#it’s the micro shorts i can’t fucking do it please

[wyvernne]

highkey sad the fontaine designs didn’t go heavier on steampunk/baroque smh

#i swear they have to be switching design teams out frequently because every country has changed in cohesion lol #i feel like inazuma did the best flow with all the character designs #it’s the micro shorts i can’t fucking do it please #either put the men in thongs or give the women pants ffs #also i will genuinely lose my mind if we get more wildly high pitched female voices #i know it’s an ‘’’anime’’’ hallmark but god it’s excruciating to listen to #let the poor VAs speak at their normal pitches #nahida did me in i genuinely have to silence my game when she speaks #i haven’t switched off of EN yet because of kazuha deadass #i ain’t wanna say nun but…. #don’t love how many kids are in this game #is that… really necessary #knowing damn well what the fandom will do

[tiredtxmblrvet]

Fic Rec Friday #3!

If y'all want more fic rec fridays, check out @mediumgayitalian

Below are 5 fics I've enjoyed this past week/recently.

shake the glitter off your clothes now by @rosyredlipstick

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373892

Summary:

Nico has just woken up hungover in a strange Vegas hotel room missing 3 things: - His phone and wallet, apparently. - His dignity, lost somewhere on the strip. - Any clear memory of the night before explaining the aforementioned situation. However, he has gained a few things—mainly, the ring on his finger and the man in this bathtub. - "Fucking Vegas," Nico said, rubbing at his face.

--

No, I will not stop rec'ing Rosy's fics, what can I say. Also I just copy and paste this post every week and it satisfies my autistic brain to keep authors in the same place. Anyways! This is a short one-shot where Solangelo end up married in Vegas, it's incredible cute and I eat this trope up every time.

third drawer down by summerset

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43030752

Summary:

After the battle, Nico needs a tether to the earth so he doesn’t fade to nothingness. Will volunteers.

--

Loved this take on the "3 days in the infirmary" trope !! This is a little one-shot where Will glows and "tethers" Nico to the physical world and they have to cuddle and it's just adorable.

can't you see, i'm losing my mind this time? by rabbit_soup

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38765766

Summary:

“You’ve got micro-pieces of glass in your skin, and I can’t in my right mind let that stuff just fester in there.”

“Glass…? Where—?” He racked his brain, slowly glancing up at Will. He didn’t remember breaking any glass on the quest.

“Strangest thing,” Will said, pulling an orange container out of the box. On its side, it read Arm and Hammer, Baking Soda in thick white lettering. “Both Annabeth and Percy swung by a few minutes ago, talking about the exact same thing—glass in their hands! The both of ‘em! Isn’t that interesting?”

The glass beaches in Tartarus...Nico thought.

--

Me, rec'ing two "3 days in the infirmary" fics in one post? It's more likely than you think.

I've read this fic multiple times, and I love it more every time I read it. Nico is disabled and uses a cane, and Will has hearing aids. How the two of them dance around each other is lovely to read, and I'm a sucker for a good "will calms Nico down from a panic attack" fic and boy does this deliver. Also once again Nico and Will are autistic in this which makes me very happy !! Also it's a series and I love the hurt/comfort in the following one-shots after this fic.

The Legacy of Jason Grace by HPbooks4life

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47979301

Summary:

Nico felt it when Jason died.

The problem is, he can't STOP feeling it.

But maybe, with a little help from his friends, he can learn to feel it less.

--

Short one-shot character study on how Nico reacted to Jason's death and his journey with dealing with that grief. As someone struggling with grief myself I really resonated with this portrayal. This is definitely more of a Nico character study than a solangelo fic though fyi.

cradle my heart in the palm of your hand by ghosttotheparty

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45734695

Summary:

“I can keep you warm,” he whispers. “If you want.”

Nico’s lips curve into a small smile.

“Yes, please.”

or; Nico wants to be touched, is scared of it. But he’s not scared of Will.

--

Once again, I am in love with how ghosttotheparty writes intimacy, and I have re-read this one-shot multiple times. It just fills my heart with warmth when I read it tbh.

--

Okay that's all! I'll probably keep doing this until I run out of fics to recommend. Have a good friday lovelies!

#percy jackson #solangelo #nico di angelo #percy jackon and the olympians #will solace #pjo #solangelo fic recs #fic rec #pjo hoo toa #hoo #jason grace #heroes of olympus

[sister-lucifer]

what’s wrong with you based on your favorite batman villain

(don’t take these too seriously)

(sequel to this post)

The Riddler: Holy shit shut the fuck up for two seconds PLEASE. i know you have a touch of the tism and crave to derail every conversation to talk about your special interest but no one else is having fun. this is why you don’t have any friends. You also have a very niche and the second most expensive taste in clothing so you only have like 3 outfits to mix and match. You either dress like you’re going to the Met Gala or like a dad on vacation, no in between

The Penguin: STOP FUCKING IMPULSE BUYING!!! YOU HAVE TOO MANY TRINKETS!!! YOU DONT NEED IT JUST BECAUSE ITS PRETTY!!!! You have the most expensive taste in clothing, especially victorian undergarments, and spend an embarrassing amount of money to dress like a vampire. And stop being so hard on your body. It might not always be the perfect image of what you want, but it’s doing its best, even if you have to help it out a bit.

Harley Quinn: Sweetheart, I promise you are more than just your sex appeal. I know you grew up around misogyny and were raised to be a housewife but you’re free now!! Well…you would be if you stopped picking the shittiest men. A relationship does not define you, stop settling for assholes because you feel ashamed for being single. Have you tried dating a woman? No, seriously, try it. You deserve it

The Joker: Stop using your humor to deflect from your trauma, i bet your back hurts from carrying the weight of being the funniest person in your friend group. You’re a big time maximalist who spends an hour picking out a hundred accessories to wear and wind up being late because you couldn’t choose which kandi bracelets were best for the occasion. You’re still holding on to the last shreds of your teenage edgelord phase. Also clean your damn room and throw away those old drink cans, nasty ass

Catwoman: How does it feel to be the sexiest person in the room at any given time? Not good, I bet, since you struggle to make friends because of how often they wind up to only be after your body. Sorry you can’t catch a break. You’re probably still carrying money saving habits you got from your parents when you were a kid even though you don’t need to now. Also please try wearing a color besides black, it’s almost summer, you’re gonna die of heatstroke. Nice eyeliner though

Poison Ivy: Dude, so many people are crushing on you rn, how do you not see this?! You’re so hot but soooo emotionally unavailable, christ. A boy in middle school said something uncomfortable to you once which was then reinforced by the misogynistic micro aggressions you were subject to as a teenager and it’s kinda tainted your entire view of the male gender, which is fair but also kinda sucks.

The Scarecrow: Daddy issues, daddy issues everywhere. He was scary as fuck, wasn’t he? Your fear was valid. You really love to analyze people which wouldn’t be an issue if you could actually be subtle about it. Stop staring, you creep. Also, that flannel doesn’t look as good as you think it does, you look like a depressed lumberjack. Like please just buy a cardigan. Halloween is your favorite holiday and you get really annoying about it around mid august. And remember to brush your fuckin hair for gods sake

The Mad Hatter: You get like…reeeeaaaally weird about your crushes, man. Like whatever you’re doing it’s not normal. You can just talk to them, you know. You have the weirdest sexual interests but they’re more so hyper specific and niche than gross or unsettling. That’s better, I guess? You gotta leave your headspace and live in reality for a bit, man. I know it kinda sucks, but there are real people here! Also you’re short. Gross

#batman #batman rogues #the riddler #edward nygma #the penguin #oswald cobblepot #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #the joker #the scarecrow #jonathan crane #mad hatter #jervis tetch #poison ivy #pamela isley #catwoman #selina kyle

[katierosedreams2]

Im not a sissy…5

The school year has just flown by! It felt like just yesterday when I was dressed in my latex maid outfit, covered in cum, getting locked into my new ultra-micro chastity cage. I can hardly remember the crazy year we have had. So many parties! So many cocks! I can’t even clearly remember them all. And I’ve almost completely forgotten what it was like to not be a sissy slut. It feels more like it was a movie I had watched once rather than my own previous life.

If I really think back to when I was a child, I feel more like I was a girl dressed like a boy, rather than an actual boy. It’s weird how that works. Today I woke up excited, It was the end of the school year and Kailey and we had both finished our finals! Even though we partied and snuck into so many bars, we also studied a lot. That was one of the conditions of her parents for us to live in their apartment. We must get good grades. I always felt busy. Between getting ready for each day, studying, partying and cleaning the house, I had almost no free time anymore. 

Today I got up and walked to the bathroom to pee. I slept naked last night. The weather had been perfect to keep the windows open, but not too hot to need to run the AC. I saw my reflection in the mirror as I entered and saw my thin girly body with this small metal thing. Looking down, it was perfectly flat from my view. I looked so feminine. I also looked so skinny! Kailey has had me on a very very strict diet recently. I swear it’s been mostly water, booze, and cum! What has my life become? 

I started the shower and got in to shave and wash my long blond hair. It takes so long to shower, so so many products to make me pretty. But I guess it’s worth it. I do feel pretty! I got out and dyed off with our big, soft, fluffy towels. I then spent a long time drying my hair and then doing my makeup.  I knew I was going to put my hair up in a pony tail and I wanted a more natural look for my makeup. Lots of mascara and natural colored eye shadow, and not too dramatic either. I put my hair in a high ponytail and went to pick out my outfit. It’s going to be an exciting day, a nice day for a party to kick off summer. 

I picked out this super cute black vinyl bikini set and a matching skirt as a cover up and paired it with a pair of Pleaser 6 inch strap heels, also black in color, of course. I laid them out carefully on my perfectly made bed. I then put on one of my maid's uniforms. A short sleeveless dress maid of satin. I slipped into some black pumps and left my room to go start Kaileys coffee as I do every morning. 

She was already up and sitting on the couch watching tv and shopping on her phone. Her make-up and hair were already done to perfection but she was still in her pjs. Pink satin short shorts and a small white tank top. “Good morning girl! How are you doing today!” I called to her from the kitchen as I made us both a cup of coffee. “Hey sissy girl! Wow, you look so cute! Are you excited for today?” She replied as she turned to see me. 

“I’m very excited! Although I have no idea who you have invited!” I spoke as I worked, knowing my time to finish my chores and get ready was very short. “Oh don’t worry, I think you’ll really enjoy our guest!” As Kailey spoke I could hear her smile in her voice. 

I’ve come to learn exactly what she meant. This was going to be a sex party. And with all of this studying we have been doing the last few weeks, I haven’t even had time to even think about sucking a real cock, let alone have one actually rammed down my throat. I could feel the thought making my little clitty leak in its cage. I can’t believe I’m actually excited about this. Excited to suck and gage on a superior dick! To get fucked by men with big thick massive cocks! And get filled and covered in cum! I can’t believe I’ve just become so incredibly horny and desperate that being used to please a real man gives me enough pleasure alone to make me cum!

I’ve only came twice since Kailey locked me in my new chastity. Although the last time nothing really came out at all. I just leaked some clear fluid. I think between the tightness of my chastity cutting off almost all cerculation to my tiny testicals and the hormones I’ve been taking have ruined me for good. I truly just get wet now, and I cum just like the sissy girl I have been forced to become. 

I swayed my hips seductively as my heels clicked against the floor to hand Kailey her coffee. I don't really walk any other way these days. The thought of sucking cock still on my mind. “Thanks Rose! You’re a wonderful sissy girl! Oh and when you make my bed, can you please change the sheets first. I finally had time to use my favorite dildo last night and I can’t believe it but I ended up squirting all over my bed! I pasted out shortly afterward from the incredible orgasm, so I wasn’t able to do it myself!” 

“Lucky you! I still haven’t cum since that club we went to downtown and those four guys took us into that back room.” I said without thinking much about it as I walked away. We both know she’s cum almost every single day I’ve been in chastity. “Oh well I’m sorry to hear that sweetie. You just need more dick I guess!” I could tell she wasn’t actually sorry for me. I know she loves my horny misery. It really seems to turn her on when I’m desperate and denied. 

I’ve gotten so used to this, and have found myself truly giving in, all of my will power crushed, excepting my life as it is. I couldn’t help but agree with her. “I know right!” I spoke almost absent-minded as I walked off to her room to change her sheets. I stripped the dirty sheets off of her bed and I thought back as to how I got here. With Trent forcing me to become a sissy and now Kailey keeping me this way. I can’t even remember what it was like to wear boy's clothes or even leave the house without makeup. The thought frightened me. Leave the house without makeup! Oh god, I don’t think I could ever do that! 

These girly thoughts didn’t scare me. I actually felt comforted by them. As I worked, my mind wondered, and by the time I finished changing the sheets and had the old ones in the wash, my mind was on boys. How many guys were coming over today? How big would their cocks be? How much would they cum? My mind was fixated on them. I’ve come to learn that pleasing a real man's dick is the only way I can get any pleaser myself. 

“You’re thinking about sucking cock aren’t you?!” Kailey shouted from behind. I didn’t know she was there and I literally jumped from surprise! Also, how did she know?? “What?! No.” I hardly got out, not even convincing myself. 

“Ha! You are! I knew it!” Kailey was overjoyed with this fact. “How did you know?” I didn’t even try to fight it. It didn’t even seem worth it. “You start moving extra seductively and you have this cute little smile and this sparkle in your eyes.” She said with this big pretty smile on her face. “It’s super cute! I love seeing just how much you have grown!” 

I could only blush. I felt complimented and proud by what she was saying. I knew I should fight this, but too much of me wanted this. And my wet panties were just another sign of this fact. 

I worked quickly on my chores with the time the party was to start rapidly approaching. We were going to have the party on our very large patio. I worked my butt off making sure everything was perfect, clean, and that there were plenty of snacks and drinks. I was changing out of my maid uniform and into my outfit for the party as I heard a knock at the door, shortly followed by the clicking of Kailys heels to answer it. I could hear her greet the guests and welcome them in. The deep voices of a large group of men filled the halls and I couldn’t help but feel aroused. I have been so horny and I truly have been opening up to accept myself as the slut I have become.

I checked my outfit and hair in the mirror, quickly applied more lipgloss and then rushed out of my room to see our guests! As I turned the corner, I saw 5 guys all standing around Kailey. The shortest of them probably being 6 feet, but most well above that. Even in her heels Kailey was dwarfed by the strong, tall, masculine men. 

There was just enough time for the men to notice me when another knock on the door came. Since I was closest, I’d answer the door. “Hey guys! Thanks for coming! I’ll be right back, I’ll just go get the door!” I said, not even trying to hide my excitement and arousal. I walked as seductively as I could, hoping I was sexy enough to keep all of them staring at my very perky ass. 

I opened the door to a very large group of very tall strong men mixed in with them were some of our girl friends dressed just as sexy and slutty as Kailey and I. “Hey every one! Come in, let’s party!” A wave of cheers was yelled back as a response from the group. The mixture of the men's deep voices talking and the clicking of the girls high heels filled our house instantly. Most men weren’t wearing much, short board shorts an a tank top at most. I could tell none of them were wearing underwear and I couldn’t help but stare at every guy and just be amazed and aroused by how big each one’s dick was! They were completely massive! 

Kailey and I somehow got the large group of people to head outside on to our patio. The weather was warm, but not hot. Our very large hot tube was on a cool setting, so it would be refreshing. The music was good, and the booze was flowing. Before long, all of us girls were grinding and dancing with several guys each. 

I was grinding my ass against a guy's huge cock. He grabbed my hips, forcing me against him, guiding my movements as my vinyl skirt slipped smoothly over his shorts, making his dick throb with every movement. The guy in front of me held my head as he stuck his tongue down my throat, keeping me from escaping his kisses. My hands couldn’t push them away either, as they were both busy rubbing the cocks over top the shorts of the men on either sides of me. I was trapped by these real men, already being used as their plaything, and my little clitty trapped in its cage leaked more than it had in some time. If erections were even possible for me, which they aren’t, I’d be as hard as a rock. 

I was in heaven. I lost track of everything else going on around me other than these four horny men making me feel so small and girly. I haven’t done a single thing to a girl that anyone of these real men are doing to me. I never will. I am a failure as a man. I am a weak sissy girl. A slutty sissy faggot, and the thought couldn’t have turned me on more. I let out a loud moan as I made out with the giant of a man. And as my ass rubbed against the cock desperately trying to turn it on so much that he finally disregards my consent and fuck me so hard. I can’t stand it, my hands frantically finding the waistbands of the shorts of both the guys on my sides. My pretty manicured finger tips gently and seductively pulling down their shorts and wrapping around their huge dicks. They gently rubbed up and down the large hard shafts. The guy behind me saw this and finally got the message. 

“Get this horny little slut over there!” I heard him yell out to the other men. He then grabbed me by my hips and picked me up. The two on my side both grabbed my hands and the guy I was kissing grabbed the hair on the back of my head. They carried me like a little sex doll over to one of the small tables we had. They pinned me down on my stomach. My high heels hardly on the ground, leaving my ass sticking out in the air. As they pinned me down, the guy in front of me threw his shorts down and just as my head hung off the other side of the small table, his massive cock approached my mouth. I eagerly opened my mouth to accept one of the most perfect dicks I'd ever seen. Excited I was going to be used for his pleaser and the pleaser of all the other men. I immediately gagged by it’s huge size as he wasted no time shoving it all the way down my whole throat in one forceful motion. He wasn’t going to wait for me to warm up and I felt his balls slap against my chin from the force and depth of his first thrust. Setting the tone as to how this was going to go.

The two men on my side also wasted no time in redirecting my hands to both of their cocks, forcing me to jerk both of them off. The man behind me also didn’t wait for any consent and pulled up my skirt, pulling my biking bottoms to the side and stuck his raw cock in my tight little asshole as he pinned me down by the small of my back. I had snuck some lube up there right before the party. I had learned from way too many past experiences to come prepared to make men cum. He was so thick though, it felt like I might split in half. And I did my best to try and relax and ignore the pain, but that happening at the same time as the guy shoving his cock down my throat, it was hard to do. He didn’t care though and followed the exact same aggressive approach as the guy in front of me. Forcing it deep inside of me.

