#struggle against the duct tape

[sowhumpful]

#whump #knife #held at knifepoint #knife to the throat #terrified #fear #helpless #antonio banderas #Movie Black Butterfly #tied up #duct tape #restrained #tied to a chair #struggle against the bonds #struggle against the duct tape

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 15: Bonnie

Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7456 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst

A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise. 

You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes. 

“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom. 

You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine. 

You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past. 

Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface. 

Even he can’t protect you from this. 

You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing. 

John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem. 

You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry. 

You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one. 

Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep. 

You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness. 

You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned. 

You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?” 

John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.” 

You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief. 

“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades. 

“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.” 

You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.” 

“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.” 

You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake. 

You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it. 

John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what. 

You might never get to know. 

It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep. 

Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent. 

“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you. 

He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons. 

“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.” 

You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any. 

“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.” 

You can only imagine how that went. 

Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously. 

“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door. 

“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own. 

“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.” 

He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between. 

“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..” 

“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you. 

You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do. 

He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does. 

He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.” 

“You're tired.” 

You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright. 

You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”

“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm. 

You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again? 

“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.

Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”

“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”

Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response. 

“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say. 

“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”

Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”

“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”

“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”

You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger. 

John trusts him, so you should be able to as well. 

Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask. 

Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own. 

He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago. 

“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.” 

He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position. 

“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over. 

“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.” 

You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run. 

“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him. 

You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious. 

“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.” 

You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing? 

You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good. 

Is violence and death really the path to the greater good? 

“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil. 

You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.” 

He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head. 

He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.

His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady. 

“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.” 

He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired. 

“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.” 

It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch. 

You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too. 

All he's waiting on is you saying the word. 

He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something. 

The thought makes you want to cry. 

“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump. 

You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?” 

“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book. 

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being. 

“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face. 

The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal. 

You need to rectify this, and fast. 

You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety. 

Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”

You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.” 

He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door. 

You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?” 

Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.” 

Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back. 

“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.” 

You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line. 

Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news. 

“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?” 

“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you. 

“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes. 

“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.” 

He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin. 

“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers. 

“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.” 

Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. 

“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.” 

You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver. 

Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it. 

“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip. 

“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look. 

The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room. 

He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly. 

“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.

“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”

“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”  

“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”

Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.” 

“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”

“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you. 

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him. 

“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.

He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal. 

Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved. 

Well, you suppose he is. 

He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much. 

It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you. 

Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.

You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg. 

“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt. 

He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric. 

You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him. 

“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?” 

You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?” 

He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you. 

You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely. 

“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread. 

You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you. 

“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face. 

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans. 

You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets. 

“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.” 

You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation. 

“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you. 

Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips. 

He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair. 

“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage. 

“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you. 

The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position. 

“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk. 

He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers. 

His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth. 

You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin. 

“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.

“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday. 

“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.” 

Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs. 

“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand. 

Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. 

“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips. 

You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other. 

You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his. 

“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.” 

You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position. 

Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck. 

“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat. 

You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life. 

You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat. 

“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.” 

He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again. 

You’re in for a long night. 

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gax x reader

[darklordofthesimp]

Delirium (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Summary: Being partnered with Ghost was never easy. However, when you find him bleeding out on the kitchen floor and delirious from blood loss, you make a discovery. The L.T loves to talk.

Requested by Anon: #57 You're shaking.

A/N: Some Sunshine to feed you while I work on Anything III.

Category: Mutual Pining

Warnings: Description of injury || Graphic language

You weren't a medic by any means. 

There was the combat first aid course that you were all forced to do during basic training, but that had been a century ago. You'd handled your own injuries when an enemy sniper would get a lucky shot. Again, there's not much to do there other than put some pressure on it.

Otherwise, you were fairly inexperienced when it came to handling injured team members. There were shortfalls to being a sniper, hand-to-hand combat wasn't as relevant and having to provide first aid was rare. 

You call them shortfalls because now, in a situation where those skills are required, you're fucking struggling. 

You'd opened the door to the safe house with a sigh, frowning when you couldn't see Ghost through the windows. You'd assumed he'd be waiting for you to arrive from your nest but clearly, he didn't give enough of a fuck to wait around. 

You could have died en route and he'd be sleeping. 

For some reason, the thought hurt. 

You could think of a million things that he probably thought more important than you; staring at a wall being high on the list. What you hadn’t expected, was to find him collapsed on the kitchen floor.

“Ghost,” you rasped, choking on his name. His eyes flickered open at the sound of your voice, the relief palpable in his gaze. He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall with a strangled noise. You were frozen. You’d never seen him injured and honestly, you thought that you never would. 

You’d even told Soap that Ghost was probably just a bootleg Robo-Cop beneath the mask.  

But, the blood soaking through his uniform said otherwise. 

“You gonna give me hand or not?” His voice was low and rough. It had no edge, though. There was no bite behind his words like there usually was and it scared you. The man hated your guts and if he was too injured to convey that then he was definitely dying. 

“Oh God,” you breathed, leaning your rifle against the wall slowly. Your eyes never left his crumpled form and his eyes never left your face. “Oh God.” 

You slid to your knees, rushing to his side with frantic curses. You couldn’t see the extent of the wound from beneath his armour and he clearly didn’t have enough strength to take it off himself. 

“Stab wound,” Ghost offered the cause of injury through gritted teeth. “Got me good.” 

“This shit needs to come off,” you tugged at his armour, reaching for the quick-release cord. The man groaned but he didn’t object. One hard tug of the plastic ligature had the vest falling apart at every seam, the line now loose in your hand. 

“Fuck,” the man gave a startled chuckle, taking a large breath with his chest free from pressure. “Feel better already.” 

You didn’t reply, eyes narrowed on the wound beneath his ribs. You pulled up his shirt, tucking it beneath his arms as you scanned over the injury. It was clean cut, a clear entry wound that was steadily leaking a shit tonne of blood. 

No sounds of air sucking in through the jagged flesh and you thanked whoever was listening that it wasn’t a punctured lung. You didn’t have any seals on you and you didn’t want to slap him with some duct tape instead. He’d never let you live that down.

“How’s it lookin’, Sunshine?” Ghost asked, breathing heavily.

“Unfortunately,” you began, pressing the cotton padding from your kit against the wound, “if you apply pressure, you’ll live.” 

“Unfortunately?” He coughed,  the sound strained and you could tell he immediately regretted the movement. 

“Very fucking unfortunate,” you confirmed with faux seriousness. 

You stuck a gauze pad to the wound once you had finished packing it, reaching into your med pouch for a bandage. You’d wrap it around his midriff to keep pressure on the wound, you decided. 

“A ray of Sunshine you are, as per fuckin’ usual.” 

You clenched your jaw, reminding yourself that he was injured and that you couldn’t stick a finger knuckle-deep in his wound as retaliation. At the very least, he was back to hating you. Meant he wasn’t dying any time soon. 

You frowned at the bandage in your hands, desperately trying to remove the plastic wrapping. You couldn’t think straight and your body felt jittery as the adrenline began to settle. You couldn’t believe how vulnerable he was, unable to gather the strength to take off his own body armour. 

You hated it. 

Why the fuck couldn’t you open this wrapping? 

You pulled harder on the plastic, trying to bring your heart rate down. Why were you breathing so hard? 

A gloved hand fell over your own. 

Your frantic tugging came to an immediate halt and your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. Ghost's gaze was half lidded but just as intense as always, grazing over your features. Heat flushed through your body at his drunken stare. You knew it was from the blood loss, you knew he could barely see straight, but that kind of look was reserved for someone he was sharing a bed with and you couldn't function at the sight of it. 

For a moment he said nothing, blinking slowly- too slowly- as he took in a breath. 

"Relax, kid," he murmured eventually. "I'm okay."

You swallowed hard. 

His fingers were soft over your own, too weak to apply pressure but curled over your hand just the same. 

"I am relaxed." You bit back at him, returning your gaze to the stupid fucking bandage beneath both of your hands. You didn't want him to see how much this affected you, you didn't want him to think you were a cowardly mess. 

There was a soft huff as he patted your hand lightly. "You're shaking, Sunshine."

You sucked in a breath.

Your eyes flickered back to meet his, lips trembling at your exposure. He knew. The gentleness in his gaze was otherworldly, so foreign you wondered if it was even Simon Riley beneath the mask. Blood loss was clearly doing a number on him and he was doing a number on you. 

“I’m a sniper, Sir.” You coughed, trying to tear yourself from the sudden intimacy of the situation. “I don’t shake.”

Ghost tutted from beneath his mask. 

“Haven’t been with the right bloke, then.” 

Your jaw dropped. 

Ghost blinked at you as though he couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth, either. Jesus fucking Christ. You suddenly realised why Soap had made fun of Ghost for never drinking when you’d all be at the pub. You remembered asking the Sarge why the masked enigma would always bail after an hour or two and his response was simple. 

“The L.T can’t hold his tongue when he’s on the piss.” 

You thought that implied aggression. 

Clearly not.

“There is no right bloke,” you rasped, slowly pulling the bandage from beneath his hand. The loss of contact left you feeling empty but suddenly you could breathe a little easier. 

Your fingers shook violently as you tried for the plastic wrapper again and your gaze flickered to Ghost’s face, praying he hadn’t noticed. You should have known better. 

His eyes were on your trembling digits, a soft exhale making it’s way to your ears. 

“Looks like I’ve proved you wrong, Sunshine.” 

The words were low but there was no heat behind them. It didn’t feel lustful, they were murmured like an afterthought, his mind elsewhere. You wondered where Simon Riley disappeared to in his head when he looked at you. 

“You crack a lot of jokes for someone who’s a literal shish kebab,” you snapped, tearing at the plastic wrapping with your teeth. Finally, the bandage came loose.

“And you talk a lot of shit for someone who cares more than they let on.” The words were fired back, demanding your attention. 

You stared at him for a long moment, resisting the urge to squirm beneath his dark gaze. You’d never seen that expression on him before, as though he were daring you to disagree. As if he were waiting for you to say something. 

“Can’t care too much in this business, Sir.” You choked on the words, unravelling the bandage.

“I believed that once,” he tilted his head. 

“And now?” You prodded, leaning over him to wrap the bandage around his midriff. You tried to ignore how close your face was to his, how your fingers trailed against the skin of his stomach. The Lieutenant shivered beneath your touch and you kept your gaze downcast. 

Fingers gripped your chin softly and you gasped as he tilted your face upward. 

You were half on top of him, nose to nose and his stuttered exhale brushed against your lips. Simon’s eyes were half lidded and this close you could see the blue of his eyes, a stormy ocean that swallowed you whole. You were caught in it’s rip tide, drowning in the reverence of his stare. 

