#they have other relationships that anchor them to the world around them

[mister13eyond]

i love writing bc my brain is like "what, finish your multiple wips based around a ship you love and care for that you have clearly thought out continuations for? no. you're going to write about your oc being a surrogate parent to giorno giovanna"

#yes this is about #vesuvio #vesuvio bruciato #tbh i think its fun coming up with ocs to have other dynamics than ship dynamics with canon characters #not to disparage shipping or ocxcanon ships because i love love and i'm a big gooey sappy person who likes writing romance and relationship #but because like #idk one of the things that makes a character feel real is that they exist outside of a romantic partnership #they have other relationships that anchor them to the world around them #family and friends and acquaintances and coworkers #and i LOVE digging into those niches #especially for a character like giorno for whom this is a Central part of his backstory #his whole backstory hinges on the fact that he was neglected and abused and then one (1) person showed him kindness #and he dedicated his life to living in that person's image #and i'm really interested in that through the lens of like #what do you do when you meet your heroes and they're painfully human #what happens when the person giorno has looked up to his whole life #is just as messy and human and has his own struggles #but also the two of them Still to some degree have that drive to look after each other #because you never forget someone who changed your life #so now they have to see each other as people #i think the experience of learning the adults around you dont actually have it all figured out either #is an underrated part of a coming of age narrative #like seeing that 'oh we just get older but there's no sudden Moment when you cross a threshold and just Get It all at once' #i dont know why i needed to write this all in the tags #anyways if anyone wants to send me asks about vesuvio and/or giorno i would love that #help me flesh out their relationship & interactions

[gojowh0rcs]

me reading hcs with a reader that thinks theyre being funny and sassy but are really just being mean and stinky to gojo:

#dont get me wrong i think he'd do the best w a s/o who spoke their mind and stood up for themselves #most importantly against him too cuz he knows he has a bad personality so he's bound to not get certain things unless they told him flat #and directly** #he'd like someone with a sense of inner strength in them like nah they dont gotta match up w him in physical strength #(no one can anyway :p) #but someone that provides a sort of stability would be nice in his otherwise v hectic and spontaneous life #he might call them boring from time to time cuz hes a jackass but in the end and in the long term he'd come to appreciate the normalcy they #provide*** this man got trauma out the wazoo #life is all over the place for him but still he serves as an anchor for the jujutsu world #ppl turn to him for help when they dunno what else to do #hes often a source of stability for other sorcerers. a lot of responsibility piles on his shoulders #so having a little piece of that for himself would be smth he'd eventually come to look forward to. it wouldnt be smth that'd cross his #mind at first*** but hes like a cat u gotta psspspspspspsp ur way into this man heart #but once ur in ur locked in anyway so its def worth it #BUT. idk sometimes i read stuff and im like hmmm this is mean :((( DSJKDSJK #be nice to this baby :(((( not that nice ofc u can knock him around when hes bein an asshole too #but in relationships idk i think he'd do well with someone who had some patience for him too #not let him get away with things like they def hold him accountable but they also have acceptance for him #he'd relax w someone like that i think

[nexusnyx]

from eden

Joel Miller x f!Reader [3.3k] Summary: The nightmares left when you started sharing Joel's bed, but that never meant they were gone. When you have your first episode in his presence, Joel's right there. He's there, all around you, inside you, comforting you. It's so different than all the other desperate times you two became one that you wonder how much of it is meant to soothe you, and how much was a need of his.

— A/n 📝This was written because I had a nightmare and no Joel to comfort me, so I'm being self-indulgent to the max. You're welcome. Reblogs and comments make all the difference. — Warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors dni. | 🏷️ age gap, established relationship, morning sex, comfort sex, nightmares, soft!Joel, making out, dirty talking, fingering, missionary sex, prone bone, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex y'all).

ㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | read on ao3

Before you, his sleep was non-existent. Restless, a black out, a body function that hit him when Joel reached his limit. It was achieved through scotch, overworking himself, and sometimes, when the date offered no other alternative, pills.

Now, Joel sleeps — okay. He rests.

Drool on his pillow, body waking up with the feeling of new, sometimes even going as far as dreaming. It's insanity, and although he's only had it for months, Joel's terrified of how addicted to it he is.

No matter how great the sleep is, it's still light. Always will be — there's no deep sleep at the end of the world, and when you stir in his arms, Joel wakes up in a second, only to notice this is nothing like the other times; he regains consciousness and is taken by your panic like a cold shower, and in a second, he's alert.

"Baby — hey, hey," he whispers your name, calling you back to him. "Wake up." He repeats your name louder, and you awake in a pained gasp, which echoes in him. "Hey — baby. C'mere."

At first, the shock stops you from abiding by his words.

All you can feel is the hot peng in your chest still echoing from the images passing like a movie before your eyes, the hot ache enveloping all your middle from the sense of alert danger alert, but Joel is patient as you breathe through those seconds. His palms rub both your arms, and he keeps his distance, his breath steady, his eyes set on you firm despite their hazy sleepiness. Once, Joel could barely sleep heavily enough to get rest, and now, he woke with sleep still clouding the edges of his visions.

Because of you. Because of — "Baby," he whispers again. This time, his voice lands somewhere conscious and your gaze meets his. "There you are." His digits apply gentle pressure on your arms to see if your body has relaxed enough to be guided by him and sure enough, you feel the slight pull as a port and sink your anchor into him.

Your upper body sags on his, falling on his touch.

You wished for radio silence. For something to come and take away the pain, the lingering feeling of those worries your subconscious manifested as horrible pictures to dissipate.

And it comes. In the shape of Joel's hand gripping your nape and his other hand wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer, comfort arrives.

"Shhhhh." Only when he shushes you the sound of your whimpering register — you're crying. Wetting his sleeping shirt. Still shaking. "I've got you."

He repeats those three precious words more times until you've calmed down. However long that takes. All you know is that one moment you can barely think beyond what you saw in those dreams and next, you're wiping your cheeks on your forearms and looking at Joel through your wet lashes.

He feels your eyes on him, turns around and flicks the lamp by the bed on.

Faint yellow light illuminates his features amidst all the darkness, and you breathe.

"You're alright," it slips out. You almost cry again, biting at your bottom lip since you're unable to bite your own words back, or swallow them now that they're out in the open.

Joel's brows crease in confusion for only a moment, and then it hits him. It was about him. "I'm alright." The claim erases every ounce of weight left in your chest. "C'mere," he pulls you closer, and you take the invite.

Stradling his lap is your favorite thing, even if you're still shy to do it; the level of desire and attraction you have for Joel is embarrassing, the effect he has on you and how desperate you are for every crumb of his touch and affection should make you ashamed. All it does is make you blush, or occasionally stutter.

Joel takes it all with a good heart. He adjusts your body in his lap, resting his face on your shoulder, and then breathes in deeply.

Breathes out.

After blissful moments like this, he asks. "Feeling better?"

With you, always. "Yeah." You want to look at him, but his neck is where Joel smells the most like himself, and it makes you a bit drunk. Sleep is long gone from your body — that's what a few touches from him can do. "You always know how to help."

Joel chuckles and the huff of breath tickles your neck. "All I did was shush and hold you."

"I know. That's perfect."

Joel would ask if you want to talk about the nightmares, but no one does. He starts petting your hair. "Think you can get back to sleep?"

You shake your head.

His head tilts. What do you want, then? "Still thinking about it?"

His question makes you double-check, and — no. You shake your head. "Just..." Instead of answering, you show him.

A roll of your hips, and the surprised groan it pulls out of him makes the hint of a smile show on your face.

He put you on his lap. That's all you needed to go from asleep to wide awake. Or at least, I want you awake.

"Fuck—," Joel's fingers dig deeper and hard into your waist. "'s what so?"

You nod. "Can we?"

"Can we what?" Joel asks, because while few people know it, he's a little shit.

"You know what," you whine. "Wanna feel you. Please?"

The way you whine brings out something borderline animalistic in Joel.

It took him by surprise every single time — it was a hook you had, an energetic and magnetic pull that turned Joel towards you almost on instinct.

Joel goes from being half-asleep to reeling about all the ways he wants to taste you. It should be over by now, the stupid flutter in his stomach whenever you kiss him like this, devour his oxygen in a starved and greedy way, but they only amplify somehow.

All he does is kiss you for a while.

Joel sighs into your mouth and licks around your soft whimpers. He feels overwhelmed — with only a few rolls of your hips and the desperate tightening of your legs on both of his sides and he's hard as a rock. Straining against his briefs, wetting a spot on it because you're rocking against him and all but melting against his hand on your hair.

When he pulls back for air, Joel has to just look.

He grabs a fistful of your hair by the nape and pulls your head back as gently as he can — you mewl. Whine coming out scratchy, on the back of your throat, and he sort of smiles.

It's on his face. He can feel the tugging on his lips at the sight in front of him. There's the faintest notion of light coming through the windows, the early signs of night dissipating, and they illuminate you just right. Soft, royal blue lights illuminate the contour of your cheekbones, and Joel needs to see more.

Wants to. He lets go of your hair and tugs on your shirt—no, on his shirt, taking it off with your help.

Usually, Joel's talkative from the start. He discovered you have a thing for his voice early on and lost the ability to shut the fuck up ever since. Your words, not his.

Usually, it's not this, though—not this slow, or this reverent.

One of Joel's hands keeps running through your body, smoothing out all the exposed skin, and he can tell by your body that the touch is relaxing.

Then, you break the silence by leaning your upper body, closing the space between your heads. "Joel," you whisper in his mouth. "Wanna suck you off."

The one thing you love doing to distract yourself—he'd allow it, but something's tugging at him to offer more than just distraction.

Joel wants to offer you comfort.

He closes the gap and kisses your eager and waiting lips, tasting you again before answering, "Not now, baby."

You whine, squeezing your thighs around him. "Why not?"

He remembers something and runs his hands over your ass as he talks, massaging and squishing the flesh. "You told me I could touch you as much as I wanted to, remember?" He gets his fingers under the ban of your panties, squeezing harder. "On our night, you told me I could always do you like I wanted, right baby?" Joel seals his lips on yours again in a harsh kiss as both of you recall the night. The first night. The one you two deemed 'your' night. He pulls back. "Was so filthy that night, baby—"

"Wanted you for so long—" and shit, that gets to him.

Joel spins both of you around and lays your back to the mattress again, rocking his hips with yours. "Dunno what you see in me, baby—" you poked him hard on his side, mean and pointy and hard, and Joel looks up to see you frowning at him. Right—no shit-talking himself in your presence. He chuckles, and grabs your chin, tilting your head up so he licks a stripe down your jugular. "My bad — 'm thinking about how fuckin' lucky I was and started off on the wrong end of it."

"Damn right you did — oh." The gasp you let out loud is matched by his cursing.

Joel pushed your panties to the side, taking advantage of the lack of clothes in way, and all he wanted was to check. Instead, he gets his fingers soaked in all of your wetness. Just from kissing. Just for him. "All for me, baby? Jesus fuckin' Christ." Joel runs two, three fingers between your folds, wetting his digits before he starts thumbing your clit. "I love your mouth on me, y'know that. Always get So messy. Do it just like — I like it. But I just wanna see you feel good right now."

"Joel."

He had no idea where it came from, but his brain paints the picture for him.

Your eyes wide, twitching with fear.

It'd been a while since he saw that. Matter-of-factly, Joel was sure now he'd never seen that expression on you before. He would know — the long days Joel spent cataloging ever line, wrinkle, freckle on your body; he was no stranger to your nature. Joel walked into your deepest and darkest woods, and whatever nightmare woke you up today, it was a new storm brewing.

You're alright, you had said.

Joel sinks his fingers inside you as he sinks his mouth on your neck, seeking comfort in you at the same beat as he's trying to offer it.

You clench around him, and Joel sighs when your nails dig at his back. It's not just his voice you like. Joel stops thinking about all the reasons why you could be afraid and focuses on making you forget there's a world to fear. "Like my fingers, don't ya?" he rasps out, inching his face back so he can share the same breath as you.

"So thick," you babble out, thighs spreading wider for him.

Joel wasted many hours in front of mirrors convincing himself he was past the futilities of caring about appearance, attraction, and things of the such. However, all you needed to do was this:

"Joel, oh god, Joel," like a prayer. Eyes closed, rolling at the back of your head, like a surrender. The way you forced them back open just to look at him, and your mouth gaped open — Joel could feel the lust oozing off of you. "So fuckin' handsome, Joel. You look so good fucking me."

He growls, pulsing his fingers in a curve inside of you, abusing the spot he knows to be carved only to break your mind. Designed to make you see stars.

"So flatterin'," he laughs, sucking on your abused lips. "You make me feel handsome," he confesses, milking the trembling in your body that he recognizes quite well. "That's it — let it all go for me, baby."

Your first orgasm cums in a silent scream, as you let his fingers guide you into white bliss.

Joel moans unabashedly as you ride it out. He kisses your jaw since your lips are too busy hanging open, frozen around the letters of his name.

"Joel—too much, too much," you cry out, and he takes out his fingers from inside. He guides them to your mouth, and you part your lips. So obedient it drives him nuts.

"Lick 'em clean," he orders softly. He watches you do it, and imagines it's his cock inside of his fingers, but he has to prioritize now. He wants you in that way he knows it drives you wild — the way it pulls at your animalistic instincts and gets you screaming into the pillow. "Turn around, baby, c'mon."

It's like you know.

You do. Your eyes widen for a second and you moan for him before readjusting your body under him.

He grabs his own pillow to position underneath your hips when you lay with your belly down, settles his legs outside of yours and does his best not to drop his whole weight on you just yet.

"More, more," you whine for him. You want more of his weight — lord knows why, but you enjoy being smothered by him. Joel gives you just a little more and pulls your hair away from your face so he look at you. "Please don't tease me."

He wanted to. God, Joel really wanted to be strong — and young — enough to tease you until you were crying; sometimes, when he was rested enough, when you riled him up just right, when the adrenaline was high, or when something clicked and the air sizzled with a tension between you two, then he could.

Joel could make you cum two, or three times, before he put it in.

Other times, you were both starving for it.

He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed just the head in, wishing he was less riled up, but finding comfort that you were right there with him.

"Joel," you beg.

He smiles, and slides it all the way in. It's so wet, and so tight, and he's so, so fucked.

He praises your name. Catches his breath on your sweaty shoulder, and sucks on the back of your neck.

When you whine for more, this time, he truly has no words.

All Joel does is enjoy the way you're a mess with him.

He starts at a slow pace, pulling out the way out so he can enjoy the drag of it getting back inside. He does that until his arms are aching with the effort of keeping himself upright, and then he's lowering himself further, enjoying how much louder you get.

"Tell me if it's too much," he pleas in your ear.

"Faster, need it faster," is all you have to say back to him.

Joel abides. He gives it to you just how you want it, and he knows you're about to cum again before you start blabbering about it.

"Oh, god—'m gonna, Joel—right there—"

"Here, hm?" He bucks his hips harder, and is rewarded with your moans getting higher. "Fuckin' love findin' your sport, baby. Clenching — so fuckin' tight around me."

"'m gonna cum —"

"Oh, I know baby — clenchin' so fuckin' hard around me. Do it." He grabs your hair again and tells himself to hold it back. "Cum around my cock. Show me how bad — you love — when I give this pussy — what it deserves."

It's a mess of tangled libs and sweat from then on.

You convulse around Joel, your whole body trembling. With thighs still shaking, Joel pulls out and flips you around so he can see your face. He lines up and cups your face with the other hand, "Can I, baby?"

You nod with tears streaming down your face. "Please," it's only a whisper. "Please use me. Wanna—"you push your hips down, and Joel sinks it all the way in, making both of you moan. "Yes. Need your cum, too — need it so much."

Joel was teetering on the edge when he started fingering you and watched pleasure take over you. The minute that thin layer of sweat started covering your curves, he wanted to paint your back in his release. Wanted to bury himself to the hilt inside of you.

So he does.

Joel brackets your face between his forearms, and looks you in the eyes as he fucks into you. Not for the first time, he looks deep into you — switches his gaze between the place where your bodies connect to your face, and it's in your silent plea of his name that Joel loses himself.

He sees you starting to lose it — his sides are carved and marked, painted in red by your clawing and scratching, and he knows you're overstimulated from orgasms so close to each other, so Joel knows it'll be easy to do what he loves.

Make you cry out of pleasure.

When he feels his balls tightening, Joel starts to take longer thrusts to make his pelvis stimulate your clitoris at the same time as his hips meet yours. He lets out a loud moan at the feeling of your walls constricting, and, "'m gonna cum, baby, fuckin' hell—"

"Do it, do it do it, Joel, please—"

"Fuck, beg more. Beg."

The litany of pleas falling from your mouth is drawn out in white noise when Joel cums harder than in a long time, spilling hot and deep inside of you. Filling you up a lot. Fuck—he cums so much that the aftershocks last for minutes; precious time that he spends caressing your hair and enjoying your legs trembling in spasms of sensitivity.

Joel grunts a lot. To pull out it's the hardest — your whine gets him to shush and coo, "Shhhh, 's okay baby, 's okay." He peppers your face in kisses to replace from the sudden emptiness. "'m here."

"Don't leave."

"Won't," he licks under your jaw and gets out from on top of you. Grabs the closest piece of clothing to clean between your thighs and to get rid of most of the mess, then throws it far away for the two of you to deal with in some hours.

When he pulls you to his chest, Joel feels content.

He can feel your heart beating. The steady, strong pulse soothing into something calm.

With both chests touching, Joel recognizes when your breathings harmonize.

He smiles, wondering if you already fell asleep.