All I could do was moan and gag from the pain. I could hardly stand it! I was totally helpless, I was too weak, girly, and pathetic to stop these real men from using me like a slutty sex doll. As much as it hurt, the reality of the gang rape I was being forced to be subjected to was such a turn on. I was leaking so much in my tiny micro chastity, desperate to be used by these men and hoping I could cum as a result of being their cock slave. Maybe their cum can fill my tight little ass as it overfills my mouth and rains all over me. Maybe then I could finally cum.

I was struggling to breathe from the huge thick cock fucking my face, filling up half of my whole throat. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I desperately gasped for air when I could. He didn’t care, he wanted to skull fuck me and he was going to. It was hard to focus on the two huge cocks I was jerk off, but every time I slowed down they had no problem grabbing my small little wrist and forcing me to move at the pace they wanted. Struggling to breathe helped keep my mind off the pain from the intense ass fucking I was getting. They didn’t want to be gentle and were putting me through the roughest fucking I have ever had.

I still tried my hardest to please and worship their big strong long thick dicks. This is all about their pleaser and I wanted them to feel so good. I wanted to make these real superior men cum, cum all over me and fill me up. I’m there cum slut and I’m desperate for it! 

Eventually, I was able to relax enough to get into their rhythm. I felt the guy behind me pounding my g spot over and over again, working me closer to an orgasm. But the taste and feel of the big cock fucking my mouth was what was getting me closest. I don’t know why, but since I’ve been locked in chastity, most of the orgasms I’ve had are just from sucking dick. I’ve even had one just from practicing my blowjobs on my dildo. 

Then I felt it, the cock in my right hand twitch and throb, the man grunted “don’t you dare stop slut!” As I felt him cum, it squirting over my arm, and then on to my back. As he moaned a masculine moan, the man on my left also started to cum and moan. I focused all I could on keeping my rhythm the same for both of them as my small pretty feminine hands stroked the cum out of these cocks. Jerking them off, rubbing up and down, something my micro cock hasn’t experienced in years and never will again. 

The guy behind me then picked up his pace, his breathing got heavier and his massive penis thrusting as deep as it could go. His balls slapping me with such force it stung.  Then he throbbed so intensely and I felt his cum fill my ass. He kept thrusting over and over and I felt his cum starting to run down my legs. 

As he continued to pound my ass, the perfect dick that had been distorting my throat finally started to throb. He finally pulled it all the way out of my throat but just enough to keep his head in my mouth and shot more cum into my mouth than I had ever experienced. I tried to swallow it but I couldn't swallow fast enough. It shot out of my nose and the sides of my mouth. Dribbling down my chin. He slowly pumped the head of his cock back and forth in my mouth, messaging his tip with my tongue.  

The guy behind me finally pulled out and shot more cum on my ass. The large flood of cum he pumped into me spilled down my legs from my gaping hole. I was so close to cumming, so desperate, but I wasn’t able to. In my hopeless desperation I wiggled my ass, begging to be fucked more. 

Finally, as the last cock left my body, freeing my mouth, I gasped for air. I have no idea how long that happened for, or what anyone else was doing during that whole time. I looked up at the tall sexy man whose incredible dick I was sucking. “Thank you so much daddy!” I said without even thinking. He looked down at my cum covered face and said “Thats right you little sissy slut, your lucky to worship my dick. Beg daddy to suck his cock more.” I blushed and smiled “May I please suck your cock more daddy?” Fluttering my long lashes.

“You have to earn it bitch. You have to go on a date with me.” His large authoritative voice 

so manly compared to mine. “What if I don’t want to?” I playfully flirted back, but secretly upset that he would immediately deny me. 

“That wasn’t a question, slut! It was a command sissy girl.” He said in his strong voice as he grabbed my cum coved hand and wrapped it around his still hard cock and forced me to gently stroke it. 

“What do you say faggot?” He’s demanding questioning tone frightened and aroused me. I jerked him off and said, “Please daddy, I want to worship your cock. May I please go out with you?!” I tried to sound as girly and sexy as I possibly could. 

“Tell me how desperate you are for it. Tell me what a slut you are and how desperate you are.” He looked so strong, tall, and sexy and his commands combined with rubbing his cock, the taste and smell of his cum still in my mouth turned me on more and more. I felt an orgasm building up.

"Please daddy! Please, I’m a pathetic little sissy slut. I’m desperate to worship your cock and get your cum! Please let me please your dick! I'll be your perfect little cock slave! I want your dick!..” I was so desperate I was almost crying now. As I rubbed his dick, and verbally degraded myself, it finally happened, I came. It was so obvious because I stopped mid sentence, all I could do was moan and buck my ass like I was getting fucked while it happened. Still jerking off his cock as though each strok was making me cum more. 

As soon as I finished, he grabbed me by my hair, forcing my face to look at him through my blurred vision. He said, “Now you may go on a date with me to worship my cock sissy. Now lick that cum off of you!” He then let go of my hair and walked away. I was left there all alone, covered in cum, and in a cloud of uforia. My heart and mind raced. I haven’t been on a date since I was with Trent! Oh my god, do I like this guy?! I didn’t want to think about that now.

Finally, after I regained my strength, I got up and started to do as I was told. I started licking my whole body clean of cum. This is when I noticed that everyone else also fucked each other and were all just about finished as well. Kailey snapped a photo of me as I licked my fingers clean. 

She then walked over to me, she too was covered in cum. “Hey slut! I heard you had fun, so much fun that you’re going on a date with Mason!” I just blushed “He told me you begged to worship his dick so badly it finally made you came just from that!! How pathetic! You really are a cock slave sissy girl!” She laughed in her cute little laugh. “Here post this super cute pic of you licking his cum! You look so sexy but there’s defiantly something missing, right about here.” She then grabbed my bikini top. “We need to get this little girl some boobs!”

-Katierosedreams Og Cap

[ghostbird-7]

Thoughts while I’m rewatching dead reckoning-roughly the first 2 hours

This movie is just so visually pleasing and engaging. I want to eat it. The shot from beneath the submarine looking up at the ice?? Fucking gorgeous.

I know logistically why they made the call but the Russian submersible crew speaking Russian accented English will always be funny to me. Also reminds me of the doctor who episode in 11’s run with the Russian submarine. It was Clara’s era. Anyway, they also do a great job of making us immediately empathize with the crew just based on their fear and confusion in the face of the enemy. It helps that that enemy is the same one the protagonist is facing, but it’s also just great acting on the crew’s part in a relatively short period. The existential horror of being trapped in a submarine of all things with a murderous ai is genuinely chilling.

I really love how old they let Ethan be in this movie. With most action franchises with an aging protagonist they refuse to alter the character, instead sticking to what’s been proven to work and MI has always done the opposite of that and it’s just so good. All his interactions with the new IMF agent just speak to his experience, and how many people he’s seen just like this guy, inexperienced and thrown in over their heads, not make it out. His fucking sadness after he welcomes the delivery guy to the IMF and he leaves is so good. TC your micro expressions will never not destroy me. Mildly controversial opinion but I didn’t think Grace and Ethan’s chemistry was in any way romantic or paternal, I think they’re going to be really great friends. Also “we live and die in the shadows for those we hold close and those we never meet” is both super corny and such a perfect representation of Ethan’s character it makes me screech.

I have complicated feelings about Ethan’s backstory retcon which I won’t go into but I do think they definitely made the right choice not doing the deaging thing for the flashback.

One of these days I’m going to write something exclusively about everything I love about Ilsa, but that day is not today. For now, even looking at pictures of her makes me a bit emotional. Rebecca Ferguson you have changed me, body and soul. Also that eyepatch being because she can’t wink is so funny. No ones doing it like her.

Ethan briefly gives his horse pats and I liked it. I feel like he’s a horse girl. In his heart. I like that none of the horses die in this sequence. I know it’s unrealistic but this is fucking mission impossible we’re talking about it’s not a docuseries and it would make me sad.

Ilsa’s costuming in this movie is so fucking good. The looseness and lightness of everything she wears really complements the economy of motion that Ferguson does so well.

Indira Varma win!!

In retrospect watching Ethan move so unimpeded into a meeting of some of the highest ranking us intelligence officers is such a great look at him as a character for newcomers to the franchise. He’s such a spy in this, it’s so good. It’s just a great standalone movie.

Kitttridge!!!! I hate this bitch, and I’m so glad he’s here.

In every interaction with kittridge ethan is such a bitch, I love him so much.

“It’s my job to use you. Just like it’s your job to be of use” is fucking heavy. The decades of being of use, and having the shit beaten out of him and his loved ones leaving or dying so he can serve, the absolute mindfuck of his loyalty to the IMF and to a greater extent to keeping the world safe and lack of regard for himself. I don’t have coherent words about this, but it’s great characterization and I’m so sad about it.

I love how much of an ensemble movie this is, by the way.

“The man himself is expendable” Briggs I am going to break your legs. He is my special guy.

I love how much this is a manifestation of Benji’s monologue in MI 3 about the Antigod. It was silly but he was not wrong.

Also Benji’s outfits and Luther’s hat… really good.

I cannot wait for them to tell us what the connection between Ethan and Briggs is because it’s SO weird

Benji and Luther’s relationship being given a chance to evolve is really good, it was a side of their team that had felt underdeveloped and it works really well here. Them not letting Ethan know gives us insight into some of the troubleshooting on missions that he just can’t cover because of his skillset and it’s really good. Also banter 👌👌

The return of his sleight of hand is gorgeous. “Putpocket” is horrible and super silly.

The entire scene where Benji is interrogated by the bomb is so good, Simon pegg is as always excellent, being forced to admit that he fears death, that he loves his friends more than anything else, all without any stakes, it’s just so clearly meant to humiliate and tear him into bits and it works and then he goes back on the job because all the things he said are true and now the machine Knows.

Pom is flawless in this movie. As a character, she’s delightfully unhinged. As someone who’s attracted to women, it’s. It’s nice for me. But also genuinely from a narrative standpoint it would be so easy for her to be extraneous but her presence is so strong it just carries. Her monster truck and combat boots and small ponytail compel me deeply.

Running scene running scene running scene running scene

I fucking love his little lawyer outfit.

That car chase scene is maybe my favorite in the series. You can see McQ and TC’s commitment to stunts as a carrier for narrative and character, it’s visually stunningly, it has Paris who I’m obsessed with, everything Ethan does is just impeccable and Grace plays the perfect foil. His deep discomfort with not being the one who’s driving, repeatedly reassuring her after the crash, his getaway driving skills, his little looks to Briggs (again what the fuck is up there), wanting to be the protector and being deeply embarrassed with the fiat. Not actually knowing how to drive it is such a great comedy moment and also blue screening when he can’t do it immediately. That 5 minutes of him just being so embarrassed and frustrated with himself. I want to eat it. It’s so good. And then of course he’s doing stunt driving in it and that’s also glorious. Grace going in circles in the fiat is so fucking funny. Also Ethan’s the worst fucking backseat driver it’s amazing. He is losing his mind. He is actually scrunching up in the seat, which he can do even in a fiat because he is tiny. It’s just quality television.

I knew they would do the train thing the second I saw the tracks and I just hate it. It’s really good objectively but I hate it every time.

Him having to just carry this wheel around for a solid 5 minutes-it’s his new rock. It’s his sadness object and he’s holding onto it forever.

Ethan’s fucking despair every time he sees his friends during a mission for the first time because he knows they might be hurt, the fact that that is consistently his first thought beyond relief or gratitude makes me insane.

Also the tacit acknowledgement that Ethan has just been working his way through the mitsopolis family is so fucking funny. It’s also fairly uncomfortable for Alanna because he seems substantially less into it than he was with max, but I digress.

I cannot wait for his hair to be longer, I think somewhere between MI 1 and 2 is the ideal length, but I hold a deep fear of the potential bowl cut.

The repeating pattern of all of Ethan’s friends withholding information from him is really interesting.

We all know Ethan’s whole shtick with you’ve gotta get out of here it’s dangerous I can’t protect you is a testament to how much he loves them but it’s also just..so much a trauma response. Every time he does it you can see him panicking and trying to change an eventuality he can feel creeping behind his shoulder.

The quiet moments between Ilsa and Ethan in Venice are really good. Their initial reveling in being able to wordlessly communicate and talking to each other in the context of work and danger has given way to this very comfortable worn in curiosity about each other, and a willingness to give of themselves to satisfy each others curiosity. It feels like they’ve sort of grown up a bit in their relationships with other people by having their relationship with each other and it’s just really cool.

Pom’s outfit with the mask at the party in Venice is so fucking good. I tend to try not to linger on attraction to female characters because it feels more creepy than it does with male characters, likely due to some of my internalized nonsense, but she really does feel so much for the queer gaze. She also has a sword. I’m just really into all of it.

Some of the things Vanessa Kirby said about learning about projecting power make so much sense watching her move, there’s this artificiality and stasis to her that feels innately threatening.

The loop back from Gabriel’s religious overtones and the themes of sin in the first mission impossible movie is fascinating.

I love it when he vaults over railings and down floors. The easiness of it, it’s just good to look at.

Getting closer to Ilsa’s death scene is complicated. I understand why it had to be someone, and why that someone should be her. I understand that Rebeca Ferguson was done with the character. I’m just sad because I like her, and I’ve managed to separate that feeling from a reflexive anger at the narrative choices that were made, which I admit I sometimes have an issue with. Him finding her body and just sitting and breathing and looking at her is fucking brutal. Also the entity using Benji’s voice to misdirect him is A Lot.

The brutality of that back alley fight scene is such a good establishing look at Paris’s fighting style and a great character moment for both of them. We get her first moment of fallibility and we see what he’s made of when his back is literally against the wall.

I know either rogue nation or ghost protocol is supposed to be Ethan’s fever dream nightmare scenario, but dead reckoning feels so much more like that to me. An enemy he can’t hit, who has a better chance of predicting his insanity, who uses an almost literal ghost from his past to kill the people he’s built himself around in the present. He also is forced to jump off a cliff and be a passenger in a car. It’s all not coming up Ethan in this movie is what I’m saying.

For the rest of the movie we don’t see a lot of his grief, mostly his anger. Don’t get me wrong, the bit we get is very good and did make me cry a bit, and I know how much they’re packing into one movie, but I hope we get more of it in the next film. Anything else seems like a bit of a disservice to Ilsa’s character.

It bothers me every time that Grace doesn’t have contacts when she’s playing the white widow. She sits almost directly opposite her brother, they make full eye contact a lot.

Ethan’s “your life will always matter more to me than my own.” And Grace’s “you don’t even know me” and Ethan’s “what difference does that make.” Hm. I am having complex feelings, consisting mostly of distress. Her looking at Benji and Luther, and them both acknowledging the weight of Ethan saying that and confirming it’s the same for them, AUGH.

What the fuck is going on with the cryogenic tube/coffin Gabriel was in on the train?? I know he was probably using the mask to communicate with the entity and he had to do that convertly but the whole thing is just weird.

I’m gonna pick this up when it’s not about to be a Monday. Tune in shortly for a continuation of me losing my mind over some action movies, I guess.

#mission impossible #currently watching #ethan hunt #ilsa faust #benji dunn #luther stickell #the entity

[crystalkleure]

Okay! Ground rules for my inbox!

Since apparently I have to say these things! Even when I’ve already said most of them before!

Don’t send me rude or incendiary messages. If you’re a dick, I will block you. If you say something that no matter how I respond to it, merely associating myself with the matter at all is going to get me mobbed and forcibly dragged into some micro-niche internet discourse from hell, I am not going to post/respond to it. I fight tooth and nail to not fight on the internet, and especially not in public. My IRL situation is extremely volatile and stressful, and I open my laptop to get away from stress. If you want to discuss a potentially loaded topic with me [and there is no guarantee I will engage unless I know you very well, and thus value your opinion and trust the information you will give me], DM me. I don’t have to post DMs publicly. Asks, on the other hand, are posted and can be reblogged and replied to, and can thus clog up my notifications with nasty fucking discourse that I don’t want to see from five billion strangers I do not know. Don’t publicly broach a subject that will incite a huge argument on my blog.

This falls under “don’t be rude,” but don’t bitch me out about taking too long to respond to your messages. I can be a very slow replier. Again, my IRL life sucks shit and takes up a lot of my time, and I have a dissociative disorder. That latter thing means 1. amnesia, of varying intensity at any given time, and 2. sometimes straight-up blacking out and often not having any idea how much time has passed between events that I do remember. I could think it’s only been a week or so since I last looked at something, and then it’ll turn out it has been two months. I have no control over the dissociation. It just happens whenever I get too stressed-out, apparently, and I can’t fight it -- trying not to black out when my brain wants to black out just gives me a migraine and doesn’t work.

Don’t spam me. Don’t flood my inbox with twenty messages, and then immediately send thirty more as soon as I answer a single one. Especially if all those asks are prompting me to give very detailed, thought-out responses to them [and if they’re not, if they’re just short little single-sentence things because you just want to casually chat...please just DM me?]. This is overwhelming and I will end up having to block you.

Don’t flirt with me. Not interested. This is just very awkward and achieves nothing. If you send me nudes, I report you. I thought only bots did this shit these days, but apparently I was wrong.

Yes, you can ask me to tag things! Please do, in fact, if I post about a triggering topic you need to avoid! Even if it seems weird. I don’t judge. I would, however, recommend either DMing me your trigger-tag request, or asking on anon [or just asking me not to post the ask], so you don’t have to publicly confirm that something triggers you specifically. Assholes can and will use that knowledge to deliberately hurt you.