“Now,” he murmured, lazily examining our features. His eyes lingered on your parted lips, his thumb slowly swiping your bottom lip. “Could say I’ve had a change of heart.” 

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #call of duty x reader #call of duty mw2 #cod x reader #cod mw2 ghost #cod mw2 x reader

[kaijutegu]

Is It Ok For An Alligator To Have Tape On Their Mouth?

Alligators make pretty amazing animal ambassadors when handled safely and ethically. And it is actually pretty safe to take them out to interact with the zoo-going public (or general public in some settings), when done correctly. Many zoos and outreach organizations do an amazing job of this! Every state has different rules, but even if a state doesn't mandate that alligators be banded... well, if you're a responsible crocodilian handler, you'll band anyways. It's a huge public safety issue! Even an accidental graze against their front teeth can cause injury. See, the alligators that are used as handle-able ambassadors are pretty small, and their teeth are razor sharp. An adult gator has sharp teeth, too, as well as blunt teeth for crushing, and they also have the additional force of their jaw muscles.

Here's what it sounds like when an adult alligator pops his jaw. (Don't worry about the hissing/gaping; this is a trained and queued behavior. The stick towards the top of the inside of the mouth is triggering the bite reflex. Chester probably got lots of chicken and fish as he learned to do this.)

Skip ahead to 0:32 if you wanna skip the guest commentary.

What's more, biting is an important reflex for crocodilians. The lower jaws of crocodilians are some of the most innervated tissues in the animal kingdom; they are more sensitive than human fingertips! Even the slightest touch triggers their bite reflex, which likely is an adaptation that lets them detect changes in water pressure that signal a snack heading their way.

Here's a pretty good video about the biomechanics of crocodilian jaws:

So yeah. They need to not be able to bite for public safety. There's just too much risk involved with an unbanded alligator (or other crocodilian). Fortunately, it's easy to get a crocodilian to not bite- you just need to band its mouth!

(This fella is Frodo the dwarf caiman, but the principle is the same.)

This works because while crocodilians have an extremely strong bite force (claims range from 2,000 PSI to 5,000+ PSI, but I don't have time to get into that now but someday I will probably), but not particularly strong muscles to open their mouths. Selective pressure for quickly nabbing prey in murky water where there's not a lot of visibility lead to pterygoid and adductor muscles so big, they extend into the animal's neck. But those muscles only pull the jaw closed- they don't work to open it! That's why you see people holding an alligator's mouth closed with their hands.

Safe bands include:

Silicone tape- this is the best. It sticks to itself and not the gator's snout

Electrical tape

Medical tape

Rubber or elastic bands

There are other options, but these are the most popular- they're cheap, easily available, and safe. So if you see an alligator (or other crocodilian) out in public and it's got tape on its mouth, don't worry too much- it's safe for the gator (most of the time) and it's safe for you!

Here's a couple of safe tape options, modeled by a juvenile American alligator in pink electrical tape (I forget her name, these are from an outreach event a couple of years ago) and Pagasa, a juvenile Philippine crocodile wearing the white medical tape.

So when is tape not safe? When it's the wrong kind of tape. One of the worst offenders is duct tape.

When you're banding an alligator, you need to think about how sensitive their jaws are. A band that's too tight or too sticky can hurt them badly when it's removed- and you want that removal process to be fast, so that it doesn't stress them out too much.

What inspired this post was this picture I saw on Facebook:

That's so much duct tape! Now, this little guy is quite unhealthy; he's been loose in the Pittsburgh area all winter, and he's been struggling. What you see here is a very quick tape job done as he's getting ready for transport. The article didn't say who taped him, but given that he's in a dog crate and was found by bicyclists, I would wager that it was some harried animal control officer who was doing the best they could. And that's fine because this was truly an emergency situation. In an emergency situation, uncomfortable is always, always better than unsafe.

But if you see a tourist attraction and they've put duct tape on their alligator's mouth? That's a red flag! Banding an alligator in public is the safe, correct thing to do- you just want to make sure that it's done right.

If you want more information about alligator jaws, here's some interesting papers to read:

Erickson, Gregory et al. Insights into the Ecology and Evolutionary Success of Crocodilians Revealed through Bite-Force and Tooth-Pressure Experimentation. PLoS ONE 7(3): e31781.

Knight, Kathryn. Croc Jaws More Sensitive Than Human Fingertips. Journal of Experimental Biology (2012) 215.

Sellers et al. Ontogeny of bite force in a validated biomechanical model of the American alligator. Journal of Experimental Biology (2017), 220.

#alligator #crocodilian #reptiblr #Youtube

[obsidiangx]

cyberpunk at its core is about speculative dystopia. fantastical developments that should benefit society but exist in a system fundamentally designed to beat people down. alluring transhumanism imprisoned by money, class, and other axes of oppression. it's about the real world issue of new and exciting technology corrupted by the world that produces it.

armored core stands out against the common war stories in mecha. it's about gig workers risking their lives thanklessly to kill poor people just to survive and get ahead. even while the entire system around them crumbles

dorohedoro is a story about a stratified society where incredible magic that could be shared to benefit others is used in petty arguments and 'experiments' on those treated as subhuman. it's about how hierarchy creates struggle for everyone, but the blood and tears always runs down to the bottom.

i do love the basic cyberpunk aesthetic. the edgerunners kind, the blade runner kind, like ghost in the shell and gunnm. sci-fi, cybernetics, robots and cities are dear to me. but when you put on the skin of a dystopian genre without knowing what the bones look like, you make something that isn't just bad. it's insulting.

i live here. i know how it goes. the robot dogs are cops and my smartphone was obsolete when i bought it. the air quality is garbage and my health is a mess because my government treats corporations more like people than me, even though we can magically cure or prevent almost any ailment. there are more vacant houses than homeless people. it's theft to take food out of the garbage.

cyberpunk is a city full of vacant buildings and streets full of poor people. it's a raspberry pi duct taped to a cybernetic arm to intercept advertisements before they reach your brain. it's a gig economy that forces you to work overtime just to get paid enough to eat. isn't it frustrating? isn't it frustrating that we have to live like this? flying cars, body augments, virtual reality, and we still live like this.

#cyberpunk #armored core #dorohedoro #gunnm #edgerunners #gits #blade runner

[lovelybucky1]

Better Than Revenge

Kinktober Day 7- Fear Play

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT- noncon, kidnapping, violence, drugging, mentions of sexual assault, revenge porn, non-consensual picture taking, stalking, forced breeding, blackmail, AFAB!reader, bondage, humiliation, pain play, degradation, vaginal fingering, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, 18+ minors DNI

kinktober masterlist

main masterlist

You enjoyed your time at college. You made many new friends, partied, joined clubs, and learned a little along the way. It was fun for a freshly eighteen-year-old, but by the time the end of your senior year came, you were ready to move on to adult life. Since then, you don’t think about college much in your daily life. Your college friends are now just your friends, and your better days are still to come, not behind you.

That’s not to say you never think fondly back on a memory or two here and there, but you’re so busy with your job at the DA’s office that you don’t have time to be hung up on the past. Others, you’ve found, do still live in the past.

Dr. Jonathan Crane, the chief psychiatrist at Arkham took notice of you when you first started working for the DA. Crane was not well-liked by your boss, seeing as he always managed a way to get the criminals you were trying to put behind bars an insanity plea. While he was a frustrating legal enemy, you never had anything to do with the man outside of the courtroom, or so you thought.

After a long day of court and debating with Crane, you were walking home from the office late when a metal pipe cracked over your head and you fell to the wet pavement, out cold. When you woke, you found yourself in a damp, cold warehouse with Dr. Crane looking on from a chair, dressed in a lab coat. Fear spikes in your stomach when you see the man in front of you. Being in your position, there’s only one explanation for why he would be here as well, though you can’t imagine why.

You are bound and gagged; your arms are wrenched in an uncomfortable position above your head and your wrists are tied to a chain from the ceiling. Your mouth is covered with duct tape, effectively suppressing any screams. Your toes just barely touch the floor, which puts a horrible strain on your arms, but there is no use fighting against the bonds.

When Crane notices you regain consciousness, he stands from his chair and approaches you. He gets close to your face and looks into your slightly hazy and unfocused eyes, his own piercing ones making you tremble under his gaze.

“Don’t struggle, you’ll hurt yourself,” he says, voice eerily soothing for a kidnapper. “You know, it’s dangerous for a girl like you to walk alone at night. This city’s a dangerous place, you never know what kind of creeps could be lurking in the shadows.”

He grins a sick, vile grin that makes your skin crawl. Crane reaches out and tips your chin up with his cold pointer finger. He moves your face from side to side, examining you, checking for any damage he might have done. His thumb traces the duct tape over your mouth, finding the seam of your lips and touching you like a doll.

“I’m surprised you’ve kept your looks with how you used to party,” he says casually. You furrow your brows in confusion but you’re unable to question him. “Though I’m sure your liver isn’t what it used to be.”

Before you can ponder his words, Crane walks behind you and you can hear the sound of metal tools clattering together. When he reappears, he is holding a pair of sheers and wears a sadistic smirk. He roughly grabs the hem of your blouse and cuts it up the middle, exposing your bra. He then cuts the fabric of the sleeves so the garment falls to the floor, leaving you topless.

You want to fight back to get this sick creep off of you, but you figure it’s best not to provoke the man with scissors against your skin. Instead, you’re subjected to his eyes ogling you.

“What a thing to wear to work,” he says, amused. “I’m sure this can’t be comfortable. Were you wearing it for an occasion?” he asks, fingers tracing the delicate lace of the band. “Surely not a date. I know you don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t think you’re the type of girl to put out on the first date.”

You wonder how he could know you don’t have a boyfriend when the realization hits you. He knew what path you took on your way home, he knew what time you’d be leaving the office, and he knew details of your private life that you haven’t shared with anyone but your friends. He’s been stalking you.

“Maybe you had other plans for lunch with your boss this afternoon. Dent is quite the looker, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you. What his poor wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” he asks with a smirk. “You really haven't changed.” You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’re not sure what any of this means.

Crane then moves the sheers to the hem of your skirt and makes a small cut. Instead of cutting all the way up like he did with your blouse, he drops the scissors, grasps the skirt, and starts to slowly tear it. The sound of the fabric ripping is deafening in the near-silent warehouse, and fear threatens to rise in your throat as he creeps up your thigh. His eyes watch the exposed skin intently as he undresses you, clearly gaining some kind of pleasure from this. When he reaches the top, he lets the skirt fall at your feet and now has an unobstructed view of your matching underwear set.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “what a surprise. I guess you did have big plans.”