You haven't. "You're such a dream, Joel." The words are whispered against his chest, where your lips are. Over the sternum of his collarbone, touching it feather-light. The words make crawl through his skin and as soon as they make contact with his ribcages, they start growing there. A dream.

He understood the feeling. You were a dream. He hugs you tighter, wishing he burns this tender blue-lit moment in his mind to always come back to when he needs comfort. (When you're not around.)

"You're a dream, too, baby."

For a second, he wonders if you heard it. Then, he feels it.

A smile on his skin.

A dream or not, you two are in the same haze. That's all he needs. Let him sleep for good if it's like this — with you. In your arms.

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 💖

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back. Just saying hehe.

#usernexusnyx #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #soft joel squad #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller self insert #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal smut

[yesimwriting]

hii 💗

so im currently obsessed with best friend!felix and wanted to request that perhaps their relationship evolves to a point where they’re practically dating but they’re both unaware of it

thank youu

a/n omg you understand them so well

----

There are certain expectations attached to Felix's name, weaved into each syllable like delicate stitches in a tapestry that depicts a family crest. You're not unaware of what the world associates with him, not oblivious enough to lack a general idea of what most assume when they think of being close to someone like him.

People would never guess that the best part of being best friends with Felix are the little things, the small gestures that show how careful he can be when he cares.

The girls you usually sit with in your last class changed so drastically when they saw him on the bench outside of your lecture hall. They whispered and giggled and twirled silky hair around their fingers. It made something in your stomach turn to stone... and you still can't figure out why. You'd be hypocritical to fault them for gossip.

They eventually started chatting about the type of girls someone like him must like. That only made things more awkward when Felix finally spotted you and waved you over. They gaped at you, and with Felix waiting, you weren't given the space needed to stumble through an explanation. The only thing you could manage was a shy 'it's not like that' and a sentence you barely remember that used the word 'friend' way too many times to be structurally sound. It didn't stop them from begging you for details next class before you finally walked away.

Now, in Felix's room, his hand on your shoulder, firm enough to be anchoring, you can't help but compare reality with what they must be imagining. The only details you can offer them are mundane. A fact that only makes you more protective of these moments. They wouldn't get it.

You're convinced no one can, so why take their comments to heart? Even Farleigh, who actually does know Felix tries to twist your friendship into something salacious, something worth gossiping about.

"You're tense." His voice comes out so low you're not sure if you're meant to respond. Felix's thumb traces circles against the top of your shoulder. "You said you had a good day today."

Felix reads your mood with a talent that'd make you uneasy if he was anyone else. "I did." The words feel flat, tired, even though your day was objectively good. You had time to stop for a coffee before class, a TA handed back graded exams and you did better than expected, and you finally finished your essay. "Just Tuesday and Thursday classes."

He nods once empathetically, thumb pressing into your skin. "Tired?"

"Yeah."

The two of you are quiet for a moment. Lulls in conversation have a tendency to make you feel the need to compensate. With Felix, the silence never asks to be rushed through. "Want to rest your eyes for a little?"

This wouldn't be the first time you took a nap in Felix's room. It's not exactly a habit--yet--but it's circling that territory. Sometimes he'll go to sleep with you, other times he'll stay up reading to you.

The offer is irritatingly perfect. You want to say yes, but you--ugh. This is what you get for talking to Farleigh. This is ridiculous. There isn't anything unusual or potentially romantic about your friendship with Felix. You're close, and when it comes to Felix, close is all consuming.

You briefly let your eyes shut. "Sounds nice, but I--I have a lot of homework."

In one movement, he lets his hand slip down your arm and his head fall against your shoulder. "C'mon," his breath is warm against your neck, "I'm tired, too."

The weakness in your resolve makes you like yourself a little less. You swallow, mentally preparing yourself to fight against your fondness. "Out late partying?"

He sighs against you, the sound more amused than it wants to be. "Oh, yeah, Oliver and I were out until the ungodly hour of 11:30." You move your arm, nails brushing a few strands of his hair back into place. "I sleep better when you're here."

Felix is always so warm, it's nearly impossible to not get caught up in it. You almost told him that he could have come over. That the movie you went to see with your roommate had ended around 10:30 and that the only reason you were dismissive when he called is because of what Farleigh had said in the library.

Instead, you settle for running your fingers through his hair. "I told you, Nadia and I went to the movies."

He sighs again, the sound a little sharper this time, almost a huff. A smile tugs at your lips. Felix looks up, half-glaring-half-pouting. "You think it's funny?"

"No," you try, extending the syllable in an attempt to prove your innocence.

Something shifts, you feel it before Felix moves. He straightens, taking his weight off you, likely in an attempt to lull you into a false sense of insecurity. You lean back, resting your weight on one hand. The bit of space you're quick enough to create isn't enough to save you.

Felix leans forward, hand finding the shoulder farthest from him. It's instinct to lean back further in an attempt to duck out from beneath his arm. The move paired with a laugh that makes you lose balance proves to be a mistake. Felix is too tall, too inescapable. His other hand finds your side and you have no choice but to let your back hit the mattress.

He's not pinning you down, but he is hovering in a way that makes you think twice about moving. "Felix." It's meant to come off as threatening, but you're still giggling and it only makes him grin.

"What?" You bravely lift an arm, placing your palm flat on his chest. You will yourself to push him away. He pulls a hand back, giving up trapping you in favor of covering the back of your palm with the front of his. "You started it."

"Doesn't sound like me."

His smile widens. "No?"

He pulls your hand away from him, and for a second, you think he might be ready to release you, but then he presses a kiss to the side of your hand. The warmth of the gesture would normally make you dizzy, but with Farleigh's words ringing in your ears...it's impossible to fully relax.

His eyebrows pinch together, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you hum, "Just tired. Like you said."

He gently sets your hand down. "Y'sure you don't want a nap?"

"No." You're only human. "A nap sounds nice. Just need to use the bathroom first."

Felix squeezes your hand once before shifting onto his back. His absence leaches all the heat from your body. Suddenly, it does feel like a damp autumn day.

You sit up, sock clad feet instinctually slipping into Felix's discarded slippers. They're too large, and you always have to remember to watch your step when you steal them, but they're so plush it's worth the caution.

There's a familiar bundle of fabric thrown over the back of the desk chair. You unzip your jacket. The cold air bites at you as you slip off the thin fabric. You grab Felix's jumper, instinctually pulling it over your head. The material engulfs you in his essence.

You shut the door behind you as you step into his bathroom. Why is something so small getting to you so much? And something that Farleigh, of all people, planted in your head. He likes to twist things until they resemble something entertaining or beneficial. We're just friends. Are you sure?

What kind of a question even is that? Obviously, you'd know if you were dating someone. Obviously, you'd know if you were dating Felix. So of course your answer was a little forced and awkward. Farleigh should have teased you about it. Instead, he looked at you oddly, eyebrows pulled together almost sympathetically, and told you he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anyone be that close with their friends. Not even Felix.

Okay--don't think about it. What does Farleigh know about genuine, platonic friendships?

You turn on the sink. Splashing some water on your face will he--a bottle of moisturizer and face wash. Spares that you had picked up for Felix to try, go to's for you during impromptu sleepovers.

You force yourself to look up. Your reflection stares back at you, Felix's jumper sliding off your shoulder, exposing the sleeve of your shirt.

You dab water against your face before shutting off the sink. Maybe some sleep will help. You'll take your nap, and then you and Felix will wake up, and you'll see that everything's the same.

Felix is already beneath the sheets when you step out of the bathroom. You walk to the edge of the bed, sliding off his slippers before climbing into bed.

"Darling?" You hum in response before craning your neck to look at him. Felix's gaze is fixed on the ceiling. "Are y--Did something happen?" You freeze. Has Farleigh been telling other people what he told you? Did all of it circle back to Felix in some embarrassing way? "With us, I mean?"

The clarification is too small, too uncertain to fit him. You lift your head. "What?" His attention is still on what's above. "No." With a sigh, you lean forward until your chin's resting on his stomach. "Of course we're fine." He tilts his head slightly, eyes finally landing on yours. Felix is quiet for a moment, taking in your expression. Treating him differently isn't fair. "Do you think we're too close?"

His expression falters, the slight concern behind his eyes morphing into something more closed off. "You--you think we're too close?"

"No." You don't even have to think about it. Maybe that's what bothered you about what Farleigh said. You don't want to think about what should be different because you know you don't want to feel less close to him.

He doesn't ease, and you can't blame him. You place a hand on his side, smoothing your thumb up and down the fabric of his shirt. "I--just--the other day, Farleigh ran into me in the library, and we started talking and he made some comments...." Felix groans. "About how close we were, and at first, it just felt like Farleigh, and then he said a lot of people assume things and--I--"

"Who cares what other people think?" Felix shifts, his fingers tracing patterns against your back. "We're happy with how we are."

You smile, "Yeah." It's probably easy to dismiss opinions and rumors when you're someone like Felix. You decide that it's okay to borrow his worldview. "I am happy."

Felix grins, available hand moving to grab yours. He kisses your palm before placing your hand back on his side. He squeezes your hand against the space between his ribs and hip. "I'm happy, too."

You grin, angling your head downwards to press a kiss against his chest before laying down fully. Felix's knuckles run up and down your back. It's soothing, making everything else disappear long enough to let you fall asleep.

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae

i love how much you guys seem to like bestfriend!felix 😭 i have some more requests/fics for him coming,, someone in one of my asks said they weren't sure if i was still taking requests for him and i definitely am,, he's so fun to write for

#saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton #bestfriend!felix #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

[morallyinept]

Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York Halloween One Shot 🎃

Summary: It's Halloween and you're settling in for a creepy night alone with a scary movie, when three masked intruders break in. And they have more tricks than treats in mind for you. 🎃

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 10.5k ish - 'Issa long one. Better grab some spooky snacks. 👻

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶🌶 "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Explicit: DARK/DDDNE/implied noncon/implied dubcon/CNC/free use/anything goes/implied forced/established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/squirting/anal play/restraint/dirty talk/derogatory/some mild degradation/some mild assault in the form of slaps, scratching, biting/jump scares/mentions of clowns & a clown mask image below the cut - eh, some people hate 'em. Dave York comes with his own warning. 🥴

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

Author's Note: Happy Halloween!! 🎃 I'm fully aware that this might not be for everyone, and that's totally fine. You can just move on quietly if it's not for you. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Couldn't think of any better trio of Pedro Boys to mess with you on Halloween, other than Frankie, Joel & Dave.

Enjoy! 🖤🎃

MASTERLIST

The lounge is dimly lit. 

Shadows curated from the trenches of nightmares claw across the walls as you perch on the edge of your worn-out couch, crowded with the mass invasion of mis-matched cushions. 

The eerie glow from the flat screen casts an otherworldly pallor upon your face, accentuating the nervous flicker around your eyeballs that are wide with bulging scleras; watery white orbs in the dark.

The room is drenched in an unsettling silence, broken only by the haunting soundtrack of the horror movie slashing its way across your screen, from which you can’t tear away your fixed gaze. 

Every creak of the house, every groan in the walls, sends fleeting shivers down your spine as you clutch one of the cushions tightly, pulled further into the chilling world of the movie. 

It's Halloween night and the bowl, brimming full of sugared candy treats for the Witching Hour to begin, is resting languidly on the coffee table ready for the barrage of trick-or-treaters bound to harangue you all night long. Until you stop answering the door and devour them all for yourself. It always happens. 

But, as you watch the movie, engrossed in the suspenseful carnage that is about to erupt, slowly bringing mouthfuls of warm, buttery homemade popcorn up to your mouth, you start to regret it.

You always do this to yourself; cue the manic paranoia afterwards, lying in bed and getting freaked out by strange noises rattling around in the house. Turning the light off and running up the stairs really, really fast so a crazed, masked killer - that is purely a figment of your over active imagination, whose just endured copious hours of jump scares - doesn't get you.

As the movie’s tension mounts, so too does your own. Your heart races in sync with the frantic, heavy beats of the ominous bass that vibrates in through your toes. Fear creeps up your spine with icy tendrils, constricting your chest with each suspenseful twist. 

A young Jamie Lee Curtis is running for her life across the screen; a giant man in a boiler suit and waxy mask wielding a kitchen knife is chasing her, and you're yelling at her to run.

Run bitch!

You're invested wholly in the terror of the movie. Your fingernails leave crescent imprints on the fabric of the cushion you clutch, as if they could anchor you to reality amidst the growing dread that consumes you. 

The room’s shadows deepen, feel heavier somehow in the darkest corners and seem to slink and shift in the periphery of your vision. Your mind plays tricks on you, conjuring grotesque shapes from the inky void to float towards you, but any sense of your own mild panic is marred by the screaming on the screen that pulls your attention away. 

The rest of the house is unusually quiet around you, its existence ebbing away. Oblivious to the malevolent, unseen eyes that seem to pierce through the darkness, you continue to fill your mouth with the salty, puffed kernels.

"Run, why are you standing there, just fucking run!" You crunch to Jamie Lee; your eyes wide and the music hammering around you loudly as the killer is in the house with her, and she hasn't realised it yet.

Oh, the irony.

A figure continues to emerge from the swirly shadows, edging towards you in the dark where the light of the TV hasn't reached. It moves with a haunting grace as if it's part of the very darkness it inhabits. You feel hairs prickle up on the back of your neck as you watch the tension on the screen play out. 

You know how this shit goes down; you've seen this movie millions of times, but it still gets you. Still makes you jump out of your skin at the right parts and-

"BOO!" 

A maniacal laugh pierces your eardrum from behind and you screech in absolute terror.

The bowl of popcorn ends up all over the floor as you launch yourself up from the couch like you’ve been tasered, turning and screaming as you hear that sinister laugh morph into one you begin to recognise.

Big, splayed hands reach for you from within the dark and you squeal louder, backing up as the sinister marauder advances on you.

"Hey it's me, muñeca. It's me!" But he's still laughing and it's not fucking funny.

Your heart is trying to make a dash out of your throat and you swear to God some pee might’ve trickled down your leg.

"What the Hell are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"

You slap his hands away angrily as he reaches for your shaky ones, and the light from the TV assures you it's Frankie, still chuckling to himself from behind a cheap, neon-coloured clown mask.

"Jesus Christ," you sigh, catching your breath. 

You're still trying to choke your thrashing heart back down into your chest. It's not going down without a rowdy fight apparently as you cough and splutter. "Why would you scare me like that?! What are you wearing?" You query with a shudder as he pulls off the grotesque mask. 

It's a sinister, somewhat ugly clown, complete with rainbow coiffed curls, white cracked rubber for a face and peeling red nose. All your explicit, childish nightmares come true to form and are made graphically real - too real. You shiver again as you see it, now crumpled up in his hand.

"You should've seen your face!" He's laughing again and it's hard not to punch him right now. Or drop kick him in the balls.

"I fucking hate clowns." You growl, shoving him in the broad shoulder, as he tries to pull you towards him, but you resist in protest.

"Hey, it's just me." Frankie reassures, pulling you into the stack of his chest and trying to kiss your cheek in attempted fuzzy apologies, but you still repel him. 

"I know," you say, rubbing your arm uneasily and pouting at him. “It’s not funny.”

"Aww, hermosa. Come here, I'm sorry. Voy a parar, lo siento. Lo siento." He pulls you closer into his strong arms wrapping you up tight for a moment, and closing your eyes you're immediately in your safe place; safe in Frankie’s arms where nothing horrific can get you.

You feel your heartbeat regain its usual steady tempo and your body melts into a heated pool of slush as he soothes you, rubbing his large hands up and down your back.

It's hard to stay mad at him when he holds you like this. 

"Aren't you going to be late?" You murmur a few enraptured seconds later into his warm neck skin; your nose nuzzling into the soft, sparse scruff that roots there. You taste it as the oaky scents of his heady cologne makes your mouth water. 

He groans deliciously, stirring a flurry again in your rib cage, as you run your tongue up towards his ear and suck gently on the lobe.

"Mmm," he smiles blissfully, crushing your bones into his. You feel his hands now sliding down further, past the small of your back, and pawing at the pliable meat of your ass. 

You tug hard on his ear with your teeth and he hisses as you clamp down.

"Ow!" He whines. You snicker up at him. 

"Revenge." You titter. 

“Eso duele,” he gripes, pouting. 

"Look at this mess." Your bare feet are crunching into the popcorn that’s all over the floor as if an Arctic blast has just hit. 

"I'll help you clean up." Frankie offers, tossing the clown mask onto the couch. You make a mental note to throw the ghastly thing in the trash once he’s gone. 

"No, you go. The guys are waiting for you." 

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile, and watch as Frankie retrieves his favourite blue cap from his back pocket, unfolds and fixes it back into its rightful place on his tufty curls.

"I'll just be a few hours. Beers and some cards..." He smiles with cocoa eyes.

"Take as long as you want. I'll probably be asleep when you get back anyway." You say grimacing down at the mess.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just gonna finish up the movie then climb into bed early." 

"Hardcore." He teases, pulling you towards him again. 

You kiss him on the lips gently. He wraps his hands around the small of your back and you can feel him. Feel that mounting swell of him against your belly as he stiffens in his stonewash Levi’s. 

The kiss between you intensifies, his tongue slipping slowly into the hungry void of your mouth. A polluting convergence of wanton desire and longing as he murmurs into your wet gums. It sizzles in your bloodstream, warming you from the inside out. 

"Might have to wake you up…" Frankie purrs as you pull away, breathless; your heart thudding, as well as your clit that feels like it’s growing in size and weighing you down.

You grin, clenching internally at the thought of how Frankie specialises in waking you up.

You pull on the lapels of his jacket, twisting the artichoke corduroy, working through the mental images of tossing him on the couch, straddling his face and sending him to the guys with your slick drying in his facial scruff. 