I have DID, please don’t be weird about it. Being curious is one thing, I know it’s not a very well-known disorder [outside of Hollywood, where it is usually dramatically misrepresented for the sake of entertainment value] and there’s a lot of misinformation floating around about it. Respectful questions don’t bother me, I actually have a special interest in psychology and find it fascinating myself [if not extremely scary because I actually have to live with it lol], and if you accidentally bring up something that turns out to be a little too personal for me to comfortably talk about in public, I will just politely decline to comment on that specific thing. What I mean when I say “don’t be weird” is:

Don’t demand to speak to a specific alter at a specific time. Who is awake at what time is not something that any of us can consciously/intentionally control. You’re pretty much just stuck with whoever happens to be around when the message gets answered. Now, if there’s no time demand, it’s fine. If you send a message for someone specific with the acceptance that they’ll just have to get to it whenever they’re awake, knowing that there is absolutely no telling when the next time that will be is, I don’t think that bothers anyone.

If one alter talks/acts differently than another one did, that’s...that’s normal. They are functionally more or less different people. Don’t get freaked out about tone changes, people like to accuse us of shit like “suddenly being so passive-aggressive” just because the last guy they were talking to was super expressive and the guy they’re talking to now is kind of deadpan. That’s not what’s going on, it’s not you, it’s us.

Don’t pog at introjects like they Are Your Favourite Blorbos. They’re not. Even if an introject is made out of aspects of some fictional character you like [...or hate], they aren’t that fictional character. They aren’t, like, Fictional Blorbos Plopped Into The Real World Straight Out Of Fiction Land One Day, that’s not how introjection works because that’s not a real thing that can happen. At most, they’re like...an imperfect clone of their source’s personality? And not necessarily even their whole personality, maybe only one single aspect of it that our subconscious happened to latch onto, and so they aren’t necessarily even like their source at all in literally any other way. They’re probably not going to act “canon-compliant,” because they aren’t the character and are not roleplaying. They’re just dudes. Please treat them like normal dudes. They are no different from any other alter, introjection is a normal thing that happens in DID/OSDD for known reasons.

I’m not a professional, please don’t treat me like one. I don’t have any sort of degree in Brain Science, I’m just a guy who happens to have a weird brain. I’m not an expert on all the little intricate details of my own disorder, I’m still learning about it myself. I’m no authority on the subject.

{{!!Don’t reblog this!!}}

Supposedly there’s an option to turn reblogs off for specific posts, but apparently that feature has not rolled out to me yet because I sure can’t find the toggle anywhere.

#Boundaries Time! #.It speaks #About me yo #.Toby ⚙️ #Getting weird and unpleasant messages lately. Stop that please.

[fuckandfable]

thought bulimia 🧠

I had a long conversation with my father today. He’s lonely and needs someone to vent to so I allow it. He wants reassurance and support and I gladly give it. That man has set the bar so high for my vision of what it means to be a man and a father.

That man may have disappointed me but he never hurt me. Maybe because he didn’t know how to emotionally connect. Maybe he had gone his entire life without that connection, no I know he has.

He is an emotional man. Angry, sad, happy. He dives into his emotions deeply and they sound very much like telling old war stories. He lets anger and paranoia get the best of him. He thinks everyone is against him. It’s an automatic defense mode thing where if he prepares for disappointment or disaster now, he will not have to bear the burden.

I have never held anything against him. He was always just there when I needed a parent with no judgments. None at all. Only empathy, support and comfort. Now it is time for me to give him those things. I do. Willingly.

I have been really trying to keep connected with him like I do my mother. More regular “hi dad please have a good day” I love my ability to pull my energy back to me and put it where I want it, with certainty and with love, not for love.

I love loving people into life. Love can change SO much. Its power remains misunderstood because I know everyone believes in love. Even the sadistic and sick fucks out there that love to be sick and sadistic. People know love. This convinces me more to believe that love is life. Love is all you need. Love is all you want. No matter if you’re looking for it in the corporate world or in the human world. Love is water. Love is sustaining. I’m convinced it comes before food on the needs list. Feeling love IS choosing love. You will start to feel like you love yourself a bit more after every time you choose love.

Really- what do you think of when you think of the word love? No second guessing. I think love is choosing love. But it is so board of a word that we will forever be experiencing what other people think is love and some people love the same and some people love differently, so that leaves an infinite amount of chances to experience love everyday. The more I give it a chance the more I start to learn about love. Note the different methods of love and at what the different dosages are. People are so broken that I think they think broken people need the most dosage of love. I beg to differ. Micro-dosing with love is probably the best method I have found so far. Instead of big huge presentations of love, I micro-dose them throughout my day when I feel the humanly urge to love, which is pretty much always. I mean come on, I’m a woman, REMEMBER THAT.

Love does not have to be fancy, it is completely fucking free. Love does not showboat. Love is a little tiny red mushroom in the forest. It is potent.

I am really at the age where I realized how fucking difficult it is parenting. They gave me a good life, I wouldn’t be me without it.

My dad told me today that he is scared of death and he kinda wants to live now. The vulnerability and honesty in his voice I cannot forget. He said that he use to not care if he died. He said that. And now, he cares. I can’t help but think that this may have something do my recent micro-dosing of love. He is sorta my test subject now 👀 muahaha. No but seriously. I can’t believe my dad said that. He has called me everyday since Thursday? Friday? Almost always forty five minutes? It’s been really good healing for both of us. I plan to keep it this way the rest of my life with him. I love seeing the immense opportunities to apply the same social media ideology. You know the “likes” and the “little red hearts” - that’s what people think love is, again, cannot hold that against them because I do not enjoy that idea of love. Feel me? So. I redirect the urge to want short bursts of love from whatever meaningless platform it could come from and create it myself. I talk to the people that really matter to me and give me meaningful perspectives on life.

Ugh my dad, you know? I want to know more about him. So that’s my winter goal.

1. Talk to my dad more.

Your winter goal is-

1. micro-dose with love as much as possible. Keep yourselves and others warm. 🥰

I have to go now that I have just puked my mind all over the keyboard.

-x

#sunday #okay damn #free writing #free write #i’m okay #i’m ok i promise #rabbit hole #diary #tumblr diary #diaryposting #personal diary #poetic #writeblr #writing #writers and poets #poetry blog #poetry #writblr #deep writing #love #girl interrupted

[zeeroweenies]

❝  WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER ?❞

ft. baji

cw ✞ dark ; consensual non-consent ; predator/prey ; knife play ; fear play ; creampie kink ; use of ‘mr. killer’ ; degradation ; throat fucking ; drugging ; chase scene ; blood play ; impact play ; doll nickname ; bondage ; no aftercare. minors dnr/dni or blockeddd.

wc ✞ 4.2K

the first piece for my kinktober event, a lil late but we move 😍

You can run but you can’t hide.

Those were the words that rang in your head as you ran for your life.

The hooves of your feet came into contact with the earth repeatedly as you hit the ground running. The resonant crunch of dried autumn leaves leaving behind proof of your detrimental situation. The atmosphere that surrounded you was a continuous void of pitch-black that made you sprint aimlessly into nothingness, a tiny flashlight gripped in your sweaty hand being the only object illuminating your path.

Your efforts— although admirable— are to no avail with the ominous presence stalking behind you, tall, masked, and hot on your heels wielding sharp silver that glimmers in the pale moonlight, engraved letters cast along the blade forming the word scream.

Hm, surely he’ll make you scream next.

He already did, though not in the way he wanted; sweet fear radiating off of your short, skirt adorned body when you cried into the dead of night for help for the first time while he marched behind you, legs pedaling as you made an attempt to escape from him. But he’s not running, oh no. What kind of predator runs after his prey? Instead he’s taking his sweet time, steps leisurely and confident waiting for you to fuck up like all of the killers he’s seen in the movies do; arousal and blood shooting straight to the figure’s dick at the golden opportunity of you making a mistake. And just like out of some cliché horror film you do.

“Oh fuck!”

Making the age-old rookie error of looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of how close the killer is from catching them, feet getting caught up in the mix and tied together as a result and flashlight cartwheeling through the dirt before tumbling to the ground face first with a hard thump. The impact of the earth on your cheek leaving a nasty bruise.

He could catch you now, he had full advantage. You were hurt, cornered, vulnerable. If he took his dig now he could have you by your pretty little throat, tear that tiny skirt apart and do whatever he pleased with you. But that wouldn’t be any fun.

A rush of blood throughout your skull makes your head ring with intense pain and your skin goes numb, barely being able to make out a distorted laugh not too far away from your position as you slowly begin to gain your senses back. Dizzily, you push yourself onto your elbows with a groan, micro-clumps of dirt returning to the earth as you hear a rustling in the cornfield followed by a gravelly voice.

“Don’t scratch up that pretty face, babydoll.” The killer’s lips pull wide into a smile through his mask, sharp canine-like teeth baring in the moonlight when he pulls it up to reveal his sinister features.

“Gonna have it all bruised up before I get to fuck it.”

The spheres of your pupils blow wide at the statement, wide enough that they could pop. His words strike dread through your entire body. And soon you’re lifting yourself from the ground once more, albeit wobbly— making a run for it again as you quickly dash to the nearby abandoned structure that’s close to the cornfield, hearing near-maniacal laughter in your absence.

This is gonna be fun. Maybe not for you, but he’s about to have a ball.

“Ready or not,” a wicked grin almost penetrates the figure’s mask as he pulls it back down, cock straining hard against his trousers before he begins to stalk you down again.

“Here I come.”

The depths of the cornfield pass you by rushingly as you sprint, wind tossing them about through the air making sharp thorns leave burning cuts on your soft thighs and brown stains on your worn dirty-muddy Chuck Taylors.

Almost there.

Your movements are fast, tits bouncing and nearly spilling out of your frayed tank top with a knot tied through the middle, finally reaching your destination although scathed with countless scratches and bloody cuts littered across your once flawless body. You had to leave the flashlight, fuck it— you don’t have time to go back for it now.

“Fuck, fuck, shit.” your chipped manicure comes to twist at the icy doorknob. Locked. Your head whips back as you jiggle the metal in desperation in search of the mysterious figure but he’s nowhere to be found, supposedly obscured inside the tall stalks of corn.

Your sight scans the area, pupils jittery as you look for something, anything that you can use to maybe smash the window with. To your avail, a brick conveniently lying on the porch catches your eye, and you silently release the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. Just your luck— perhaps you should be blaming that luck on something else, or maybe you wouldn’t have gotten this far.

The concrete mass feels heavy in your hand as you draw your arm back, letting it go without a second thought as you bring it forward in the same breath.

Crash.

“One, two, I’m coming for you,” a chirp resonates from your rear, and your head spins quickly to see your boyfriend catching up to you. But he’s not your boyfriend right now, he’s not supposed to be.

He’s supposed to be a serial killer like straight up out of a horror movie, a psycho. And you’re his prey, a ditzy, dumb little slut who’s friends and boyfriend just got picked off one by one with him saving you for last.

Your hand reaches for the opposite end of the broken window before unlatching the pesky lock, swinging the creaky door open with the shattered crunching of glass beneath your sneakers following behind you.

“Three, four,” he sings when he finally ascends the threshold, kicking the measly slab of wood open with one boot. “Better lock the door.”

Quickly, you dart upstairs after some internal debating, immediately finding a bedroom to hide in.

There’s a mattress: sheets soiled brown, deflated pillows resting against the head that’s just barely held up by a deteriorating frame and rusted springs penetrating the memory foam. Talk about a death bed. Then there’s a window, broken. Torn curtains flailing about freely in the night’s cool breeze that nips at your skin.

For a moment you think about choosing the option of crawling underneath the bed, but he’d be able to weasel you out quickly. Just like how the killers do in the movies. And with the faint but familiar crunch of glass crushing beneath a black pair of combat boots you know you don’t have much time to negotiate this decision. So you choose the latter, alternatively bolting to the nearby closet and shutting yourself in it.

The acoustical creak of floorboards make the tiny hairs on your body stand up as if you’re about to get struck by lightning, heavy footsteps through black combat boots nearing as your breathing picks up.

Everything is dark, light from the moon held up by the sky shining through the broken window like a night light.

“Five, six… grab your crucifix.”

A bone-chilling series of whistles with the deafening sound of a blade slowly being dragged across the crumbling wall nears your location, stopping at the threshold before letting it graze the edge with a sharp ding making your hand shakily but quietly fly to your mouth in apprehension to silence your dense breaths. “Seven… eight—”

He taps the rotting wood with the steel, smiling. “Aw fuck, guess that’s not the right movie is it, baby?” Mask now resting above his roguishly handsome face and tone condescending in attempt to draw you out of your hiding spot, boot loudly tapping the floor while leaning coolly against the doorframe. One, two, three.

This was a scare tactic, it had to be. You’ve seen it in the movies more times than you could count, how the antagonist would try to get their victim to show themselves by giving them a startle, making it easy for them to launch their attack. Couldn’t be any different in this scenario.

“I hearrr youuu,” a sing-song tone that sends chills down the length of your spine, legs beginning to wobble at the chance of being discovered.

Could he? Shit, maybe he could. The beat of your heart was hammering in your chest so loudly, like a prisoner trying to flee their cell, that perhaps he could hear you, sense your presence even in the lifeless abandoned home.

His eyes search the room as he emerges fully into the space, spinning the black leather handle of the knife skillfully between his fingers. When his head turns in your direction, to the closet, you can feel your heart stop and you have to force yourself to keep from breathing too hard or your ass would be as good as grass. He curiously takes a step toward the door, hand slowly and consciously reaching for the small wooden knob before—

Bump.

The focus that was once on the door is now turned to the bed where a loud noise went off. A wry chuckle falling almost mockingly past his lips before he slowly stalks over to the bed. Knife in hand, taking three steps forward and stopping before the foot before yanking back the tattered cover, “Gotcha.”

Except there’s no one there to get.

The edge of his blade finds his temple to scratch it as he straightens back up to his former position with a low laugh rumbling the base of his chest, lowering the mask over his face. Slowly and wearily exiting the room with cautious steps, “Tricky slut.”

A few moments pass before the wooden door is slid open again, your heated face streaming with tears you had no idea were there, forcing back sounds as you tread lightly, feet moving across decaying wood flooring gingerly and considerately or else you’d surely be a dead woman.

Your breaths and pathetic sniffles are quieted to a silence when you finally peek your head past the door’s entry, seeing Kei round the corner of the abandoned hallway while muttering something under his breath. “Where are you, you little bitch.”

Several moments pass before you can even think about mustering up the balls to step foot out of the confined closet.

You finally proceed to emerge into the hallway fully once you think he’s gone, the pounding in your heart calming as you wipe your tears and give yourself a dull, lifeless smile; a pat on the back for making it this far. It’s just like in the movies. Beat the final level, outsmart the trickster at his own tricks and come out as the victor. In the end, killers really aren’t that smart. Guess this means you win.

“Found you.”

The smile vaporizes from your face the moment the dreadful words and dark voice float through your ears. He came quick before you even knew it or could hear him, materializing out of thin air behind you and the spots of your vision going black when a thick cloth material is pulled over your eyes. Another wet cloth being forced against your nose and mouth accompanied by a strong unfamiliar scent that paralyzes you, burning the hairs of your nostrils and intoxicating your senses causing your head to feel light and your knees weak.

Incessant screams are muffled by the bag blanketing your face, cries of help and no all subdued by the cloth and Keisuke’s utter strength manhandling you to another part of the barren house.

“You fucker! Get off! Get— off—!” You still struggle though you feel yourself losing the fight, missing hit after hit due to the drugs that asshole fed you that’s actively coursing through your system, kicking, wrestling, and scratching whatever exposed skin you could. Piece of shit, he’s not playing fair. “Shh, sleep for me… That’s a good girl.”

Feet moving against your own accord and squeaking against the hardwood as you thrashed blindly in a vice like grip. It didn’t register in your brain that you were being taken to a lower area until you felt yourself being dragged down a flight of stairs and having your hands bound roughly, head full of cotton with your limbs becoming limp as cooked vegetables. And that’s when everything went black. Pitch.

In your quiet state, everything swirls around you. Colors, vision, voices, all slurred and distorted.

That drug must’ve had you knocked out for a while, because the bag leaves your head the second you gain consciousness again, ruffling your hair in the process as your vision returns to you. Pretty lashes damp with tears and mascara blotted as you actually come face to face with the male for the first time. His frame is tall above you as you sit below him at your knees and wrists aching from rope burn. Even in your situation, you couldn’t help but study how handsome he looked. Black bomber jacket covered in horror embroidered patches sewn into the breast with straight-leg jeans and infamous combat boots to complete the look. Yeah, he looked like a killer if you ever seen one.

“Fuck, you’re a crafty little bitch. Can’t believe you had me chasing your skank ass all over the place, actually had me thinkin’ you were gonna get away for a second,” he smiles wryly as if he’s got you cornered like a wounded animal, rambling on and on about things you can’t comprehend as you just sit there. Defeated. Wrists raw and beginning to draw blood from the tight rope that bound your arms taut behind your back, leaving you helpless, defenseless, and weak. You don’t even think you have enough strength in you to fight back at this point.

Is this the part where you beg for your life? For him to not kill you?

Your eyes go glassy and dry from the amount of time you’ve forced yourself not to blink in disbelief, stinging when a tear finally forces its way out of the pit of your eyes and flows freely down your face as you struggle to form a proper sentence. “Why are you doing this?”

The ravenette’s rant is interrupted by your sudden query just when his ice gray irises connect with yours, baring his sharp white canines in all their fanged glory and laughing dryly at the question, laughing at you.

“Cause I can.”

Most pyschos have a motive— a reason for doing the fucked up shit that they do. Michael Myers, Jigsaw, even Billy fucking Loomis had a motive, their very own personal rationale or last staw that finally made them snap. But this one, he’s just a sick fuck.

Those three words only make you tremble in place, causing more tears to fall, pushing you to say anything that’ll appease him if it means he’ll let you go in one piece. “Please let me go, I-I won’t tell anyone, I swear! I’ll do anything, Anything you want!”

He smirks, leaning into you, “Anything?”

“Anything!”