He slips his finger underneath the elastic band of your panties and snaps them back against your hip, making you jump. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps from the cold air and you squirm as you try in vain to hide yourself.

“You don’t mind if I look under these, do you?” he asks, tugging on your panties again.

Up to this point, you haven’t protested, figuring it was better to cooperate, but you can’t let him violate you like this. You let out a muffled “no” and violently shake your head as you try to move away from his touch. Crane only laughs and moves closer to you. You kick him in the knee and he curses, but it doesn’t do much to deter him.

“You can’t fight me off. All you’re doing is making this worse for yourself,” he hisses. You try to scream, but with the duct tape sealing your lips, it’s no use. “Do you have something to say?”

You plead with your eyes and he reaches up to grasp the edge of the duct tape, but he takes it as an opportunity to be more cruel. He rips the tape from your lips, surely taking skin with it.

“Help!” you scream, “Somebody help me!”

Instead of ordering you to be quiet or suppressing your screams, Crane just laughs.

“Scream all you want, no one’s going to hear you. Not like anyone would care if the world was down one useless bimbo anyway.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to me?” you shout, your throat feeling raw from the strain.

Anger flashes in Crane’s eyes and his jaw clenches. You continue to thrash and scream, and despite what he said about no one caring, he tightly grabs your waist and steps on your foot to keep you from moving. His face is now only inches from yours and you get the idea to spit into his face. It won’t do much, but it’s the only thing you can do to deter him.

Crane hisses and lets go of your waist to wipe the spit out of his eyes, and when he looks back at you, his eyes are glassy and his dark eyelashes are clumped together.

“You fucking bitch,” he bites. “You’re lucky I haven’t hurt you yet.”

The vague threat does frighten you, but you have many questions that you demand answers to.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me, Crane?” you ask again.

He laughs bitterly. “Of course you don’t know. You probably have no clue what you’ve done to me. The hell you put me through.”

He leans his weight on the foot crushing yours and when you wince, he grabs your jaw tightly, squishing your cheeks together and forcing your mouth open.

“I don’t know,” you say as best you can.

“You don’t remember college?” he asks. “Your sorority sisters and their fucking jock boyfriends tormenting me. How for years you made my life a living hell just for existing outside of your perfect little bubble.”

His face is twisted into a snarl now as he recounts the memories that drove him to his actions tonight. “I thought the bullying would be over when I got to college but it was so much worse. My door would get vandalized every fucking day with insults and crude images. You and your group of whores spread all kinds of rumors that I was crazy. You said I was a psychopath, a pervert, a sadistic killer who got off on seeing women in fear. Everyone believed it. Everyone.”

As he explained his story, your memory was jogged. You remember a short, skinny guy from college who wore thick-framed glasses and carried a satchel to class. He was awkward, made uncomfortable eye contact, and often made himself the target of ridicule. He had a vast knowledge of science and medicine and was very interested in the mind’s reaction to fear. You never knew his name, only ever referring to him as “Peeping Tom”, which was kind in comparison to some of your friends’ nicknames for him.

“I was an outcast for four fucking years. I couldn’t transfer, I couldn’t afford any other school. Not like you could ever understand that. I accepted that I was a social pariah, but then you went and ruined my fucking life even more,” he hisses.

You didn’t notice the knife in his hand until the point was against your chest, too lost in his rage-filled eyes. You now remember more of what he’s saying and you want to apologize and assure him that you’ve changed, but he seems past the point of reason.

“October 2nd, 1997. I was in my room studying for an exam when you showed up at my door. You were clearly drunk and you came onto me. You promised me all kinds of things and pushed me onto my bed and sat on my lap. You kissed me and took off my shirt, then put your hand down my pants and took my dick out. That’s when your hoard of sluts and every guy you’ve ever fucked barged into my room and took pictures. They spread them to everyone, and it was all because of you.” he hissed. “I was labeled the creep, the predator, the pathetic virgin who thought he could make it with a sorority girl and it was all your fault.”

The man in front of you was shaking with anger, his voice trembling slightly as he recounted the memory. The blade trembled in his hand and dug slightly into your skin, but the pain from the knife was overpowered by the icy feeling of fear.

“Jonathan,” you say meekly, “That was almost a decade ago. I-I’m so sorry I did that to you, I don’t even remember it. I promise I’ve changed.”

“You don’t remember it, that’s exactly why I have to do this. You’re never going to forget again.”

You whimper in fear as he brings the knife up to your neck. The blade bites at your skin, catching when you take a breath.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper with your eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. That’d be such a waste of a warm hole.”

His words are disgusting and degrading. They make you want to shiver out of your own skin and run as far away from him as possible. Luckily, he removes the knife from your neck and takes a small step back.

Crane reaches into his pants pocket and takes out a small digital camera. Your eyes widen when you see it, immediately catching on to what he plans to do to you. He powers the camera on and points it at you, smiling when he sees your pixilated form on the display. He clicks the shutter and a light flashes.

He lowers the camera from his face to reveal a wicked smirk. "It doesn't feel too good, does it?" he asks. "Well it's about to get a lot worse for you."

He kicks your bare ankle with his foot, making you wince as your legs spread. He laughs cruelly and does the same to the other foot. Your legs are open uncomfortably, giving him easy access to what you're desperate to hide from him.

His fingers, long and cold, push through your folds and into your cunt without warning or preparation. He fingers you despite being dry to start, but you slowly get wetter in response to the intrusion.

"Still such a slut even after all this time," he says. "I'm not surprised you're so loose."

He fingers you roughly, seemingly unsure of how to do it, or maybe he just cares that little for your comfort. His nails catch on the ridges inside of you and the poking of his fingers scissoring make you wince. Thankfully he got his fill of that quickly, and pulled out his wet fingers.

He brings them to his nose to sniff, then wipes your wetness off on his pants. "Smells like whore," he says.

Without any further words, Crane reaches down and grabs you by your ankle and pulls it off the floor. You yelp as you lose your balance and your bonds tug on your shoulders. Crane then hooks your foot on a strap that also comes from the ceiling. He then does the same to your other leg.

Now you're suspended in the air, cunt on display for him and helpless. Crane takes out the camera again and takes more pictures of you spread out.

"I have waited so long for this."

Crane wears a sick, wicked grin that does not falter as stands between your spread legs. His hands work his fly open and quickly he frees his cock. It's already hard and the flushed tip is leaking, just from the torture he's inflicting onto you.

"I knew after that night that you would be my first," he says as he rubs his head through your folds. "Weather you wanted to be or not."

Your breath catches in your throat when he pushes into you bare. He goes slow, likely for his own sake so he doesn’t cum too soon, but whatever mercy he shows you doesn’t provide any comfort.

Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he begins to rut. Erratic, inexperienced thrusts to chase his own pleasure inside of being conscientious of yours. His eyes are half lidded and laser-focused on your breasts.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

With each thrust, the makeshift sex swing he has you in rocks, making the chains that hold you creak. You worry that you’re going to fall, but you suppose that would be better than a knife in your gut.

Crane’s cock bumps against your cervix which makes you whimper from the discomfort, but he thinks it’s out of pleasure.

“You like that? You like taking my cock like a fucking fleshlight? Didn’t think you’d be so easy, but I guess all it took back then was a spot on the football team to get into your pants.”

Crane is indeed using you like a fleshlight. He alternates between thrusting into you and holding onto the chains to move you over his cock. It’s humiliating, painful, awful, but he’s no longer threatening you with a knife.

He pulls out the camera again and points the lens at your pussy where it’s stretched around him. Then he backs up the camera a bit to capture your full form, contorted by the chains.

“W-what are you gonna do with those?” you ask with your broken voice.

“Exactly what you did to me,” he growls.

“No! No, please, you can’t do that.”

He grabs the chains and slams you down onto him, sending him impossibly deeper.

“You ruined my life. Now it’s your turn.”

“My career will be over! Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t send those to anyone!”

You’re begging shamelessly, sobbing and snotty, but none of this seems to turn him off. In fact, he seems to enjoy it more.

“I’m sure Dent would be interested to see what you get up to after hours. Of course, your reputation would be ruined once the rest of the city sees your messy cunt.”

All you can do is cry and shake your head.

“I know you’re good friends with Bruce Wayne. Maybe I’ll tell everyone that he did this to you and ruin you both. Wouldn’t that be sweet,” he says.

His voice is raspy and low; he’s clearly very affected by the pleasure of using you and you doubt he can hold on for much longer.

“I-I’ll do anything, Dr. Crane. Please,” you say between sobs.

“Hmm,” he hums.

Crane grabs your breast roughly and squeezes, digging his nails into your soft skin. You hiss and your face screws up with pain. He then slaps it repeatedly until you show signs of more discomfort.

“Please,” you beg again.

“It might be nice to have a friend at the DA’s office,” he says with a smirk. “Especially one that would bid in my favor, lest some dirty pictures get out.”

Blackmail? Jesus, he’s fucking sick. Though you suppose the threat of releasing them is better than him actually doing it.

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it. I’ll help you out, just please don’t send them,” you say frantically.

He fucks you even more erratically now, like he can’t decide if he should edge or finish himself off.

“Are you scared?” he asks, voice frighteningly low. You nod in response. “You’re scared of me, the loser you tormented in college? Don’t you regret that?”

He’s speaking so quiet and slowly like he’s trying to hypnotize you. You nod along with what he’s saying, figuring it’s better just to agree.

“You’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Every time you look at our bastard child, you’ll see my face and regret what you did to me.”

That catches your attention. Our child?

“W-what?”

“You thought I kidnapped you just to cum in my hand? I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking with my fucking cum. Oh, and you know that little pill you take every day? I switched that out weeks ago. This little womb is as fertile as ever, and you’re going to give me a baby.”

Your stomach flips and you immediately feel nauseous. He tampered with your birth control? That means he was in your house. He could have put cameras up, bugged the place. You have no idea what he’s truly capable of.

Tears being to stream down your cheeks again. You feel so violated, so helpless. He doesn’t wipe away your tears or even tell you to stop crying. He just watches as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he growls. “And you’re gonna take it all.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to yours, forcing you to look deep into his eyes as he fills you with his cum. The wet, hot feeling of it flooding your insides makes you feel sick, and he continues to fuck himself through his orgasm which makes the cum froth and leak down your holes.

He stays seated inside you, keeping you plugged so the sperm has time to take. Crane is breathing heavily but he doesn’t once look away from you.

"Good girl," he mutters. "Good pussy."

You sag in relief when he finally pulls out. Your cunt aches from his rough treatment, and not in the fun way. Your arms and legs hurt from the bonds, but that appears to be a pain you won't soon be free from.

