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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 7: Costumes | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.7k (this is going to be the longest one)

Warnings: 18+, PWP, costumes, a lot of sacrilegious activities, party sex, dirty talk, no protection (wrap it!!), afab reader but no pronouns are used, maybe slightly ooc matt but i am too tired to care. it's porn.

Summary: You may have fucked up on picking costumes for Marci's Halloween party, but at least Matt looks hot, right? Surely this won't awaken anything in the two of you- right?

A/N: Hi! I kind of got carried away on this one, there's probably a lot off repeat phrases, but this is the late day 7 and the late day 8 should be coming tonight as well but if not: oops. Also cmon, i had to make it a priest costime.

It had taken months of begging and persuasion to get Matt to even consider putting on a costume for halloween. Much less a shitty priest costume that you had snagged from the local party shop two hours before Marci’s ‘ghoul gala’ party. You’re not exactly sure how to tell Matt what the two of you will be going as, the ‘hot nun’ costume you snagged alongside his currently laying on his bed in front of you as you contemplate your options.

“It could be worse,” you nearly jump out of your skin, having forgotten you called Karen for help, her slightly glitched voice coming through your phone. Sighing, you pick up your costume and open the packaging, allowing the spandex like material to fall out onto the sheets. It’s incredibly skimpy considering what it’s portraying, the slats on the long skirt allowing most of your legs to be visible. Obviously the holy grail of it all, the wimple cutting off at your collarbones to allow a deep V to run down your chest “how can it be worse than this Karen, truly. I mean I could spit on a bible, maybe then-”

“You’re being dramatic, I’m sure Matt will love it.”

“I think Matt is going to have a stroke, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” you remark dryly, biting back a smile when Karen snorts.

“Well he just left the office not too long ago so he should be back to you soon. Marci’s thing starts in about an hour, Foggy left the office in costume so I assume he’s more than stressed about it.”

“Oh i’m sure he’ll feel better when we get there,” you laugh, perking up when you hear the door click shut “Matt just got home, i’ll see you at the party okay bye!”

“Was that Karen?” Matt asks, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Yeah,” you speak, voice tight as you prepare yourself to tell him about your outfits for the night. He notices immediately, concerned questions spilling from his mouth and you brush off each one, assuring him that you’re okay before pulling from his hold to grab his packaged costume. You turn back and hold it out in front of him, biting your lip when he takes it from you, squeezing the plastic that encloses it.

You take the chance as soon as he begins to open it “don’t be mad at me.”

Matt pauses, sunglasses turning in your direction as he sighs “what did you do?”

The venue was huge, and you suddenly understood why Marci had spent so much money on it. You had been correct about Foggy’s mood improving when you showed up, the neutral look on his expression immediately turning into one of disbelief and elation. “You’re kidding me,” Foggy laughs, walking directly to Matt and pulling him into a hug before holding him back at arm's length. Matt is tense, you can feel it, but god he looks so hot, so you can’t find it in yourself to be that worried. The clerical collar accentuates the muscle and veins in his neck, adam's apple bobbing against it when he leans toward you to speak. “At least act like you’re not getting wet right now,” Matt grits his teeth, his volume dropped low enough so only you can hear.

Foggy’s voice is immediately drowned out by the rush in your ears, your thighs clenching together, his words like a warm rush through your body. “I need a drink,” you manage to spit out, weaving through the group of people until you reach the cooler on the opposite side of the room, pulling a seagram and beer from the ice. You’re half tempted to climb in, just to cool the heat that is spreading to the end of all your limbs and maybe clear your head. The beating in your chest is rapid, heavy thumps against your ribcage as your heart repeats what Matt has just said to you over and over and over, and you know for a fact that he’s listening to it purely because of the smirk that tugs his lips as you walk back towards him.

“Fancy a drink, father?” you raise your voice over the music to tease, handing the bottle to him with a bit more force than intended. Matt doesn’t know what he expects to feel when father slips off your tongue with such carnality, but lust was not one of them. It burns fiery in his chest, everything he has ever been taught about Thou shall not covet suddenly thrown out the window. You see the dilemma in the shape of the sharp inhale Matt takes, jaw clenching tight enough to see the muscle work.