The length of his dick presses at the front of his jeans at your desperateness, giving you a once over and surprised at how suddenly compliant you are before he straightens again, “If you wanna live,” fingers skillfully unbuttoning his pants and tugging his zipper down, hard cock springing free against gravity as he grabs a fistful of your hair before jerking you towards him roughly, “You better suck my dick like your life fucking depends on it, cause it does.”

A wave of arousal shoots through your body, and then your pussy. You shouldn’t have been getting off to his sick shit, but you obey him nonetheless, your cunt too. Pathetically scuttling on your knees against the cold concrete floor of the dim-lit basement as you grovel below him, wrapping your swollen lips around the head of his dick the second he holds it up to your mouth, getting your teeth out of the way in an effort to take him deeper, lolling your tongue across the underside of his length all while trying not to gag.

You move at a lazy pace for what seems like thirty seconds, probably due to your catatonic and shaken up state, before you feel two huge hands yanking at the roots of your scalp to pull your hair with harsh force.

The skin in your knuckles drains blood from squeezing your fists so tightly when the taller male forces himself all the way down your throat, making a small whine vibrate around his shaft and causing your eyes to snap tight, jaw going slack and allowing him to violently fuck your throat.

“Look at you, you’re disgusting.”

Your mouth’s warm, wet, and practically sucks him in, the tip hitting your esophagus. It looks so fucking pretty stretching around him each time he slams into it that he almost feels bad knowing he’s the cause behind the near pained expressions etched across your gorgeous fucking face because he’s using your throat like he doesn’t care about you getting off. But come on, there’s no way you’re not getting off when you’re making a fucking mess all over his boots like you are now, needy little hole drooling slick all over the expensive leather and leaving a wet spot on the freezing concrete, humping him like a slut in heat when he tells you to grind on it or he’ll fucking kill you, and looking up at him through lust-crazed and fucked out eyes.

That’s right, look at me you nasty fucking slut.

He drives his hips into you a few more times. The wet, sloppy sounds of your mouth are enough to have him cumming, heavy balls slapping against your chin and masses of spit coating your chin and dripping onto your shirt, fucking his cum down your throat and groaning loudly as the slightly bitter taste of semen floods your senses.

The pain in your scalp lessens when your hair is released, chin now being held in his strong grip as you’re forced to meet his cold stare. “Swallow.” You immediately comply, lest you want to meet the end of any more cruel punishment, the liquid travelling all the way from your throat to your stomach.

“Can.. Can I go now?” your breath and words come out shaky. “I did what you asked, please…”

The long-haired male thinks over it for a second, still hovering over you.

“I’ll tell you what. If you say, ‘please Mr. Killer, don’t kill me,’ maybe I’ll think about letting you go. Maybe.” It’s either that, or you clean up that fucking mess you made on his brand new boots with your slut mouth. He’s being merciful, he thinks, letting you off easy.

“Please…” your weak response earns the hardest slap you’ve ever received across your face, leaving a hot mark that stings in place as Keisuke leers down at you, lips tight.

“Do better.”

“Please Mr. Killer,” you sputter a cough, leftover cum and spit leaking from your mouth while you beg harder, “Please don’t kill me,”

A twisted grin befalls him, “Don’t worry baby, m’not gonna kill you yet,” he says before manhandling you onto your stomach, your panty-covered pussy hidden by the tiny skirt you sport before even that’s flipped up, leaving you open and exposed as you’re pulled up onto your raw knees, cheek freezing against the hard ground.

He thinks your pussy’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen aside from your face, wet puffy lips spilling from between the string of the pink lace thong. You don’t even try to shield yourself, it’s not like you can anyway, wincing and whimpering when he pulls the seat taut with his index finger and lets it snap painfully against your clit. “That hurt?” he asks, cooing and tone full of faux sympathy as he stands to his full height, pressing his boot against your cunt with force and grinding it against your clit, squishing and slick sounds confining the spacious room. “Yeah? How ‘bout that, that hurt too?”

“Stop, you’ll get me dirty!”

“Dirty? This pussy’s fucking filthy, look how wet it is,” he marvels at the strings of slick connecting the sole of his boot to your soaked panties, “I don’t think a disgusting slut like you can get more dirty than this.”

All of a sudden he’s crouching behind you, and you feel something sharp— albeit cold, dragging along the curve of your ass and under the fabric of your panties before a ripping sound cuts through the tension-thick air, a light scream pulled from you at the same time.

That’s… It’s his knife.

And before you know it, the other end is slipping through your slit with ease, your pulse quickening as the now wet handle prods your hole, “W-What are you doing… stop it!”

“Stop? Or keep going?” he quirks an eyebrow, noticing the way your little whore mouth says one thing but your pussy’s doing most of the talking, fluttering around the edge of the handle and trying to suck it in as he presses it in deeper, a desperate whine slipping past your wet lips.

“You want me to stop, and yet this pussy’s all wet.” He derides, letting the handle pop from your entrance before spinning it on his fingers to the blades side, cutting your hands free and yanking you onto your feet while you struggle like a baby bird finally leaving the nest as the stronger male slams you against the nearest wall.

“You’re a fuckin’ liar, you don’t actually want me to stop. You want me to keep going, hold you down and fuck you like a worthless slut. You want me to use you like a cumdump, right?”

You shake your head no, but your cunt throbs, thrashing in place still without the burden of bound wrists but no use with his hard cock now pressing into your cunt, lewd moans unable to be kept back as he starts off with an unforgiving pace already.

Poor you, lucky him.

He can barely focus on your walls gripping him when you keep tussling about in his hold, continuous movements making him force your head back with a rough tug to your hair. “Keep moving and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

“No, p-please! Please don’t!”

“Shut your trap, or these sweet insides are gonna make a mess all over the floor.” He presses cold steel to the bottom of your stomach, almost deep enough to cut, threatening. “And I’m not talkin’ about that pretty pussy of yours either, baby.”

He continues to pummel into your willing cunt, bratty protests dissipating into pleads of more, and keep going as your walls relax and tighten around him in intervals, milky transparent cream collecting at his base with each brutal push and pull of him into you.

Your boyfriend— the killer. The two of you had gone through a lot of scenes together, ranging from vanilla stuff to darker kinks. But nothing you’ve ever done has been as intense as this. This… this was fucked up on a whole different level. Something as taboo as this was either bound to get you outcast by your peers if anyone knew about it, or burned at the stake for getting off to something so foul and perverse.

And yet you tell him to keep going, to stuff your pussy with his dick, to fill you up with cum and use you as nothing more than an object for his pleasure.

It’s getting close, your orgasm. Hanging over your head as your walls clamp around him, breaths getting heavier and moans getting louder with your chipped nails clawing at the gravelly wall as his fingers hook inside your mouth, ass moving back against him to try to fit more of him inside you, cries for help non-existent. Though there’s no need to beg for help when it feels good, does it?

A rough hand slaps over your mouth, muffling your whines and whimpers.

“Shut the fuck up and be the cumdump you were made to be.” Your eyes roll back into your skull so hard that they’ll probably get stuck, feeling his load spill into you at the same exact moment you cum, fucking you through the aftershocks of your orgasm as your eyes shut tight and allow him to use what’s left of you. Your breath feels shaky as his cum leaks from your hole, whining and lids fluttering as your body deflates.

The knife in Baji’s hand finds a home in his back pocket so he can catch your limp form, crumpling in his arms as you flash him a hazy, fucked out smile.

His slightly blown pupils scour your face for any signs of dissatisfaction or fear, even though there seems to be none. “You okay, babe?”

He’s always been such a worry wart.

“That shit was fucking amazing,” a weak reply finds its way past your lips, groggily and crazily moving your hands about like you were describing some kind of mind-blowing experience.

“I’m taking your crazy ass home,” he kisses away the sheen of sweat that glistened across your forehead. “Need to get you cleaned up, I think those drugs are fucking with your brain.”

You give him a hum in compliance as he scoops you up with ease, “Okay, Mr. Killer.”

📂 : @lovncity @misslovingpearl @haitaniproperty @bbyspiiice @shawtybethicc @shounenmangaslut @zvkoo @animeangel21 @motherkhal @rougedoll @lilwaifuvert @generationaldaffodil @alia232 @forbaji @cyb3rmlf @toruskithes @peachwrldsblog @dabismissingcumsock @frozen-phoenix17 @sunarintarousslut @hxricane @lalyloopsy @m-marsz @fairyhvpen @ewaiyana @99tcs @flwersajou @vilesinx @cyberdeanpiegiant @unfortunately-tia @christian-do @izukine @nsprinx @a$tr0bab13 @sangwoahonthebeat @kimoraa18 @sinningforrory @tojigal @riyahrocks @lovemoreworrylessv @ctrl-alt-dlete @gojocumslut @chososrealgf @matsukashi @hakk-ai @astralfics @risano @hanmashuiji @messofavs @cutiebuginette @izuoyarmin @mikaa7 @hiddensideofmoon @mrszoomet1 @uhitsniyahig @zyn-th @iheartdabii @jaegerluv @chosos-angel @faepixie @chidwhoriii @levierenandarminsslut @ryugamii @abbyy-cxm @yumijaeger @qudvxnkanx @nezsded @bruised-lips @lucacangettathisass @thethyri @hunniiibunniii @jjkyuuslut @nyctosin @steponmiya @hybristophilaa

if i couldn’t tag you it’s probably due 2 ur visibility settings, i’m sorry :( also couldn’t tag the rest cause i hit the tag limit, also sorry!

#baji smut #keisuke baji smut #baji x reader smut #keisuke baji x reader #tokyorev x reader smut #tokyorev imagines #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you smut #tw.cnc #tw.knife play #tw.blood #tw.impact play

[iambilliejeanok]

🌸Introducing: 🌸

Fandom:Attack On Titans||Jujustu Kaisen|| Naruto

Warnings: 18+, NSFW,

🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸

Levi as Mr Steal Your Girl/Guy

Player stats:

Here’s a short king who knows his worth and will literally use your girl or your man as an example, incase you try and disrespect him because of his height.

Isn’t much of player, but let’s just say that if he wants you…he can probably have you.

Loyalty:

He’s not one to sleep with every one in town, and he only does hoe shit to humble the haters.

When he’s in a relationship, he’s one hundred percent loyal to his partner and expects the same from you.

Love Languages: (in order according to him)

Quality Time

Words of Affirmation

Physical Touch

Acts of Service

Giving gifts

Because he could die on any day, it’s always his priority to spend ample time with his loved ones.

He’s very vocal about the way he feels about you and expects you to return that energy, or else he gets sad, but he won’t complain about it.

Prefers to spend the night with his partner, is always bummed about about being far from you.

Pros:

If it’s two things you benefit from living with Levi is that he’s a great cook and doesn’t mind taking care of dinner most nights.

He also does a great job at keeping the place neat and tidy.

Will make you feel like you’re the only girl in the world.

Cons:

The place is clean. Always. Everytime. The two of you might have an argument about the cleanliness of the house every now and then, especially if you’re not able to keep up with how he likes things. It’s just something he can’t compromise for.

Very protective of you. He’s lost too many loved ones to not micro monitor you and constantly need reassurance that you’re by his side or he will have a panic attack 🥺

Sexual fantasies:

Levi always imagines face fucking someone to his hearts desire. He’s always wanted to freely do that, but who’s gonna let him? So he’s accepted that the reality of that happening is very much non existent.

Sexual preferences:

Doesn’t matter what gender he’s dating, he’s always the top. Always. He cannot be tamed. He is the tamer.

He’s very gentle 🥺 but that doesn’t mean he won’t make a few adjustments for your preferences. He’s more of a love maker than a fucker. Loves the moment to be sweet and sensual, no matter how filthy it gets.

He’s open to anything, but he especially loves to give a good spanking while he’s giving out back shots.

Likes it raw. A condom just isn’t the same.

Desires:

Loves to give head. From the back, with your ass in his face please. Will eat your ass too…if you let him clean it for his own peace of mind.

Just thinking about the taste of your juices gathering in his tongue makes his mouth water. He might be too desperate to wait until the two of you are home.

💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗

Gojo as The Player:

Player stats:

If y’all looking for a hoe you got it right here. FOR THE STREETS! Even he can’t estimate his body count. You’re always hearing reviews from nearly every one😩

If he’s in a relationship he will try his best to stay faithful but he can’t ’t guarantee anything legit 😭

Let’s just say that relationships aren’t really his thing. But the streets….home.

He prefers a no strings attached thing and never sleeps with the same person twice. Also prefers to sleep with people who don’t happen to see him everyday or know him too well.

Doesn’t know who you are afterwards. Don’t even look at him because he seriously forgot.

Loyalty:

When it comes to bitches…do I even have to say?

But when it comes to his students and friends? He’s very loyal. You’d get more loyalty and respect from being his friend than his lover.

But otherwise, would literally die for you without a second thought if he does hold you close to his heart.

Love languages: (in order according to his personality)

Acts of Service

Words of Affrimation

Giving gifts

Physical Touch

Quality Time

He will bend over backwards for those that he cares about to make sure they’re safe, happy and successful.

He doesn’t even realize that he does this, but he always compliments people. He’s gonna say whatever is on his mind anyhow, so when you do get a compliment from him, just know it’s genuine. He also is also very vocal about his feelings, so expect him to say a few caring things along the way.

Anytime he sees something that reminds him of you, he’s getting it. You’re going to wake up to flowers everyday and a bubble bath when he’s got some time off.

He loves getting things done for you, even the smallest of things, like opening your juice box for you.

Pros:

He’s a walking bank. Mei Meis favourite contact. So if you share a personal relationship with him, he’s most likely spoiling your ass everyday. That means souvenirs from all the places he travels too. If you’re his girlfriend then his card is yours. So wax, nail and eyelash appointments are all on him. And expect to receive all your services from the best. He tends to spend a good coin everywhere he goes so he’s quite famous amounts business owners, you’ll most likely get really great discounts and offers. Might even get yourself a wig sponser just for rolling with him.

Sex is very overwhelming with him. And you get it every time he’s with you. 😓(when will it be me)

You could learn quite alot from him and excel with his support and motivation.

Cons:

He’s gonna cheat on you girl. As for respect, he’s got non of it. The sweetest boyfriend in the world, but he’s not just your boyfriend. And when he’s done with you he’s really done because not even the baddest pussy in the game could get that some loyalty. Maybe he might smash twice…maybe.

Sexual fantasies:

He’s hasn’t quite figured out how to make this work, but he’s always fantasized about getting showered in squirt. Yes. You read it right. He wants nothing more than a bunch of women all masturbating to the sight of him and then squirting all over him and moaning his name in unison.

Sexual desires:

Very rough and aggressive. Loves to take out a lot of energy during these sessions. He’s always gonna go hard, deep and fast when he’s fucking you. For one, he wants you to come quick in his dick, quick enough to bring you to a screaming mess by the third orgasm.

Loves to have you scratch him hard while he’s turning your soul inside out, literally making you gush like a tap with that goofy ass smile on his damn face.

He just absolutely loves hardcore fucking. And he needs someone who’s able to handle it. It’s one thing to be willing to let him fuck you the way he wants, it’s another thing to actually let him fuck you the way he wants.

Sexual preferences:

Missionary, preferably with your legs slung over his shoulders and your hands clawing at him while he’s at it.

If he really likes you, he’s gonna make you suffer. Until you’re begging him to stop. If this is just a quick session for him, he’s just gonna last as long as it takes for him to cum before he’s out of there faster than you can say black flash.

🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸

Kakashi as The Toxic King

Player Stats:

Well what can I say, being toxic takes thought and planning, which is something Kakashi is good at when he wants to be.

Will literally romance you and make you feel like the only girl in the world one day, and then treat you like a complete stranger the next.

He’s broken a lot of hearts. Doesn’t have a good reputation amongst the ladies.

I can’t say you cannot count on him because he’s gonna make you feel like you can and then he’s gone, on some “we aren’t even dating” 😭😭😭😓😓😩😓

Loyalty:

Sure, he’s loyal when he’s serious. Like I said, he’s toxic side is pre thought and mediated. He’s not naturally toxic, so when he doesn’t decide to put that monster away in the closet, he can be very promising.

Will he cheat on you? Probably not if you’re officially together, but as long as he didn’t specifically say “I want you to be my girlfriend/boyfriend”, he’s a single man.

Will literally watch you cry, comfort you, and still keep repeating how silly you were for believing in ideas he certainly didn’t out in your head.

He is a prick yeah.

Love Languages: (according to his personality)

Physical Touch

Quality Time

Acts of Service

Words of Affirmation

Gift giving

He’s very touchy, and can be super romantic, that’s why he’s dangerous😩 but with the right person, it’s absolutely amazing. He’s all about that skin on skin contact. Hold his hand. Always. Slipping his hand under your shirt and leaning his head on your shoulder or on your head.

Will serenade you to the moon and back, taking you on plenty of date nights, lunch dates, etc. giving you all the attention in the world, it’s great when he’s serious about you, but just plane cruel torture if he’s only feeding his own desires and not yours.

If he actually starts taking a lot of weight of your shoulders, that’s when you can guarantee his serious about you, because he doesn’t usually enjoy doing unnecessary work if he doesn’t have to. But for someone he’s serious about, he’ll do just about anything for them.

Pros:

Treats you like a queen! Spoils you in more ways than just financially.

Loves some nice, slow and dragged out foreplay. Until you’re basically begging him to move along with things.

There are quite a few pros that come with dating the Hokage.

Cons:

TOXIC! He’s such a liar when he isn’t all about you. Will tell you exactly anything you wanna head if it will get you off his ass about something. “Are you really only with me?”, “yes sweetheart, no one else has my interests like you” 😩😭

Sexual preferences:

Serious switch energy. Literally whatever works for the moment, he can run with. Maybe he leans a little more toward the top side, but he certainly does love being a pillow prince sometimes.

He gets really mean when he’s giving out back shots and will literally fuck you are even when you’re screaming for him, but he absolutely love this position.

Sexual Desires:

If there’s one thing Kakashi lives for, is the way you struggle to kiss him back while he steadily finger fucks you. Loves loves love, everything that revolves around fingering you.