Crane walks back over to the chair he was sitting in when you first woke up and takes a seat. "I'll keep you here for a couple days so you can't go off and take one of those pesky morning after pills," he says casually.

"Y-you can't. They'll notice when I don't show up for work," you try to reason with him.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I called on your behalf and told them you had a family emergency. Something about grandma and her heart," he says. "I've taken care of everything."

You don't doubt that he has, and that scares you. He rests his ankle on the opposite knee and looks at the pictures he took on the camera.

"Now all you have to do is stay out of my way in court, and no one will ever see these," he grins, letting the camera dangle from his wrist by the strap.

You nod in understanding. "Good girl."

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow #dc scarecrow #nolanverse #jonathan crane headcanon #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane fanfiction #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 I can't wait anymore

Non-Con CW: Non-con, stalking, obsessive yandere, creep x reader, home invasion ❤️

Watching (Reader) from behind the blinds of the empty apartment across the street, the masked man could hardly contain himself. The pictures he took plastered to his walls of (Reader) weren't enough anymore. He needed to know. What they felt like, what they smelled like. Even in his dreams he couldn't escape from them.

Sometimes it felt as though (Reader) knew he was watching them. Why else would they turn back towards the road whenever they entered their apartment, eyes scanning the buildings surrounding theirs? Unless they could feel him watching them. Were they desperate? Needy for his touch? He knew they had to be lonely like him, living alone and such.

On his calendar he had (Reader's) work schedule saved so he always knew when they were going to be at home or out. And he knew that today was the best day for him to make his move. Because of their schedule constantly changing, they rarely had two days off in a row, but he knew from his snooping diligence as a good future lover that (Reader) would finally be free after work. No one would look for them for two whole days.

It was nerve wracking, knocking on their door, flowers in hand.

(Reader) opened the door, not seeing the mask on the man's face because of the bouquet until he was shoving them back into their own apartment. Their face went slack jawed, obviously surprised by his beautiful gift, and they struggled back against him as he shoved them onto the floor, but he knew it was just because they were embarrassed.

His cock rubbed against his zipper painfully. The man had been hard since he left his own home, just from the excitement of getting to meet his beloved face to face. "I'm sorry, (Reader).. I can't wait anymore.."

Fumbling frantically, he pulled out a pair of (Reader's) dirty underwear he had stolen a couple weeks prior while they were at work, shoving it in their mouth before pulling out a roll of duct tape, taping their mouth shut and binding their wrists. It was cute how nervous they were, struggling underneath him, but it was beginning to frustrate him. He didn't want to be worn out before the fun began!

Everything happened quickly, the intruder wasting no time with foreplay or making sure the object of his affections was lubricated. His erection was pulled out of his pants, not bothering in taking them off all the way, just like (Reader's) own, ripped down to their knees. Despite their kicking, (Reader's) legs were held up and pressed back, folding their body in half. Their jeans blocked their view of what was happening.

The man pressed his dick into their ass, shoving it in forcefully as (Reader) screamed into their gag. Their unprepared hole tore around the invader's member, small trickles of blood mixing with his precum. But their pain didn't phase him, too drunk on the feeling of their clenching body sucking in his cock. It was like they wanted him.

Their ass rippled under the force of his pelvis smacking into theirs, bruising under the rapid slapping. The ripping agony never eased up as he continuously fucked (Reader's) asshole.

It didn't last as long as he had hoped for, the anticipation of having (Reader) left him sensitive, accidentally causing him to release into them quickly, draining his cum into their gut. He would have felt embarrassed, but it didn't matter if he came too early. After all, they just got off work..

He still had two more days to make love to them.

#kinktober #cw noncon #tw noncon #gn reader #cw stalking #cw obsession #yandere stalker x reader #x reader #bad writing #this one's shorter but i have more lined up

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 8]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Words: 3.9k

There is a pigeon perched on the streetlamp that sits on the north corner of the block. It's got some sort of stick, most likely, and has been unsuccessfully trying to make a nest for the past hour. Given that the streetlamp is curved, this is a very bad idea, but the bird doesn't know that. The poor things weren't meant to be in the wild and a single stick is not going to save its egg from falling off if it chooses to lay it there. But it keeps at it, picking up the stick and putting it back down at different angles. 

Matt very much understands the dumb bird's struggles. He has no idea what the hell he is doing, either. He felt, finally, after many a year, he actually had his shit together. And sure, maybe it was held together with duct tape, a lot of ibuprofen, and multiple prayers, but it was stable and balanced. He had a handle on things, for the most part. 

He was doing what he loved, in all aspects of his life - defending people with the law and with his fists. He had Foggy and Karen, and he was working more with the Defenders, and he could be in Frank's presence without a fist fight happening. There was a drop in crime in Hell's Kitchen - he'd stopped the last two crime families who had tried to set up shop here before they even had a foot hold. 

Then everything in his universe changed and Matt is now the human equivalent of a pigeon trying to lay an egg on a streetlamp. 

He never thought he would be a father. It was something he dreamed about, in the deep recesses of his mind, but he never thought it would be a reality. Not with Daredevil. But, oh did God love to yank on his chain and remind Matt he had no clue what His plans were for him. 

Matt wouldn't change it for the world, though. Something fundamental in him changed the moment the words had left your mouth and when he met Minnie for the first time, he knew he was a goner. 

He would happily throw himself into the pits of Hell if it would make his daughter smile. 

He wants so much to be a good father. Everything in him aches to be half as good as his own father was to him, but he doesn't know how, and he is terrified of fucking it up. 

Because if there is one thing Matthew Murdock is good at its fucking things up. Especially when he thinks he means well. 

So, Matt is taking in all the lessons God has taught him over the last few years and going against his instincts and he is going to ask for help. 

Foggy and Karen should be at his door any minute, if they stop pausing to talk on the stairs, and Matt is going to tell them everything. 

He hasn't been this nervous in years and he can't stop pacing. He's pretty sure he's going to wear his path into his floor if he keeps going, but he just adds it to all the other damage the apartment has incurred over the years. It's not like he's getting his security deposit back anyways. 

He wants to open his front door and yell at his friends to hurry up, but he doesn't want to alarm them. They know something is up with him, Matt apparently wears his emotions on his sleeve, but they don't know what. He suspects Karen might have an inkling because Karen has an extra sense when it comes to detecting secrets, but Foggy is clueless and Matt doesn't want to worry him. 

He allows himself to stop pacing once they reach his landing and tells himself to walk calmly once they knock on the door. 

He prides himself in not wrenching the thing off its hinges from his nerves and gives his friends a beaming smile, "I thought you'd never make it up the stairs." 

"Oh good," Foggy chimes, clapping Matt on the shoulder as he walks by, "He's still being weird."

"I'm not being weird," Matt counters quickly, only for Karen to pat his cheek when she passes him.

"You're being weird."

He shuts and locks the door before following them into his main living area. Foggy goes straight for the fridge, browsing his beer options while Karen takes residence on the couch. He doesn't need to be able to see to know she's staring at the two big binders sitting on the coffee table. 

"Buddy," Foggy starts, popping three beers open with a hiss of the bottles, "the past few weeks you have been Grade A weird. You keep getting this dopey look on your face and spacing out. And usually," he continues, walking leisurely to the couch and handing Karen her beer first, before giving Matt his, "I would suspect a woman, or a man, because the heart wants what the heart or dick wants, but I know Matt Murdock falling for a girl weird. This isn't that type of weird. And this isn't Daredevil weird, because you get broody when it's that. This weird? I don't know this weird. So, spill Murdock, why are you being weird."

"And don't tell us it's nothing," Karen adds. Her beer sloshes in the bottle, indicating she's pointing it at him. "Because I agree with Foggy. We don't know this weird."

Matt deflates just slightly. He guesses he's been way less subtle than he thought he was being.

"Fine, I've been weird, BUT," he says with emphasis, "It's for a very good reason and I want it on the record that I was not hiding anything or keeping it secret. I was confirming all the facts before presenting my case. I.." he pauses to choose his words carefully, "didn't want to get ahead of myself." 

"You didn't want to get ahead of yourself?" Foggy confirms and he gives a nod. 

The response is for both Karen and Foggy to take long sips of their respective beers. Matt's nerves are too riled up to drink his, yet so he starts to scratch at the label to get the energy out. 

"So, this is Devil related?" Foggy asks. There's a hint of disappointment and exhaustion in his voice and it makes Matt's heart hurt. He has really put his best friend through it, hasn't he? 

"No. Well, yes, but no. It's complicated." Because the Devil is involved by default because it is Matt and it will be something that needs to be addressed down the road, but for right now, no. Not Devil related. 

"That's not very reassuring," Karen points out. 

"Just tell us, buddy. Whatever it is, we're here for you."

That makes Matt's lips turn down, "It isn't a bad thing, Fog." 

"Well, we wouldn't know that because you've told us nothing," Foggy counters.

His instinct is to keep bantering with Foggy and he knows they can go at it for another hour, but he reminds himself of his resolve and settles back into the couch. 

He's practiced his speech about a dozen times but all of it dies in his throat and the truth comes out on its own, blunt and to the point.

"I am a father."

Foggy has the more intense reaction, confirming Matt's suspension that Karen had an idea at the truth. His best friend inhales sharply, heart starting to beat harder in his chest. His body is sending all sorts of signals, and this is one of the times Matt wishes he could see - just to know what expression Foggy has. 

It feels like hours before Fog finally says something.

"You're going to be a father?"

"No," Matt corrects, "I AM a father. I already am."

Karen leans forward, her spine creaking and her hair swishing, "The little girl. From last week. That's her, isn't it?"

Matt nods, feeling a smile start to pull at his cheeks, "Yeah. That was her."

"Oh my God, Matt!" He hears her weight shift as she pushes herself across the couch and right into Matt, loosely throwing her arms around his shoulders. He leans into it, hugging her back with the arm not holding his beer. "She is adorable!"

"She is, isn't she?" He preens. 

Foggy's brain finally seems to process the information and he sits on the arm of one of the chairs, like he needs the support, "Wait, no, that was a toddler, wasn't it? That child was like five."

"She's three. And a half." Matt says as Karen pulls away from him to go back to her spot.

Foggy's bottle of beer sloshes and Matt imagines he's holding up his hands in a mock surrender. "Sorry, three and a half. Plus, nine months that would…Jesus, Matt, that's before we started the firm. The first time."

"Blasphemy, Foggy. And.. Yeah, the Christmas before we started the firm. When we were still at L and Z," he allows himself a sip of beer before diving into his explanation, "That Christmas party we went to, the one good one we ditched the L and Z one for."

Foggy shakes his head, "I was with you that whole night, Matt." 

"Until you ditched me for the French woman," he gently reminds his best friend. 

