the sharp pain as he falls to his knees with a heavy thud. He lays on his back and breathes in and out shakily as he reaches for your limp hand. He clutches tighter as he hears police sirens from outside his childhood home. Michael's bleeding out quicker than he imagined. He's happy; happy that he could be with you forever.

#tw: rape #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael x reader #halloween 2007 #halloween rob zombie

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killjoysfromyesterday · 3 years

Text

second prompt for my @badthingshappenbingo card!

prompt: hidden scar

warnings: talk and usage of ne*dles, blo*d, cardiac arrest

word count: 804

——————

the firefight hadn’t gone well. jet had gotten a couple shots to the shoulder that needed patching up, and they were pretty sure kobra broke his wrist. ghoul had scraped by with just a raygun burn on his upper back, and now poison was standing in front of him with a bottle of antiseptic from tommy’s.

"ghoul. it needs to be cleaned. you remember how bad kobra was when one of his shots got infected, we can't lose part of the team for a month again." poison says, dousing a rag in the alcohol. the smell stung ghoul’s nose and he scrunched up his face in disgust.

"i'll clean it myself." he waved poison off, trying to push down the anxiety creeping up in his stomach.

"it's on your back. you'd never get to it yourself."

"i just..."

"ghoul. c'mon." and before ghoul can stop them, poison’s behind him, carefully working blood-soaked his shirt off of his back.

and then they see them: the rows and rows of tiny pinpoint marks along his back. they almost look like extremely well aligned freckles if you squint, but their origins ring loud and clear to poison.

ghoul’s memories are like torrential downpour; they slam down on him without warning, and he can’t make them stop.

his feet are swinging off the side of the operating table, the back of the hospital gown open as scientists come and go, tapping the bubbles out of syringes and talking in words ghoul can’t understand.

“alright, forty-six. two more shots and then we’ll survey your side effects.” the doctor says, and without warning there’s more needles in his back, but ghoul’s long-numbed to the sharp pinpricks. an assistant is writing on his back with a marker, numbering each shot and copying her work down on a clipboard.

his muscles are already beginning to ache, and the room feels colder than normal. he tries his best to focus on anything to keep his mind off the way his whole body is cramping; his eyes find the BLI logo on the door in front of him, and he focuses on tracing the eyes and mouth of the smiley face with his finger.

then he’s coughing, dry-heaving and retching and clawing at his chest, because shit, his lungs are closing up and his heart is jackrabbit-thumping in his ribcage. the monitor that’s hooked up to the stickers and wires on his chest starts going crazy, the beeping becoming erratic and wild on the screen.

“code red, get me the paddles, stat!” a voice shouts and ghoul can’t tell which scientist it’s coming from because they’re all identical with their stupid BLI masks and his vision is going in and out of focus. he’s rolled onto his back and the world tilts before there’s an oxygen mask being shoved over his face and all he can hear is yelling as the world goes black, pulling him under as the bright operating table lights fade.

"oh, ghoulie..." poison sighs as ghoul jumps up, pulling his shirt back down over his back as quick as he possibly can. the movement against the fresh burns makes him grit his teeth in pain, but poison makes no move to stop him.

"i'm sorry-" ghoul begins, lip quivering.

"sorry for what? what are you sorry for?"

"i dunno..." ghoul mumbles, voice shaky. there's a lump in his throat that's hard to talk around, so he just puts his head down and tries to not let poison see how bad his lip is quivering, how badly he wants to run. but then poison’s voice goes all soft and they hold their arms out.

"ghoul. c'mere."

and that's all ghoul needs, because he's rocketing into poison's arms, and poison holds on tight, and they end up on the floor in a heap of limbs and neither of them bother to rearrange into a more comfortable position because they don't want to stop holding on.

"i love you. so much. i don't care what they did there." poison whispers, running a hand through ghoul’s sweaty hair. he needs a bath and maybe a decontamination after being around all those dracs, but all he wants to do right now is sink into poison’s arms and never let go.