He always makes a big mess whenever he puts his hand between your legs, and even if you’re begging and whining for the real thing, he might not give it to you at all, if you don’t quit whining. You just simply have to let him finger you to his hearts desire. Even if it means you’ll keep coming for him.

Sexual fantasies:

A threesome with a man and a woman. He’s always wanted to fuck while getting fucked. Or topped while being topped. Maybe suck a dick and eat pussy at the same time. He’s also always wanted to people giving him all the attention, both of them greedily sucking his dick, maybe with an extra person sitting on his face. He just loves the overwhelming idea of being pleased and pleasing.

💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸💗🌸

#naruto imagines #naruto headcanons #naruto smut #kakashi imagines #kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan smut #attack on titan headcanons #levi ackerman x black reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman imagine #aot smut #aot fanfiction #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen imagines #gojo x reader smut #gojo imagines #gojo headcanons #fanfic introductions

[loveislattes]

1 + 10 = Dark and Primal (Predator/Prey) Kink

Summary: Exactly what the title says!

Warnings: Reader is gender-neutral but does own a vagina, primal kink roleplay, semi-public sex, dom/sub, squirting, multiple orgasms, and dirty talk. Ye have been warned!

A/N: This is the first fic drabble to come from the number prompt game!

Tag List:

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations/tips and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Tell me something,” A deep, rich voice spoke suddenly, “What’s a darling thing like you doing out here, all alone, so late at night?”

Instantly your head whipped to the side, eyes narrowing to scrutinize the tree line for any sign of the stranger, but found nothing other than darkness in return. You were about ready to continue on your trek and blame it on the sleepless night when the intruder let out a rumbling chuckle, the noise echoing around you in every direction.

Hairs now standing on end, you clutched your bag tighter to your body and asked nervously, “Who-Who’s there?”

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Your lips suddenly felt too dry, the night too cold, the lamp posts too dim, as you belatedly realized that you’d not seen another person on this sidewalk for way too long. It was just you and this stranger.

“I-I’m just walk-walking,” you stammered pitifully.

Dread pooled in your gut and the sense of being utterly alone and helpless intensified egregiously as one by one all the lamp posts in your line of sight flickered out.

“Ooh fuck,” you whispered.

Finally, your self-preservation instinct kicked in and you took off running. It was a dark night, the moon a sliver in waning crescent and providing almost no light. Every slap of your shoes on the ground felt like a league farther from the man. Even as your heart pounded in your ears and your lungs burned with the taste of blood, you didn’t dare slow down. How far would you have to run? Did you dare take your chances hiding out in the woods?

As soon as hope started to rise, it was quickly dashed back down.

“You humans, so fragile.”

The whispered voice in your ear tore a frantic scream from your throat, fear locking up your legs, sending you tumbling forward. Of course you would fall! It wasn’t until he laughed, a smooth luscious sound, that you realized you were braced tight for an impact that hadn’t come.

“What the…”

When your eyes finally opened, you saw the concrete of the sidewalk uncomfortably close to your face but not touching. And then you were lifted. Darkness shrouded your view as arms tightened around your torso and brought you back to your own two feet. A cool gentle breath caressed the shell of your ear seconds before you felt the familiar shape of a nose against your neck.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” he huffed bemusedly, “Think fast but run faster, little fawn, for it will take all of your abilities to escape me.”

“W-Who are you?!” you gasped out.

As the darkness left your vision and the hands retracted from your sides, he purred almost imperceptibly, “I go by Dark, but you may call me sir.”

Then all at once, you were alone. You hesitantly looked around, eyes wide with fear.

“RUN!”

A fearsome screech of terror scratched your throat raw as you stumbled and took off as quickly as possible. You knew if you stayed on the paved path he’d only catch you just as easily as before. You had to chance the forest.

No matter how quiet you tried to be, it felt like every noise you made called out to him thricefold. Your breaths sounded like alarms in your ears and the forest floor cried out like little spies with every timid step you made.

“Oh little fawn, where might you be?”

“Shit,” you whispered in shock.

How were you ever to evade him? It was obvious he wasn’t human. There was no possible way a human could catch up to you without making noise, could track you so perfectly in a nearly pitch black forest. Of course there were also the insane reflexes, catching you so close to the ground, and his ability to speak clearly to you while being nowhere in sight.

Oh so slowly, you let your guard down as you shuffled carefully through the heavily wooded area and got lost in your thoughts; finding out what he was, felt as important as hiding from him. A soft noise of triumph escaped your lips as you spotted a rather large hollow in the base of a giant tree. Your eyes darted around one last time to make sure you didn’t see anyone before you ducked into the wood shelter.

Just as your back pressed up against the trunk, you heard a twig snap outside. The forest was uncannily quiet, no sound of animals nor wind to impede noises made by either you or him.

“A smart little thing you are, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught as fear slammed your heart into your ribcage like a drum. His voice was close, too close. Another crunch of branches and leaves drew your eyes to the right of your hollow. Even in the darkness of the woods, his black pants stood out against the greens and browns. Your assailant was wearing… suit pants? Despite the silliness of the situation, your nerves only increased as he crept closer and closer to you.

“Where are you?” he sang out lowly.

Hushed humming graced your ears delightfully as he passed you, hands clasped behind his back as if simply taking a nice stroll. You couldn’t control the way your stomach fluttered as the beautiful cadence of his voice filled the hollow. Someone so dangerous shouldn’t sound so inviting.

A quick rush of air released from your lungs as he continued on without incident and relief filled your veins. Head falling back, you let your eyes close and took deep slow breaths.

“It’s adorable that you think you’ve won, my little fawn.”

There wasn’t a word deep enough to describe the bone-chilling terror that flooded your body at the sound of his voice so close. Slowly your eyes fluttered open, only to discover a pair of legs standing in front of your only exit.

“Come out now, admit defeat, and I might even be gentle with you, darling,” he offered slyly.

“Fuck you,” you grit out.

Before you could second guess your actions, you bolted forward, right into his legs. While you were sure you didn't harm him, your actions surprised him enough to allow you the room to shove by. You had made it only a couple feet when hands were on you, one gripping your shoulder while the other pinched around the nape of your neck. A cry of shock and pain fled your lips as he shoved you face-first up against the nearest tree and pinned you with his body. Escape was looking more and more like a fool’s dream and yet you didn’t stop wiggling, trying your hardest to break free to no avail.

“Mmm, I do love it when my dinner puts up a fight, makes you smell all that more delectable,” he purred as his thigh slipped between yours, “And don’t fool yourself into believing I can’t smell just how aroused you are.”

Mortification burned up your face and you bit your lower lip hard to contain the distraught noise that threatened to break forth as he leaned into you. The pressure of his thigh served to further argue his point, your panties soaking up the slick between your thighs.

“P-Please,” you whispered shakily.

“Please what?” he mocked, “Please let you go? Now, you know I can’t do that, darling. I’m absolutely ravenous and you’re ripe for the taking.”

Teeth gently grazed the tender flesh of your throat and sent goosebumps across your flesh.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had such a sweet little human to play with,” he groaned quietly.

Fingers teased the sliver of skin poking from beneath your top, tracing the waistband of your shorts with languid little strokes; teeth mimicking the action against your neck.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this, darling. I’ve smelled your interest since the instant you started to run,” he whispered, giving another gentle roll of his hips.

Before you could contain it, an excited little squeak escaped as you felt the hardening bulge grind against your ass.

“There it is. Give in to me,” Dark murmured, “I promise this will be an experience unlike any other.”

You didn’t dare give an answer. The words felt too wrong on your tongue despite the sudden urge in your body demanding an agreement. As terrifying as he was, there was something about his presence that intrigued you. It felt like there was a war going on in your head as you gingerly wiggled your hips back against him and tilted your head to the side, allowing him full access to your neck.

The moan he gave in return made your knees weak.

In one rough movement, you heard the tell-tale rip of your shorts being ruined and then your hips were lifted in the next.

“Ooh, look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, little fawn,” he cooed mockingly as a finger danced across your lips, “It will be all the easier to make you mine.”

That was your only warning before his cock was lined up against your cunt, thick head breeching every so slightly before he slammed in. Tears sprung up into your eyes and you buried your face harder against the bark as a pathetic cry warbled out. It was devastating and heavenly all at once. When he didn’t follow up immediately, you couldn't help but arch back into him.

“What a needy little thing you are,” he chuckled, “I’m going to have so much fun with you before I destroy you.”

Never in a thousand years did you think you’d find yourself in this position, being hunted down and fucked in the middle of the forest, and yet there wasn’t a place you’d rather be in that moment.

Dark’s pace was brutal, the position even more so. Every thrust of his cock rocked you up against the tree, bark scraping and digging at your skin. Every attempt to move back sunk him deeper inside you. It felt like a never ending sea of desire. It wasn’t long until you were begging for more, until the sting of the micro cuts on your skin was just another layer to the destructive pleasure coiling in your core.

“You want more? You want to come? Then touch yourself,” he ordered huskily, “Rub your clit and make yourself come on my cock while I claim you as mine.”

His meaning came through loud and clear. He intended to mark you in the most primitive of ways, in ways no one had before. You’d never let any other come inside you, too afraid of the risks.

“N-No, don’t-”

Fingers dug into your wrist and jerked your hand down between your cunt and the tree, forcing you where you wanted it most.

“It’s no use, darling, it’s too late,” he snickered, “You’re already in the lion’s den and there’s no escape. Not anymore. You belong to me now.”

You could feel his teeth bared a wicked smile against your skin before they clamped down around your throat. Pain exploded and pulsed through your veins with every beat of your racing heart, and yet it pervertedly only urged you faster. Your fingers shook under the duress of all the sensations assaulting your nerves but you worked them nonetheless, too lost to the desire.

His moan rumbled through your very being as you tightened uncontrollably around him, teetering just on the edge of bliss.

“Mine.”

That one word was spoken with such conviction and punctuated with absolute abandon, all sanity lost as you seemingly became a means to an end; a prey to claim and fill.

“Mine! All mine,” he snarled against your shoulder, “Give yourself to me, now!”

His hand came to cover yours and joined in the efforts, frantically abusing your sensitive nub until finally it all snapped.

“Ah f-fuck, D-Dark, oh my god!”

Your ruse slipped as his name spilled from your lips, but you couldn’t care less as everything coalesced with a vengeance. The pain, the pleasure, the emotions. It was all worth it as your pleasure drenched your thighs, a sob falling from your lips in debauched relief. Pulse after pulse of ecstasy rocked through your core as he fucked you through your first climax into another, and then another.

Stifled grunt and moans shifted gradually into full blown snarls of bliss as he threw your hands up against the tree, pinning both with one while his other arm wrapped around your waist and held you in place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Shot after shot of hot cum filled your core, palpable with every throb of his cock, and you couldn’t resist melting back into him. With a final few thrusts, he released your hands only to pull you in close and hold you upright as he turned, putting himself between you and the tree as you both came down from the high.

“Holy hell,” you giggled, head tilting back to look up at him.

Dark gave a little chuckle and cupped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and directing you up into a gentle kiss.

“I promised the full experience. Was anything too much?” he asked.

“Mm-mm. It was perfect,” you whispered.

As best as you could in the awkward position, you snuggled back into him and pulled his arms around you.

“You can hunt me any time you want,” you admitted cheekily.

#dark/reader #primal kink #predator/prey #kink prompt #smut #fanfic

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance. Billy gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕕, 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕 𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were grabbing armfuls of clothes out of the wardrobe and dumping them into the three massive suitcases you’d laid open on the floor. If any of your friends had seen you at that point, they’d have said you looked like a woman possessed.

Finally, the wardrobe was empty of your clothes, and you moved on to the chest of drawers and then the bathroom. The contents were shovelled into a couple of large backpacks, as were various other bits and bobs from bedside table drawers and shelving units. In a surprisingly short space of time, you’d packed up everything that belonged to you in this damned apartment.

That left you just two very quick things to do, and you could then somehow get all this luggage downstairs into the lobby and get the hell out of Dodge.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The receptionist at the airport hotel you were booking into looked at the amount of luggage you had with you, and studied your face again carefully. No doubt she was wondering if you were a celebrity. Obviously deciding that there was an outside chance that you were but she just hadn’t recognised you, you were given an upgrade on the room without even asking for one.

Plopping down onto the bed once you’d got into your room, you rummaged around in one of the backpacks until you found your laptop, connecting it to the hotel WiFi. Opening one of the major airlines’ websites, you began scrolling through the destinations offered from JFK.

So many to choose from!

Now to plan your getaway.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy Russo got back home really late. He was going to be in trouble, no doubt about it... he hadn’t even texted because he hadn’t wanted to face any questions about what he was doing and when he’d be home.

Opening the apartment door, he was surprised to find it in darkness. Oh... had she gone to bed already? That wasn’t a good sign. He switched on the lights and immediately noticed a sheet of paper and a photo frame lying prominently on the kitchen island.

Walking over, he didn’t even have to pick up the note to read it. There was only one word, printed large.

“Goodbye.”

His stomach knotted and then he looked at the photo frame lying next to it. The photo was the one which was usually on the bedside table, a favourite of his.... she was sitting on a bar stool and he was behind her, his arms right around her. Both laughing into the lens as the photo was taken.

The photo was still in the frame, but it was torn in two.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Finally, by the next morning you’d decided on London. You’d never been, and quite honestly wanted to lose yourself in another big city. Flight booked, an AirBnB apartment booked for two weeks and you didn’t need a visa, so you were all set.

Now just one more thing to do. You opened up the box containing your new mobile phone and fitted the SIM card into it. After about twenty minutes of entering contact details and various apps onto it, you took your original phone and called Karen.

Her bored voice answered so you knew she was already at work, but she perked up when she heard your voice.

“Hi honey! How’re things? Wanna meet up for lunch today? I’m bored and I need a good gossip.”

You were a freelance copy writer and so you were your own boss. There were one or two assignments you were currently working on, but you could work from anywhere you could get a WiFi connection, so that wasn’t a problem.

“Uhhh, sadly not darling, I’m flying to London this afternoon.” You could hear her intake of breath, then she squealed, “Oh you lucky woman, how’d you manage to land an assignment like that?”

You gave a bitter little laugh, “I’ve left Billy.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had sat on his sofa for a long time after he’d seen the note and photo. At first he’d just had to sit down, overwhelmed, as he had the most horrible feeling that his world was crashing down around his ears.

She was the one person who made him feel safe and loved. But he knew only too well that he’d been walking the line recently what with the situation at Anvil and having to keep Madani sweet. He hadn’t actually crossed the line, but he’d had to make sure she thought that he would, and soon at that. Would he have crossed it? He’d need to get back to himself on that question.

Of course he’d mentioned none of this to his girl. But obviously - somehow - he mustn’t have done a very good job at being discreet because she’d guessed something was up. And left him.

He’d poured himself a large whisky and downed it in one, before going over to the window and looking out forlornly at the city lights. Then he called Frank.

When he heard the gruff growl on the other end of the line, he said, “She’s left me, Frankie,” and realised how hoarse his voice sounded.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“What?!” screeched Karen. You hadn’t divulged your recent secret fears to her, hoping against hope that you were wrong when you’d started noticing little things over the past few weeks. But now you gave her a full rundown of it all.

More and more claims of ‘working late’ and ‘being very busy at work’.

Alcohol on his breath after he’d been on these ‘working late’ evenings.

A distinct smell of CK’s Eternity from a jumper he’d left crumpled up in a corner on the bedroom floor when he’d been out extra late one evening.

The final straw? You almost laughed when you thought about it, as it was such a cliché. A smear of dark red lipstick on the inside collar on one of his otherwise pristine white shirts. And another unmistakable whiff of Eternity.

You’d never be able to wear that damn perfume again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie had been suitably sympathetic to start with, but had then begun to berate Billy for being ‘a stupid asshole’ once he’d explained what he’d been up to with Madani. “I didn’t sleep with her!” Billy grumbled, “....just messin’ around. You know we need to know what she knows.”

“Yeah, but women ain’t stupid, Russo! Were you goin’ home reeking of booze and another woman’s perfume?” Billy said nothing at first, just grunted but then said, “Maybe. Yeah.. probably.” “See!” said Frank, “...you’re a stupid asshole!” “I mean, she didn’t even challenge me on it!” Frank started laughing, “So that makes it her fault, huh!? You’re a piece of work, Russo.” “No, no.... I just meant, aren’t you supposed to have arguments about that kinda stuff first? She just up and left me!”

“I don’t blame her,” said Frank, “...and you know she’s not the type to take any BS from you, Bill. She probably thought it wasn’t worth her time listenin’ to you tryna give excuses for the inexcusable.”

Billy was reminded by this that one of Frank’s pet peeves was infidelity. “But I didn’t cheat!” said Billy forcefully. “Whaddya do, kiss her?” “Yeah.” “Feel her up a bit?” “Mmhuh.” “That’s cheatin’ in my book, Russo.” Billy realised he was hanging his head in shame, and quickly looked up and out of the window again.

“I dunno what to do, Frankie.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d given Karen your new number and told her on pain of death not to pass it on to anyone, even Frank and especially not to Billy. She’d assured you she wouldn’t, and neither would she tell them where you were headed.

She’d been fuming at Billy, and you wouldn’t like to be in his shoes the next time she happened to meet up with him. Her rage had been quite spectacular and she was really, really pissed that Billy hadn’t even tried to contact you. You didn’t say anything to her, but secretly you wondered if he’d actually spent the night with his side piece on this occasion and hadn’t even seen your note yet. Jealousy and anger began to take over and you stood up abruptly, determined that thoughts of that douchebag weren’t going to invade your brain.

You took the SIM card out of the phone, shut it down and tucked it away in one of your bags. Gathering all your stuff together, you began to get ready to leave the room..

Can’t wait to get on that plane, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie rang Billy back a couple of hours later. “Micro tracked her phone,” he said without preamble. “Where is she? At Karen’s?” Billy asked anxiously. There was a pause, then, “Nah, Bill. She’s at JFK. And her phone’s switched off now.”