Foggy goes quiet and he must be trying to remember. Matt can tell Karen is watching like a hawk, keen eyes and ears trying to unravel the whole story. 

"I forgot about the French woman. She ditched me and I guess I assumed you left and…" Fog trails off.

"Well, I did leave, to be fair," he reminds them. "Just not alone."

"Jesus, Matt," Foggy repeats and he lets it slide this time. He'll say an extra Hail Mary for him. "Did you not wrap it up?"

Both Karen and Matt give a bark of laughter.

"Of course, I did. And she was on the pill, but you know that is not a guarantee." 

"Why come forward now?" Karen asks, redirecting the conversation. 

"She didn't know who I was. She says she tried to find me, and she wasn't lying. Then she saw that interview we did and recognized me," he tells them. 

He hears Foggy rub at his jaw and Matt just knows his brain is going into lawyer mode.

"But why did she tell you," Karen pushes, and he can tell she's looking for an angle that isn't there.

He ducks his chin just slightly and goes back to playing with the beer label, "It's not like that. It's not. She wants what is best for Minnie. She wanted me to be aware and have the option to get to know her. She was fully prepared for me to turn her away. She had already signed the forms waiving her right to ask for child support. The only thing she wanted was to know my family medical history."

"Her name is Minnie?" Karen cooes and that warms Matt's heart. He suddenly very much understands your need to gush over your daughter.

"It is. Winifred Love. She goes by Minnie or Mouse," he knows he's smiling like an idiot, but he can't help it. 

"That is such a sweet name," Karen hums and he can hear her smile.

"It is," he agrees, then he tilts his head towards Foggy, his voice dropping to something almost apologetic. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to be sure. She wasn't lying when she said I was the father, but that could have been because she believed I was. And I am. We got a paternity test and I wanted…I wanted it to be official. Real. Before I told you. And now it is. My name is going to be added to her birth certificate. I filed the paperwork and everything."

He can't nail down how Foggy is reacting and that scares him. He doesn't want his best friend to be upset with him, again. He was really, really trying to do the right thing this time. 

Foggy finally, finally pushes himself off the chair and steps around the coffee table before enveloping Matt in a tight hug. Matt hugs him back, just as tightly.

"I'm so happy for you, buddy," Fog breathes against him. The corners of his eyes start to sting, and Matt tells himself he is Not going to cry.

Foggy holds him for a good thirty seconds before letting go and stepping away, "Okay, before we jump into the whole Daredevil -"

"I'm going to tell her," Matt cuts his friend off. He puts his beer down and leans forward to put his elbows on his knees, "Not right now, but I completely intend to. If I can trust her. I think I can, but we've only just really met again. But I've learned. From both of you. I want to do this right. I want to tell her about my senses, first, and then we can build up to the other stuff. Once I am completely sure I can trust her."

Neither Karen nor Foggy respond to him right away and he has the feeling they are having a complete conversation with just their eyes. He waits. He doesn't want to rush them either. Matt wants to go into this with all of them on the same page. It's important to him. 

They are his family, too. 

"Tell us about them," Karen finally says and Matt doesn't even try to fight the grin that spreads across his face.

He tells them your name, then reaches for the first of the binders - the one that is twice the size of the other.

"She's…she's Good. You'll like her. She, uh, made me this, kind of big guide to our daughter. Everything I need to know and it's…in Braille. She knew I couldn't read print, so uh, all of Minnie's life she's been requesting copies of documents in Braille for when she found me." He pushes the binder towards Karen, and she picks it up in a flash, starting to flip through the pages. 

"This is pretty detailed," she hums, before cooing again, "There's pictures. Look, Fog." 

Foggy walks around the couch to stand behind Karen. Matt can tell that even though they are both Happy for him, they are worried, and he more than understands. He knows once he tells them more, that worry will fade. 

He just needs to drop the final off the bombshells. 

He licks his lips, clears his throat, then throws himself into the open, "Minnie is like me. She has my senses." 

They both go as still as they can, taking identical sharp inhales. 

"Not as…intense as mine, I don't think, but she has them. I.. Confirmed it. She could hear an ice cream truck four city blocks away."

"Matt…" Foggy starts and Matt shakes his head.

"We had a conversation, Fog. Clear across the park. I was whispering. She's…she's like me. She was born with it, but she's adapted, for the most part. Her mom just thinks she's sensitive, and she is, and she…she.." he motions with his hand, trying to convey what he wants to say, "Her mom helps. She gets her these headphones to block out sounds and all these things to help her. She just does it, she's doesn't question the why. All those little stupid things that make my life more annoying - the smell of cleaning supplies and how food tastes like the sewer or that certain fibers feel like sandpaper - Minnie deals with those and her Mom does her best so that she doesn't have to suffer. And that's…I need your help." He taps the second, smaller binder. "She made me a guide, so I want to make her one. I just…I don't know how." 

He deflates a little. Over the past two weeks, he's done his best to type things up, things he thinks will help, but he has no clue if any of it makes sense to anyone but him.

"Oh, Matt," Karen hands the big binder off to Foggy, then leans forward to take Matt's hand in her own, squeezing it tightly, "Of course we will help you." 

"We will make the best how to deal with your bat radar guide that has ever existed, bud. You can count on us," Foggy adds, starting to flip through the binder himself.

That evaporates Matt's doubt, and he huffs out a laugh, "I don't think there is another guide, Fog."

"Then we will set the standard for human bat radar guides," Karen counters with mirth. 

"I'll drink to that," his best friend says, once again moving so he can grab his drink. He raises the bottle in a toast, "To the best damn bat radar guide there will ever be, and to Matt, whose man whore ways have blessed us with another him!"

Matt scoops up with beer with a laugh and clinks his bottle against Foggy's, Karen's joining a moment later. 

"To Minnie," Karen adds and that makes Matt beam.

"To Minnie!"

"To Minnie!"

They all take long pulls on their beers then set them down on the table. 

Matt can practically feel Karen grinning at him, "What?" 

"I want stories," she says, reaching over to shake his arm, "You've told us the big picture, I want to know about this little pumpkin. How many times have you gotten to meet her?"

"A few times," he says, unable to hide his own smile. "She calls me Mister Matt. We haven't told her who I am yet. We want her to be comfortable and I…want her to want me to be her father, you know?" He hears both of them nod and he keeps barreling on. "She's…she's perfect. She's so sweet - she loves to use her manners, you know? Please and Thank yous. And she just wants to help, with anything. She's pretty good for a three year old at being a Guide. I'm learning a lot about what she thinks is important."

"What is important?" Foggy asks, and Matt can hear the underlying happiness in his voice and that makes Matt giddy. 

"Colors. How soft something looks. If it has a name and how it's feeling." He grins and adds, "At the park she was telling me how we can't walk in the grass because it's rude and hurts the grass' feelings. And that we can't pick flowers because it takes them away from their families and makes them sad."

Karen cooes, "That's the sweetest thing."

Foggy huffs fondly, "She wanted to pick flowers with you?"

He shrugs and ducks his head a little, "Kinda? She was talking about how to make flower crowns and bracelets."

"Is she going to make you a flower crown?" Karen asks, and Matt can sense her leaning towards him. The teasing in her voice has him guessing she's got her Mischievous look on. 

"Maybe."

"That's so sweet."

"It's so 2014," Foggy adds with his own teasing.

Karen throws one of the throw pillows he's somehow accumulated at Foggy, "She's a baby, leave her alone."

Both he and Foggy laugh and Matt can't help but get his own dig in, "Like you would deny a flower crown from her."

"Damn right, I wouldn't," his best friend bites back. "I'm accepting all flower crowns, hair braiding, nail painting, and tea parties. I am going to be the best uncle she could ever dream of - wait, does she already have an uncle? Do I need to do research? I'll out Uncle anyone."

Matt shakes his head, "No, it's just the two of them. No other family. It seems like a sensitive topic, so I haven't.. Pushed. She hasn't either, but my background is a little more…public?  I haven't told her about Maggie, yet."

The couch groans as Karen leans back into it, sipping again at her beer before humming, "Well, it will be easier to keep your late night activities under wrap. Less people to question things?" 

"That's a way to put it," is the response from his other friend. Matt shakes his head at both their words.

"I told you I want to tell her, once it's safe. I need your help with that, too," Matt pushes himself up and starts to pace behind his couch, "With everything we've been through, all the things we've been working on as a team - and I know most of that is me with all my bullshit and issues." He stops his walking to rub at his jaw, "I know…I know I'm going to be bad at this. I know I'm going to fuck something up. I've done it to both of you countless times. And I can't give up on being the Devil, we've seen how it goes when I try to go either way, so I need to find the balance quick but I can't.." He trails off slightly as the emotions swell in his chest at his self sabotaging this and he has to inhale deeply to keep himself from getting too worked up. "I can't lose them. I can't."

"Oh, Matt," Karen whispers. 

He's so caught up in his own emotions he doesn't hear Foggy get up and actually starts when he's clapped on the shoulder, "Matt, let me say this with my full heart, and I know Karen will one hundred percent agree, and I'm pre-facing this with I love you and you are my brother and best friend, and I think this is exactly what you need me to tell you. If you pull any of the bullshit you did with us with them or anything similar, I will personally drop you into the Hudson. After Karen is through with you."

It catches him off guard, but his best friend is right and it is exactly what he needs to hear. 

"There would not be anything left to dispose of," Karen cheerily adds and Matt doesn't need super human hearing to know she's telling the truth. 

He nods in understanding to both of them, "Thank you." He needs to properly thank them for so many things, but he doesn't know how and all he can do is repeat the words. 

"So," Foggy starts again, squeezing Matt's shoulder before shaking him a few times. "When do I get to meet my newest niece?"

"Once we tell her the truth about who I am to her. I'm going over for dinner tomorrow, to try and be in more everyday things to get her used to it all." He wonders if his excitement about the dinner is showing through. He gets to visit where you and his daughter live and that always says so much about a person. He wants to be let into that bubble. 

"Wait!" Karen gasps, turning more in her seat so she is facing towards the two of them, "If Foggy gets to be Uncle, does that mean I'm an Aunt?"

"Do you want to be?" He asks, because it is obviously a 'yes' in his mind. 

Karen considers this, Foggy narrating, "She's debating on her head, doing the whole tilting it one way and then the next." 

"Oh, hush, Fog! Of course, I want to be!"

This quickly dissolves into playful bickering.

"Aunt Karen has a good ring to it."

"Oh, like Uncle Foggy is much better?"

Matt grins and finds his way back to his seat and his beer. He grabs the bottle and takes a long sip, listening to two of the most important people in his life bask in the glow of their little family getting bigger. 