"Go on, get going, you jackass." You warn, bending down to pick up the popcorn bowl. You feel a gentle swat on your butt. 

"Enjoy the movie, baby." He says.

You smile standing upright. "Say hi to Joel and Dave for me." 

Frankie turns back to you, his eyes appearing like black shiny marbles in the dark shadows, and smiles sinisterly at you. 

An hour or so later - the clown mask successfully dumped in the trash ceasing to haunt you - and you’ve already given up answering the door to demanding, greedy little witches, hobgoblins and mummies wrapped up in cheap ply toilet paper. 

The bowl of candy is now nestled snugly in your lap; the floor clear of the discarded popcorn. Your eyes are glued back to the flat screen as you finish the remainder of the movie, sinking down further into the couch so that you’re almost horizontal, as you chew and suck the candy corn clacking around your teeth.

A knock on the door a little while later makes you jump, but you ignore it, deciding the kids in your neighbourhood have had their fill. You reach for your phone - the light illuminating your face in the dark with Frankie’s beaming grin whilst he noogies you set as your wallpaper - to see it’s a little past nine PM. 

You toss it on the couch beside you, absorbing in the movie, reaching into the candy bowl for more as Michael Myers terrorises Jamie Lee to no end.

The door knocks again, this time a thudding hammering.

What the hell?

You pause the movie and get up with the candy bowl, padding over to the hall and towards the front door. The knocks grow louder, more insistent, making you flinch.

“Alright, Jesus!” You call out as you open the door, expecting to see a cluster of snarky little demons holding out their treat bags gluttonously.

But as you wrench the door open, you’re met with only the stark emptiness of the dense night. Frowning, you poke your head out further and see there's only vacant spaces hidden in the shadows of the porch. 

You shut the door, convincing yourself it’s a harmless prank from bored teenagers that you’ve become a victim to.

You run your hand around a niggling crick in your neck from slumping on the couch for so long and head back towards the lounge. 

Before you reach the end of the hall, another barrage of hammering rattles through your body. Turning, you march towards the front door and pull it open again.

“This isn’t funny, you little dipshits!” You holler out determined to catch them in the act. 

Again, there’s nobody there; the street is empty, devoid of any life or wily children making the rounds for poison candied apples. You hesitate, torn between curiosity and a faint bleed of fear haemorrhaging somewhere within your muscles. 

“The fuck…?” You query as a cold breeze nips at the tops of your shoulders as you step out onto the porch.

“Hello?” You call out, nerves already frayed as they're going to get this evening; your patience is running thin.

The eerie silence of the night that greets you back seems deafening as it plugs up all your senses. The breeze restlessly pulls the goose bumps out of your pores and you instantly feel foolish, if but a little rattled. 

Sighing, you retreat back inside. You wait for a few moments, listening, waiting again for the sound of the phantom knocker. You shake your head listlessly and with a stupefied mirth to yourself, even though the lingering sense of unease remains, trying to claw at your ankles.

You bolt the chain across the door before you finally walk away, convincing yourself that it’s nothing more than your paranoid mind left to its jangled devices. 

Of all the nights to play fucking pranks. 

Once the movie is over, you climb the stairs up to bed; washing up in the bathroom, now dressed in your matching shorts and shirt pyjama set, and brushing out the candy now cemented in your molars. 

Once you're sunk into the softness of your mattress, you roll over onto Frankie’s side, missing his shape wrapped around your body and the feel of his breath warming the back of your neck as he snores lightly.

The musky scents of him linger in the sheets and you inhale deeply, reminding yourself that you live in reality and not some torrid nightmare with crazed, masked killers. 

As you drift off, you smile at the thought of him losing at poker to Joel and Dave, and how much shit you’ll know they’ll both give him for it too. 

It wakes you, bleeding into your chromatic unconsciousness and interrupting your stunted, dreamless sleep. 

A sense of unease washes over you, amplified by the eerie stillness that still hangs in the air as you glance the time on the alarm clock. It sears its menacing red vitriol into your sleepy retinas brightly. 

It's just past midnight and Frankie’s side of the bed is still empty. 

You lay still and clammy in the sheets, straining your ears to hear what had interrupted your sleep, trying to discern whether it’s real or if your mind had yelled at you from somewhere in the void, pulling you out with a jolt instead. 

You close your eyes and roll over again, your arm tingling numb from sleeping on it, when you hear it again. 

At first you dismiss it as a product of your overactive imagination, still haunted by the spooky shenanigans of the night, or the creaks in the house coming out to taunt you further for shits and giggles. But it’s there, unmistakably. A faint sound ruminating from downstairs. 

“Frankie? That you?” You call softly, sitting up. 

You listen out, the waves of your heartbeat rolling and crashing into the tide of your eardrums, disturbed only by a siren passing in the night.

You slip out of the sheets and pad over to the bedroom door that’s ajar. You're certain you'd shut it when you came up. 

“Frankie?” You call over the landing and wait. 

There’s a loud clanging noise that startles you and you step backwards. 

Nope!

Dashing into the bedroom, you reach into the closet for Frankie’s old college baseball bat that’s beaten up and splintered to hell, but it’ll serve as some protection.

You grab your phone with the intent to call Frankie to come and kick some ass. You swipe across the screen and dial Frankie’s number. It rings off as your battery dies.

“What?” You murmur as you fiddle around with the wire, certain you had plugged it in to charge, trailing it down to the socket and find it’s unplugged and left loose on the floor. Shit!

The noise from downstairs stirs your attention, making you jump, and you’re more than convinced there is someone in the house. 

“Frankie, if you’re fucking with me again, I swear to God, I’m gonna kill you!” You mumble to yourself, standing up and tiptoeing towards the door. 

It falls quiet and you step closer to the top of the stairs. 

“Frankie!” You hiss out, assuming he’s probably drunk and rattling around down in the kitchen and making a mess, but you also don’t want to take the chance in case it’s not.

You descend down the stairs slowly, quietly as you can muster; the bat firmly in your hand and poised ready to swing. You convince yourself that you’ll be able to take them. Frankie’s shown you a thing or two about how to carry yourself.

Yeah. Come on, you fucker.  

With your pulse rising in your ears, you step into the hall, glancing at the front door. It's still chained up and the dread fully overtakes you.

You raise the bat and round the corner into the lounge. You reach for the light switch and flick it up, but the lights don’t come on at all. You flick it up and down a few times, but you remain in the swamping dark.

Fuck! 

You hear the sound again, and it’s indeed coming from the kitchen. Loud and rustling. 

“Frankie?” You call out gently. The sound stops and you’re certain you hear footsteps. Perhaps, realising that you'd locked him out, he's come home through the back door.

"Frankie, answer me."

You head towards the kitchen, the orange light pooling in from the lamp post outside illuminates the trash can that's now overturned on the floor. You look down and kick it warily with your foot. You think you can see a shadow moving to your left.

The air shifts heavily against the back of your neck, and you yelp, swinging the bat with conviction. 

“Uh-ho, we gotta live one!” A thick voice booms as a giant hand catches the bat mid swing.

The voice comes from underneath a creepy vampire mask, complete with fangs and a bloodstained cleft. He wrenches the bat from you, in easily the biggest hands you’ve ever seen, and you hear it clatter away across the tiled floor. 

You scramble backwards. A leather gloved hand clamps over your mouth, as your arms are crushed behind your back, muffling out your panicked screams. 

You struggle and recoil against the body that holds you in a vice-like grip, despite your legs thrashing like you’re fighting against the tide. 

You glance up behind you and see another mask, this time a ghoul with pieces of skin missing, greets you. It's too dark to see the eyes through the slits. But you can hear his laugh; a cold mist of breathy chuckles as you struggle and fight against him.

His gloved hand presses harder over your mouth drowning out your squeaks into frantic inhalations as you struggle to breathe around it. All you can think of is Frankie. Doing some desperate Jedi Mind Trick shit to conjure him here to beat the crap out of these intruding assholes. 

The Vampire steps towards you, cocking his head and his hulking frame immediately intimidates you, terrifies you even. 

But a flood of adrenaline makes you kick out and your foot collides with his kneecap. 

He growls as he jolts. “Hey now! There’ll be none of that, darlin’,” he warns sinisterly. 

In a nanosecond, that voice registers somewhere familiar in the back of your skull, but before you have time to churn and process it into coherent thought, your arm is twisted further up your spine making you cry out around the gloved hand pressing against your teeth; the pressure making them ache. 

“Grab her legs.” The Ghoul instructs as The Vampire reaches for them and clamps tightly around your ankles as you try to repl against him. 

They manoeuvre you into the lounge where another figure emerges from the shadows, now illuminated by a couple of gloaming candles flickering on the coffee table. 

Your eyes widen as you recognise the gnarly clown mask from the trash, shaking the lit match in his fingers until it's extinguished.

You’re tossed face down into the couch and you scramble, gasping and yelling out as they pin you quickly. 

"Get off of meeee!" 

The Ghoul on your right, The Vampire on your left. Their auspicious, maniacal laughter ringing in your ears; their tight grip cementing you in place, pinching painfully against your skin.

The Clown steps closer peering down at you through the mask; his chest rising and falling, steadily puffed out in his menacing stance.

Your eyes widen as he advances closer, his hands moving towards his belt; thick, long fingers slowly unbuckling it.

You yell out, struggling, but it’s futile. “No, NO!” You kick and scream, the dread poisoning your bloodstream, and they all laugh. 

"Help! Hel-pffh!"

The gloved hand of The Ghoul wraps around your throat murdering your yells into dying croaks that choke out of you like sloppy hiccups. 

"Ain't no-one gonna hear ya, darlin'." The Vampire mocks. "S'just you n’ us, pretty girl. All night." 

The Clown kicks at your ankles separating them as The Vampire yanks your left leg towards him. The Ghoul follows with your right leg and it feels like he pulls it out of the joint.

You're completely opened up, your shorts riding tight up against your centre, and locked into place unable to move. You focus on The Clown and the sinister way in which he moves, head slightly cocked and revelling in your plight; a sadistic voyeur in this cruel fate.

Your breathing is frantic, sucking in too much oxygen making you a little light headed. 

The Clown edges closer, his horrifically masked face craning closer towards yours and you can see those dark eyes staring back at you, unblinking and unflinching.

“Trick or treat?” He simply taunts. 

You’re frozen, paralysed. 

The fear has gripped you tight in a vice so binding that you’re unable to process basic motor functions. Both your fight or flight senses have left you, fled screaming into the night.

You can hear them. All around you. Their rabid voices hitching through the masks; verbal plotting laced with undulating horrors of menace. All the ways they want to feast on you rattles tinny in between your ears. 

Their hands paw at you, tear at your supple flesh like a pack of ravenous wolves; groping, scratching, pinching. Tugging lewdly at the light cotton of your pyjama shorts and shirt. 

The monsters harangue your every sense, flood your synapses with their ill intent. Their white noise deafens you. 

Then, like you've been dunked head first under ice cold water, the sudden awareness of your predicament shakes you with alarm. It's enough to pump fast adrenaline through you like Popeye's spinach as you twist, screech and fight back with all you’ve got.

You’re not sure how you manage it - it's one for your brain to calculate the physics later - but you’re up on your feet, shoving The Clown backwards as he unzips his flies, leaving The Vampire growling.

But The Ghoul is up just as fast and chasing you down as you make a daring dash towards the front door. 

Your fingers rattle clumsily around the chain, cursing yourself that you attached it earlier, unable to get a steady grip on it, when you feel The Ghoul slam into you from behind. 

Your face is crushed hard into the wood as he pestles against you, stars flooding your eyes. You hear him snarling fistules of lava in your ear. He grabs your arms and drags you back. “No you don’t, bitch!” He seethes. 

Now begins the physical struggle that you’re bound to lose. You might have torn at him with your nails, but it barely marks him. Your desperate imploring of him to stop, that he's hurting you, has no effect either. His need is too desperate now for him to even hear you.

You feel his urgency, and realising there’s nothing further you can do or say, your body submits to him as he drags you along with ease - he’s simply too strong for you to fight off - they all are. 

He slams you down, bent forward, over the dining table; your temple and cheek slapping against it, dazing you for a second. 

You feel hands on your body, one hand slipping easily around your throat, the other slipping around the front of your belly pulling you back tight against him.

You feel him, feel the excitement of your helplessness goading him on. Feel that hardness of his twisted desire. Your wrists are restrained at your back, held in place as he easily and quickly manoeuvres them despite your struggles. 

“Please!” You cry out louder.

His voice is rough sounding in your ear. "Don't you dare scream, or I'll snap your pretty little neck!" Foul menace is hissed into you insidiously from The Ghoul. And you know he's not messing around. 

Through the commotion, you hear a chair being pulled out, creaky scrapes, and The Clown takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. He tosses a couple of black cable ties across the polished wood to The Ghoul.

The Ghoul secures your wrists together, sharp and snapping, and you whine with tears pooling in your eyes for them to let you go. To not do this. To please just stop.

The Clown, drawing one denim clad knee up, sitting back in the chair, watches darkly. 

You jut your leg out backwards in a last ditch attempt to not go down without a fight, clocking it into The Ghoul’s thigh and he growls and slams his fist on the table mere inches from your face.

He’s had enough now. 

He tears off his mask and presses his body over yours, suffocating you with his crushing strength. He grips round your chin and turns your head. The face that is presented back to you, smirking with dark brown eyes burning into you like hot embers, renders you useless as he twists your face to meet yours. You can hear your neck crack. 

Oh fuck.

“D-Dave?” You query confused. He grits his teeth, mouth pursed out as he stares you into a weak submission. He's pissed, livid.

You see movement over his shoulder as The Vampire emerges. 

“Cat’s outta the bag, hmm?” The Vampire says to Dave, a hefty hand resting on his shoulder. 

You watch in shock, and with something else starting to flare over your body, as The Vampire removes his own mask, crushing it in his large palm to reveal soft, greying curls slick with sweat in the chocolaty roots. 

“Joel?" You gasp. 

“In the flesh, darlin’.” He sneers through a smile that’s more unnerving than Dave’s fury somehow, completing this picture of terrifying machismo. 

“What is this, w-what’s going on?" You pant, your wrists burning as they struggle around the plastic snare keeping them together and tingling your fingers with numbness. 

Dave’s gloved hand squeezes around your jaw popping your lips open.

“Ssshh.” His leathered index finger pushes tightly to your mouth. Black butterflies dance over Dave’s features. You're tempted to bite down, but sensing this, he pushes another finger in and you heave as it tickles the back of your throat. 

Joel chuckles softly at your plight as he watches you choke around Dave's invading leather digits.  

"So this is what you look like sucking on Frankie's cock, hmm?" Dave taunts.

"Real fuckin' nice." Joel agrees, licking his lips. You catch him palming himself over his jeans and you feel a heavy flutter start to rustle from the grave in your core. 

You try to swallow but your mouth is stuffed so full of the padded leather that your saliva pools out the corner of your mouth and runs down your chin. 

Dave grips the side of your face with his other hand, his hips pushing you against the table. Joel lurches behind him like a stacked shadow, sealing off any gap for a potential escape. 

You want to be furious, you want to push him off you as he pushes his fingers into the furthest reaches of your throat and becomes mesmerised by it as you gag and retch. 

Instead, and in some fucked up depravity stirring from the pits, you melt under his force; enjoying the feel of it and nuzzling into his hand with your eyes closed, until he yanks your hair backwards and holds you still and taut.

You gasp out as he sniffs all over your neck and face like a dog. "Oh, you want this don't you, slut?"

Dave's sudden change in demeanour again does something to you; something wonderfully perverted and untamed. Something unexpected and he picks up on it immediately like a Bloodhound.

He pulls his hand out of the glove, but leaves it in your mouth, pressing it in further until you gag more and your cheeks fill with it.

"I can smell your cunt," Dave says in a voice you don't recognise. It's sinister and deep, yet with a jaunty bounce of a little chuckle on the end of it.

His macabre smile does nothing to appease the angst simmering away inside your stomach. Instead, it seems to intensify it to boiling point and it begins to ache in your gut like a heavy pull.

But then, a surge of devious pleasure swills in your bloodstream, seemingly from out of nowhere; you're aroused by becoming aroused at such a thing. A blooming in between your legs, the slickness of your pussy waking up to join this fucked up tea party. And the feel of your body becoming heated for him makes you sweat.

“Ain’t she pretty, hmm?” Joel taunts. 

Dave runs his mouth over your cheeks; he becomes possessed, animalistic almost as he glides it back and forth, back and forth. You feel his lips drag against yours but he doesn't kiss you, even though you're suddenly desperate to latch onto his lips - to feast on them like you're starved, despite the glove stuffed so unceremoniously into your mouth.

It sends shivers down your body and tingles inside your hair follicles that he’s pulling on tightly. The smoothness of his marble-like jaw, the plumpness of his bottom lip; a kaleidoscopic wonder of him that you've never really paid attention to before.

Somewhere, deep inside of you, you realise you’d always thought Dave was attractive, handsome. And now whilst he’s terrifying and rough, that attraction rears its ugly head and dives haphazardly into wanton lust.

The electric sparks zap down your spine and surges through your nipples that are tightening inside your pyjama shirt. You’re unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your clit throbs. 

He's right. You do want this. 

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you." Dave's hand reaches for his belt. 

You see Joel kneel down to your level as your eyes widen. You feel Dave yank down your pyjama shorts as he practically tears them from your legs. 

You sound your resistance out around the glove, but all that comes out is incomprehensible moans.

He swipes between your legs, and his fingers slip over your puffy cunt lips, and it's a dead giveaway at how drenched you are.

You feel Joel pat your shoulder. “S’okay, darlin’,” he soothes with maddening eyes. “We’re gonna take real care of ya.”