Billy, standing next to the window again, yelled, “Fuck!” before leaning his head against the cold glass. “Can Micro find out which flight’s she’s booked on, Frankie?” “He can try, but it’ll involve some hacking so it might take a little longer.” He paused again, before continuing, “And avoid Karen. She’s out for your blood.”

Billy sighed, “She’s spoken to her?” “Yeah, course she has, Bill. She knows more than she’s tellin’ me of course, but I’m not even gonna try askin’ her. Waste of time.” “It’s okay, I get it, Frankie. I wouldn’t ask you to. But if she does say anythin’.....” “I’ll let you know,” Frank finished the sentence for him and hung up.

Billy looked out of the window and then up into the sky. She wanted to get away from him so badly, she’d got a plane ticket and was about to fly.

He just prayed he’d be able to find her before she took off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

London

#billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #the punisher 💀

[becca-e-barnes]

oh lord i can’t stop thinking about this!

being with bucky or steve (or both 😏 let’s go with both…) getting ready for the day and deciding to wear some lingerie under your outfit. But your white button up shirt is a bit see through and the your colorful bra is showing through a little bit and your skirt was so short it was barely professional … So when you walk into the kitchen to get breakfast they’re like “WHOA THERE you look extremely sexy but there’s no way i’m letting you wear that today because i won’t be able to hold myself back. Can’t have you running around distracting me, we’ve got an important meeting today.”

So you return to your room all grumpy because you were feelin yourself. And of course you’re feeling bratty (when are we not tbh). So you do as they ask and take off your lingerie & happily return to the kitchen. Suddenly feeling very cold. Your nipples hardening through your shirt becoming quite apparent, even more visible than your bra was. You of course start complaining about how it’s been so chilly lately and you really hope it’s not windy today…but you just really don’t want to distract them with your lingerie because you wanna be a good girl…but instead of them reprimanding and punishing you right then and there like you expected. They’re like fine you wanna be a whore and risk everyone finding out? go for it. But not before they remind you who owns you buy putting in a plug and then a set of ben wa balls, making sure both you holes are claimed…and then making you walk around like that all day. Breast practically on display for the whole team to see, no panties, and constantly on the edge of an orgasm from the effort it takes to keep the ben wa balls from falling out…

and of course most members of the team are respectful and either don’t care/are too oblivious to notice/or are scared of steve/bucky to your acknowledge your appearance. That is…except for Natasha who can read you like an open book and knows she could take down the soldiers if she wanted to. She’s checking you out all day, complimenting your shirt, accidentally glancing up your skirt, brushing your hand, practically eye fucking you. And by some miracle the four of you all have a meeting scheduled for planning an upcoming mission. By the end of the day you’ve been on edge you seemingly forget the situation your in. Standing up quickly from your seat at the table to start playfully arguing with Bucky about mission plans. You slip up, and the ben was balls are tugged out accidentally by a mixture of you forgetting to clench down and the string getting caught on your skirt. But after so long on edge the second they leave your cunt your cumming so hard you fall to the ground, absolutely humiliated and yet still wanting more.

Everyone freezes. The boys rush to explain. You tear up in embarrassment and because of the lack of stimulation. Nat just smirks because she is so unbelievably turned on. Steve walks over to help you out. But Natasha stops them and informs him that it’s highly inappropriate for a male colleague to touch another female colleague like that, and really she should be the one to help. And god all of you are so insanely turned on. So she kneels down to where your pathetically sitting, she spread your legs and begins to play with you. And of course you’re coming apart in minutes. What none of you except is the absolute mess you make when you come, gushing everywhere. All over yourself and the floor, unable to contain your moans, tears of relief running down your face. After you calm down a bit, bucky leans down and hands Nat the Ben Wa balls (he took the liberty of cleaning them while you two where,,, occupied) and of course she keeps taking care of you gliding her hands against your cunt and gently thrusting her fingers in and out of you insisting it would be far too distracting and unprofessional for the boys to be helping you. You’re just so turned on that everytime she pushes one of the balls in you squirt a little bit more, micro orgasms racking your body. After gushing about three more times your holes are once again secured. Of course she makes sure to double check the plug as well, which nearly causes you to come undone again. And she gently cleans you up before making you stand and acting as though the whole situation was no more big of a deal than tying your shoe laces. And the three of them seemingly come to a silent agreement to act as casual as possible, as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Except for the three of them walking up to you through out the day and running their hands up your shirt and pinching your nipples, sliding their fingers across your cunt and flicking your clit, even tugging and tapping at your plug slightly. Doing everything in their power to get you as desperate as possible. And your just left totally fucked out and trying your best not to come because you just know your going to make another mess (which of course you do at one point, confusing poor wanda in the process by your poorly concealed squeal which was quickly covered up by Nat acting as though you sneezed and rushing help you discreetly which was hard considering all you wanted to do was fall down and beg her to fuck you, i mean really it wasn’t your fault so she didn’t blame you) By the end of the day the four of you are returning your apartment, chaos ensues ;) You can’t help thinking you should distract them more often…

Ugh sorry this is so slutty but i can’t stop thinking about and needed to confess my sinful thoughts 😫in my defense my original fantasy was much worse #sorry

I know you sent this at the start of the week but I need you to know I thought about this ask for almost my entire 2 hour commute every day this week 😩 I fucking NEED this, it’s so slutty and delicious and I get so worked up just thinking about it 😵‍💫

And if you see this, PLEASE send me the filthier version because I’m so fucking ready for it!!

But like, I’m imaging you being on the floor, Nat is slipping the balls back into you and you’re squirting everywhere, groaning and arching into Nat’s touch and it’s the most erotic thing the boys have ever seen

And maybe they get so overwhelmed they kind of forget themselves and start touching each other, unzipping their jeans so they can jerk each other off while they watch you and Nat. And Nat just smirks and rubs your clit, telling you to look at what your sweet little body has done to these two huge men. she’s give you little kitten licks to clean up your never ending mess before inviting the boys to step over and cum all over your pussy.

It’s torture not feeling them cum inside you but you feel filthy after both of them have blown their load and then Nat flips your skirt back down and tells you not to clean up

So the rest of the day, they’re pinching your nipples, smearing their cum all over your needy pussy then dipping their fingers in your mouth, telling you you’re being such a good girl and they’re going to make sure your holes feel even fuller when you get home

#asks answered <3 #anon #18+ #no because this makes me so stupid besties #like being almost free use with Bucky Nat and Steve #I would do anything for them #holy shit this ask was so hot #and I know I didn’t add much #I feel like it deserves it’s own fic #but I couldn’t let it sit in my inbox either #because y’all need to see it

[reidyoulikeabook]

hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive

anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point

excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list

Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.

PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.

--

Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.

23 hours awake.

Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.

Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.

“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.

It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”

“He could drive around.”

You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.

Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”

Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.

You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.

“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.

He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”

“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”

Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?

That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.

You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.

Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.

He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.

He gave you his slippers

So?

Is that something friends do?

Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.

Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.

It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.

It matters to every other person you date

He sets an impossibly high bar

Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.

Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.

Did he just blush?

You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.

It is.

“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.

“You look-” He starts.

“Thank you so-” You start.

You both tinge with warmth.

“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.

You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?

No. Wishful thinking

It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”

A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.

“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.

“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.

He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”

It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”

He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”

“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”

He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.

Please let it be the latter.

You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”

He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”

“I have my moments.”

He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.

Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”

From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.

***

It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.

You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.

Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”

You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”

“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”

“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.

You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”

You put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”

He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”

Spencer outwardly sighs.

“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”

The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.

“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”

He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.

“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.

“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”

He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.

“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”

You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.

“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”

That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”

“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”

***

The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.

He doesn’t mind if it’s you.

Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.

When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.

He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”

“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.

There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.

“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.

He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.

“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.

It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.

“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He flicks it off, settling back down.

His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”

It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.

His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.

And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.

When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.

---

Permanent tagslist: @reidingmelodies @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187  @seasonfivereid @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reidsnose

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fluff #can't believe queue've done this

[eggtoasties]

Pairing: Eventual Osamu x Reader

Rating: E for fucking Samu in the car :-)

Word Count: 4.4k of Miya twin shenanigans, fluff, then eventual smut

Summary: A hopeful love and a blossomed love; years of wishing on candles and they’re both content.

a/n: @powderblew​ ur the hopeful love my beloved

Contrary to popular belief, Miya Atsumu does not speed. Yes, he nearly loses his mind on the interstate every other day but his road rage is completely contained to cursing in the confines of his car. Most people think Atsumu’s the reckless driver with his loud personality and penchant for pulling off risky moves on the court, but surprisingly, it’s his counterpart who fully believes that the actual speed limit is at least ten above the posted signage and weaves through lanes with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh.

Atsumu got Osamu the car as a birthday gift—black, sleek, and quiet. He had been dropping hints for weeks but Osamu had brushed them off, figuring his brother was spewing incoherent nonsense.

It was the weekend before their birthday. They decided to take a trip to the mountains—it was rare at this point in their young adult lives to have the free time to spend with each other. Osamu was busy with the shop: serving customers, preparing food, and trying new dishes. Getting Onigiri Miya off the ground was a seven day work week with early mornings and late nights. Atsumu on the other hand, had regularly scheduled practices and travel matches with the team. Although his schedule was incredibly hectic, there was a sort of rhythmic regularity to it.

So, for the first weekend in a long time where it would be just them, Atsumu wanted it to be special. Afterall, it was their birthday. Atsumu was the one who drove them to the campsite, taking in the scenery with appreciation, going slowly on the winding roads while mindlessly tapping a beat on the steering wheel. As they got closer and closer to their destination, Osamu could tell his brother was antsy.

His eyes would flicker from the road, to Osamu, then back again. His mindless tapping to the music turned into an incessant drilling and he kept readjusting his legs and changing his hand position on the wheel, fidgeting in his seat.

“Wouldya’ quit that, yer gonna crash the fuckin’ car,” Osamu said, exaggeratingly clutching to the grab handle at the top of his window.

“Yer really gonna yell at me on ma’ birthday that’s jus’ like ya’ Samu—”

“It’s ma’ birthday too ya’ idiot!”

The sound of his brother’s bickering quelled Atsumu’s nerves and he settled in the driver’s seat, humming along to the song playing on the speakers. In response, Osamu turned up the volume, but Atsumu just grinned.  

“You will arrive at your destination in .2 miles,” the smooth voice of the GPS chimed.

Atsumu began fidgeting again and Osamu swore he was gonna punch him the moment they made it out of the death trap.

They pulled into the winding driveway and Osamu banged his head against the dashboard.

“Please tell me ya’ didn’t screw up the reservation,” he said quietly.

“What kinda idiot, do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined. Although Osamu couldn’t see with his forehead pressed against the polished wood interior, Atsumu was smiling.

“Then why is there another car parked in our spot?” Osamu deadpanned, turning his head to his brother, still pressed into the dash.

“Look again an’ eat yer words ya’ scrub.”

Driving slowly forward towards the car and parking next to it, Osamu realized that a bright red bow was tied to the hood. He stilled in his seat and stared dumbly out his window, slowly turning towards his brother.

“Do ya’ like it, Samu?” Atsumu nearly whispered, leaning in close to his brother, eyes wide, committing every micro reaction to memory.

Osamu blinked once. Twice. Then turned back to the car.

“Yeah, Tsumu,” he said shakily, “I really do.”

Against the burning in his throat and the tightening of his eyes, Osamu willed himself to remain composed when he heard rustling. Atsumu took out a crumpled and worn piece of notebook paper, its edges frayed and torn and began to smooth it out in his palms.

He cleared his throat and stared at the empty space across Osamu’s shoulder.

“So, uh…” he began, uncharacteristically shy and Osamu sent a prayer that this wasn’t a speech about how Tsumu had somehow accidentally razed Onigiri Miya to the ground in the short period that he wasn’t there and this was all an elaborate apology.

“I know that this year’s been tough with Onigiri Miya jus’ startin’ out an’ everythin’ but I jus’ wanted to say,” Atsumu trailed off and scratched his ear before suddenly, startling Osamu, squaring his shoulders and directing a piercing stare into his brother’s eyes. “I’m so proud of you Samu!” he nearly yelled, face flushed with embarrassment.

Osamu felt the heat prickle against his neck and all he could do was blink owlishly at his twin.

“What on Earth are ya’ goin’ on about?” he questioned incredulously.

“Okay, okay, wait I wrote it all down,” Atsumu said quickly, smoothing the worn paper once again. He cleared his throat a few times before reading.

“Osamu—”

“Oh my god is this a proposal, why is this so formal?” Osamu asked out loud.

“God, shut yer big ol’ trap wouldya I am tryin’ here,” Atsumu bit back to the amusement of his twin. “Anyways,” he grumbled. “Samu. I’ve been thinkin’ for a while and I jus’ wanted to say thank ya’ for always bein’ there for me.”

Osamu did not often feel stupid. Well, that’s a lie, he thought. It’s been a year since Onigiri Miya’s opening and he was only just beginning to feel as if he was able to call his job stable and that he had a solid understanding of how things should be ran. However, it was not often that his brother made him feel stupid, but here he was, at a loss for words at this uncharacteristic show of appreciation.

Yes, high fives and hugs had always come easily after a particularly clean hit or a perfectly executed pass, but they never sat down like this and talked about how much they appreciated each other. Osamu figured it was unsaid in the little things—how the clothes Atsumu stole in high school always ended back clean in Osamu’s closet, how Osamu usually ended up making two bentos when they still lived together, or how Atsumu had always tried to include Osamu in team bonding even when Osamu was in college.

“I think,” Atsumu said, breaking Osamu out of his thoughts. “That you were what made me work so hard at volleyball. Not because you were the only one that could challenge me,” Osamu scoffed at this. “But because you were the only one I cared to play with for a long time.”

Tears pricked at his eyes and Osamu nodded at his brother to continue.

“An’ thinkin’ back, yer probably the only reason why ma’ teammates didn’t excommunicate me like they did to Tobio-kun,” Atsumu joked and Osamu cracked a smile despite the burning of his throat.

“An’ I know we’ve talked about this before, but I am still really sorry when I went off on ya’ when ya’ told me you were quittin’ volleyball. I don’t mean to beat a dead horse or anything—”

“You sound like Baa-chan,” Samu choked out, still trying to hold back tears, hands balled into fists on his lap.

Undeterred, Atsumu continued to read. “But the fact that fer the first time, ya’ wouldn’t be by my side on the court was jus’ never a possibility I’d considered. So ‘m sorry ‘bout the fuss I made even though I know that’s all old news.” He paused and nodded at Osamu, noting his fists and drew in a shaky breath.

“’Samu, I jus’ want to let ya’ know that I am so endlessly proud to be yer brother and all the work ya’ put in in college and startin’ Miya Onigiri honestly scared me a little,” he said chuckling. “The way you really focus in on somethin’ when yer concentrating was always so intense, but I’d only really seen it with volleyball. But ever since you went to college, and especially with this past year, I can’t believe I fought you to go pro with me because I’d never seen ya’ more fired up or intense than ya’ have been this past year.”

The sides of Atsumu’s paper begin to tear with the force of his grip, and both twins are mirror images of each other. Red in the face, hands in fists, and willing the other to cry first.

“Basically,” Atsumu drawled on, hands slightly shaking, “thank ya’ for bein’ the best brother and teammate I coulda’ ever asked for and I’m so, so, proud to be the brother of the founder of Onigiri Miya.” He lowered the paper from his line of vision and accidentally crumbled it with his hand as he blurt out, “And I love you!” turning even redder in embarrassment. “Even though ya’ never respond to my texts and make fun a’ me when I bring my teammates ‘round,” he quickly added in.

Osamu undid his seatbelt and forcefully opened his door. He heard Atsumu’s confused “huh” and watched as he fumbled with his seatbelt through the windshield as he crossed to the other side. Atsumu stumbled out of the driver’s seat and Osamu captured him in a bone crushing hug. One hand wrapped around his back and the other held Atsumu’s head as he cried into his neck.

He thought back to the first semester of culinary school when he questioned himself every single day if it was the right choice to have made. Learning and practicing different techniques that felt foreign was a hurdle that had seemed impossible at the time. Then, when he graduated and he figured he knew almost everything there was to know about the food industry after hours and hours of lab, internships, and class and began preparations for opening Miya Onigiri, he realized once again that he knew nothing. Even a year after founding Miya Onigiri and he still found himself doubting his success.

But, hearing his idiot brother tell him he was proud—was all he needed. Because Miya Osamu also pushed himself to the upper limits of his physical and mental abilities because his brother was the only one he wanted to compete with. It didn’t matter who else might try and challenge them, at the end of their finish lines, the only person they wanted to see was each other.

The autumnal air was incredibly crisp and although the forest surrounding their luxury cabin was teeming with life, time around them seemed to still as they both cried.

“This is too much, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu sniffled out. “My gift ta’ ya’ was literally like, two hundred dollars.”

“It’s okay,” sniffled Atsumu. He paused. “What’d ya’ get me?”

Osamu pulled away and wiped his face with the bottom hem of his sweater.

“I got ya’ a signed copy of that book you were yappin’ on about with yer favorite author and I got her to make a video for ya’ sayin’ happy birthday and all that—”

“Oh my god,” Atsumu said excitedly, “Yer tellin’ me ya’ got Sonia Barnes to write me a handwritten message and a private video!?”

Osamu grimaced at the snot Atsumu had dripping down his chin. “First of all don’t say it like that, an’ second of all, wipe yer nose or somethin’ ya’ scrub.”

Completley ignoring his brother’s complaints, Atsumu lunged at Osamu, begging him to show him the video. Osamu tapped at his phone, opened up the email attachment, and watched the myriad expressions of surprise, admiration, love, and happiness flicker across Atsumu’s face during a 20 second video while red eyed and swollen. He mused that this was possibly the best birthday they ever had.

.

“Let’s take this baby on a test drive,” Osamu said, eagerly waiting by the door as Atsumu watched his birthday video for the umpteenth time.