"you're here now. look how far you've come." poison says, pulling away to hold ghoul’s face in their hands. ghoul’s eyes tear up, and poison swipes his thumb across ghoul’s cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall from his eyes.

“they’re never gonna hurt you again.” poison presses a kiss to ghoul’s forehead. ghoul tunnels his face into poison’s shoulder further and shuts his eyes tight.

they stay like that for a while, holding on so tight their knuckles are going white. they both need it.

——————

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hoodharlow · 4 years

Text

Sé lo rica que se ve en ropa de gimnasio. A mí me encantan lo' tatuaje' en tus brazo'

AN: I was gonna scrap this tbh, but my lovely mamas @be-ready-when-i-say-go posted this. So everyone say thank you to my mamas

Request: Hunter kinda put it but for grabs and I quickly snatched it, so yes lol [ I need someone to indulge me in a cal blurb where you don’t handle spoopy well. however he don’t know that—new relationship right at the start of the holidays or something—and he surprises you with a date to a haunted house and you’re like, how about no??? But he’s a little bummed so you do it. Piss your pants (not literally) but it does not go well. Youre visibly shaken, almost crying and he’s like yikes okay, let’s just get food and wait for the rest of the peeps to be done and he’s like I’m really sorry, didn’t think it’d go like this. because I need it. But I can’t brain anymore to write it my damn self. Yes this is a cry for help]

Warnings: SMUT and aspects of spooky stuff (cl**ns)

Word Count: 2.1k words

Calum and Claudia were waiting for his trainer in Calum's new G-Wagon. She was supposed to drop him off Griffith Park since she had a job interview at a dispensary and few errands to run. Fortunately the interview was in about two hours, so Claudia had some time to spare.

His trainer forgot not to double book him with the influencer, who's name he had forgotten, after the fight he had with Claudia. Calum was quick to learn that she doesn't have a poker face when it came to people she didn't like, especially girls that always attempted to flirt with him. So when they saw her at the bench recording herself that she was going to workout, Calum had to find a way to remind Claudia he only had eyes for her. They may as well christen his G-Wagon.

Their makeout session started out casual and lazy. Next thing they knew, they were climbing to the back seat, and Claudia was on his lap.

Claudia slowly rolled her hips back and forth. With one hand, Calum bunched up her skirt and with the other he gripped her hip. Soft moans escaped her lips and mixed with the sound of Calum's groans. She greedily rode him at a slow, tortuous pace.

"Fuck, pretty girl," he grunted.

Calum slid his hand inside her panties and roughly gripped her ass. He guided her along his length, loving how well she took him as he bucked his hips into her, meeting her thrusts. She let out a loud moan. Calum captured her lips, muffling her.

They both sped up their movements, wanting to get the other off.

“Calum!” She moaned out, her orgasm catching her off guard. She rested her forehead on his shoulder and slowly rode him through her orgasm.

He let go of her ass and pushed her down on the seat. He slid back into her and took her in slow deep thrusts. He wrapped her legs around his waist, so he had more room to maneuver them. He desperately rubbed her clit, egging her on as his thrusts sped up.

Claudia pulled away from his lips and bit his shoulder as he brought her to another orgasm.

"Fuck!" She cursed.

She moved her hands to his back. Digging her nails for some sort of stability as Calum increased his pace and pounded into her.

"C'mon, Cal," she begged. "I want your cum deep inside of me. Please—"

"Fuck, Claudia," he grunted.

His thrusts got sloppy and less rough. He chased after his climax. Moaning out his love for Claudia, he praised her for how well she took him. With one final thrust he came. He shoved himself deep in her until his high went down. He plopped next to her and closed his eyes. Wrapping his arm around her, he sighed in contentment.

Claudia traced the dagger on the back of his bicep. She quickly remembered the lyrics to one of Benito's songs.

"What are you thinking about?" Calum asked her. He lifted his head to look at her.

"Bad Bunny— not like that!" she quickly added. "There's these lyrics that reminded me of you."

"Which ones?"