"Yeah. Feel that tight cunt that Frankie says you've got squeeze round me." Dave snorts. "Fuck, you're so wet…"

You hear yourself audibly whimper as his fingers find you soaking and wanting. He runs them up and down your fleshy seam and pushes two of them into your folds with a loud, undignified squelch.

He slides further up and knocks against your clit that aches and your thighs judder uncontrollably as he circles it. 

Joel reaches between your legs and takes a swipe for himself. You watch as he sucks your slick from his fingers and smirks. 

“Someone’s ready to be fucked, aren’t ya, darlin’?” Joel says to you. 

You shake your head and it clatters against the tabletop.

Dave moans into your ear, "what a little slut. Wet for me already. What would your boyfriend think?"

You whine as he increases the pressure on your clit, your legs already buckling underneath you. 

"Why don't we ask him, hmm? Hey Frank. What do you think about that?"

Your eyes dart to The Clown, watching you silently with tented fingers. 

"Frank!" Dave grunts again through gritted teeth. "Take that thing off and watch me fuck your girl.” 

A hand goes to The Clown's face and you recognise Frankie's features as they're revealed to you from under it. Your heart surges, feeling heavier in your chest. But Frankie doesn't look how you expect him to.

He doesn't look aghast or in disgust, or furious with Dave and Joel. No. He looks positively delighted and smirks darkly at you as Dave lines himself up against your oozing slit.

Frankie tosses the mask across the table. "Fuck her until she screams, Dave." He says casually cold. 

You watch helplessly as Frankie's lips twist up into a chilling smirk that ices right through your blood. 

You whimper helplessly. Your body is shattered with an agonising realisation as Frankie teases and encourages your plight rather than halting it.

You can feel your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest cavity - pumping courage into your veins, preparing you for what is about to happen. 

He’s not helping you, he’s not stopping this. You realise that he’s heinously a part of it. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to blind you and it feels like every bone in your body has snapped.

Dave shunts his cock into you so hard, that the table screeches and jostles forward against the floor. Frankie slaps his palms down so that he isn't crushed in the gut by it. 

"Shit! Never knew ya had it in ya, Yorkie-boy." Joel remarks with an impressed grin. 

"Fuck you, Joel." Dave pants from behind you. 

He’s not gentle as he drills in, pushing himself into the deepest parts of you he can reach as he fucks you. Your pussy welcomes him in, sucking around him, despite your body clenching initially.

Slowly, you’re unfurling, you’re taking it, taking him, whether you want to or not. Your mind is still trying to figure that part out.

He’s packing you out and filling you to the brim as he surges into a vile, hypnotic rhythm. You’re gasping around the glove; groaning and moaning as your body performs the ultimate betrayal against you, and starts to unwillingly peak. 

“Mmph, nufffph…” You lament helplessly around the suffocating glove. 

"Look at this slut, coming already. Barely fucked you, sweetheart and you're coming all over me!" Dave cajoles as though he's unimpressed. 

"His cock feel too good in ya, honey?" Joel asks, stroking at your sweat laden face.

You whine, unable to speak with the glove still stuffed in your orifice.

"Oh, I know, darlin'. Let's get that out, shall we?" Joel reaches for the leather and slowly pulls it out of your stretched, dry mouth. "That better?"

You nod, licking around your taut gums. "Uh-huuuah…" You groan as your back tenses and your body arches.

Dave pistons in deep, grabbing a hold of the meat of your hips with sharp, tight fingers. You can already feel the bruises forming as he squeezes around your malleable flesh. 

Joel smiles, grabbing at your jaw, squeezing it tightly in a binding crush of his fingers and stubby thumb. "Tell me how good it feels with Dave’s cock in ya cunt." 

"G-goo-ood." You whimper, snottily. You say it to appease him; it’s what he wants to hear, but Dave’s hitting those spots inside you that creep up your shoulders and whisper in your ear that it does, in fact, feel good.

Your muscles are tense all over your body making you feel like lead, but that building heat is melting it all away until you’re a boiling, metallic liquid running off the table to melt Joel’s boots. 

"Just good?” Joel frowns. “Ya can do better than that. He’s giving it to ya hard, honey n’ you’re telling me it’s just good?” He shakes his head disapprovingly. 

"S-so goo-ood…" you stutter, your words being forced out of your larynx with every brutal thrust Dave gives you as he riles and growls behind you.

"Tell him it's the best fucking cock ya've ever had." Joel prompts with a controlled voice. 

"It's t-the best cock… I've ever ha-haad." You hiccup through your wails.

Dave continues to pummell you. You can't take it anymore, it begins to hurt as he nudges against your cervix like a battering ram. It begins to charge and stew. It begins to turn you out, kicking and screaming by the ankles as your fingertips fizz and your eyes roll back into your skull as though possessed by the emergence of another haunting orgasm, only this time stronger than the last.

It's burning, licking all over your skin and melting you. He's taking from you, owning you. 

And it feels oh so fucking good.

"Oh God, oh fuck!" You cry. “Please! Fuck, yes!” You’re babbling; possessed by the inucubus-like demons that twist and trick and convince you that you want this as they lick at your ear. That somewhere, in the back of your mind, this has always been a dark fantasy that you’ve been reluctant to walk the path of.

You can feel the drool from your mouth pool on the table under you, sticking to your cheek like syrup. 

Joel slaps your face and it stings you back to reality for a second. "Louder darlin'!"

"It's the… aaah-ha! Oh God! The-best-fucking-cock-I've-ever-fucking-had! Aaahh! Fuuuuuck!" You wail as Dave snaps his hips into you and you fold completely in half. 

You're shaking and can't seem to stop, Dave's dastardly grunts filling your ears as you squeeze and flood him. "That's it baby, soak my cock. Just like that you little slut." 

"Ohh. Frankie. Man. That's gotta hurt." Joel snorts as he lets your face go and it falls back against the table with a heavy thunk. You've no energy to keep it up right now as you succumb to Dave’s cock tearing you open whilst your bones dissolve. 

Frankie purses his lips as Joel stands up with a smirk tossed at him. The two men watching you as Dave brutally gives you a pounding that feels like it’ll never let up.

And you kinda don’t want it to. 

“Enjoying the show, boys?” Dave pants around a wheezed laugh. 

He reaches forward and pulls at your hair again, snapping your neck up, your spine bending backwards on itself like a screwed up question mark, as he holds you there in a warped contortion and your body can only take it. 

It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel good and devouring. You should be repulsed, you should be frightened with how he's invaded you. You should be doing everything you can to fight him off. 

But you don’t want to.

You want him to snap your spine in half and eat your insides. You want Dave to annihilate you and pulverise your body into ashy dust. You want him to make you come again. 

“Watch me break your girl in half, Frank.” Dave croons evilly, as if able to read your thoughts. 

“Oh god... fuck... please!" Even your mouth betrays you now, begging him for more. "Dave! Pleasepleaseplease…"

But somehow your cries and begging him only make your orgasm that much more intense. And while he laughs, while they all laugh at you being railed on the dining table, deep derisive chuckles at your utter humiliation by Dave’s hands, you come again right on top of the other; your entire body shaking and trembling as you’re being exorcised of any reluctant demons left inside you.

You want this. You want them all to have their fill and to fill you up. You want to be tossed around and shared by them all. Left muddied and stained. 

"Daaaaaave!" You wail.

“That’s it, scream for me! I fucking love it when little sluts scream. Little sluts who scream like they don't want this cock buried in their cunt." Dave grunts into your scalp and he’s all teeth. 

You’re completely out of breath. Your body is caving into him as he ruts and fucks you harder, deeper and without any intention of stopping soon.

You’re starting to believe it when he said he’d always wanted to do this, always wanted to fuck you. And now that he his, it's more terrifying and wonderful than what you could have imagined. 

You can feel him speed up, really giving you his all, as his breathing starts to wane. His thighs are constant thuds against your ass cheeks, so much so that you imagine the skin between you is now one.

“Fuck!” He yells out. 

When Dave comes, it’s like he’s howling at the moon; turning himself around his bones and sinew as he pants and wheezes like an animal with bloodied carcass strings hanging around his teeth.

You feel him pump into you, his thighs buckling and his hands releasing your hair from around his grip; you feel like you’ve been scalped. 

He lets go of you completely, tossing your used body onto the tabletop like garbage, as his cock slips out and you can feel his come pooling at your entrance. You inadvertently squeeze to stop it sluicing down your thighs as your panting subsides.

You’re dizzy, you’re seeing spots in your vision as you try to remember how to breathe. 

You’re given no remission; Joel’s there immediately as Dave steps back, catching you before you slide off the table into a heap as your legs finally give way. 

“I got ya, darlin’.” He scoops you up into his strong arms with ease, and carries you through to the lounge. 

Joel makes his way with you in his arms; his heavy boots crunching in some of the popcorn spilt on the floor in your earlier fright from Frankie that you'd missed clearing up.

He sits on the sofa, cradling you in his wide lap and stroking through your hair gently. Your arms are aching, feeling like they're on fire as your wrists are still lashed together tightly behind your back. 

You look up, in a heady stupor, to see Frankie still watching from the dining table with a blank, unreadable face and dark eyes, and Dave pouring a glass of water and gulping it back, clearing his throat, naked from the waist down and puffing out his cheeks that are pink with the exertion. His face shines with sweat. 

“Let’s get these off ya, darlin’,” Joel says. 

He pulls a switchblade from his back pocket and you flinch as the blade flicks open. He waves it under your eyelashes and you tense. 

“M’gonna cut ya free. Ya try anythin’ and I’ll slide this into your belly, y’hear me?” He pinches the fat of your stomach under the flaps of your pyjama shirt to emphasise the point. 

You nod frantically as he cuts the cable ties from your wrists. 

Tucking the knife away, he brings your hands around to your front and massages the feeling slowly back into them. They have purple rings around them that itch and weep from raw blisters. 

He brings your wrists to his lips and presses gentle kisses over the broken skin whilst holding eye contact with you.

An urge surges through your fingertips; you feel compelled to stroke through his curls, feel him nuzzle into you at his gentle nature. Run your nose over his facial scruff and see if it smells different from Frankie’s. 

But you don’t, he keeps your twitching hands firmly in his own as he kisses delicately, runs his soothing tongue around the welts. 

“Better?” Joel asks you after a few minutes. 

You nod as he pushes your knotted hair behind your ears.

“Alright, darlin’. Lay back. M’gonna fuck ya now.” 

"Please-" you start in a weak protest. Your body isn;t ready for another pounding yet.

"Shut up. Ya gonna take what I give ya like a good girl." He menaces in the same gentle tone, which is unnerving as it is heated. “In fact, let’s get you down here. Can splay ya out. S’better.”

Joel picks you up like you weigh nothing and lays you on the wooden floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his other hand effortlessly. It creaks across the wooden floor.

His foreboding, giant hands grip either side of your pyjama shirt lapels and wrenches it open with a quick yank; the buttons tearing and popping off, some never to be found again.

"Fuck," Joel groans as your breasts spill out at him. He leans forward over you, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking on it, pulling on it with his teeth and making you hiss. 

"Such a nice pair, darlin'. Jesus." He gruffs tonguing around your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He runs his mouth across the valley and peaks of your breasts, his tongue lavishing attention around those stiff nipples that he teases.

You feel him bite down on the meat of the left one and you hiss as he sucks the skin in around his teeth ferociously. He rises up when he’s left a purple mark. “Something for ya to remember me by,” he says. 

Your eyes water, yet you groan in response to his biting, and shut them as he leaves another mark on your sternum. You feel a sharp sting across your cheeks; you open them again in shock.

"Eyes on me." Joel warns. "Want you to watch me turn ya out." 

“Please, Joel…” You whine, trying to resist him and the way he can simply knead and spread you about with ease like you’re a pliable plasticine doll. But your body is too strung out from Dave’s gruelling punishment. It has no fight left in it.

You try to close your legs, but Joel’s too strong. He wrenches them apart with a simple shove of his hands making your thigh bones crack: his stocky body filling the gap and stopping you from shutting them again as he slots in between like a giant cinder block.

"Don't act like ya don't want me inside ya. I know you've been thinkin' 'bout me doing this to ya. You're a fuckin' tease." 

Joel's always been big. With his broad shoulders and biceps that often strain under his plaid shirts, he's the quieter one of the three of them, the softer one.

A gentle giant that would always come to your aid if you needed him. And he knows how to grill a mean steak when he invites you and Frankie over for barbecues and he makes for the perfect, gracious host. 

But tonight, he's showing you a side of him you never thought could exist. A side of him that's turning you on explicitly, despite the creeping exhaustion and pursed reluctance.

Joel's a Texan gentleman through and through. But tonight, he's a wild fucking animal. 

“Y'gonna hold ya girl steady for me, Frankie? Squirmy lil' thing ain’t she?" Joel grunts as he unbuckles his belt. 

Momentarily, you feel Frankie lifting your head into his lap and securing your arms above your head as you wriggle and headbutt against his thighs. “Don’t fight it, hermosa.” He warns. 

"Gon' make a mess of ya, darlin'," Joel smirks as he shuffles his jeans off and you spy his ominous cock; massively hard and dripping. It's huge, almost comically so, and you gulp. 

Fuck!

"Ya ever had a cock this big before? Gon' break ya open." Joel spits into his palm and smears it all around his fat head as he pumps himself. 

You gasp; a deep guttural howl transmorphing into a silent scream as Joel pushes the head of his engorged cock against your hole and begins stretching you out.

"Oh God… so fuckin’ tight. Ya didn't tell me how good this would be, Frankie." Joel groans through a slack jaw. "Ya can't be keeping this pussy to yourself. That ain't fair." 

You hear Dave snicker in agreement above you as he repositions himself on the couch to get a better view of your plight. 

“Oh fuck…” You cry out as Joel continues to push in further.

Frankie's cock was big, he often left a delicious ache deep inside you for days after. Even Dave's cock you'd feel bruising around your insides in the morning. But Joel? Fuck, Joel wasn't joking when he said he'd break you open.

It burns and sears and you feel so full despite him not being all the way in yet.   

"Fuck Joel, you're… it's too much. I can't-" You protest, shaking your head and screwing up your eyes.

"Suck it up." He grunts as he pushes his hips further into yours. 

"Take it," Frankie grizzles, as you try to thrash against his hands, pinning your arms down. Your whole body feels full of Joel as he finally stills; his full, fat length buried inside you and you can feel yourself rib and pulse around him, already on the cusp of falling apart. You're whimpering and shaking already.

"Well look at that, seems ya can take me after all, sweetheart." Joel smirks, the crest of his hips now pressed flush against yours. The weight of him crushing you somewhat. He looms over you, his gigantic palms flat on the floor by your head. 

"Please move," you whimper around grinding your teeth. “Oh God, Joel, you’re too fucking big-”

"What's that, darlin'? Ya begging me to fuck ya now?" Joel chuckles. "Ya girl's really greedy for cock, Frankie." 

“Fuck her,” Dave encourages. 

Joel pulls backwards and slams forward into you with a hard shunt. "There we go." 

"FUCK!" You wail, water blinding your eyes as they mist over. You feel him; one quick, hard shunt of his cock inside of you and you gasp at the full invading breach as he bottoms out.

Although it feels like he’s ripped right through your back. 

He does it again and your breath is pumped out of your lungs into the air above you as you flounder, trying to suck it all back in. 

Joel's large paws grab at your hips as he kneels up and steadies himself into a brutal pace, rattling your bones with each powerful thrust. 

Your hands squeeze into fists and you glance up at Frankie; a poised smirk over his upside down features, a few renegade curls falling into his face, watching Joel's thick cock hammer into you. 

Joel's grunts fill your senses, mesmerised by the way he looks down to see himself pull back and admire how wet his cock is with you before he raises his eyebrow up and smirks accomplished. “Greasin’ me up good, darlin’.”

“Joel!” You wail as he slams on in again. You’re just a body for him to fuck, a toy for him to twist out of shape and break apart. “Oh fuck, please, nuuaaaahhh!"

Your gasps and cries are soon silenced by Dave straddling your face and planting his heavy balls into your mouth. "Shut up and suck." He commands.

He strokes his now hard cock again, and groans as you’re forced to suck whilst Joel continues to annihilate your cunt. 

Dave smirks at Frankie who’s still pinning your wrists in place. 

You look up at them both, staring into one another as Dave jerks his cock and Frankie holds his eye contact with flared nostrils.

Dave grips onto Frankie's shoulder with a heavy clap. He growls whilst you suck on his balls that have completely filled your mouth, squeaking around them as Joel forcefully pulls another orgasm from you. 

Frankie rests his forehead against Dave's as he groans, fucking into his own fist. 

You see Frankie's lips twitch, whispering to him, but you can't hear anything over your own muffled squeaks and Joel's rabid panting.

You think you lipread Frankie telling Dave to come. To come for him, and that thought alone makes you surge and cry out as you release all over Joel's cock uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, Joel is destroying your cunt as he thrusts deep and with intent on making you feel it; feel him with every shunt that leaves you gasping for oxygen as it's pushed out of you by his dick. There's simply no room in your body for both. 

Your squeaking around Dave's balls reaches a fever pitch and the humming against them only makes him grunt and growl heavier. 

His grip on Frankie's shoulder tightens, screwing up his t-shirt as he pumps his cock faster. He tenses and you feel his balls lurch in your mouth as he spurts ropes of thick ejaculate all over Frankie's denim clad thighs. 

He hoists himself off of you, panting and sitting back on the couch. "Clean him up," Dave instructs you with a click of his fingers. 

Joel pulls out of you and flips you over onto all fours and ploughs back in as you shakily get to licking Dave's come off of Frankie's jeans. 