That Sonia Barnes was a very pretty lady, Osamu reasoned, but if he had to hear her chirp, “Happy Birthday Tsumu!” one more time, she was going to be the cause of fratricide.

.

Settling into the leather seat, Osamu pressed the start button and nearly cooed at the soft rumble of the engine.

Throwing himself into the passenger’s seat Atsumu said, “Let’s figure out how ta’ connect to Bluetooth so I can hear ma’ angel on speaker,” fiddling with the touch screen.

Osamu grabbed Atsumu’s phone and threw it in the backseat and put the car in drive just as Atsumu started to clamber in the back for it. He peeled down the driveway as Atsumu screamed and picked up speed down the secluded road as Atsumu managed to get back in his seat and secure the seat belt.

The pretty autumn foliage was a blur of orange and reds and Osamu breathed in the smell of new leather and wood polish.

“S-slow down!” Atsumu yelled, quickly activating the lock function on the seatbelt and gripping the grab handle with both hands. “I-is this b-because I told the whole team you’d giv’ em’ free food if they said they were my teammate,” he screamed, “I’ll tell ‘em nevermind!”

Osamu rolled down the windows and the sun roof and laughed as the wind ran through his hair while his brother cried for the second time that day.

.

A year later and Osamu’s still in the driver’s seat of his car, but this time, she’s in the passenger’s seat. They have all the windows down and he’s speeding along the coast of Hyogo, sea breeze whipping through their hair and the sound of waves breaking in the distance.

She had planned a full day for his birthday: brunch at their favorite restaurant, a walk through the shopping district, and a homemade dinner with a fruit tart from his favorite bakery. Now that he had two years of experience running Onigiri Miya, he could afford to step away from the shop every so often. Unfortunately, his counterpart was on the other side of the world for a match, but they managed to squeeze in a short videocall despite the time difference.

“’Samu!” Atsumu screamed from the other line, “Happy Birthday!”

Wincing, Osamu turned the volume of his phone down as she giggled and wished his brother a Happy Birthday.

“What’d ya’ plan for Samu’s birthday,” Atsumu asked her, “good luck beatin’ ma’ gift from last year—”

“Tsumu!” Osamu berated.

“Unfortunately, my research job doesn’t pay as much as being a pro-volleyballer,” she rolled her eyes, “but I do have some fun things lined up,” she said, smiling softly at Osamu to which Atsumu gagged.

“Ya’ scrub, just ‘cause yer jealous—”

“Tsumu!” she interrupted, “did you get our gift? We were a little nervous about the international shipping but your hotel said they got it so—”

“Yes!” Atsumu exclaimed, screen blurry as he shuffled around his hotel room. He set his phone down and propped it up, showing them the neatly packaged box. “I can’t believe ya’ got me another signed copy of Sonia Barnes’s book—I couldn’t even get this one off preorder, it was so popular—”

“Did ya’ open the envelope yet?” Osamu asked impatiently.

“Of course I did! I always open the letter before the present, what do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined, but the duo noticed how Atusmu’s hands were off screen and they could hear quiet tearing noises in between pauses.

Rolling their eyes, they patiently waited for Atsumu to unsubtly open their envelope. They watched as Atsumu quickly scanned the contents of the letter and Osamu hit screen record as his brother’s mouth dropped open.

“T-tickets to a live reading and meet and greet?” Atsumu whispered to himself. He pulled the letter closer to his face and read it over and over again before gingerly setting the cardstock down and gently looking into the envelope to produce two ticket stubs. Carefully placing the tickets back into the envelope, Osamu failed to cover his snickers as Atsumu’s lower lip trembled.

“I know it’s no car,” she said, “but I do happen to know people who know people, so I hope you like your gift, ‘Tsumu” she said kindly.

Atsumu suddenly held the phone close to his face and Osamu could see his brother’s ears turn pink.

“Yer the best sister in law I coulda’ ever asked for, I don’t know why yer with that good fer nothin’ scrub—yer not married yet, so ya’ still have time to run away, but ‘Samu, ya’ better not mess it up,” he rambled, roughly wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

Osamu scoffed and she placed a placating hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe I get ta’ meet ma’ angel,” Atsumu mumbled to himself in disbelief, pacing in his hotel room, running his hands through his hair. “Angel, angel, angel—I gotta bring ma’ copy of her books with ma’ notes! I have so many questions for her, like how she came up with the storyline—didya know she went to school in New York City? Isn’t that the coolest? And she made a video for me for ma’ birthday last year,” he broke his monologue to gasp. “Do ya’ think she’ll remember me—”

Osamu put him on mute and groaned.

“Maybe we shoulda jus’ gotten him those fancy mugs,” he complained, leaning heavily into her side.

She rubbed the sides of his neck as she watched with amusement as Atsumu continued his ramblings, completely unaware that she and Osamu were having a side conversation.

“But look how happy he is, Samu,” she crooned, giggling as Osamu pinched his nose bridge. But she knew that Osamu was the one who spent hours scouring the web for those tickets and sent several emails to Sonia Barnes’s manager for a signed copy.

Watching his brother run his mouth with no regard to himself or his girlfriend, Osamu clicked the unmute button and nearly yelled, “We get it ya’ scrub, we get it!”

“Let me be happy why dontcha!” Atsumu retorted.

“Alright well I’m gonna spend ma’ birthday with ma’ real girlfriend,” Osamu taunted, finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button.

“Once Sonia meets me she’s gonna fall in love, just ya’ wait!”

She yelled one last, “Happy Birthday!” before Osamu disconnected the call and tackled her into the bed.

.

For the end of his birthday, Osamu requested a car ride. It was just past sunset; the sky’s vibrant pinks and oranges faded into a cool indigo and the stars were extra bright in the rural area they were driving through.

They rode in comfortable silence, listening to seagulls call their good nights and the wind beating against the car. The supple leather of the seat underneath her contrasted with the rough pads of Osamu’s fingertips on her thigh and she stared out at the horizon, perpetually in awe of the beauty of the coast line. Here, twinkling city lights were hardly discernible specks in the distance and the only tall structures were the trees dotting the cliffside.

They rose higher in altitude until they were surrounded by lush forest—rustling underbush and singing cicadas took over the sound crashing waves. He pulled into a secluded nook that overlooked a cliff and she couldn’t believe they were only a forty minute drive from the main city.

He killed the engine and unbuckled her seat belt while she was still leaning forward, face close to the windshield, taking in the scenery.

“I’m feelin’ a bit neglected over here,” Osamu said, soft grin taking over his face as he watched her, lips parted and eyes wide.

“Sorry Samu,” she said, still looking out the glass, “it’s just so incredible here.”

“I told ya’ I knew a spot,” he teased and she intertwined her hand with his.

He pulled her arm towards him as leaned over the middle console so his lips caught her neck when she lurched towards him. Her surprised chuckle turned into a content hum, fluttering her eyes closed as he kissed the pulse point of her throat, her exposed shoulder, then where her neck met her clavicle. From there, he dragged his lips slowly to her ear and grinned when he felt her clutch at his sweater.

Nipping her ear and tracing the shell with his tongue, rough palms kneaded her thighs and his fingers played with the hem of her skirt. He let out a heavy breath when she brushed against his tightening pants and he smirked when she involuntarily shivered.

“Do ya’ like this?” he asked, mouth kissing down the expanse of her chest, pulling the hem of her shirt low.

She arched her back into him and guided his hand under her shirt and he grinned when she impatiently unhooked her bra and took it and her shirt off in one swift motion.

“Does that answer your question?”

Eyes half lidded, lips slick with spit and plump from his repeated ministrations, she had one leg folded under her and the other anchored to the floor. Fully facing him, she cocked her head to the side and dragged her eyes down his body, lingering for a moment before directing her heavy gaze at him. She leaned back against the door as he leaned forward on the middle console and she ran a hand slowly from her knee, teasing a peek under her skirt, tracing a finger around her navel, then making her way upwards, rolling a nipple with two fingers while slowly rocking her hips.

Osamu’s lips parted and his eyes flickered from her hands to her face as she brought her other hand to rub at the cotton beneath her legs. Gaze hungry, he licked his lips and rolled his neck, languidly leaning back against his door, mirroring her.

“Gonna give me a birthday show?” He rasped, slowly unbuttoning his pants and palming his length through his boxers.

Skirt bunched at the waist giving him an unhindered view of the growing wet stain between her legs and Osamu felt himself tighten at the sight. He wanted to press his nose against the ruined fabric and lap at her through her pink panties, he wanted to curl a finger in her and listen to her keel for him, he wanted to—

“Take your shirt off,” she demanded.

“I thought it was ma’ birthday,” he chuckled but does as she asks, pulling the fabric from the back of his neck. He tossed the garment to the backseat and lazily looked back at her.

The tops of her cheeks are flushed and her breasts shake with each pant. She’s worked two slender fingers from the side of her underwear and Osamu watches with rapt attention as her pretty folds are presented to him.

“Touch yourself, Samu.”

“Again with the demands,” he complained but freed himself from the confines of his boxers and matches the pace she’s set on herself.

“Fuck,” she whined, moving faster. The hand teasing her nipples moved south to pinch at her clit and Osamu couldn’t wait anymore.

He nearly launched himself to her, abdomen uncomfortably resting on top of the center console and she seemed all too satisfied with the result. He buried his face between her legs and groaned with her as he sucked and lapped at her overstimulated bundle of nerves through soaked cotton.

“Itadakimasu,” he growled and she rolled her eyes at the line.

Long languid licks interspersed with quick flicks of his tongue, he took her right to the edge of her orgasm. Her thighs clenched around his head while her nails dragged through his gray hair and she rocked her hips against his mouth. Toe curling heat had her buck helplessly against his tongue, rough hands gripping her in place as she reached her peak, but at the last second, he pulled away.

Her gasp was lost with the loud bang his head made as it slammed against the car ceiling and he let out a string of curses as he tried to fit in the passenger’s seat with her. She half stands, leaning back on the glove department as he sat down and she couldn’t help but giggle when he cursed at how slowly the seat was reclining back.

But just as quick, he grabbed her by the hands and has her straddle him. The seat is narrow but neither of them mind as he slowly entered her. She gripped at the back of his head as he teased a nipple and sucked constellations across her chest while her other hand gripped the grab handle, giving her more leverage.

Osamu slowly rocked into her and he captured her moans in a kiss. He gave her a second to adjust to his length before slamming into her, head falling back into the headrest as he watched her bounce above him.

Beautiful, was all he could think. Hair wild around her shoulders, a glistening sheen of perspiration across her forehead and chest, and the incredible sound of her slick around him. He was in heaven.

He slid his thumb between her parted lips and she immediately began to suck. She bobbed her head back and forth while giving kitten licks at the tip and nipping the underside of his thumb.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he pressed his finger further back in her throat and watched as her eyes rolled back and she rocked her hips even faster against his.

Removing his thumb and making a show of putting it in his mouth, he pressed the wet digit against her clit and grinned as her moans became louder.

The sweet call of his name as she begged him to make her finish led him to snap his hips up, rubbing against the spongy bit of her inner walls and he held her close to his chest as they came undone together.

Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead on her shoulder and watched as a rivulet of sweat ran down the valley of her breasts and he shifted his hips forward, just now noticing the dull ache in his thighs. She shuddered against him and he kissed her shoulder, her cheek, then her other cheek.

“We really have to thank Tsumu for the car,” she said, chuckling.

“Yeah?” he questioned, running his blunt nails across her back, “should we tell him what we used it for?”

She scrunched her nose and Osamu’s heart clenched too. Wrapping her arms around his neck, soaking in the warmth of his warm body, her lips ghosted the side of his cheek and he shuddered at the tingles running down his back with the contact.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Samu,” she whispered sweetly.

Rocking into her again just to hear her breath tick, he nestled his head into her neck and smiled.

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu fluff #osamu smut #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #osamu scenarios #osamu fic #atsumu fanfic #atsumu fluff #miya twins #atsumu x oc #hq smut #haikyuu smut #deviled.egg #miya osamu #hq osamu

[elenamiria]

Max Phillips x Reader - Kinktober Day 11

Hypnosis | Micro/Macro | Sensory Deprivation | Weight Gain 

Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: Consensual Hypnosis, fem reader, blowjobs, unprotected sex, Rough sex, hair pulling, semi-public sex (reader is loud), light embarrassment, Max is his usual self 

Kinktober Day 10  «  Kinktober Masterlist  »  Kinktober Day 12 

Main Masterlist & Taggies: @legally-a-bastard​ (Also tagging @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​, @storiesofthefandomlovers​ , @absurdthirst​ @tintinwrites​ and @corrupt-fvcker​ for all providing excellent Max Phillips content that truly helped me to nail his character down! So PLEASE go read any and all of their content it’s all absolutely fantastic!)

You weren't quite sure why the hypnosis appealed to you, you just knew it did. So, one day when Max was lounging against your desk rambling on about how annoying Evan was and how he wished he could just use your perky little ass for a little stress relief you looked up at him to ask why didn’t he. He responded with a very confused, “Why don’t I what?”

To which you responded, “Use me, why don’t you take me into your office and fuck me over the desk?”

His eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store as he stood up but stopped when you made no move to follow him. His lips jutted out in a little pout and he sat back down as he grumbled, “Because you’d never let me.”

You stared at him for a long moment before blurting out, “Why don’t you just do that little hypnosis thing on me?”

He frowned at you, brows furrowing deeply, muttering “I’m not gonna do that on you, I wouldn’t make you do anything-“

“No, I want you to do it. I want you to hypnotize me and fuck me or do whatever you want to me.”

Max’s eyes were so wide it was almost comical, his hand still raised from when he was gesturing as he spoke. Slowly he grinned and chirping out your name he slapped both of his thighs simultaneously and he rose, “This has been a very enlightening conversation but I think I’ll let you get back to work.”

Sputtering you asked, “W-Wait! I thought you were going to? I said I wan-”

You were cut off by his finger on your lips and a charming grin, “Oh don’t worry sweet thing, It’ll happen. I’ll make all your little dreams come true, just you wait.”

And with that he was gone and then he was back poking his head back around the corner of your desk asking, “You’re absolutely sure you want this?”

You startled and slammed your knee against the desk, “Fuck! Max, yes I’m sure. Now can I please get back to work without any more jump-scares??”

It was about a week later when Max called you into his office, you had almost forgotten all about your conversation so you hadn't thought anything of it. Max ushered you in with a hand on your back and shut the door, you were oblivious to the extra click as he locked it behind you. Looking at him expectantly you waited to see why he called you into his office.

“You know, that’s my favorite outfit that you wear. The pencil skirt is so tight on that juicy ass and the way your shirt hugs your tits, it’s perfection.”

Your face heated at his words and you shifted slightly, “Max did you call me in here just to tell me you liked how I look today?”

Max stared at you, gleam in his eyes as he smirked and straightened up.

“No, actually. I called you here for a reason. Get on your knees.”

You laughed, a short one that got caught in your throat as you spit out, “Max, we can’t do this at work! What if somebody came in?”

You were stopped by Max’s piercing brown eyes boring into yours as his hand raised, “Get on your knees and put your pretty little mouth to work, now.”

In a daze you felt yourself falling to your knees. Max winced at the harsh thud from your impact you’d definitely have bruises - but he was quickly distracted by your hands reaching for his pants and undoing his belt. His breathing hitched at the sight of you tugging his pants open and down just enough to get to his cock, taking his underwear with it. With a small moan you leaned forward, one hand stroking his hardening cock and the other coming to play with his balls. He groaned as you took him in your wet hot mouth, immediately taking him as far as you could down your throat. He swore as you started eagerly blowing him, your mouth working quickly up and down his length as your tongue stroked along his underside. His hand came to grip your hair, hips bucking in time with your mouth and before he knew it he had to pull you away just so he didn’t cum right there. Though he supposed it wouldn’t have mattered since his refractory period was practically nonexistent. Still, Max Phillips wanted the first time he came to be in your tight pussy. He backed away from you as he regained his breath and your face heated up in embarrassment as the hypnosis wore off, squeaking you looked away from his partly naked body.

“Ah-Ah, eyes up here baby.”

Shyly you looked at him as he raised his hand once again, “I want you to bend over that desk for me sweetheart, spread your legs nice and wide for me.”

Your lips parted as you whispered, “Ok..”

And you practically floated over to the desk bending forwards over it. Max let out a pleased huff as he strolled up behind you, having discarded his suit jacket and vest. He rolled his sleeves up and then he glided his hands up the back of your legs to push your skirt up over your hips to rest on your waist. With little regard he ripped your panty hose down your legs, surely actually ripping them in the process. His body stiffened at the silky red thong you were wearing and he snapped it against your skin muttering, “That stays on.”

As he shifted it to the side his fingers slid through your folds, your wetness soaking them. His hand not teasing away at your soaked lips came to tilt your head towards him. Looking deep into your eyes once again he ordered, “I’m going to fuck you and when I do don’t hold any noises back. I want the whole office to know who owns this pretty little pussy, do you understand.”

You nodded, crying out ‘please!’ and desperately pushed your hips back craving more from him, your wish was granted as Max’s hands moved to your waist as he slammed into you. A loud dry sob left your mouth as he speared you onto his cock and your fingers scrabbled at the desk as his massive length stretched you out. Max swore as he started a fast pace, slamming into you over and over. You were vaguely aware of the moans and gasps flowing out of your mouth but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed especially not when he hit something deep inside of you that had you screaming out his name. As he pounded away at you his hands left your hips needing to grip something tightly and not wanting to break you. His hands gripped the opposite edge of the table and used the leverage to fuck into you at an inhuman pace. Your cunt spasmed and clenched around him as your slick ran down your thighs, you had never been fucked this well in your life and the continuous screams flying from your mouth confirmed that. Max swore as he shifted one of your legs up onto the desk allowing him to sink just an inch deeper into your sweet tight cunt, it was then that his grip on the desk tightened and the noise of splintering wood filled the air as the edge of the desk bowed under his hand. You squealed both in alarm and as he prodded your cervix when he bottomed out inside you. Removing his hands from the torn up wood Max managed to pant out, “Are you close baby? Fuck you take my cock so well!”