"'Sé lo rica que se ve en ropa de gimnasio. A mí me encantan lo' tatuaje' en tus brazo' from the song 'Como se Siente.' It was just him saying how he knows that his boo looks good in workout clothes, and how he loves their arm tattoos. I was like mood because I know my boo looks good in workout clothes, and I love his arm tattoos."

Calum laughed. He hid his face into her chest, slightly shaking from the laughter.

"I fucking love you, Claudia." He said smiling brightly at her.

"I love you too." She said shyly.

Calum shifted, so he was hovering over her. He sponge kissed all over her face and neck. Slowly he made his way down her chest, but Claudia stopped him.

"As much as I'm down for round two, I can't. I can't have Ivan see these lovely hickies and snitch to my dad."

Calum lifted his hands up in surrender at the mention of Diego. He sat on his knees and let her get ready. He heard a car approaching them, recognising his trainer. He cursed and reached for his shirt in the front seat. He handed Claudia his— their—Nine Inch Nails long sleeve.

"Are those my leggings?" Claudia asked him when he slipped on his compression tights and shorts.

"Probably." He shrugged. He took her shocked look and tried to not laugh. "Now you know what it's like to have your clothes stolen."

"Vas a ver." Claudia stuck her tongue out and pushed him off.

She pulled on her bralette, adjusting the straps and tucked in Calum's shirt in her skirt. She smoothed out the bottom of the skirt the best she could and grabbed her makeup bag. She touched up her makeup and redid her ponytail.

"Here." She said handing Calum her headband.

"Thanks," He said, wrapping it around his wrist. He looked outside and saw his trainer out of his car. "I gotta go. I'll see you in a bit. We're still going to Universal Studios with Ash and KayKay?"

"Yeah. Want me to bring you a change of clothes?"

"Please."

"Okay." Claudia nodded.

Calum pulled her close to him. He smiled and traced his thumb over her bottom lip. He leaned in, feeling her sigh, and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later, love.”

***

Calum wrapped his arms around Claudia and rested his chin on her head as they waited for their turn to go inside the maze with Ashton and KayKay.

Claudia tilted her head up.

"Kiss?" she asked Calum.

He smiled and leaned down to peck her lips.

Claudia turned around to kiss him properly. She held onto his cheek as her tongue gave into his. She sighed into his mouth as one of his hands lazily rested on her ass.

"This is a family park, not a place for you two to kiss like you're ready to make babies. Please go do that somewhere else." A woman behind them called to them, making Calum look back.

“You hear that this is a family park,” Calum turned back to Claudia. “Well, if it's a family park, guess we should make our own family." He pulled Claudia closer to him and wiggled his tongue against hers. Soon enough they were making out once more.

"Hey rabbits, let's go." Ashton said. He flicked Calum's ear, making them pull away.

Calculus immediately linked her arm around Calum's as they made their way through the Stranger Things maze. It wasn't as eerie as the other two mazes they walked through considering it was basically a tour through the set of the show. The Demagorgin did startle them when they passed through the lab, however.

Minutes later they made it through the maze.

"Which one's next?" Calum asked Ashton, who was holding the map.

"Clowns." He simply said.

Claudia stopped dead in her tracks. She hated clowns ever since Junior and Danny tricked her into watching the first It movie when they were younger and purposefully followed her around in clown masks to scare her. She never saw them the same. For Guito's birthday, Junior and Marlene hired a clown to make balloon shaped animals and face painting. With the excuse of studying for her AP stats class, Claudia immediately retreated to her room and hid there until it was time for the clown to leave. Now she had no idea how she was going to make it through the maze.

"You okay?" Calum asked her quietly.

"Yeah, just a bit tired from walking around." She responded.

Calum pulled her to his chest and pulled out his phone. He watched Claudia's face light up when she saw his lockscreen, a picture of them at the dog beach in DelMar with Duke and Panchito. He scrolled through the apps until he found Hulu. They had been binging One Tree Hill for the last couple of weeks. They made it through two episodes when it was their turn to go in.