"Good slut," Dave praises as he sits back on the couch, his arm slung over his face and breathes deeply. 

You feel Joel pry apart your ass cheeks. You feel a wet globule of his spit on your ass and you flinch at it, feeling it cool and sloppy as he rubs his thick fingers around it, teasing your puckered hole.

You then feel Joel's thumb stretch through your rim. You instinctively clench and he growls. 

"Clench and it's gon' hurt. I'll make sure of it." He smacks your ass as you yelp from the sting.

"Relax, hermosa," Frankie instructs, grabbing hold of your face and focusing your attention on him.

You shake your head frantically; the thought of Joel’s cock ploughing in your ass fills you with utter dread and horror. “No,” you implore Frankie with wide eyes. 

“I said, relax.” Frankie says squeezing your cheek bones tightly. You can feel Joel twisting his thumb deeply in your hole.

 A dewdrop of Dave’s come is smeared on your cheek and Frankie scoops it onto his finger and holds it out to you. He hisses, biting his lip as you suck it off, eyeing him the whole time.  

"You're such a good fucking whore for us, aren't you, baby? Quieres esto tan mala, ¿verdad?" Frankie nods encouragingly as you fall under his dark spell. You feel his own thumbs stroke at the sides of your face now as you pant and whine. 

"Yeah…" you nod too, straining not to clench as Joel's thick thumb hooks fully into your ass. 

"There we go, snug as a bug, darlin'." He emits a chuckle that seems to grab at you and shake you with its eerie, sadistic violence.

“Does ya girl squirt Frankie?” Joel asks as you inadvertently start pushing back against him as he fucks you more laboured now.

Frankie chuckles and nods. “Just gotta know the right place to stroke.” He looks back at your face in his hands, sweaty and panting. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Joel nods in agreement. “I reckon you can squirt for me, darlin’.”

“She can. Let me get some of that pussy.” Frankie says, highly enthused at the prospect. 

Joel pulls out and rolls you on your back as you collapse into the floor. You can see Dave sitting forward, elbows on his knees and watching you intently with those dark eyes. You reach around his ankle and tug gently and whine and he responds to your wanting.

He slips down and slides behind you, propping you up, groping and massaging your breasts.

You catch the glimmer of his wedding band as his hands work your tits and you can only wonder at what Carol is assuming he’s doing this evening.

Those thoughts are cut short as Joel kneels up, slipping his thick cock back inside you, and Frankie lays down beside him on his stomach and starts sucking on your clit. 

You whine, watching intently as Joel’s hand comes down on the back of Frankie’s head, sifting through his curls and groans. His mouth is practically on Joel's cock too, and it does something to you as your body fizzes in response to the delicious sight of it. 

“Fuck!” You cry out, biting down on your lip. 

The pressure on your clit and the way Joel hits that spot deep inside you just right starts to build in your body. It all centres, gathering deep in the pit of your core as the warmth starts to choke you up.

You feel it tightening, bunching. Your toes start to curl, your fingers crack. Your back lifts and arches of its own volition and your thighs shake and stiffen.

You feel a pull, a heavy sensation as you bear down. The pressure mounting, pushing… You see those phosphenes glimmer at you as you close your eyes.

You can hear Dave’s snarls close to your ear, feel his fingers tugging on your nipples. Feel Frankie’s skilled tongue drawing those fast, dizzying circles on your clit. Feel Joel hitting that spot again and again that’s going to annihilate you imminently.

They're everywhere, they're all over you.

Your climax is almost violent; you buck and shudder as you release the pressure, always feeling for a split second like you'll pee, but don't.

You're gushing loudly, and uncontrollably, over Joel’s cock and Frankie’s lips. It bears down again, that weight inside of you erupting as you release. Frankie laps it up like a starving animal as it soaks his scruff. It feels like you’ll never stop. 

“Holy shit!” Dave remarks with a smirk watching you squirt. He squeezes your tits together as you place your hands over his and giggle deliriously. He squeezes your fingers around his. 

The combination of having Joel’s thick cock in your pussy, while receiving a tongue fucking from Frankie makes for a most lewd and unabashed scene whilst your head thrashes against’s Dave chest as he chuckles just as bewildered by it as you are.

You can’t believe it, your cunt is absolutely gushing as the three of them work in tandem to completely destroy you. And you’re loving it. 

Frankie licks his lips that are dripping as he rises up, the collar of his t-shirt is soaked, and Joel grabs a hold of you and fucks harder, quicker. More determined as he nears his own release. 

“Joel!” You wail as you squeeze against Dave’s fingers, feeling like you could crush them.

Finally, Joel comes roaring like an animal, and pumps himself liberally inside of you. 

"Fill her up now, Frankie.” Joel nods with a puff as he pulls out.

The mess that is over the wooden floor between your legs is obscene.

Frankie pulls off his Levi’s, runs a hand through his messy hair, and crawls over you.

"Who's pussy is this?" He asks slipping a finger side of you and feeling the spend of both his friends in there, warm and silken.

"Yours," you whimper.

"Really? I think you need reminding, hermosa. Seeing as you've been such a fucking slut tonight, hmm?"

"Frankie..." you whine as he pulls you forward towards him. He lines himself up with your pussy, pushing in.

"Aah!" You groan.

“Fuck, Joel stretched you nice and good, baby. Shit. You feel loosened up.” He growls thrusting hard and fast. You can only clutch onto him, only whine and groan as Frankie gives you his all.

"My pussy. My fucking pussy." Frankie seethes at you, hips snapping furiously into you. He pants, growls. Garbled Spanish and English flows from his lips as he pummels you.

He finishes inside of you quickly, too riled up from this whole scene to not bust a nut quickly. 

“Got all three of us in that slutty pussy now, don't you?" Dave taunts.

“Which one of our kids ya gon’ have?” Joel smirks as he pats your tummy gently. “Cunt’s filled to the brim.”

The three of them dazzle you, utterly fucking you up. Working together like a team; a gang of insidious spectres dominating and taking their turns with you.

And you fucking love every single second of it. 

After Frankie fills you, Joel pulls apart your legs to watch the cream pie spilling out of you. 

He runs his fingers through it, pushing it back inside you. He then brings them to your face, Dave holding onto your jaw and bringing it forward towards Joel's drenched digits. He rubs them over your lips. "Lick ‘em clean. Taste all of us." 

They all watch with praise and smirks as your tongue moves out tentatively, licking the salty cream from Joel’s fingers until he finally pushes them in your mouth.

Your lips wrap around them tightly as you suck them like you would Frankie's cock.

“Mmm,” you whine, giggling. "You all taste good."

Dave chuckles behind you and Frankie laughs, his chin leaning on Joel’s broad shoulder.

“Good slut,” Dave praises in your ear.

You lay there in a crumpled heap, gradually gathering your thoughts; striving to understand and come to terms with what has happened this spooky evening. 

But initially you’re still too confused, still swimming in a blissed out fracture of reality bobbing along the surface of a choppy existence.

Baffling questions bloom and wilt quickly as you have no answers to appease the turmoil of embarrassment, shame… of pure unadulterated pleasure. 

You can hear the shrill echoes of the guys in the hall, dressed and murmuring with Frankie. You can't hear much, the ringing in your ears from your body being mauled and torn at still hums, but you think you can make out Joel saying something. 

She’s a good sport… Hope she liked it.

Take care of her tonight. Dave adds. 

Ya still coming over Sunday, for the game? Joel checks.

You feel like you zone out for a while, only coming to when Frankie stands above you, towering and looming; his presence breaking the barriers of your heavy consciousness.

The look on his face is unreadable, impenetrable. 

You peep up at him from behind the scraggy mess of your knotted hair, your scalp still aching from how hard Dave had tugged on it. 

"I can't believe you did it." You grin, the concealed violence of this night escaping through your teeth into blissed satisfaction.

Frankie’s cool look instantly melts into a warm sunbeam. "Was it what you wanted, querida?" He asks, crouching down, knuckles running against your leg affectionately.

You nod. "It was better than I could have imagined. Creepy. But so fucking good." You smirk dreamily. "I really got into it."

He smiles accomplished, a faint blush of pink creeping under his eyes and in the crinkles there as he grins. "Good. How are you feeling, you a little sore?"

"My whole body feels like I've been tackled. I think Joel broke me." You start laughing as your pussy flinches in horror at the recall of him stretching you wider than you've ever been. 

"He's a big guy." Frankie chortles. 

"You're telling me. Jesus." You reach down and cup your battered pussy. 

"Come on. I'll run you a bath." Frankie scoops you up in his arms and carries you up to the bathroom.

You plant a delicate smooch on the side of his golden neck. “Thank you for this,” you murmur. 

“Cualquier cosa por ti, mi amor.” He runs his soft scruff against your cheek as he navigates the stairs. You can smell your cunt in it and you smile. 

He gets in the bath with you, pulling you back against his soft belly and soaping your body down with a hot washcloth. Your wrists are still purple; he smiles insidiously, feeling a rush through his cock at the decay of them.

"Did you enjoy it?" You query as his soapy fingers interlock with yours and you feel his breath cool against the shell of your ear. 

"I loved every second of it," he assures. 

"No jealousy?"

"None at all. I trust them. We discussed it in length. I told them anything goes, but no kissing you on the mouth and they respected that. It's all good."

You nod and mull it over, enjoying the hot water soothing the embryonic bruises you know will gestate overnight on your skin. You glance down at the purple bites Joel left on you. You press on one enjoying the masochistic flare for a few moments. 

You think back to so many things, but then you remember Dave and Frankie and that intimate moment you witnessed where Frankie was whispering to him. 

"Have you guys… ever done stuff together?"

"No. No, never." He says. “First time. For all of us actually.”

You nod, admittedly feeling a little swell of disappointment. But it’s washed away by the thought that perhaps they’ll be up for it again, one day.

"Well, this is going to make poker nights interesting now, hmm?" 

You feel his chest vibrate against your back as he laughs. "Yeah." 

"Dave is just… an animal!" You exclaim chuckling.

"Poor Carol." Frankie says, and you both start laughing and find you can't stop for a little while.

You both stay in the water until it starts to cool and the bubbles have all gone, just enjoying Frankie noodling and fussing over you, and relishing how lucky you are as he wraps his wet arms around you, and you could happily drown in the bath water.

It's late; the dawn is on the cusp of rising on the first day in November and you watch as Frankie climbs into the sheets, naked as the day God created him with golden tan skin, pulling you back against his body that moulds itself around yours like warm putty. 

His thumb draws gentle circles on your navel as he buries his face into the nape of your neck. You reach for your phone, previously plugging the charger back into the wall.

“Did you do something to the power?” You query.

He chuckles. “Yeah. I switched off the breaker. Joel must’ve reset it when they left.” He yawns. 

“You guys thought of everything.” You smile. 

"We were in the house for a while. You were asleep." You hear him smirk into you skin.

You smile. You see a message that had come through whilst your phone was off, from Frankie, and click it open.

It's a selfie of Frankie, Joel and Dave outside on the porch with the Halloween masks on, possibly taken moments before they stormed the house. 

Underneath is a message typed out:

You smirk as Frankie stirs behind you, rubbing your back, and you put your phone back on the table and rollover into his arms.  

The light from your phone stays illuminated on your previous message thread with Frankie:

“I love you,” you murmur into his skin as you settle, closing your eyes. You plant a couple of small kisses on his chest.

"Yo tambien te amo, hermosa." Frankie whispers, his fingers dancing slowly in your hair as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep inside of the Devil’s arms. 

I really hope you got a spooky kick out this story. I'd love to know your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed reading it on this Halloween Fright Night. 🖤🎃

🎃 Re-blogs & comments fuel me! TY!💀

MASTERLIST

#joel miller #dave york #frankie 'catfish' morales #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #dave york x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw dark #jett's pedro boys #jett's writing #happy halloween #fright night #joel miller tlou #dave york equalizer 2 #triple frontier frankie #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat

[zanarkandskylines]

Okay I’m back I’m sorry your writing is like cocaine to me idk you’re awesome-

Bakugou x reader where they’re on a mission and it involves a teams of heroes to dress up like Dynamight to confuse the enemy??? Just like Bakugou’s reaction to seeing his girlfriend decked out in his gear like 😭😭😭

but like picture like reader trying to fit Bakugou into a version of her costume too-

Ohkay I’m going even further now- Bakugou and reader wearing formal wear modeled after each other at a Hero’s gala to debut their relationship to the world???? I can just imagine after the mission they just really like wearing each other’s stuff-

Anyways you’re amazing have an amazing day!!

I’m so so sorry this took me so long to get to! You’re the sweetest!! 🥰 thank you so much for rec and coming back! I’ve enjoyed the ideas you’ve suggested so much and hope you like this one. 💖✨

Substitute Gear

『 ♡』  k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ pro-hero au | age 24 | lovers (bf/gf) ꒱ ⇢ bakugo and reader are joking around in their apartment one night when they decide to try on each others costumes! this leads to a fun inspiration for the upcoming hero gala as their agencies recommend for them to reveal their relationship officially. Why not do it in style?

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ no cw minus cursing | fun & fluffy ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~1.1k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

“Ugh, what an ugly shift,” you complain as you’re walking through the front door of your apartment. You’re kicking off your dirty boots in the entryway when Katsuki comes to greet you.

“Long day?” He asks, analyzing how filthy your hero suit is. It doesn’t stop him from giving you a light peck on the lips to welcome you home.

“More like what didn’t happen today. A kid threw up on me, and when I washed that off, some asshole bled all over me when I cuffed him! To top it all off, I tripped and fell into the mud while in pursuit of a robbery. Head first!”

As you’re rattling off the laundry list of shitty things that happened during the day, Katsuki’s silently instructing you to take the suit off. He spins you around, unzipping the neck piece and carefully removing all of your components and accessories.

“I broke my damn helmet in that fall,” you groan, wiping dried dirt from your cheek.

“Better than your head, dumbass,” Katsuki counters. “Ya got extras, no use cryin’ over one of ‘em.”

You shimmy the suit off of your shoulders and pull out of the material one limb at a time.

“You’d think as heroes, there’d be a professional laundry service or something,” you complain, letting your suit crumple on the floor. It comically puffs out a dried cloud of grime.

Katsuki stifles a laugh. “Weird way of sayin’ I do all your laundry. Get your ass in the shower, you reek.” He smacks your barely-covered ass to get you moving, continuing to snicker to himself as you waddle down the hallway.

───

After a long and hot shower, you emerge from the bathroom with a dramatic haze of steam following you.

“Ya done yet, peach? Dinners done,” Katsuki calls from the kitchen, dishes clattering as he’s prepping plates for the two of you. You scamper down the hall to meet him in the kitchen, a delicious aroma filling your senses when you approach the stove. He hands you one of the plates of beef and peppers stacked high on a bed of rice.

“Mmm, you even made me extra peppers!” You chirp, flashing him a cheesy smile. He grins in response and slips past you to sit on the couch.

The news channel is droning in the background during dinner, the news anchors excitedly discussing the upcoming annual Hero Gala - the glitz and glamour side of it, anyways. The Gala itself is an enormous event to celebrate Japan’s hero society and to announce the year’s hero ranking; however, everyone treats it as one extravagant event, red carpet and all.

“I’ve never been to the gala before,” you say before taking another mouthful of rice. “I never qualified to attend until this year. I’m kinda nervous to be…debuting us, if I’m being honest.”

Your agencies had caught wind of your relationship - rather, Katsuki’s assistant accidentally caught you two kissing in his office - and wanted to use you as an opportunity to introduce the “new hottest hero couple.” Agencies care about appearances and tabloid drama just as much as actual hero work. What's hotter than a top hero dating a lower - much lower - ranked hero?

The gala is in two weeks and the two of you haven't settled on what to do about it.

“Th’ agencies wanting to use us as an attention grab is fuckin’ stupid," Katsuki mumbles, brows scrunched in frustration. "Who gives a shit who we're dating? Doesn't affect my ability ta do my job."

He had a point, of course, but that didn't make you any less nervous about it. You were being pressured to have an extremely public date and let "fans" know that Dynamight was off the market. The thought of fans metaphorically bashing your head in wasn't ideal, but whatever gets "ratings," right?

"We might as well just show up in each others' costumes," you joke, rolling your eyes as the news anchor shifts topics to the latest update on another nonsense story.

"That's...not a bad idea!" He shouts, putting his plate on the coffee table and excitedly jogging down the hall to the bedroom. "Where's your backup suit?"

"In the closet, why? There's no way your muscular ass is getting in that tight suit."

"No, dumbass! C'mere!"

You place your plate next to his and get up from the couch, waltzing to the bedroom to see what he's on about. Both your hero suit and his are laying on the bed next to each other.

"What if we swapped colors?" He asked, pointing to the suit designs. "You wear mine and I wear yours. That'll give the media somethin' to yap about."

That's actually...a brilliant idea! The media would absolutely eat up the "bad boy" Dynamight strutting into the gala with his partner's color pallet, especially because your colors were pinks and purples.

You raise an eyebrow to him, smirking as you begin to imagine him in a sharp pink and purple suit. "You do look good in pink, the few times you've worn it."

Katsuki cackles and winks at you. "Course I do, I make anythin' look good."

He immediately calls his agency to request the garments - they agreed wholeheartedly and offered to fund both outfits.

───

The night of the gala has finally arrived! There are plenty of news crews from all channels present, huddled around the main red carpet entrance. The scene is bedazzled with flashing camera lights, the shutter sounds of multiple cameras capturing photos in tandem. Your complimentary custom outfits are pristine and Katsuki's hand is in yours as the limo pulls up to the gateway, giving you a soft squeeze to gather your attention.

"It'll be fine, sweets. Jus' follow my lead, 'kay?"

You nod while taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. "Thanks babe."