Panting you managed to get your voice to cooperate as you gasped out yes. One of Max’s hands landed on your ass hard, causing a loud yelp to fly from you, before sliding around to your clit and circling it quickly. His other hand wrapped in your hair and tugged as he growled out, “Who does this pussy belong to?”

As your need to cum overwhelmed you tears filling your eyes and you whined out, “You do! You own my pussy Max!”

A satisfied groan met your ears as the obscene slapping noise grew as Max pushed into you harder than before, “Tell me again, who owns this tight little cunt? Louder.”

Your cries grew in intensity as your vision grew blurry and tears started falling over your face, “You own my pussy Max! You and no one else, oh fuck I’m gonna cum!!”

Pinching your clit hard Max ground out, “Cum and scream my name so everyone knows what a little slut you are and who you belong to.”

At his words you exploded. Body tensing, vision going white and your mouth falling open in a loud scream of Max’s name mixed with expletives. The way you screamed his name until your voice was raw pushed him over the edge and his ropes of cum painted your walls as Max thrusted balls deep within you. His hips stuttered forward as he came and at each thrust your walls twitched around him as aftershocks thrilled your body. 

After both of you had come down from your highs Max pulled out and quickly shifted your skimpy underwear back over your thoroughly fucked cunt, making sure not a drip of his cum escaped you. He then brought your leg down off the desk and pulled your skirt back down. Shakily you stood up, fingers swiping at your face to ensure your tears were wiped away. You wobbled as you took off your shoes to remove the tights, they were a lost cause, large tears down both sides. As you bundled them up, planning on throwing them away, a hand entered your view. Max looked at you expectantly and your face heated as you realized what he wanted. Slowly placing them in his hand he slid them into his pants pocket with a satisfied grin, you then stepped back into your heels and smoothed down your outfit. You winced as you shook where you stood, how the fuck were you supposed to walk after that. Looking at Max a part of you wanting to punch him in his stupid handsome face as he had redressed and looked as immaculate as always. He had his typical smirk as he walked to the door and unlocked it. You stumbled your way to him and before he opened it his hand snuck to your ass giving it a good squeeze before spanking you hard enough to send you wobbling forward into the doorframe. You shot him a glare as he spoke, “That was incredible baby, we’ll have to do that again. Oh and by the way, that last part was all you sweet cheeks, no hypnosis involved. I guess I just gave it to you that good for you to be screaming so loud.”

Your jaw dropped and he swung the door open. Once again your face heated as your co-workers heads swung towards the opening door. You sighed as you looked down and limped back to your desk. You were slightly mortified now but damn you would absolutely do it all over again.

#Max phillips x reader #max phillips fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #bloodsucking bastards fanfiction #pedro pascal #max phillips smut #pedro pascal character smut #reader insert smut

[heli0s-writes]

Eat the Rich*

Summary: You’re just a girl in a bar way above your tax bracket and Ransom  really doesn’t care for what you’re wearing.

A/N: There are no spoilers for the movie. But, there IS... Smut. Dirty talk. Class warfare in the form of hate-fucking. 2.9k words of FILTH. I need to be exorcised for this. Thank you @evanstarff​ and @tropicalcap​ for sending me straight to hell.

The entire lounge seems to turn when you enter. Eyes slide back and forth your way, mid-conversation mouths dipping into low frowns. Amidst the old-money frat boys from Cambridge, Beacon Hill Barbie socialites, and Downtown business young bloods, you’re a flagrant contrast in ripped jeans and an old hoodie.

A favorite hoodie. An incendiary hoodie.

The kind of hoodie that is worn with pride around these West End parts. Even the group you arrive with tried to hackle you out of it— bachelorette party decorum, they cried, will you please take that thing off?

Your cousin might be marrying Silverspoon Asswipe and stringing herself up pretty next to all his call-girl friends, but you are a Jamaica Plain girl through and through and you will not stuff yourself into a glitzy cocktail dress before this hoodie.

She waves her hand at the hostess to distract her from your outfit, rustling the satin sash over her glossy sweetheart neckline, “Reservation under Prentiss; it was booked this morning?” And then a sharp look at you as if to say, you made the reservations, right?!

Duh. Your eyes respond when the hostess begins to lead your party back. You follow the tail end of the throng, veering off towards the bar; the miasma of Chanel perfume is enough to gag, and the cigar smoke is only a tiny bit better. Not like they’d care or even notice.

“Do you have PBR?”

The bartender stutters and before you can make him any more uncomfortable, a deep voice from beside you nips it in the bud.

Broad shoulders turn until you see his face. Amused, with a single raised eyebrow, mouth just barely tilting up at one corner. Mid-thirties and extremely well-groomed. Slicked back brown hair and classic Ray Bans hang from the collar of his sweater. Too handsome for his own good with the unmistakable swagger of someone grown up filthy rich.

“She’ll have the Glenfiddich. Neat.”

Certainly smug enough to butt in like you’re old friends.

“Will she?” You ponder defiantly at the pursed lips nestled over a strong jaw.

His own thick crystal glass is easily tipped into his mouth when he takes a too-large swig. Signet rings on two left fingers glimmer, and with a low exhale bordering a growl, he hisses through his teeth, “Yeah. I think you will.”

Bold blue eyes roam over your top and the statement printed there for a second before he scrutinizes your face. Then, purposefully—and knowing that your eyes are on him-- he looks back down to the swell of your chest.

A hum of approval before he faces forward again, only giving you his side profile.

“Wow,” you scoff, “Dick.”

The grin that splits his mouth for a second looks angelic if angels could be full-grown men with full-grown egos to match. “Close. It’s Ransom.”

Amber sloshes when the bartender returns, and you chance a sip because even your pride isn’t stupid enough to pass on a free glass of Glenfiddich.

The whiskey bites for a second before rolling smoothly down your throat. There’s an inherently superior taste to these luxury drinks, but you pull a face all the same, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Ransom chuckles, head turning just a tad as he looks to you from the corner of his eye.

“You making a statement with that thing on, or what?”

“You’re the one making a statement with that ladies wool scarf from Drake’s.”

Ransom jerks to you fully now, attention snatched by your wit as he leans in, “Where’d you come from, little girl? Not everyone walks into Carver’s dressed in rags.”

He really is a piece of work. When you tell him your neighborhood, as expected, he snorts with disdain, but his eyes fall back on you again, highly intrigued. “There’s more to you, isn’t there? My scarf, that attitude. Someone taught you a thing or two, didn’t they?”

The single-malt mouthful is singing in your veins and if your confidence was thinking about simmering down for a second, it’s forgotten itself inside the furious swirl. The hand around your empty glass clutches just a tiny bit tighter.

“Oh, come on,” Ransom waggles two fingers for another round, “Let’s see, I’m thinking… blue-collar parents, siblings, maybe with shared rooms in your dilapidated Jamaica Plain home?” A tap of his finger to that pink bottom lip too damn pretty to be on his wretched face, he pretends to mull a thought over.

He looks you up and down, taking just enough time to where you feel violated under his gaze, “I know: Public college. Two-year community. Working a day job in Back Bay made you bitter, didn’t it? Hence, statement piece.”

“Asshole,” you snap, unraveling at the seams with rage, and the bartender quickly flits away again, “Full ride to Northeastern, four years with honors. Back Bay can’t fucking afford me.”

You don’t know how he does it, but his derisive silence incenses you even more. He couples it with a slow flick of his tongue over teeth, flagrant staring, and the piercing blue of his eyes spotlight a trail—across your shoulders, down your arm, jumping from your fingertip to your thigh, and then it dips between.

Every inch of your body prickles alive with reaction, so naturally, you spit, “Fuck you.”

Ransom’s smile grows until it nearly looks genuine, but then the sharp points of his canines sink right into your gut.

“When?”

There is something ugly and incredible simmering behind his thick curtain eyelashes. A clear ocean grows stormy, sizzling like a cruel tempest rushing to life. The yellow gaussian blur from dim scone lights suddenly cast shadows over his sharp nose.

He slaps too many bills on the polished ebony and the swish of his scarf flicks over your knee when he stands. Ransom towers over you, light pink flush of inebriation and excitement growing hotter on his sculpted cheeks. He leans in, the open flaps of his overcoat falling around your shoulder, threatening to swallow you inside all his dark.

Low timbre and dusky spice goads, “Put your money where your mouth is, scholarship; that sweater’s not all talk, is it?”

Dick!

-

Big hands yank the hem up over your head for a second before something changes his mind. The heavy steel door is latched twice over and he’s pushing you into it with his imposing frame. Your skull hits the metal as his knee parts your thigh, leg shoving itself up in-between until you’re on your tip-toes, with nothing to do but land on him. The heat of it rushes all the way up to the top of your head, pouring from your mouth in a choked mewl.

Ransom rucks the top over your breasts until the words scrunch up at your collarbones and you think it must bring him some masochistic satisfaction to know their unforgiving glare:

Eat the Rich

His warning chills your spine.

“I’m gonna fuck that line from your brain. Fuck it right out.”

He yanks everything south of your waist to your ankles and pulls himself free from his pants, effortlessly tearing a condom from inside his leather wallet and slipping it on. Between the time he gets your bare ass on the counter and the sound of the rubber snap, he’s already branded a purple streak onto the side of your neck and you’re embarrassingly wet.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see his length rising from beneath his cable-knit. Bright pink and angry, and so goddamn thick it makes you whimper. Ransom smothers it with his demanding and hungry mouth, impatient at being empty, stinging with whiskey and force. He’s probably never waited on anything in his life and within a short fifteen minutes of meeting him, you know that to be true.

Not a care in the world is given as goosebumps break out all over your arms.

He spins you into the sink countertop and then the two of you are staring at each other in the mirror’s reflection. His hands return to your hips with a bruising clutch and those thick fingers begin to rub the slick between your folds all over your thighs. Fucking A-- It’s good. Idiot rich boy does have the Midas Touch.

One long leg kicks your jeans completely off, sole of his shoes stomping all over them. He’s unforgivingly large and he knows it because everything about Ransom Drysdale is a statement: his clothes, his attitude, his dick. There’s a joke in here somewhere about him being the very epitome of it, but he’s glaring at you with that pretty bottom lip stretched between perfect white teeth and maybe you can forgive the fact that he’s leaving boot marks all over your jeans and bruises in the shape of fingerprints on your back.

“Tell me,” he teases, slipping one finger in, the metal of his ring pressing up against your clit, “Tell me you’ve had it like this before.”

A slow roll of his hips against your ass, letting the weight of his cock pressed hot and tight between his body and yours. You find yourself inching higher, micro-movements attuned to his, staring but unseeing at his face, buzzing with the raw need to be clenching around more than one finger.

“Not like this, not off Glenfiddich, in Jamaica Plain…”

And without thinking, because there isn’t much to think about, you hiss, “Oh, fuck you!”

Ransom chuckles into your ear because your voice breaks just a tad and he’s going to win this fight. Claws and teeth out sharper than knives, he bites down on your shoulder and slips in another finger. The distinct sensations—soft, slippery, strokes and the sting of his teeth—are scrambling your brain.  

He grips himself tight, pushes in with uncharacteristic restraint, and you’re so desperate and aching for it all you can do is push back and pray the sound you might be making isn’t loud enough for everyone in the damn place to hear.

You stifle a grunt with his next languid stroke and Ransom raises an eyebrow, “What? You suddenly shy now?”

It might be just a restroom, but it’s one of the nicest places you’ve ever been inside. Carver’s cigar room’s private single occupancy nook and he’s usurped it to screw you senseless. As if reading your thoughts, he rolls his eyes and continues, glaring at your half-lidded reflection.

“Who gives a shit?” Then, another smirk, “If you’re gonna scream, get my name right.”

Your belly is quivering from the pressure, holding yourself together as best you can before he takes you to pieces. The grooves in his rings cut into your skin. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers crawling up your chin to shove inside your mouth.

Like everything else he’s ever wanted in his life, he’ll own this, too.

And then it’s only punishment. Ransom twists your hair around one fist, other forearm pressing like an anchor on your sternum, wrist shoved through the neckline, hand splayed open and clutching your throat and it goes nearly all the way around. The reflection of your panting mouth and bouncing breasts matching his every thrust is lewd and vile and so goddamn good.

“I bet you fuck on top, don’t you, scholarship?” He releases your throat to pinch your cheeks together, tipping your head derisively, making you nod yourself stupid—awful and humiliating but it unexpectedly thrills.

“Bet you’re too proud to ask.” He makes you nod again, “Bet you want someone to fuck you open just like this—all filthy and sloppy—“

And he doesn’t have to make you agree that time, you’re already limp in expectation and your reflection, damn her, she nods.

He’s still fully dressed, coat swaying to cocoon the both of you in what is probably a hundred thousand dollars. His watch, his rings, his fucking boxers. That stupid cable knit sweater.

A yelp leaks out with your orgasm- unexpected and high and quick, like a wounded animal as you tip your head back onto his shoulder. He doesn’t stop, even for a second. Ransom thrusts deeper, and on the cusp of your second undoing, he licks an errant bead of sweat down the back of your neck.

“You got one more. Yeah, that’s right— one more— God, your pussy loves it. Squeezing me fucking good.” He’s sick. He’s sick and Jesus Christ, aren’t you, too? “Yeah. Push back on my cock. Fuck yourself with it…”

He guides your fingers to your clit with his free hand and begins to rub in motions. Your eyes flutter when he breathes into your ear, “There you go, scholarship, you’ll never get dick this good again—so go ahead and be selfish. I wanna see you all fucked out, fucked stupid, coming all over my dick.”

With two fingers sluiced with your spit, Ransom crams them up next to his cock and you can’t believe how he did it so easily but maybe you can. Yes, filthy and sloppy and never like you’ve had before. Your hands grip the counter top so tightly the tips look white and bloodless and the strained coil inside snaps clean in two.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! God!”

You slump backwards, fingertips to toes shocked tingly numb, boneless and empty of all thought, but he holds you up with ease. Ransom shushes your gasps, paws your breasts and fluttering sternum, runs his hand over your face and throat. The pinch of his fingers returns to your cheeks and he drags his other hand from inside your pussy up into to your mouth. Slick and dripping, a little rubbery from the condom, but otherwise just like yourself.

“Well, look at that. Aren’t you just…”

He pauses to view your blissful face, covered in a sheen layer of sweat, head resting on his shoulder, slanted just enough so that the tip of your nose brushes his jaw. A quick laugh, strangely knowing and a bit sweet or maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, before he turns cold again.

“Make good on your slogan. Get on your fucking knees.”

His hand looks ridiculous, big and strong and wrapped around the best part of him, completely filthy with you smeared over his fist and you slide to your knees, forehead resting briefly on his knee. His pants have fallen around his ankles, boxers still midway, and you’re so exhausted you can hardly do much more than give him a light kiss to his inner thigh—God knows why—before you peel the rubber off.

It lands into the toilet and you obediently stick out your tongue, still panting to catch your breath as Ransom aims toward your open throat. “There you go,” he groans, fisting himself, “That’s it. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”

And you don’t.

-

“So,” your old mentor asks, familiar low drawl of his voice crackling with the tone of a lifelong smoker, “What do you think?”

A hum passes through from your end as you think about all the ways Ransom Drysdale Thrombey pulled you apart and in all the ways you’ll probably think about for at least a couple of months.

“He’s exactly who you think he is.” You rock back and forth on your feet near the curb, “Disrespectful…” Scholarship, Ransom’s voice sneers, “Selfish…” Who gives a shit? “Manipulative.”

Well look at that… aren’t you just… And the glimmer of those big blue eyes half-crazed with lust and control, drinking in your reflection in the mirror, makes you clench up right there in the parking lot.

“You think he’s a killer?” Blanc asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” You reply, “Depends. He takes what he wants when he wants it… Could care less if he burns the world down with him. You divine the rest.”

Benoit Blanc’s frustrated sigh is all the response you expect him to give. This case with the Thrombeys really has gotten him all twisted up. He wouldn’t have called you for a favor if it didn’t. Of course, when he asked you to check Ransom Drysdale Thrombey out, he’ll be at Carver’s tomorrow around ten, he probably had other scenarios in mind…

“Well,” he mumbles, “Thanks again. These people sure are hell to be around. Give the new Prentisses my best, won’t you?”

You say your goodbyes and tuck your phone back into your pocket, shifting with a wince when the soreness between your legs throbs again. With a sigh into the dark autumn night, you shove your hands inside the center pouch of your hoodie, keeping your head low but still wary enough to find your Uber.

Ransom left you in the restroom about ten minutes ago, sitting on your haunches, still trying to remember how your lungs work. Right before the door shut, he had turned around and gave you one last smirk, pointing right at your top with glee. “How’d I taste, baby?”

Blanc needs to be careful, not that he isn’t— because he always is, as nutty as his brain works, he is. But Ransom is the only Thrombey you’ve met and if there are ten more of them… Blanc would do good to watch his ass and maybe get some extra help.

A jangle disrupts the quiet when you begin to play with what you’ve taken. Jagged metal edges. Heavy iconic insignia laying benignly in your palm before you tug it out.

Idiot. Good dick or not, an idiot is an idiot is an idiot— especially his kind. Didn’t even notice you slipped these right out of his coat pocket. You swing the ring around your flexed pointer in swift, angry circles, keys clanging together before your hand shuts it up.

With a hard wind of your arm back, you fling the set long into the night, satisfied when it lands behind a building some distance away.

Ransom Drysdale, you think, enthusiastic smile growing on your face as your ride pulls around the corner, have fun looking for those tonight.

Dick!

-

Ransom tags: @mermaidxatxheart @dumbubblegum @sapphirescrolls @gothambrat @southerncross47 @bubblegumpeeeach @fiercephantasmagoria @saliarheva @amberakawolfie

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#knives out #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #smut #fanfiction #reader insert #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale thrombey #ransom x you #eat the rich heli0s