Maybe, just maybe, he isn't as helpless and lost as he thinks he is. 

Maybe it will all be okay. 

He just needs to have faith. 

taglist:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium @

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then I met you

[dudestinky1235]

“I’m not doing this dare anymore ” I said “No you won’t or else I’ll beat the shit out of you.” He grabbed my head and positioned his ass onto my face. The smell was already too much. He started rubbing his smelly ass in my face “Take it ALLL in dude” he said. “Tyrell it reeks!” I moaned into his dirty ass. “Ya that’s the point” he said with a snicker. “Let me go!” I yelled. “You’re getting pretty annoying.” He ripped off a small piece of duct-tape and placed it over my mouth. “Now get back in there and finish the dare” Tyrell said with a laugh. I didn’t want to get beaten up so I voluntarily placed my face by his ass. “Get in there closer. Nick, is he in a good position? He needs to be because the dare was to sniff up all my farts for 10 minutes” Tyrell asked Nick who was filming the whole thing. Nick grabbed the back of my head and pushed it against his ass, while turning my head upwards so that my nostrils we pressed right up against his asshole. “He is now” Nick said with a grin. “Hahaha, dude I can literally feel his nose pressing right against my asshole. Man, Benny are you ready because this is going to stink and you have to breath it right in!!” Tyrell laughed. I could only breath out of my nose now and I was already gagging from the smell of Tyrell’s ripe ass. “There now just relax and enjoy the breeze.” he said sarcastically. “I ate three cans of beans for lunch today, and chili for dinner and I haven’t shit yet so you’re in for a good time.” I moaned as I felt the gust on my nose with the sound of a fart with it. It was the worst thing I ever smelt in my life. I would have gladly spent a year in a public men’s bathroom then be there at that point. “Aw ya smell that bro? Smells good right?” The toxic ass fumes were making me dizzy. I just kept my face there and accepted my fate at that point. Fart after fart it went on forever and Tyrell was loving it. “It’s getting kind a hot now, back up” As I removed my face he pulled down his white boxers and got back into position. He was right it was hot. His ass was wet and sweaty which just made matters worse. He grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face into his hot sweaty ass crack “Get in there.” he said. My nose was touching right up to his hole. At that point I had no more energy to struggle. He released a wet 10 second long fart directly into it. “No filtration, much better right?” he said. “Dude, I’m getting all of this on video!” Nick laughed. It smelled like shit, literally it smelled like he was about to shit in my face. He didn’t tough. He let rip over and over for another half hour and I just took it like his little fart bitch. Even though the dare was only ten minutes Tyrell was having too much fun toroturing me to stop..

#eproctophilia #male farting

[ghostie-luvs]

Yandere! Jock (part two) <3

Part One!! Part three!!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who later, after several days of planning, staring up at the ceiling and laying in his bed awake, seemed pumped up, excited for the day as he left for school, in high hopes of seeing you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ when he arrived to school, he immediately caught your figure, and rushed to make his way to you, only to deflate when he saw you busy with that same guy from those days before.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who only chuckled softly to himself, and confidently strode up to you, anyway, completely ignoring the guy you were talking to, even shoving him out of the way as he stood in front of you now.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who rolled his eyes once you started scolding him for shoving that poor sweet guy away, the guy shuffling away. Were you blind or just delusional? Hah, that’s rich coming from him, The man was obviously drooling over you, in what way was he such a poor and sweet guy?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who couldn’t call himself better and he knew it, having stayed up every single night, practically stalking you on all your socials, even giggling softly to himself when you posted such pretty pictures of yourself hanging out, noting your favorite places in the back of his mind.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who sighed when you confronted him and found out he had been talking to the guy behind your back, threatening and maybe even bullying him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who got tired of your scolding and managed to shut you up, as he grinned at you, offering a sort of deal.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who managed to get you to agree to the deal, which really, was a date. If you had agreed to give him a chance and go on this date with him, he’d stop bothering the guy.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who after you agreed, bid you goodbye and a promise of seeing you later for the date, feeling giddy inside as he smirked to himself, walking along the halls. Now his plan was in motion.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who later, the date being agreed to be at his own place, invited you into his humble abode, the place clean and even set up for a romantic setting, just for you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who actually, was a surprising amazingly cook, having cooked you two a nice meal, offering you a glass of water as he decided to put on a movie for the both of you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who, as time passes, smiling softly to himself as he sees you drifting off on his own couch, the movie still playing, eyeing the finished glass of water next to your finished plate of food. Ah, it worked, didn’t it?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who laughed a little as he saw your confused face, waking up tied to his bed, who honestly was aroused when tying you up while you were unconscious, but he would never admit that, and cooed softly, tracing your jaw and the duct tape that was placed over your mouth.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who only smiled more as he sees you struggle against the restraints, only shushing you and telling you to be quiet, not wanting the neighbors to hear you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ who promises to treat you so well, like how you should be if you just stay quiet and be a good doll for him, seeing your incredulous face at him telling you all about how you’re finally his.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ “awh, don’t worry, doll…no one will get in our way now, you’re all mine.~”

a/n: was this too long? Oh well,, but here is part two!! I’ve been a little busy, exam week :( I hope you all enjoyed and reblogs and more are appreciated <3 Thank you for reading and there will be more characters coming up soon !

more of my works :)

#riri spills #riri writes #fem! reader #female y/n #gender neutral reader #gn reader #gn y/n #male y/n #x male reader #x reader #yandere oc x reader #oc x reader #male yandere #x female reader #yandere x reader #x you #x y/n

[mykoreanlove]

felix lovin' you through your body dysmorphia

Felix couldn't bear to see you in the grip of those damned numbers, each one a harsh reminder of your struggles and self-worth battles. He decided it was time for that scale to disappear. But when you demanded its return, a clash ensued. The scale made a comeback, but only after Felix had transformed it. Duct tape became a shield, covering the cold, numerical reality with a tapestry of smileys and hearts. It wasn't just sabotage; it was an emotional revolt against the tyranny of self-doubt. Every heart and smiley were Felix's way of saying, "You're more than numbers – you're worthy of love, no matter what they say."

Felix's emotional rebellion didn't end with the scale escapade. He noticed your lingering gaze at fashion magazines, eyes tracing over airbrushed perfection that left you feeling less than. So, he orchestrated a magazine makeover, armed with scissors and glue. Those flawless models now wore crowns of imperfections, their 'flaws' celebrated with doodles of hearts and rainbows. Felix turned glossy pages into a love letter to your unique beauty, challenging the illusion of perfection. In his guerrilla mission against self-doubt, each altered page whispered, "You're not alone; beauty is imperfect, just like you."

Felix's mission against your self-hate didn't stop anytime soon. Witnessing your struggle with those inner demons, he concocted a plan to infuse your space with positivity. Armed with neon post-it notes, he covered your room in affirmations and quirky doodles. Every corner became a canvas for his love notes, a reminder that you're a masterpiece in progress. When the weight of self-doubt pressed on you, those notes became a chorus of encouragement, drowning out the negativity and echoing Felix's unwavering message: "You're a work of art, flaws and all."

Felix picks up on your distress as your clothes feel unfamiliar and tight. He doesn't dwell on words but takes action. A shopping spree becomes a love-filled mission, as he carefully selects outfits that highlight your beauty. In fitting rooms together, he turns every mirror into a canvas of affirmation, showcasing not just clothes but the mesmerizing person wearing them. His hands gliding over your body, loving the curves and the way it feels to hold you. Felix's silent devotion speaks louder than any negative thought, a reminder that you're captivating, no matter the size or shape.

Felix also noticed the weight of self-doubt in the intimacy of your moments together. Not wanting to undress, fucking in the dark or covering yourself in front of him broke his heart. Determined to rewrite the narrative, he turned touches into affirmations, kissing away insecurities. His hands became a map of reassurance, reminding you that vulnerability is beautiful. In those moments, Felix was a sculptor of self-love, chiseling away self-hate and celebrating the beauty in every embrace. The bedroom became a sanctuary, guided by Felix's mission to redefine intimacy.

In the quiet of the night, Felix, your undercover hype man, spilled compliments into your dreams. His words, soft as a secret, wove through your sleep like a comforting melody. Unseen and unheard, he etched reassurances into your subconscious, hoping they'd bloom into morning confidence. Each whispered compliment was his way of saying, "You're worth it," even when you couldn't hear it. In those vulnerable moments, Felix was your silent guardian, protecting your dreams from self-doubt.

#mykoreanlove #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz fluff #skz fanfic #skz felix #skz yongbok #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #felix stray kids #felix yongbok #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #felix fluff #felix x reader #felix smut #skz smut #skz felix x reader #lee felix #yongbok x reader #yongbok fluff #yongbokie #stray kids yongbok #lee yongbok

[dabislittlemouse]

Wouldn’t it be cool if your hands were tied and your mouth was duct taped while Dabi fucks you?🤔

HHNGNG FUCK YES

Imagine after the big reveal with his family, Dabi is there chilling on the couch in the villa in Gunga Mountain, right by the warmth of fireplace. For sure the man is all stressed and overwhelmed from all that happened, it had his body heated up more than usual. So of course you’d help him relieve his stress in anyway possible.

And mind you, there’s no way he will go soft on you this time. All that pent up stress he will release it straight in your tight cunt, using it as a fleshlight for hours, spurting his warm seed inside and painting your gummy walls white over and over.. and then getting hard again, another more round, and another one.. until you are a whining mess, begging for him to stop. He has no other choice but to shut your mouth with a duct tape and continue his abuse on your sensitive hole. If lewd sounds won’t come out of that pretty filthy mouth, then you better not be fucking talking at all.

He finds it hot, the way you struggle against the chains that have tied your sore wrists, the way your muffed moans fill his ears. Sweat is rolling down his toned body, your legs are over his broad shoulders, as he has you impaled on his grithy cock. He’s rutting into you like a dog in heat, steam coming out of his scarred body.

“Mmf so fuckin wet n’ tight for me- hah.. gotta surprise my old man- fuck- surprise him with some more Todoroki brats yeah? Whaddya say, my slutty princess? Gonna knock ya up real fuckin’ good, make ya’ swollen n’ nice with my kids- haaah”

#B.writes #thanks mutual now im drenched #dabi smut #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #bnha smut #dabi fanfics #dabi #touya todoroki #mha smut #mha dabi #mha fanfic idea #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bnha spoilers #minors do not interact

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

The Jeep

Eli’s sixteen and Stiles wants to give him the Jeep, Derek might need some persuading.

[AO3]

 “I’m just saying—” Stiles said, sitting back against the velvet covered bedhead. “He’s sixteen now, he’s got his licence, he’s going to need a car.”