The limo attendant outside skips to the door, opening it for the two of you and ushering you to the entrance. You're both standing in line behind other heroes awaiting their turn to enter the building, attention already building in your direction. A few minutes go by before one of the hosts motions for the two of you to proceed to the entrance.

Your heart is racing, threatening to burst right through your ribcage as the hot spotlights are covering the two of you. Cameras are flashing rapidly, waves of unintelligible shouting invading your senses - "Dynamight! Over here, look this way!" "Just one this way, you two!" "To the left, please!"

Katsuki's jaw is tense as his eyes are roaming around to satisfy multiple camera men, the resting glare he normally sports on patrol adoring his features. Your attempting to keep a soft smile, posing and waving gently. Suddenly, you're tugged into Katsuki's side, his hand leaving yours and wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his personal space. He spins you to face him, cupping your chin and dipping you backwards as his lips grace your own, holding you in place.

The world around explodes with surprise, the peanut gallery clamoring with questions about the two of you - "Are you two an item?" "Oh! A higher ranked hero and a brand new one!" "What a scandalous amount of PDA!"

When you part, he pulls you back to his side and keeps his hand on your waist while the two of you continue into the gala together. The paparazzi outside are tailing the two of you as they're stopped at the door, shouting for answers as he flips them off over his head.

"Told ya it'd be fine. Now let's fuckin' eat and enjoy the damn night."

thanks again for the suggestion @queenpiranhadon ! ✨

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #my hero academia #☆.from the stars #☆.rei writes

[animekpopsimp]

Married Life With Them

Diluc

To most, Diluc seems cold, he doesn't seem like the type to express his emotions very often. And for the most part, that would be true. But, there is an exception, when he's with you. As your husband, Diluc is a much softer man. He'll stand next to you, one arm wrapped around your waist as he holds you close. There's a small smile resting on his face, your presence giving him a sense of comfort. He's a dedicated husband and even with his busy schedule he always makes time for you. He prefers simple dates whether that includes going to a quiet spot outside of the city or having a nice meal at home, as long as he's with you, he's happy.

He's also a protective husband, but not too protective. He's lost so much already, and the thought of you leaving him is something that scares Diluc more than anything. With you, he feels like he can let his walls down, and he's grateful that you don't judge him. Diluc comes to you for comfort and you do the same, you're each other's rocks. Overall, Diluc is a gentle, caring husband who will put his own life on the line to keep you safe.

Kaeya

Unlike Diluc, Kaeya is very open about how much he loves you. He's very touchy and isn't afraid to show affection in public. He doesn't see the need to hide your relationship, he's proud to be married to you. He'll often sit at the bar of Angel's share with you, a lovestruck smile on his face. Anyone can tell that he utterly adores you. Kaeya drinks less around you, he wants to be sober enough to keep you safe after all. In private, Kaeya is much more vulnerable, he keeps no secrets from you, and thankfully, you accept him for who he is.

He sometimes feels like he doesn't deserve you, like he's not good enough for you. But he doesn't want to lose you. You're his anchor, you make him feel like he belongs. When the two of you are at home, he'll lean in and kiss you. It's always a kiss full of emotion. He's not good with words, so he tells you how much he loves you in other ways. He'll bury his head in your necks, arms wrapped around you. He doesn't even want to think of the possibility that you'll leave him. You're his everything, and he's yours.

Zhongli

Zhongli is a gentleman with a soft heart. When it comes to your relationship, it's no different. Every day he makes sure you feel loved. He greets you with a kiss every morning and night, and compliments you all the time. He's good with his words and is straight forward, so you always know exactly what he means. Being alive for so long, Zhongli knows that you won't be around forever, but he would rather focus on now than the future. He's honest about his real identity, not wanting to hide anything from you. He knows you'll accept him regardless.

When he's not busy, Zhongli will take you on walks through the city, your arms linked the whole time. It's a subtle way of showing that the two of you are in a happy relationship. The two of you will often sit at the tea house and watch the sunset while listening to the stories. Though, more often than not he's paying more attention to you. He'll find himself staring into your eyes, getting lost in them. He can't help it, to him you're the most beautiful woman he's met.

Childe

Childe is a very loving, very protective husband. Ever since your wedding day he's been dedicated to making you the happiest woman in the world. Childe absolutely adores spoiling you with both affection and gifts. Anything that even remotely reminds him of you, he'll buy. He especially loves buying you clothes and jewelry. When he sees you wear them, he falls more in love with you. And you can bet he got you the fanciest ring he could buy. He has a long list of nicknames for you, it's rare for him to call you by your actual name. On the other hand, Childe is a protective husband, when the two of you are out in public together, he's always on the watch for danger. If he even thinks there's a chance that you'll get hurt, he'll pull you closer to him.

When the two of you are alone, he loves cuddling. He's always the big spoon, he'll whisper about how much he loves you with a smile on his face. Every day he tells you how beautiful you are, he doesn't want you to ever feel insecure. Childe is great at cooking, so he'll make meals for the two of you to enjoy, you even help him sometimes. He's clingy, he always wants to be touching you in some way, whether that's having an arm around you or holding your hand. He doesn't mean to get too possessive, he just can't help it since you're so beautiful.

Itto

Itto is the cheery, loving husband. He can be a bit loud sometimes, but he means well. Itto is very vocal when it comes to talking about how much he loves you. He didn't think anyone would ever want to marry him, yet he has you. Every time he mentions you, there's a lovestruck smile on his face. He brags about how amazing you are, and he can go on about you for hours if given the chance. One of his favorite things is making you blush, he will compliment you just to see your face turn red. He always tries to do little things for you, he'll pick you flowers and even save up money to buy you gifts when he can. He did try cooking you breakfast once, but he ended up burning the food.

Itto is also the type of husband to come to you whenever he's upset, he doesn't feel the need to hide how he's feeling when the two of you are alone. He loves the way you comfort him, simply by listening to him rant while holding him, it makes him feel safe. But around other people, he likes to act tough. He's always trying to impress you, which makes you smile. He's very goofy and loving, but he can also be an idiot.

Ayato

Being married to Ayato is complicated, due to his status in Inazuma, he's often very busy. But that doesn't mean he doesn't make time for you, quite the opposite actually. Ayato always makes sure that he's not always focused on his work, whenever he has time to take a break, he spends it with you more often than not. Sometimes it's just you two spending time together at home, simply enjoying being around each other. Other times the two of you will go into the city and have dinner. Ayato doesn't care if anyone talks about your relationship, he knows they will. It's inevitable since he's such an important figure. But what they think doesn't affect how he feels about you. No matter what anyone says, he loves you just the same. You're his safe place, you're one of the people that makes him feel like he can just be himself. Around you he doesn't have to act like people expect him to, you see him for who he really is, and he couldn't be more thankful.

Ayato is also surprisingly romantic, and despite his wealth, he prefers small gestures over buying you fancy gifts. That doesn't mean he doesn't ever buy you gifts, but when he does it's small things that remind him of you. He'll bring you flowers he knows you like, jewelry, or clothes he thinks would look good on you. He cherishes you more than anything.

Thoma

Thoma is the sweetest husband you could have. He's always paying attention to you, making sure you take care of yourself, and doing small, yet romantic gestures to show you how much he loves you. He compliments you every day, telling you how beautiful he thinks you are, he won't ever let you feel insecure. His love language is definitely acts of service. He loves making meals for you, especially when he notices that you're tired. He'll bring you breakfast in bed and wake you up with kisses. Thoma isn't afraid of people knowing about your relationship, but he will keep it private if you ask him to, he's a very considerate husband. He loves cuddling, really any form of physical affection in general. When he's walking with you he'll either hold your hand or have an arm wrapped around your waist.

Thoma loves surprising you with kisses, it always makes you blush. He just thinks you're adorable when you blush. He'll always be devoted to you.

Alhaitham

Many see Alhaitham as the type of man you wouldn't want to be married to. They see him as cold and too focused on his work to maintain a relationship with anyone. But they don't know what he's like with you, despite his seemingly cold deminer around most people, he's soft with you, letting his walls down when it's just the two of you. You both spend a lot of time sitting together, often reading together. He'll have an arm wrapped around you as you rest your head on his chest. Most of the time you end up falling asleep while cuddling with him, when he notices he'll simply smile and continue reading. Eventually, he'll fall asleep as well. Every morning without fail he kisses you on the forehead before the two of you have breakfast together. He always enjoys meals with you while you make small talk. You're the only person he enjoys that kind of thing with. You always pack him lunch so he doesn't forget to feed himself while he's working. When he gets home after a long day, you'll both enjoy dinner together before cuddling in your bedroom until the two of you fall asleep holding each other. You're life with Alhaitham as your husband is peaceful.

Kaveh

Kaveh had made a lot of mistakes in life, but you always love him nonetheless. He feels like the luckiest man alive to be married to you. You always listen to him rant about his day, all while running a hand through his hair to help him relax. There are times when he isn't home very often, but you always send letters back and forth to remind him that you're still thinking of him. Speaking of his work, he'll often ask for your input since he thinks your opinions are very helpful. Kaveh often gets caught up in his work, so you have to remind him to take breaks. Those breaks often include going to your favorite restaurant. There are times where he'll get drunk and emotional, but despite all his flaws he does his best for you.

Tighnari

Tighnari is a surprisingly soft husband. He's a completely different person compared to when he's dealing with work. When he's with you there's a soft smile on his face that never leaves as long as your around. He loves cuddling with you, his head will be resting on your shoulder. Your presence makes him forget about all the stress he may have been feeling before. Tighnari loves to tease you, but he's not mean about it. He'll just make comments to make you blush. When it comes to gifts, he'll bring you flowers he found himself, which he feels makes them more special. Sometimes he'll make your gifts, including jewelry. Dates with him often include taking a walk outside, he'll tell you random facts about a plant you see on the trail, which you find endearing. He's also fiercely protective, not in the way that you can't talk to anyone, he would never be that controlling. But the moment he thinks you're in danger, he's pushing you behind him to keep you safe. He doesn't want to lose you.

#x reader #genshin impact #fluff #genshin #genshin impacy x reader #genshin x reader #x reader fluff #Diluc #Diluc x reader #Kaeya #Kaeya x reader #Zhongli #zhongli x reader #childe #childe x reader #itto #itto x reader #ayato #ayato x reader #thoma #thoma x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #kaveh #kaveh x reader

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 721

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, Captive reader, Forced relationship

Out of all the holiday seasons that came and went during the year, this one was your favourite by far.

Not for the festivities or the brash, obnoxious yet oddly endearing holiday traditions that made their way over from the Western world. Those certainly had their place, yes, but you loved it for an entirely different reason.

The lights.

Colours of every shade, limited only by imagination, were strung up on buildings all across the city - wrapped around the rails of balconies and other anchor points like luminescent vines. Trees that lined the streets were specifically decorated with white and blue, mimicking the ice and snow around them and making the scene seem just that much brighter.

It made it all seem so ethereal. How enchanting such a simple thing could make a night otherwise illuminated only by lights belonging to office buildings and private homes. It was almost enough to make you forget why you had the view you did. Who you shared it with.

You didn’t want to go back inside the hotel room yet. Even with some protection from the balcony, the cold bit at your skin making gooseflesh pepper your skin. Your toes had gone numb ages ago, but you couldn’t yet tear yourself away.

In the distance, someone was playing carols over a loudspeaker. The sound made your lips quirk up ever so slightly and you closed your eyes to take it in for a moment. While classical music was all but ruined for you by this point, there was something about the orchestral version of songs that still managed to make you feel… home. Nostalgia stirring in your chest for something that would never be the same again. A place that never existed anymore.

Such a moment was interrupted by warmth wrapping itself around you from behind, hands encircling your waist and reminding you just how thin your nightgown really was.

Your silent wish that he wouldn’t speak and simply look at the view with you was quickly crushed when you felt his hot breath right next to your ear.

“Twas noontide of summer,” Chrollo began, “and mid-time of night; and stars, in their orbits, shone pale ‘ore the night.”

“Must you always do that?” You asked, cutting his recitation off before he could complete it fully. A beat of silence followed, one long enough that the temptation to reopen your eyes to look at him pulled at your subconscious, but you pushed it back.

You felt one of his hands leave your waist in favor of your arm, the goosebumps disappearing under the warmth of his palm. Part of you wondered if he delighted in the little ways your body betrayed you when it came to him. What he provided.

“Do what, my dear?”

“Make it worse.”

There was another beat of silence as Chrollo’s fingers tightened around your bicep in a light squeeze. You opened your eyes that time, the lights coming back into view, but this time it felt different.

Tainted.

He squeezed your arm again.

“You’re cold. Come back in, there are plenty of blankets for you.”

A frown threatened to tug at your lips, but you hid it well. At least you thought you did. If there was one bright side to being the object of Chrollo’s affection, it was learning the skill of hiding what you truly felt.

Not like it mattered much, anyway.

“Do I have to?”

Another squeeze on your arm. Firmer. Non-negotiable.

“You’ll catch cold.”

A surprising reason, you thought. With how much he lingered and leered, you figured he’d delight in any occasion that would result in you depending upon and relying on him more.

Attempting to think about any other reason as to why he wouldn’t want for something like that only served to give you a headache, so you nodded once - turning your body to face his.

“Excellent.” You could hear the pleasantry in his tone hidden underneath his otherwise deadpan expression. The hand on your arm slid off to reopen the balcony door while the other moved to the small of your back, guiding you back inside.

The warmth from the room that greeted you was ironic in a way. Most defined the winter night air as biting. Harsh, even.

Yet the supposed reprieve of the indoors had never felt less welcoming.

© absolute-flaming-trash 2023. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

#riri writes #Chrollo #Chrollo x Reader #HxH #Hunter x Hunter #Chrollo Lucilfer #Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader #Yandere x Reader #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw captivity #tw forced relationship

[yameoto]

OMG I JUST SEEN YOUR CHARACTER LIST THAT YOU WRITE FOR CAN YOU PLEASE GIVE SOME GHOSTFACE SAM X READER RELATIONSHIP HEADCANNONS 🤍

SAM CARPENTER GHOSTFACE HEADCANONS ! and yes i do have a bot for this.

✗ warnings ; murder, controlling behaviour, manipulation, general ghostface girlfriend toxicity. nsfw at bottom dom/sub. marking, knife!kink, free-use ment

protectiveness dialled to the MAX. if you think she was bad before its nothing compared to now. and i mean kill-people-who-look-at-you-the-wrong way type of bad. "oh, don't even worry, baby. i took care of it."

she has to be near you at all times; scratch that—has to be TOUCHING you at all times. seriously cant stand it when you're not wrapped around her fucking koala and will make it everyone's problem.

would never ever EVER hurt you. she hurts people for you—no matter if you want her too or not. besides, she has other ways of keeping you quiet.

when she took off the mask she wasn't even the slightest bit worried, as fucked up as that sounds. she knew you'd never leave her; you love her too much, she loves you too much. how could you ever give her up? she did this all for you.

calls you "doll" or "angel" almost exclusively—but not just that. you're her doll, you're her angel—her own precious little thing and you're never gonna leave her, okay?

but one can never be too sure; so she isolates you from all your friends to make sure you really can't leave. controlling to the point where if you lived with her you wouldn't be able to leave the house without her. but that's okay—she's doing it because she loves you. she's protecting you.

because she's off her meds she starts to see billy more and more, and she won't take them no matter how much you beg her too. sometimes you wake up to her see her sitting up staring blankly at the wall, eyes slightly glazed-over as if she's seeing something that's not there and it scares you too fucking pieces. it'll happen sometimes in public, too, like when someone gets a little too touchy with you or even, sometimes, when you get on her nerves ; which is definitely the most terrifying one.

(he's telling her to make you hers. telling her to take you for herself and leave a bloody fucking mess in her wake. whoever the fuck thinks they could ever take you from her is in for nasty, gory surprise.)

you're her anchor point. you're the only one who can ever calm her down if it gets too much. and you can tell, too, when chad's just running his mouth a bit too loudly and her hand is twitching towards the butcher's knife on the counter and you have to twist round and cup her cheeks, pepper kisses to her lips and she just melts — all potentially murderous urges forgotten as she wraps your arms around you.

nsfw !

so fucking handsy. CANNOT keep her hands off you. has the annoying tendency to squeeze your ass or tits whenever she walks past

even when you're in public which makes it so fucking degrading. you could be talking to a stranger at the club and she'll just lean over to grope your tits in full view of the guy you're talking to. just so fucking casual as she strides past, like its the most normal thing in the world.

and tbh it kind of IS, so when the guy stands up all angry for you and you're just sitting there spluttering and have to go "no i— i let her.." like the little slut you are

so so rough in bed. borderline violent. she just can't help it, not when you get that delicious spark of fear in your eyes and you plead with her with those plush, parted lips like you're just begging to be used and abused.

obsessed with leaving bruises and hand-prints on you during sex. gives her the deepest pleasure to see you all marked up, so clearly hers. it makes her cock stand up just thinking of it.

has made you walk around the house completely naked after a good bruising before just to admire her handiwork. and to make you easy for use, of course.

marking you up with her initials on the base of your neck so everybody knows that you’re hers.

definite knife!kink. dragging the dull edge of the blade along your thigh.. smiling to herself as you tremble under the cold, cold metal grazing your folds.

fucking you as she does it—fingers swirling so goddamn slowly that makes your eyes water, each time she flicks your clit your body screams at you—but you can’t move. bc there's a knife right fucking there and then it'll be your fault if she hurts you—not hers. she told you to keep still, didn't she?