Claudia recognised the green cotton candy cocoon from the circus scene in the Killer Klowns from Outer Space. It started to move, revealing a clown taller than Calum with a raygun.

She whimpered, hiding her face into Calum's side. She held onto him, frozen in place.

"Claudia we have to get going," Calum said.

"I don't want to," she mumbled.

"Are you frightened?"

"Maybe," she grumbled.

"Fuck, okay lets get to find the exit and I'll text Ashton. Yeah?"

He felt Claudia nod on his side. He rubbed her back and guided them back to the designated exit for people that aren't able to complete the maze. They were almost there when a small herd of clowns ran in their direction.

Calum tried to get them away, but they got ambushed along with another group of people. Next thing he knew Claudia wasn't attached to him. He quickly spun around and spotted her covering her face as another clown approached her. He trotted over to her.

"Hey, it's me. I'm here," he softly said.

They finally made it out of the maze and Calum pulled her to a small table outside of Ben and Jerry's. He sat down, and she climbed to his lap burying her face in his chest. He felt his shirt get wet with her tears. He rubbed her back as she softly cried. He kissed her head.

"I'm not a baby, I swear," she sniffled after a few minutes. She wiped her face with her shirt sleeve. "I just, like, freaked out. I'm sorry for not letting you finish the maze."

"I could care less about a stupid maze. What's important to me is your safety and well-being." He shrugged. "Now why didn't you tell me you were scared of clowns?"

"Because I was embarrassed that I'm almost 22 and scared of something as mundane as clowns."

"Claudia, fears are something grown ups have. It's natural to be afraid of things, or else the human experience wouldn't be so complex." Calum pulled her chin up to meet her eyes. "I want you to know that I'll always be here to protect you. Got that?"

Claudia nodded. "Can we get ice cream?"

"Of course."

They got in line. Calum texted Ashton that the clown maze was a bit much for him, so he and Claudia will be waiting for them at Ben and Jerry's. Once in the shop, he wrapped his arms around Claudia and rested his chin on her head, swaying them to cheesy Halloween music.

He saw a few flashes from outside. Lifting his head, he looked back. A small group of unsubtle fans were whispering and taking pictures of them. Even in his dark hoodie and gray beanie, they were still able to identify him. They tried to play off that they weren't recording, but one of them had their camera flash on. Calum cursed to himself and released Claudia.

"Fans." He quickly mumbled to her. She nodded and took a few steps forward.

Claudia was still subject to rude comments on social media, so they always tried not to be too affectionate when they're out. There were rare occasions that fans managed to capture them. He knew this was one of the cases.

They quickly ordered and made their way to a table inside. Claudia sat across from him and watched his fans approach him as she ate her Netflix & Chill'd™ waffle cone.

One of them elbowed another, so they could get Calum's attention.

"Um, we were wondering if we could get a picture?" One of them asked Calum.

"Sure." He looked to Claudia, "don't eat any of my ice cream."

She rolled her eyes and ate more of his. She watched him shove his hands on his pockets and crouch down a bit so he could be in the frame. While he went down the small line of fans, taking selfies, Claudia reached over for his Chunky Monkey. She tried scooping a small amount only for the spoon to get stuck and get a large amount. She cursed and frantically tried to get it unstuck resulting in the spoon breaking.

"Seriously?" Calum quirked.

"It was like that when—"

"I'm sure it was."

***

"I'm positive, Cal." Claudia reassured him. She swung their intertwined hands as they followed KayKay and Ashton into the replica of the Ghostbusters movie set. It was a mix of both the 80s and 2016 versions. Through the speakers the beginning of a certain song began to play.

Calum and Ashton looked at each and seemed to telepathically communicate with each other. Suddenly they began singing along to Girls Talk Boys. A few people gathered around, watching them sing. Some were surprised at how similar they sounded to the people singing through the speakers, unaware it was them. Calum turned to Claudia as he sang, "Do you tell them I'm your lover, that I'm all that you need?"

"They're too cocky for their own good." KayKay laughed.

Claudia giggled "Yeah, but the one in the gray beanie is cute."

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