“You’re treading an incredibly thin line here, sweetheart,” Matt warns, hand going to rest on the base of your spine before pulling you flush to his . The open slats of your costume causes your legs to brush against his pants, the thin fabric not doing much to cover the feeling of his hardening cock against you. “What?” you say breathlessly, hoping the thumping of music will drown out everything you say “you can’t handle it father? Do you need me to confess my sins?” The pressure against your lower back increases, as does your heart rate.

“You don’t need to confess them,” Matt replies smoothly “I’ll fuck them out of you.”

There’s a moment of pause as you gasp and Matt’s head cocks to the side as he focuses on something, bottle being taken from your hand and set on a table, his glasses nearly black mixed with the deep red lighting of the room. Grabbing your hand, Matt begins to tug you to the back of the venue, passing by people with ease and you hope that it’s too dark for anyone to notice the blind man leading you instead of the other way around. Soon enough he’s at a door, twisting the handle and pulling you inside. It’s a washroom, also bled in the same crimson lighting as if a bloodied glass was placed in front of your eyes. It’s giving you a headache.

“Is this what you wanted? Play a game of blasphemy until I get fed up and make you feel good?” Matt twists the lock on the door and presses you forward until your thighs hit the sink, his breathing ragged and heavy against your back. The costumes may have been unplanned, but your choice of words throughout the night had not. This is what you wanted, but the admittance of it out loud seemed more like desecration than anything else. You do it anyway.

“Yes,” you grin, pressing your ass back into him. Pride blooms in your chest when he chokes out a moan, fingers frantically pulling the skirt up to bunch at your waist before undoing his belt and pants. Matt’s hand rests between your shoulder blades, pressing you forward to bend over the porcelain. You blink back the haze in your eyes glancing up at the mirror inches in front of your face to peek at him, the sight of the clergy shirt ridden up his stomach revealing his hand fisting his cock enough to make you whimper.

You’ve never seen Matt so worked up before, and something tells you this is a subject you’ll have to tap into again at a later time. Right now though, he’s pressing into you slowly, lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on the feeling of your cunt taking him in. “Made for me,” he murmurs before pulling his hips back just the slightest to press in further than before.

The counter digs into your legs with each roll of his hips, moans tumbling past your lips with no hesitation, your body responding to him as it always does. “Oh my god Matty, so good,” you whimper, eyes pinching shut. No one has ever made you feel like Matt has, romantically or physically, the call of his body always pulling a response from yours. Your hands press against the tiled wall, eyes blinking open and glancing over him in the reflection catching the quick dip of his head, his hips stalling momentarily.

One hand leaves your hips to grip the white collar, pulling on it “gotta be quiet now sweetheart, someone’s waiting outside.The music is loud, but so are you.” Once it tugs free he reaches around to your face, holding it in front of your mouth. “Bite,” he instructs, voice ragged and terse. You do, clenching your teeth onto it to keep from crying out when his hips slam back against you. Your pussy clenches around him as your knees shake, the only thing keeping you from falling being the sink you’re bent over.

“Being so good sweetheart, need you to cum for me,” Matt moans, almost unheard through the ringing in your ears and hum of the outside music. Small shocks spark along your skin when his fingers find your clit, rubbing and applying pressure that has you keening, face falling forward to press against the cool metal of the faucet. He knows exactly how to play you like an instrument, knows how to make you sing the prettiest songs for him like this, and he knows it. You can hear his cocky chuckle when your legs begin to shiver, hands slipping from their spot on the wall.

Everything seems to slow except for your breathing, your orgasm racking up your spine and down your legs, inching through to your fingers and it takes everything in you to keep the collar clenched in your mouth as to not alert whoever may be lurking by the door. Matt praises you through it, slowing his thrusts but not stopping, waiting until he knows you’re coherent enough to hear him to speak.

“That’s it, baby, you did so amazing,” Matt leans forward to press a kiss to the back of your head, pulling the white fabric from your lips “think you can do another?” He rolls his hips into yours once more, hitting something inside you that makes the red lighting of the room turn to white. You hum, pushing back against him.

“Yes, father.”

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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Your Beauty Never, Ever Scared Me - Will Graham Imagine (Hannibal)

Title: Your Beauty Never, Ever Scared Me

Pairing: Will Graham X Reader

Word Count: 823 words

Warning(s): blood, mention of violence/murder

Summary: The most intimidating part of a relationship is the experience of exposing every part of yourself to the person you love and begging them to love it no matter what.