#(╯°^°)╯head💣canons #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x afab reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter headcanons #sam carpenter #sam carpenter bot #scream

[anlian-aishang]

Kinktober Day 9: Virgin!Levi & First Time

Word count: 1900 Tags: levi x reader, smut, fem-bodied!reader, virgin!levi

The strongest were not born, they were sharpened. It was never his goal to earn that superlative, rather, the world had forced it onto him through its kicks and punches. Levi’s walls were impenetrable, you were the first to show him that there was weakness to that. When he wanted to let someone in, there were no points of entry. Getting to know him - first the friendship, then the relationship - your love was a blade that sawed its way through: act by act of kindness. 

Tonight and its milestone. Was this the completion of your carving? Had you finally stepped through to the other side? 

You had not the mind for that now: in his room, on his bed, bare before the other. Clothed only in moonlight and an entanglement of his pristine white sheets, shrouded in disbelief at the scene you found yourselves in. You never imagined you would get to see him like this. He never thought he would show this side of himself. 

Tearing down that slate, stripping him free from garment after garment, you had gradually revealed the man beneath. Vision honed into his tells. Hands in his lap, holding each other: his grounding technique. Minute twitches in his perpetual flat lip: wavering composure. Those familiar signs helped to decipher those new to you. The flush in his chest and face: blood running hot and fast. Arousal half-hidden beneath the bridge of his hands. Toes curled into the comforter. Heels dug into the mattress. 

Playing witness to his nerves made them contagious. To see unease in a character defined by calm resulted in a shared anxiety. He was the one you turned to for solace. Now, the tables had turned, and he was the one in need of comfort. 

That sense of responsibility filled you with a sudden confidence, a mission. You cupped his cheek in your hand, softly, “Don’t worry, Levi.” You thumbed some sweat from his skin, “I’ll take good care of you.”

Levi closed his eyes and sighed. Foreheads pressed together, he closed his fingers around your wrist, “I know.”

Communicating his trust to you, but convincing himself to have faith. His intuition was remarkable among all, immaculate above all, but some unspeakable irritant kept him tethered to doubt. He found the days you were together uncountable, but knew the times you betrayed him to be zero. Levi inhaled: you’re fine. Then exhaled: and you know it. 

You watched his breathing, not with anxiety, but with adoration. Just watching him be, watching him live, felt like a privilege. The thought of pushing him had not crossed your mind. Palm descended from his cheek to his heart, “You know, we don’t have to -”

“No.” Levi’s gaze snapped open, his breaths regulated, “I want to.” A deliberate swallow, throat cleared of hesitation. He tilted his chin and brought his lips to yours, “I want you.” 

Your eyes widened just briefly before his hand caressed your nape and pulled you to him. Tongue swiped the slit between your lips and prodded you open for his kiss. Your gasp, he drank it, fuel for his venture. Levi explored every part of you, moaned as he savored your taste. Teeth grazed your bottom lip then bit, anchoring you to him. Authoritative and assured. There he is. 

Just as infectious as his angst was his assertion. As he confidently dipped his tongue down your throat, you took control in your climb up his body. Hands on his shins, over his knees, crawling up and up his thighs. Deliberately, you passed over his neediest spot. Lust encouraged you to be hasty in fucking Levi Ackerman. Love reminded you to be gentle as you made love to your virgin. 

Along the sides of his waist, through his sultry groans and your enamored sighs, you both adored the touch: soft grip a lovely contrast to his sharp hip bones. Fingernails traced each muscle of his abdomen. Palms to his pectorals. Right hand ran over and around his throat. Left hand tangoed with his locks. At his undercut, they met: fingers knotted together, a grapple to your ride. 

Your legs landed on the outsides of his, running parallel. Backs of your thighs to the tops of his. Chests apart just enough to aggravate him, make his mind wander about how good it would feel to have your front wholly to his. Mind fucking made the physical version better, but he would learn that eventually. 

Small and slow steps for now. You reached down quickly, but delicately grazed his member. Fingertips to his shaft, base of your hand to his tip. Establishing your hold, not even working him yet - despite your carefulness, Levi clenched his teeth and hissed. The first time he had been held by another. He tilted back against the headboard, loosened his jaw, and sighed. Once again, convincing himself of a fact he knew to be true. It felt good. You felt good. 

Brows narrowed, you lingered for a handful of seconds, surveying his state for a sign of stoppage. Instead, he clutched your arm and began to push and pull your grip - back and forth, up and down his length. Moving as one. Together. With each oscillation, you felt his solidity strengthen, both in his erection and his stability. Mentally comfortable in the pursuit of pleasure, though his strained tendons and exasperated exhales suggested the opposite. 

Circling over his tip, drifting your thumb along his slit, “A’Ah!” Levi squirmed beneath you. Fists bunched in the sheets, bolts to his writhing,“Sh’it…” 

Veins began to make themselves visible. His cock began to rise into a steep arc. It was then that your daydreams came to fruition, recognizing how perfectly that curve would fit inside you, and how even the inexperienced newcomer would reach your most sensitive spot.

You manipulated your movements to bring him just outside your sex. Bent forward, your lips to the cusp of his ear. Eagerly, yet calmly, you cooed, “Just sit back, relax. I’ll take care of you, Levi.”

Taking care as you lowered yourself that crucial distance. Cautious as your hips began to rock. Nervous yourself, but projecting control as you made his pleasure your priority. Hands knotted behind his neck combined with the bend of your knees provided the leverage for it. 

His tip hit your favorite patch. His length filled you up while his girth stretched you thin. The sensation he brought you lured shameless sounds out from in, coloring the air of his room. Swears he never would have expected the first time he laid eyes on you. 

You fluttered your eyes shut and deepened your fucks. From base to top every time. So deep in your warm velvet caress, Levi grit his teeth and cursed. 

The stress in his tone brought you back from your selfish escape. A soft, soothing kiss, you ensured, “Let me know if it hurts, okay?”

He could only tilt his head back and moan. You were correct in translating: it didn’t. Physicalities reinforced those ideas. His passion had begun to leak inside of you. Your arousal started to seep, drenching his shaft. You held your breath in anxious await of your clean freak’s panic, but he did not seem to notice. If anything, the syrup to his voice and ripple of his abdomen suggested he enjoyed it. 

Dangerously sweet. Levi did not have much experience with orgasm, though even that he was ashamed to admit, but his intuition remained keen even as you rocked him. Building pressure in his core caused his floodgates to shake. Legs trembled, failing to stabilize. Arms spasmed, unable to slow your bounces. Lip quivered, incapable of warning you of his symptoms. On top of it all, a blinding headrush of a degree he had never encountered before, a spiral he was helpless to stop.

Levi flushed red in an embarrassed sweat. He had told himself that he wouldn’t cum too fast, not before you, but “Fuck…” Levi moaned, “you feel so good!”

Poor little thing could hardly help himself. His strain was pathetic, but with your infatuation, you dubbed it heartwrenching. Twitches and trembles seized his body, and suddenly, humanity’s strongest was reduced to pure weakness. That’s how good you were. 

Even as your head swelled with that compliment, your concern for him remained steadfast. While delighting in his vulnerability, stronger was your urge to watch his release. 

You withdrew your hands from the back of his neck to the sides of them. Slamming your lips to his, a hard and fast kiss accelerated your movements. You could taste the desperation in his gasps, could feel the surge in his length. His end was near, it was all but spelled out. Having dreamt of this so long, though, you needed to hear it.

“Gonna cum?” You beckoned, “Gonna cum, Levi?” 

Your tone bordered on teasing. The personification of his insecurity in finishing too fast. “N’No…” Levi flung his head to the side, exhibiting stubborn denial, “N’Not… yet…”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. Didn’t he want this? Your memory rang clear: I want to. I want you. You studied his expression: bright red blush, grit teeth, gaze laboriously squint. In that eye contact, you wordlessly understood his refusal to give in. Perhaps more than anything or anyone, you had learned how considerate Levi was. Sacrificing his own time, energy, joy for nameless strangers, let alone you. 

The thought of faking it crossed your mind, and it was not only that you did not want to establish a dangerous pretense, but more so that you recognized how easily he would see through it. And how livid he would be.

In lovely compromise, you intertwined your fingers with his and serenaded, “Go ahead, baby. Cum.” A selfless demand. “Cum for me.”

For you. Only with that pretense could Levi allow himself to give in, and you knew it. In this context and others, if it served you at all, he would strive for it. With how amazing you felt, that strife did not last long. 

With his last ounce of control, Levi squeezed your hips in a white-knuckle grip, jerking you into the places and rhythms that would get him there. All the while, emitting screams that would wake the city and squander any doubt over what was going on in his room. 

“A’Ahhh!! F’uck, (Y/N)...!” A couple of heaving breaths nearly worried you, but the violent slams of his hips and fervent warmth inside actually quelled you. To his loud and repeated melody of oh god - oh fuck - fuck - fuck me - your content hums played harmony. In peripheral vision, you caught a glimpse of the clock and smirked to yourself: record time. 

As his breathing returned to regular, as his eyes drifted back open, you smiled and slowly lifted yourself off his lap and spun yourself to his side. His arm wrapped around your back, hand took a strong hold of your shoulder. Before your eyes, you savored the way his chest rose and fell, the overstimulated nerves that twitched themselves to calm. Most of all - the erasure of his embarrassment, replaced by consideration then determination.

After all, he still had his mouth. 

Kinktober Year 3 Masterlist

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #specials #smut #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #anlian writes #my writing #alias's #kinktober year 3

[sgippy]

the betrayal is a landmark in tim & hawk’s relationship and what i think is important to understand before judging hawk and the choices he made in that situation is that at it’s core, it was a sacrificial act. he didn’t only sacrifice tim and his trust, despite what it might've seemed like. he also sacrificed his own happiness, or the closest thing he knew he could’ve had to that— being with tim. he sacrificed their love because, just a little too late (as they’re already intertwined in possibly one of their most intimate, fragile moments, finally as equals, tim pressed up against him, telling him that actually, they’re going to see each other every day) he realized: they go down this path, it will blow up in their faces and hurt more, destroy much more than just the two of them.

still, he didn’t do it just to hurt tim. of course he knew it would, the decision to go forward with it was huge and the impact catastrophic, but anyone with sense will understand; a simple conversation about “not seeing each other anymore” would never have sufficed. he knew he had to take extreme measures to keep tim, who literally had to join the army to get away last time, away from him. i’m sure that in hawk’s mind there was no other option than to do something so drastic it would completely throw their worlds off their axes. it was a hasty attempt to shatter something all-consuming. to disrupt their gravitational field so completely that it would stop pulling them towards each other like it had for years.

tim is devastated when he finds out hawk reported him. who wouldn’t be? jackson, who is pivotal to their story, has now been born and in all his symbolic newborn glory he truly changes everything. in the hospital tim sees jackson for the first time and the innocence of new life, i think, helps him understand why hawk chose to do what he did. i’m not sure it allows him to forgive though. not until he meets jackson again at the cabin years later.

from that moment on hawk’s life descends into a chaos that is, atleast in his mind, a controlled one. a tame, familiar chaos. (he grew up in it, after all.) we later on find it spiraling beyond his control and he loses himself in it. this is when tim comes back around to anchor him, as he’s done from the moment they met and will keep on doing until the end and beyond that. tim is the one fixed point in hawk’s life and you understand this as you find out that even after ruining them both, he'd still kept tim close for years. hawk had gone to extreme lengths to keep tim away from himself when all along, he was the one who couldn’t let go.

#fellow travelers #i’m delirious from getting approximately 4 hours of sleep this week if i said something nonsensical no i didn’t #tim laughlin #hawkins fuller #tim x hawk #hawk x tim #hawk fuller #jackson fuller #hawk didn't love tim MY ABSOLUTE ASS!!!!!!!!!!! #some of u need to never speak on hawkins fuller ever...

[comradeboyhalo]

It's crazy how literally everything about why Bad is fucked up can be linked to Atlantis. I don't even think the Federation is half of his trauma.

He lies compulsively about everything, but his whole identity is built on a lie. He's just made of lies. Yes, he lies because he's mischievous, but I don't think he can stop lying. He is so fearful of his past catching up to him, that, for 11,600 years, he's been lying about not being a demon. Telling someone what species you are is just introductory level knowledge. And Bad cannot even reveal that much to others. When we're starting with this much repression, is it really a surprise that he can't ever be truthful? And this, of course, all began because he's terrified that people will find out he destroyed a city.

He has a "family first" mindset that isn't exactly original, but it is unusually intense. He is very much the type to burn the world for his loved ones, and he's very willing to act on it. Every parent had heavily grieved the loss of their kids, and many of them unleash this grief in destructively. No parent has swung so far dark that they actively tortured another being. This is NOT to say Bad loves his children "more", this is only to prove that Bad's extreme is just so far removed from everyone else's. This can all stem from the fact that Bad's relationship with loss has, in my opinion, permanently fucked up the way he forms attachment.

So, everyone in Atlantis dies. Great. Bad tries to live. He forms friendship with more mortals. They die. He forms new friendships. They die again. This repeats for thousands of years. The only exception to this rule is Skeppy, and his relationship with Skeppy borders on co-dependency. His "obsession" with Skeppy feels so foreign to other islanders, and it should be from a mortal standpoint. But Bad has to be careful about who he lets in to avoid loss, so if he can love one person freely, then of course he will love them with everything. The same can be said for Dapper and Pomme. They're his children, and he loves them without any of the paranoia he subjects to anyone else. And then every single attachment gets taken away from him. He doesn't have an anchor anymore. It's not surprising he's forming an unhealthy dependency on Ron, and he's not going to give a fuck about anyone's feelings or morals if it means getting his family back.

The same can be said for his paranoia. He's overly paranoid because he was forcibly summoned to a place where everyone around him died. This is canon, confirmed by cc!Bad himself. He's been like this BEFORE getting dumped on murder mystery island! And if his paranoia is worsening because of the island, then of course his "worse" is going to feel drastically more intense than others'. Everything here is just validating pre-existing habits.

All of this is a cocktail for emotional disaster. Bad has been hard at work repressing everything for 11,000 years, and is losing everyone he uses to keep himself sane. I'm not even sure how he can heal from the loss of Dapper and Pomme, even if temporary, because he hasn't even begun to heal from Atlantis. It makes his friends' desperation to save him that much sadder. They're out of their depth with this one, the first step has to be made by Bad himself, and nothing he has done has convinced me that step will happen.

#qsmp #badboyhalo #analysis

[starcrossedreaders]

I keep having this idea of a spy x family scenario with leon as loid and y/n as yor.

Author's note: He literally looks like Loid, I love this idea so much!

Warnings: None!

"You're telling me I need to have a family within a week?"

"I'm sure you can figure it out. Remember we put you on this job for a reason,"

"Yea yea. Condor one out." Leon threw his head back as he tried to think of a way to build a family within his small time lot of 7 days.

He could just lie and say his wife passed in a tragic accident. Although that would be super unethical. Who is Leon kidding, his whole job is unethical.

"So Sherry,"

"Yes Leon?" Sherry shook her head side to side as her feet kicked back and forth while coloring the piece of paper under her.

"How would like to have a mom?" Her head peaked up as she turned to face Leon.

"Like Claire?"

Leon chuckled a little bit, "Maybe not Claire." Although it was a good idea it was too risky, she was too involved in the world.

"hm What about Claire's friend Y/N! I think you two would be cute together,"

"Y/N huh?"

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

"Come on Y/N you know how charming Leon is. You guys would get along together so well,"

"I don't know Claire, I don't want to use him."

"You won't be using him if you go to the date I just set up for you guys,"

"YOU WHAT?"

"I'll text you the details, don't be late." Claire skipped off and out of the coffee shop leaving you alone.

"I can't believe her," Shaking your head you looked at your phone to read her text.

'6:30 on 31 E. Washington Dr. at that cute Italian restaurant! Have fun!

Leave it to Claire to set you up on a not so blind date with a very hot guy. You twist and jump around as you tried to zip up your dress. Heaving, you sat down to put on your shoes as you finally got the dress zipped.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

"Alright Sherry, I'll be back before 9 be good for Chris!"

"Of course! Be safe."

Leon closed the door as he prayed he won't come home to a burned down house as he walked to the date Claire set up for him. As he entered the venue, he noticed a captivating figure across the room. Y/N, was an enigmatic woman with a reputation for her exceptional skills in cryptography and intelligence gathering. Your eyes met briefly, and a spark of intrigue flickered between them. Leon couldn't help but feel drawn to you.

Sitting across from you he puts his hand out, "Leon Kennedy,"

Your hand grabs his in a rather firm handshake that catches Leon a little of guard. "Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you."

The night went smoothly, there no was long periods of silence between you two as you guys ended up being the last ones in the restaurant before you were asked to leave. Leon had walked you home, giving you a kiss on your cheek and soft goodnight as he walked himself back home.

In the following days, Leon and you found yourselves crossing paths more frequently. Your encounters were brief, as both of you guys were cautious about revealing your true intentions with one another.

Your interactions soon become very frequent, weather that was running into each other at the grocery store or on the streets. Soon, this led into dating. Sherry and you got along wonderfully. It made you wish that this was your actual happy little family, but deep down you knew you were just covering your tracks for the things you have done.

Leon's and yours investigation eventually intertwined, as you discovered a sinister plot aimed at destabilizing global governments. An international syndicate, working in the shadows, sought to exploit sensitive information and gain control over powerful entities.

As you guys delved deeper in your relationship, your connection grew stronger. The trust you built became an unbreakable bond, an anchor in the dangerous world you guys both had inhabited without one another knowledge.

Eventually, you late nights at the office excuse was useless as you guys found each other in the same spot.

"Leon?"

"Y/N? What are you doing down here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing,"

"I-"

"We can talk about this later okay Leon? For now we have B.O.W.S to kill,"

"Right."