“Then we’ll get him a car,” Derek replied from the ensuite.

“Why not just give him the Jeep?” Stiles pressed.

Derek peered his head around the corner of the doorframe. “Because that thing is held together by duct tape and prayers.”

“Then we’ll get it fixed up,” Stiles suggested.

“Or we just get him a new car,” Derek countered, stepping out of the ensuite. He turned the light off behind him and climbed into bed beside Stiles. “One with better safety ratings, GPS, Bluetooth, and all that. A car that’s not going to break down or fall to pieces every time he reverses out of the driveway.”

“A car that crumples like a paper ball at the smallest dent? I mean, I hit Jackson with that Jeep and it barely made a dent.”

Derek huffed out a breath, struggling to smother his laughter and trying to keep a serious face.

“We’ve been through a lot, and – for better or worse – that Jeep has survived everything we have,” Stiles continued. “It may not have Bluetooth or GPS, but it still works after all these years.”

Derek sighed.

He had to admit: Stiles had a point. That Jeep, despite all the damage and duct tape, had held together over decades.

But there was something else; something Stiles wasn’t saying.

Derek leant back against the pillows, turning his head to look at Stiles.

“And…?” he prompted.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” Stiles started slowly, “but it was my mum’s car. My dad gave it to me as a way of holding onto her. I always felt like… it felt like she was watching over me. And as silly as it sounds, the thought that she’d be watching over Eli gives me some comfort.”

Derek reached over and took Stiles’ hand in his. He laced their fingers together and gave Stiles’ hand a gentle squeeze.

Stiles blinked back the glistening tears that welled in his eyes.

Derek brushed the ball of his thumb over the back of Stiles’ hand.

“Okay,” he relented. “You can give him the Jeep.”

Stiles straightened, looking at Derek with a mix of shock and joy.

“On one condition,” Derek added quickly. “We get a complete refit: new engine, brakes, airbags, full service—all of it. And we’re taking the police scanner out.”

“You can replace it with one of those fancy radios with Bluetooth and GPS,” Stiles offered, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder.

A small smile turned up the corners of Derek’s lips.

“Deal,” he whispered, turning his head and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Stiles’ head.

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

 “Eli?” Derek called out from where he stood by the front door.

He heard the footsteps on the wooden floorboards as Eli emerged from his room. “Yeah?”

“You got a minute?” Derek asked.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked as he made his way down the stairs and over to his dad’s side.

“Should you be?” Derek asked as he held the front door open, letting his son step out onto the front porch where Stiles stood waiting for them.

He paused for a moment, his eyes darting about as he searched his memories for anything he might have done that would get him in trouble.

“No,” he answered, but there was an upward infliction at the end of the word that made it sound like a question rather than a statement.

“You’re not in trouble,” Stiles reassured him.

“So, what’s up?” Eli asked.

“Well,” Stiles started. “You’re sixteen now and you have your license, and since your dad and I need the cars all the time—”

“And since you’ve proven you can be responsible and trustworthy,” Derek added.

“—we’re giving you a car.”

Eli’s eyes opened wide, his jaw hanging open. “Seriously?”

Derek nodded.

Stiles dug into his pocket and pulled out the key, holding it out in front of him for Eli to take.

Eli recognised the key.

He stared at it in stunned silence.

When he found his voice again, his words were barely a whisper.

“The Jeep?” His voice broke around the word, his eyes glistening with tears of joy as he looked from the key to his dads’ faces. “You’re giving me the Jeep?”

“It’s all yours,” Stiles told him.

Eli reached out and look the key from his dad.

“It’s been fully serviced,” Derek told him. “It has a new engine and everything.”

Eli glanced over his shoulder at the dusty-blue Jeep. “Can I…?”

Stiles nodded.

He leapt off the porch and bounded over to the Jeep, pulling open the driver’s side door and sliding into the seat. He didn’t turn it on; he just sat in the driver’s seat, bouncing up and down slightly with uncontainable happiness. He couldn’t help but laugh with excitement as he let his hands grip the soft, worn leather of the steering wheel.  

Stiles and Derek stepped over to the car.

Eli bolted upright, his eyes widening as he remembered something.

“Does it still have the—?” His words died off as he answered his own question: he pulled down the sun visor to see the photo of Stiles wrapped in Claudia’s arms. He was four – maybe five – years old in the photo, the sun shining on their faces as they both looked at the camera, caught half way between smiling and laughing. He carefully pulled the photo out from where it was held in place by elastic, holding it in his hands as he looked at it fondly.

He sniffed and blinked back tears, trying to hide his face from his parents as he turned to hand the photo to Stiles.

Stiles shook his head, gently pushing Eli’s hand back. “That’s for you.”

Eli looked at him, his brow furrowed slightly with confusion.

“She’s always watching over you,” Stiles said quietly.

Eli didn’t say anything. Tears fell from Eli’s eyes, trailing down his cheeks as he looked down at the photo again. He offered his dad a shaky smile as he slotted the photo back into its place. He looked at his grandmother’s face one more time before carefully and lovingly putting the sun visor back up.

He wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. “Thanks, Dad.”

Stiles offered him a kind smile.

“There’s an emergency kit in the back,” Derek told him. “First aid kit, blanket, bottled water, snacks, a change of clothes, and a few other things. And, most importantly…” He stepped around the hood of the Jeep and opened the passenger side door. He reached into the glove box, pulled something out, and held it up.

The moment Eli and Stiles saw it, they both burst into laughter.

A brand new roll of duct tape.

#sterek #sterek au #sterek dads au #sterek parents au #sterek family au #sterek imagine #imagine sterek #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #sterek fic #sterek one shot #sterek short one shot #eli hale #eli stilinski hale #sterek fluff #fluff with light angst #fluff and feels #more tags on a03

[melodygatesauthor]

Steven Grant - Yandere Edition - Random Horny Thots #1 - Claiming

NSFW - NON-CON WARNING - Virgin Reader

——

Steven's been watching you for a long time, so imagine his excitement when he finally has you tied up, wrists stuck to the headboard and your mouth wrapped in duct tape. You're crying so hard while he's pressing himself against your tight and never broken entrance. He's prodding gently, feeling the resistance of your hole. His eyes are crazed with excitement. A trickle of drool is spilling down his chin.

"Oh love, no one's been in here before have they?" His face turned into an affectionate smile, "you've been savin' y'self just f'me? Darling, that makes me feel so special."

You're crying, and internally begging him to let you go, but he doesn't seem to care...or maybe he likes it.

He has the fat, bulbous tip of his cock in here. He can feel it stretch a little, and your screams get a little louder. He bites his lip, trying to contain his excitement. He pushes forward, feeling the way your tight hole gives out and tears around him. You shriek again, sobs getting heavier as you struggle.

"Now, now love. You're alright, shhhh," he grabs your hips tightly and leans in, kissing your tearstained cheeks.

Steven's enjoying it so much, listening to your little cries, but even more than that he enjoys the way your blood is painting his cock when he looks down at where your bodies are joined. He’s surprised at how wide he’s split you open, seeing your little pussy lips gripping around his cock so tightly. It’s almost too tight, but it feels so fucking good. You cry again; fresh sobs falling down your cheeks and soaking the pillow under your head.

“S’alright love, I know…” He leans forward, reaching his arms around your back and pulling you close, kissing just below your earlobe softly. “I’m happy too, so happy that you’ve given this to me. What a gift you are.”

He shudders, feeling such a sense of pride for being the only man to have you, and the only man to make you sound like this. You were crying tears of joy, he knew it had to be true. The noises were too good to be anything else. Of course you were a little pained, but it would feel better soon. You were meant to take him, it had to feel good.

He leaned back, lifting the backs of your legs and pushing your knees up by your head. He could see you all spread out now. He could watch your cunt swallowing around him. He could see the blood all over his length. He could hear you screaming louder in this new position, this tighter position.

“That’s it love, feels good dunnit? Yeah, bet it does. You like a bit of pain don’t you?”

All he can hear other than your muffled cries is the wetness between both of your bodies. Your cunt and his cock are drenched in fluids; a cocktail made up of your arousal, blood, and his precum, which you were certain he had a steady stream of since he started his assault.

When Steven comes, it’s messy, and he’s squeezing you so hard you think you might suffocate. His body is shaking, breath huffing out in sharp, short gusts, and he’s telling you how lucky you are to have someone like him giving you his all. No one else will ever love you like he can, and no one else will ever care for you the way he does.

“There love…” he says, wiping away your tears, “now you’re all mine. Molded your little cunt to fit around me perfectly.”

And with that, you belong to him, forever and always…

——

Any of my blurbs can be used as inspo for a fic. Please tag me for credit. Thank you!

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[nothomegal]

“Cuddle date”

(Ghostface x GN Reader)

Summary: we all get our blues time to time, and a good cuddle sounds like a fantastic option to mend such awful mood! The man currently clinging to your body definitely thinks so, and you? Not so much...

Warnings: hints to an unhealthy behavoir, obsessive ghosty, non-con touches towards (Y/N).

Word count: 1.5k

Additional info: I'll use Danny Johnson as Ghostface, but not in a DBD context (no trials, entity, etc.)

Fic based on this lil' drawing I made!

—“{Such a shitty week, I swear…”}—

His deep raspy voice grumbled from behind the mask, his grip around (Y/N) tightened as he shifts in place a bit, taking a more comfortable position and nuzzling his masked face against their chest.

—“{It’s all better now, though. Way better.}”— he finished this sentence with a chuckle, which came out way more sinister than it was probably intended.

There were tears forming in (Y/N)‘s eyes again. Their whole body is tense and slightly shivering, their skin feels so hot and cold at the same time under the intruder's warm body and their own cold sweat. Their heartbeat is so loud that it overshadows any additional noises, yet his raspy voice still managed to cut through the loud drums of their panicked heart. They wanted to scream, shout in terror in hopes their roommate hears them, but the duct tape placed on their lips did its job in keeping their mouth shut, only allowing low muffles to come out.

They couldn't even push this stranger off their body, their wrists tightly tied to the bed frame which made their arms stay outstretched over their head, leaving their body even more exposed and unprotected.

The masked man silently sighs as he shifts in place again, tilting his head up a bit.

—"{You're a great listener, dear. Thank you for your time.}"— he says as he suddenly begins to move one of his hands up and down, caressing your body. —"{Usually I restrain myself from waking you up, but today... Ugh, today I just had to rant, you understand that feeling, do you?}"—

The uncalled touches caused (Y/N) to shiver as another muffled noise escaped from them. They wiggle in place, hoping to somehow shake his gloved hand off them but this little struggle seemed to only amuse the intruder judging by another sinister chuckle and the way his grip tightened around them.