You guys had infiltrated a hidden lair, navigating through a maze of traps and enemies. You guys had worked together flawlessly, relying and using each others strengths to overcome whatever came your way.

When the mission ended successfully you guys had finally let it all out, letting your hearts speak as you confessed to one another.

"So you mean to tell me that you originally only dated me because you were trying not to look like an assassin,"

"Exactly right,"

"But yet, we were working on the same mission for two different people,"

"Seems like it,"

Leon could only shake his head, "Unbelievable,"

You stabbed your fork into your food as you brought it up to your mouth.

"But yet, you still want to date because you...love me?"

Placing your fork down you crossed your arms as you look at Leon. "What's so hard to understand, or do you just like hearing yourself talk?"

Leon clicked his tongue, "Tch, yea right. I'm just trying to make sense of it all, it's a lot to process,"

"I understand. If you don't want to continue our relationship after this I totally understand,"

"NO, no- it's not that,"

"Then what is it?"

"It's just....I'm afraid I'm going to get attached and then lose you..."

Your eyes soften as you listen to Leon pour his heart out to you. Reaching across the table you take his hand into yours as you look in his blue eyes.

"I promise you, you will not lose me not in a million years. You only live once Leon, don't let fear hold you back from living."

From there you guys pledged to support each other through future challenges, your love and trust serving as a beacon of hope in a world threatened by darkness.

#leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x you #leon kennedy re2 #resident evil #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy re4 #re4 leon #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy smut #yandere leon kennedy x reader

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Can Ray be Redeemed? Is Sand the Solution?

I know Ray has upset a lot of people in Episode 8. I do find it really fascinating how quickly the tide has turned on him, especially when you compare his actions to those of our villains of the first arc: Boston and Top. Perhaps I'm in the minority, but I still choose to believe that Ray does care. He's hugely misguided but not heartless.

Let me firstly preface that none of what I'm about to say excuses Ray's behaviour but is an attempt to unpack why I still hold hope.

A child lost with no anchor

Ray is emotionally immature (which as cliché as it sounds, is a direct product of his upbringing - or lack thereof). He largely operates on basic needs, as a child would: 'I want. I need'. It's all based on serving the self. He seems wildly incapable of thinking very far beyond that. Like a child, he can barely take care of himself, let alone anyone else. He's pretty helpless on his own in a lot of respects. Most people grow out of this. Through knocks and hardship, we learn the world doesn't revolve around us and how to equip ourselves with healthy and appropriate means to navigate through life. Ray however, still seems to be stuck in his infantile box.

I often joke that Ray is a bit feral, but there is some truth to that. Ray's been left to his own devices for the majority of his life. So it's no surprise he's developed this 'me against the world' attitude which is volatile and defensive, but ultimately keeps him caged in said box.

These traits are abundantly apparent in his relationship with Mew. Ray is the vehicle for Mew's self-destruction, but all he sees is the exhilaration of having a 'partner in crime', someone to be in 'cahoots with'. Like a pair of naughty school kids getting into mischief, rather than an adult partnership. Ray is all about immediate gratification over long term fulfilment because (as children do), they don't possess the wisdom and experience to think ahead. Ray seems unable to grasp repercussions or consequences in his decision making. It's always act first, think second.

To put it simply, Ray hasn't been taught boundaries and how to respect them. He just gets criticised for crossing them which doesn’t help him learn. No one has had the patience to teach him why and how. To guide, to steer, to direct, to mentor. To educate rather than scold. Prevention rather than cure. As a result, everyone around Ray serves to clean up his messes rather than equip him with the ability to not create them in the first place. He falls into patterns of behaviour that no one has seriously attempted to break which has only amplified with adulthood. The longer those habits prevail, the harder they are to change.

Does Ray harbour ill-will or bad intent?

Is Ray the worst? In my opinion, no. (Not yet anyway - I might eat my words later, who knows). I've said this somewhere before but intent makes all the difference when judging someone's actions. Choosing to actively cause harm whilst being fully conscious of the impact versus triggering damage to occur as a symptom of your behaviour is vastly different. This is where Ray and Boston differ. Boston acts without remorse, he purposely and calculatingly makes choices that will cause the maximum degree of suffering. Whereas Ray's a loose cannon. He leaves a trail of destruction where he goes, due to a lack of control and means to channel how he feels in a constructive manner. Boston's victims are targets, whereas Ray's victims are collateral.

I don't think Ray means to purposely hurt or harm the people he cares about. Because in doing so, he'll push them away - which is precisely what he doesn't want. (Though saying that, Ray doesn't seem to give as much of a damn if it's people he isn't invested in, such as Top). Ray's world consists of what Ray needs. It's not that he doesn't care about a single person besides himself, he's just so wrapped up in his own needs to even gauge the bigger picture.

When others do point out to Ray that he's hurt them, he does tend to look guilty and taken aback, as if he's thinking, 'But I didn't know. No one told me. I had no idea my actions would cause you to be upset'. Painful levels of ignorance. But I also see a huge amount of internalised frustration. 'But why? Why didn't anyone explain this to me? How was I to know?'

Ray is capable of showing remorse, of displaying guilt. He's not cold-blooded. Anyone who can demonstrate compassion is capable of redemption. Ray is seen to be genuinely appreciative and grateful when people are good to him. He's fiercely protective over people he cares about. Ray was also willing to jump in when Sand gets a call from his mum being in trouble.

One thing I do have to stress is the difference in Ray's demeanour when he's severely drunk/high versus when he's sober. His addiction tends to amplify his most primal desires, his most 'childlike' traits. The uglier sides of Ray presented in their worst light, set to maximum. The raging tantrums, the absurd and unpredictable demands, an explosive and dangerous impulsiveness. People often refer to addiction as a form of sickness, which is worth noting when the person under scrutiny is effectively not well.

Learning by Example

Now let's talk about the huge importance of Sand in this equation.

Let me be clear - it's not Sand's responsibility to teach Ray how to grow up or behave more like a functioning adult. It's neither his duty to be a stand-in parent or caretaker. The unfortunate truth is that Ray doesn't have anyone in his life who plays that role. Who is the voice of reason. To keep him on the straight and narrow. In order to actually incite change, Ray needs to be receptive to whoever is trying to help him. We've seen he doesn't respond particularly well to the majority of people in his life. He's defensive with his father, his friends, deflective and pandering with Mew. The only person he's seen to show any signs of actually listening to and registering is Sand.

Whilst it's not fair on Sand, he might be the only person who has any real chance of encouraging healthy and positive growth in Ray. Because Sand loves Ray, he genuinely wants to see improvement for Ray's own good. I don't think it's a coincidence that we tend to see Ray's more endearing side when he's with Sand. His childlike qualities take on a sweeter, more harmless, playful tone.

He needs someone with an almost parental level of unconditional love to not give up on him, where others have thrown in the towel. Ray's character is essentially a personified cry for help. His mother was unable to cope. His father seems chronically exasperated and far too busy to actually be present. His friends have always seen him as bothersome and too much of a handful.

I personally don't want to write Ray off as a lost cause. Ironically, Sand may be the saviour he didn't ask for, but the one he really needs. Someone who can save him from himself.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #ray pakorn #ray x sand #sand x ray #raysan #sanray #khaofirst #firstkhao #khaotung thanawat #first kanaphan #ray is such a complex character that i could go on and on #khao just does such a great job of adding so many layers to him

[rynwritesreid]

Okay, okay, i have an idea. A angsty spencer one shot based on you’re losing me by Taylor swift. Feel free to do whatever you want with this, happy or sad ending 💋

A/N:As a fellow brit, who loves Spencer Reid and had Taylor Swift as her top artist, I am in love with this request. And as some who loves an unhappy ending, I’m beyond grateful you gave the option to make this heartbreaking. I hope you enjoy <3

Also a little side note, I’ve got a job interview for basically my dream job this Wednesday coming :)

Content: GN (i think) reader. Angst, and I mean heartbreaking angst.

| Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation| Playlist|

 

You and Spencer had been dating for around two years. The first year was amazing. You had both found comfort in one another, you would talk to each other about anything and everything.

 

However, as time passed, an unseen tension crept into the spaces between your words, a quiet disturbance that neither of you fully understood until it manifested into the palpable silence that now enveloped the apartment.

 

The apartment was filled with an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant hum of city life outside. It was the kind of quiet that echoed the growing distance between two hearts. You sat on the couch, hugging a throw pillow to your chest, your eyes fixed on the floor.

Spencer Reid, with his dishevelled hair and furrowed brows, stood across the room, both physically and emotionally distant.

 

The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating any words that might have tried to bridge the gap. Your fingers absentmindedly traced the stitching on the pillowcase, a futile attempt to distract herself from the unravelling threads of their relationship.

Spencer finally spoke, his voice tight and strained. "Y/N, we can't keep doing this. It's like we're speaking different languages, and I can't seem to find the right words to make you understand."

 

You looked up, your eyes searching his for some sign of the love that had once anchored them. "Spencer, I'm not asking for much. Just a little more of you, of us. It feels like you're slipping away, and I don't know how to hold on."

 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I have my work, Y/N. You know how demanding it is. But it's not just that. I can't be the person you want me to be. I can't be everything for you, and I can't keep pretending that I can."

 

A tear slid down your cheek as you choked back a sob. "I'm not asking for everything, Spencer. I just need to know that I still matter to you. That we still matter."

 

He looked away, unable to meet your gaze. "I can't promise you that, not when I'm not sure myself. Maybe we're just not meant to be."

 

The words hung in the air, a painful admission that shattered what remained of your heart.

 

You stood, feeling the weight of their broken connection like a physical ache. "So, this is it? We just let go, and that's the end of us?"

 

Spencer closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping with the weight of their shared sorrow. "I don't know what else to do, Y/N. I can't keep hurting you, and I can't keep pretending that everything is okay when it's not."

 

As you gathered your strength to leave, you whispered, "I guess we're just two fragments of a love that couldn't hold us together."

 

And with that, the door closed behind you, leaving behind the fragments of a love that once flourished but now lay shattered on the floor of what used to be their shared home.

 

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[sprout-fics]

Sunroom

(Captain John Price x F!Reader)

Word Count: 1.5k Rating: Explicit (18+) Tags: PiV sex, Fluff, Tooth rotting fluff, Domesticity, Soft Price, Lazy Sunday mornings, Wearing each other's clothes, Cockwarming, Sleepy sex, Cuddling, Established relationship, Lazy makeout sessions. Warnings: None A/N: A quick and fluffy smut oneshot inspired by the utterly lovely @guyfieriii and her Professor Price series which I adore.

Kisses along the underside of your jaw.

You feel the scrape of his beard graze against your skin, press against the soft, tender flesh of your throat as he presses a lingering, achingly sweet kiss there. You press into his mouth with a sleepy hum, chasing the taste of honey masked by yorkshire tea as he pulls away. It leaves you blinking drowsily in his absence, lips parting and eyes blinking against the brightness.

The world feels like it’s melting around you, hazy and aching, the warmth of the sunroom casting pale against your skin with the late morning radiance that spills through the windows. It blurs at the edges of your consciousness, sanguine and sincere as you drink it down like ambrosia, imbuing it into your veins like a kiss from the god Apollo. Drowsiness pulls at you, a gentle but insistent gravity that settles across your pliant limbs.

John emanates warmth from behind you, your spine tucked into the broad planes of his chest. Your head lolls in the junction between his neck and shoulder, and when you twist your head you drown in the scent of him- cigar smoke, pine, musk. You feel the warm breath of him when he smiles, absorbed in his book. One hand keeps it open, thumb pressed sternly between the pages, while his other palm rests against the top of your bare thigh that peeks from under his shirt dressed lazily across your form.

You found him like this when you came downstairs, seeking him when you found him absent from your bed. Shirtless, dressed in nothing but sweatpants, bifocals resting on the bridge of his nose, his eyes had risen to greet you as you hovered in the doorway. Hesitant, feigning shyness. 

“Look at you.” He murmured, setting his book down as he appreciated your figure dressed in nothing but one of his crinkled, white button downs. “Is that my shirt, darling?”

“Smells like you.” You replied, voice clogged with sleep as you yawned, rubbed at your eyes. “Come back to bed.”

“How about you come here instead.” He offered, widening his legs and tapping at his thigh beckoningly. You followed the motion with your eyes, taking a moment to graze appreciatively over the length of him visible through the cotton of his bottoms. Yet you obliged, crawled into his lap so he curled over you from behind, pressed a delicate greeting into your cheek.

You melted into the touch, breathy and soft, docile in his embrace, smiling at the hum echoed against your skin. 

“You smell lovely.” He whispered against your skin. “Smell like my bed.”

“Where we should be right now.” You returned softly, a hand coming up to graze against his cheek. He caught it, pressed a kiss there too for good measure. Yet he merely hummed in response, not unaware of the suggestion in your voice. 

You thought perhaps that was the end of it, having failed to convince him and surrendering instead to sitting atop him, legs splayed on either side of his thighs, basking in the morning radiance. 

“Come here.” He mumbled into your throat, his hand setting aside the book in his grasp and landing on your thighs, dragging them outwards, wider. You followed the gesture obediently, soft off sleep and guided by his anchoring touch. Ever the mentor, the lantern guiding you. 

It didn’t take long for his fingers to find the core of you, cupping you with a sharp hiss of air as he realized you were bare of everything except his shirt. Yet his chuckle was warm, dripping in sunlight as the rough pads of his fingers circled through your damp folds. 

“Needy this morning, are we?”

You only arched against him with a purr, limbs heavy and sated even hours after last night’s lovemaking. Your answer came only in the gentle rock of your hips against his hand. Insistent, dizzying, desiring and yet gentle in the soft, golden twilight of sunrise. 

A whine crawled from your throat when his touch vanished from you, but Price had shifted, hand descending under your ass to drag the length of him from his sweatpants. Wordlessly, he used the calloused flat of his palm to drag you upwards, thumb smearing under the head of him as he dragged the tip through the slickness of you. 

“John.” You echoed pleadingly, grinding down with a small, testing roll of your hips. 

You felt him smile against your shoulder before he shifted you both, your toes skimming the cold wooden floor as he slotted himself at your entrance. With a firm, throbbing roll of his hips he pushed inside you, still only half hard but warm, full as he stretched into the slicked, velvety embrace of you. 

When you moaned his hand only guided you to his waiting lips, drinking down the breathiness of you, tongue grazing across the plump fullness of your bottom lip. When you rolled your hips downwards, however, sliding him further, deeper, he only broke from you, shaking his head with a gentle little tsk.

“Just stay here for a bit, darling.” He crooned, fingers descending to graze across the junction of your both. “I’ll take care of you in a bit. Just want you in my arms, right here. Want to be inside you.”

You whined a little in protest, to which John only pressed a smiling, teasing kiss on the tip of your nose before reaching for his book once more. Yet deliciously drowsy as you were, full and achingly content with the lingering afterburn of the night prior, you allowed it. Sighing, you reclined into him, head drooping against his shoulder and losing yourself in the dragging scattering of sparks left by his thumb rubbing circles into the meat of your hip.

Sleep beckons at you with a familiar caress, murmuring low and resplendent across your senses. Honey and sunlight, it drips from your form and glosses over your skin, paints you in gauzy, lustrous radiance. You try to chase it, but find yourself instead anchored by John’s touch. Each time you still, head drooping, eyes fluttering, he drags you back with grazing kisses that leave you dizzy in the incandescent aftereffects, drinking down your hypnotic, aching moans and breathy gasps. 

All the while his eyes roam across the book in his grasp, keen, bright eyes taking in every word, every sublime detail even with you splayed drowsy and ductile in his lap. When he offers a lazy, indulgent roll of his hips you whine into him, feeling it spark a brightness inside you that ebbs and flows with every twitch of him, every dragging breath in his chest. 

“John.” You plead, voice hardly a murmur, nose bumping under his jaw. 

He doesn’t respond beyond a small huff, his fingers tapping against your thigh. 

“John.” You repeat a little more insistently this time, shifting and rising, sinking down on him until his hand curls against you, a gentle warning. 

“I’m almost done with this chapter, love.” He returns, but his voice is oozing affection, sweet like the glaze atop the breakfast pastries waiting for you on the kitchen counter, still wrapped in their bakery box. 

“Please.” You try, stretching on your toes so you can graze your teeth up to his ear. 

You feel him suppress a shudder, throat clicking as he swallows. It only makes you smile, the hand on your lap descending to the base of him. His hand stops you, but the touch is indulgent, far from scolding. 

“Impatient.” He tuts, but his voice dips low in his chest with a stifled moan as you grind down atop him. “We may need to revisit our lessons in patience, darling.”

You only hum, the note rising high in your throat until it spills outward as a gasp when he rolls up to meet your downward thrust.

“Need you.” You slur at him, eyes still closed, relishing the tender, glowing pleasure of him that bleeds into you, leaves gold tinting the underside of your skin. 

“I know, love.” He returns, shifting so his lips at last descend to yours. Slow, aching. You’re left delirious by his touch alone, drunk off the taste of him. The flavor curls sweet and cloying across your tongue as it swipes across the front row of his teeth. Syrupy, viscous, it floods outwards when he plants his feet, rolls upwards into the tight, wanting clutch of you. 

You feel him shift, and there’s a telltale rustle as he bookmarks his chapter, sets it aside. He smiled into your kiss, gentle and indulgent despite the sternness of his touch, the guiding firm grasp of his that settles across your hips. When he speaks again you tip your head to catch his words across your tongue, and he chases you downwards into the depths of desire. 

“I know, my darling girl.”

#captain john price #john price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price smut #mw 22 #cod mw22 #mw22 #my writing #my fic #oneshot #18 + #minors dni #smut #A rare Price from me #I usually don't write for him but #enjoy!