—"{Oh love, so shy and unwilling as ever. At any other moment I'd be so fucking pissed with your stubborness... And I actually used to, you used to piss me off so much with your sole existence...}"—

His tone turns significantly more hostile as he speaks, his grip on their hip tightening to at almost painful point, causing (Y/N) to wiggle harder and let out a louder cry when the squeezing became too much. That little noise caused the man to snap out of whatever abnormal episode he was going through, making him quickly realize what he've been doing just seconds ago.

—"{Oh... Sorry, dear.}"— he mutters, his tone apologetic as he gently rubs that spot, as if attempting to soothe the pain. —"{Can get carried away when I think about certain topics...}"—

His gloved hand eventually slides under (Y/N)'s shirt, now running his palm through their bare skin. Judging by the high pitch noises they made they didn't expect or liked that at all. But again, it didn't stop the man from continuing his gentle caresses, action that seemed oddly soothing to him.

—"{It's just, I still don't understand how you managed to do that... You were supposed to be another face in the morning news paper, a simple victim... But here we are.}"—

He pauses, and so does his hand.

—"{You just have no idea how easy it is to end you, on a practical level. But morally...}"—

His fingers dig into their skin as he moves up, his face now being pressed against the crook of (Y/N)'s neck. The sensation of the cold plastic of his mask sending shivers through their entire body, their heart rate quickening, detail that didn't go unnoticed.

—"{So scared...}"— he mutters thoughtfully. —"{It's okay, today you're actually taking my visit way better than other times.}"—

This sentence made (Y/N) freeze in horror, even the shivering paused. Gears began to work inside of their head and place the puzzle pieces together.

They finally realized it.

All these small incidents of their things going missing, the food tasting weird and the unnatural tiredness they've been waking up lately, it all made sense now.

This man, this sick fuck, is the one behind these anomalies... And it seems like he's been doing this for a while.

The mentioned man of course noticed their sudden stillness and probably realizes that (Y/N) is putting the pieces together, but he felt no worry. In fact, he had the audacity to let out an amused laugh.

—"{See you begin to understand... Not bad, detective (L/N).}"—

He slowly slides his hand out of their shirt and moves his body again, climbing up until he's basically on top of (Y/N), now pressing their frozen and helpless form further into the matress with his weight.

—"{Too bad you won't remember anything in the morning.}"— he whispers as he places his hand under your chin, squeezing your face slightly. —"{You never do.}"—

He starts to lean closer as his grip around their face tightens.

—"{Or maybe, you will... Sometimes I wish you do.}"—

He mutters, stopping when his masked face is only inches away from theirs.

—"{Because then you wouldn't be so startled every time I come back... And I will come back. Maybe tomorrow, maybe after tomorrow... Or maybe you'll see me through the day. Who knows, I could be anyone of your friends.}"—

He was close, uncomfortably close. The shivering got worse the more he spoke, his voice so psycotic and cold yet sicky sweet and playful at the exact same time. (Y/N) was so lost and overwhelmed; confusion, fear, desperation, anger... So many feelings swarming their mind at ones that it was nearly impossible for them to keep up and think straight, all they could do is be still and stare into the dark eye sockets of the ghost mask of the intruder...

Ghostface.

(Y/N) heard about him. His crimes are always the very first thing discussed in the radio durning morning, so they're more than aware of how fucked they are.

The more they stare into those fake eyes, the more distorted his face appears to get. They can swear that they've saw an outline of an actual human eye behind the dark fabric of the mask, an eye that appeared even darker than anything they've ever seen.

So dark, so cold... That it almost felt unhuman.

—"{Fuck...}"— he groans under his breath. —"{You just have no idea how fucking cute you are... I wish I could've just...}"—

He leans even closer, his face hovering dangerously close to (Y/N)'s, plastic almost touching their lips.

But the sudden sound of footsteps aproaching made the masked man freeze, his hand giving a rough squeeze as a warning for (Y/N) to remain quiet. But his efforts to keep their little hang out as a secret went down the drain when the door suddenly opened.

—"Yo, dud do you happen to have a spare ibuprofen (Y/N)? Cause man, this hangover is killing m-..."—

(Y/N)'s roommate freezes in the doorway, looking at the scene with wide panicked eyes, which only narrowed even more when she recognized the intruder's outfit.

—"...Holy shit!"— she exclaims as she turns around and bolts off your room. —"Hold on (Y/N)! I'm calling the cops!"—

The masked man merely sighs with annoyance as he shakes his head.

—"And we were having such a great time..."— he mutters, no longer whispering. —"Sorry sweetheart, gotta cut our meeting short."—

He seemed to be about to lean back and away from them. But before doing so, he presses the mouth of his mask against (Y/N)'s cheek, sending small shivers through their body with the sudden sensation of the cold plastic.

Ones completely up and off the bed, the intruder actually takes his time to cover (Y/N)'s form with the blanket again, totally unaffected by the fact that their roommate is aware of him and must be trying to call the authorities. Little does that person know that he already took care of her phone...

—"The adrenaline should wear off soon. Sorry that you have to rest in such uncomfortable position, again. But you understand why I can't do anything about it right now, right?"— he says the last part in a somehow playful one as he runs his gloved hand through your hair. —"See you soon (Y/N), sooner that you think."—

And after these words, the intruder leaves the scene. The weird black ties of his costume trailing behind him as he exits the door before closing it.

And just like he predicted, exhaustion began to slowly fall upon (Y/N), their eyelids felt unnaturally heavy, their body slowly going limp and the soreness in their wrists is fading away as they slowly submerge in this restless sleep. They attempt to struggle one last time, a desperate try to free themselves as they hear faint noises of struggles outside their room, knowing that their roommate won't be able to resist the attack for long.

Unfortunately, their body gives up at some point and refuses to move, their consciousness barely remaining awake.

And just as they're about to fall back into slumber, a small tear slides down their cheek as the same damn sentence resonates inside of their mind again, and again, and again...

"See you soon (Y/N), sooner that you think."

#nothomegal fic #nothomegal oneshot #gn reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #slasher x reader

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

I decided to write a little something that was a little...self indulgent~

Should you want more of my own personal desires in your writing, just request the House Special in your message~

Title: Mostro’s New Toy

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, m!Reader

Contains: dark themes(dubcon, kidnapping), contractual agreement, bondage, blindfolds, mouth covering/gag, free use kink

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

It had been a week since your end of the bargain was fulfilled. Though you had no magic for payment, Azul had stated he would figure something out and not to worry about it, so after meeting your end of the deal, you were starting to get fidgety when a week had passed and yet nothing had happened yet.

You were rushing to your next class, cursing yourself for being late because of Grim’s antics and for looking away from him for a moment. You started to cut across the courtyard when an arm grabbed you from the bushes. You were about to scream for help when a white gloved hand silenced you. More specifically, it was the duct tape under the hand that kept you quiet, allowing your attacker to hold you firmly in two arms.

“Eaaasy, Shrimpy. No need to get loud~”

The nickname and voice was more than enough to at least solve the question of who was doing this. You muffled out his name, any struggling soon subsiding knowing you weren’t in any actual danger.

Though you couldn’t see, Floyd was giving a dopey grin. “Just here collecting some debt. Azul’s order’s. Time to pay up~”

Retrieving a bottle from his pocket, he shattered it against the ground, pieces flying as smoke surrounded you two, teleporting you back to Octavinelle.

———

Floyd stood with you still in his arms, the two of you now present in front of the Mostro’s manager, Azul in his VIP room. Jade stood beside him, as though ready to act if necessary.

“Terribly sorry for the scare,” Azul started, speaking from behind interlocked fingers, “but you see I’ve figured out the payment I desire from you.”

You tried to speak, but the tape remained firmly in place, only muffling your speech. Azul merely carried on, as if you weren’t trying to object.

“Oh no need to worry about it! Truly, this is the best thing you could give! Jade? If you’d please.”

“Yes, sir.” Jade began to step over to Floyd, the two of them giving the other a look that seemed to be one that only twins could understand. He opened his jacket, retrieving a bundle of deep green rope that was concealed in an inner pocket. Floyd spun you around, holding onto your shoulders and looking down at you with a threatening gaze and speaking in a serious, menacing tone.

“I’d stay still if I were you, unless you want to be squeezed.” It was that look that screamed “try it”. If you moved, be it trying to run off or even just a muscle, you knew it wouldn’t end well. Jade then grabbed your arms, pressing your wrists together and wrapping the surprisingly soft rope around them. He tied them off in a way that didn’t hurt but kept your wrists firmly together, effectively now leaving you at the mercy of the tweels before you.

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but I’ll tell you anyway, out of the kindness of my heart.” As Azul spoke, a strip of cloth covered your eyes. You were now blind, mute, and unable to fend for yourself in anyway. “I’ve decided your body will be perfect payment. I’ll have you situated in a way where patrons can come in, and use you the way they see fit. The blindfold is for confidentiality, of course, and the tape? Well that’s just for show. If they want to take it off they can~”

You’d be lying if you tried to object. The idea sent a heat straight to your groin, and you could feel a pressure at the zipper of your jeans as you hummed softly.

The brothers were already working on you, leading you into a new spot before pushing you down to your knees. The positioned you like a doll, spreading your legs open before unbuttoning your pants to reveal a partially hard, boxer covered phallus.

“Heeeeeyyy~ Little Shrimpy here is already enjoying himself~ You get off to the idea of this~?”

Hearing it out loud, especially from Floyd, only embarrassed you, and you shook your head to deny it.

“Such a thing is hard to deny when the evidence is right there, (y/n).” Jade’s voice sounded like velvet, smooth and calm. “It’s clear you’re quite aroused by this. There is no shame in admitting it.”

You shook your head with a small “mm-mm”, denying it, but deep down, you knew that lie wouldn’t last long, as Jade was right.

“Now boys,” Azul’s footsteps thudded against your ears as you heard him walk over. “I think we should find out if our new attraction is ready for the guests. What do you think?”

“Oh I get first dibs on Shrimpy?! I wanna test him out!” Floyd sounded all too excited by the idea, and you were already wondering what someone like him would do.

“Mmmm!” You let out an uncontrollable whine, but it went ignored.

“Oh please, Floyd. You’ll ruin our new toy before he even has a chance.” A small laugh laced Jade’s voice. “What if we tested him out together?”

“Wonderful idea!” Azul was more than willing to allow such a thing, his footsteps starting to soften as he stepped to the door. “I’ll be back in an hour. Try not to break our new plaything before I get back.”

“Yes, sir./Yeah, boss!”

The door opened and closed, and you were now alone with the brothers. Thought you couldn’t see them, you could feel their predatory gazes on you before their hands made first contact.

This…will be exciting…~ ❤️

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