Author's Note: This isn't actually inspired by "Mary on a Cross", I just stole the title from it.

Oh, and this was kinda inspired by Layers of Fear.

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Will respected (Y/n)'s space.

They truly only had one request for him: leave their art room alone.

It was less of a room and more of a shed. It was an extra little building on the property that (Y/n) had renovated long before Will had ever met them.

He had every intention of respecting that boundary. (Y/n) had done nothing but love them. No hesitation, no conditions. It was pure, intoxicating love that Will had given up before they met.

He wanted to offer the same thing.

But he stared out at the building behind the house, he could feel his curiosity get the best of him. (Y/n) was off doing errands. No one could stop him if he wanted to look.

Will had every chance to turn around.

At the backdoor.

At every step through the backyard to the shed.

As his hand touched the door of the shed.

When he broke off the lock to the shed door.

And as he took those final steps inside.

The front room wasn't concerning. It was canvases with paintbrushes, pencils, little empty containers stacked around and waiting to be cleaned. There was a canvas drying on the counter.

Will glanced around, appreciating the art around the walls. (Y/n) had a way with their work that made them feel so... alive. Will adored it. He was never one to truly appreciate art, but when it came to (Y/n)'s work, he couldn't help himself.

The front room wasn't concerning, but the backroom had another lock. Will broke off that lock too.

It made Will sick to his stomach. Mainly the arm dangling from the ceiling over a bucket. He looked over at the fridge and freezer off to the side. In his heart, he knew what he would find. He still felt the need to look into it.

"I wouldn't do that, Will."

He turned around to see (Y/n) in the doorway.

They didn't look angry or disappointed. They looked sad. Hurt. They were more upset that he had crossed their boundary than they were that he had found the body part hanging from the ceiling.

"What's in there," he asked.

"The paint."

Two words. Two words that answered every question he had.

"Paint with blood, brushes with hair, canvases from carefully treated skin," they listed. They trusted him with every detail. If they were going to confess to anyone, they would want it to be Will. "Art is meant to reflect humanity. What better to do that than humans?"

Will didn't respond to that. He wasn't sure what to think or say or do. Here he was, listening to the person he loved confess to at least one murder. His mind was clashing between his feelings for them and what he knows would be right.

"You can arrest me," they continued. His heart sank at the idea. "Or just run. I won't look for you. I won't hurt you. I don't think I ever could. I love you too much. My own fault, isn't it?"

Tears found their way to (Y/n)'s eyes.

(Y/n) expected him to leave. To run. Or arrest them. They couldn't ask him to love this part of them. He had every right to enjoy a life without this weight.

(Y/n) stepped forward, holding out their arms. Their wrists were pressed together. An invitation for Will to do his job and stop them. A moral decision.

Will reached out and touched their wrists. His hand slowly wrapped around them. The feeling of their skin on his unlocked every memory that he had with them. Their first meeting, when they first kissed him, how it felt to hold them. Every night they spent together. Every moment of escape that they allowed him.

"Will..."

(Y/n) couldn't ask any questions before he pulled them forward. He almost crushed his lips against theirs. His kiss was passionate and frantic. It was needy. A plead for them to stay. To love him like they always had. A promise that he would love them like they desired. The hand that wasn't holding their wrists found the back of (Y/n)'s head, holding them in place.

(Y/n) kissed him back, desperately trying to keep up with the passion that Will had met them with. A soft moan escaped them before they could even attempt to control it. They wanted this feeling for the rest of their life. To be kissed and touched and held like they were nothing short of perfect.

Will pulled away first. Not because he wanted to, but because he was becoming lightheaded from the kiss. Dizzy.

"Show me," he begged quietly.

(Y/n) furrowed their eyebrows.

"Your art," he explained. "Show me your art. I want to see it. I want to see everything."

(Y/n)'s heart fluttered for a moment.

"I want to see every part of you."

(Y/n) touched the side of his face before nodding.

That was all they had ever wanted. Truly unconditional love.

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Author's Note: I feel like I could do so much with this.

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Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

#babygirl what the fuck is wrong with you #will graham x reader

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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Their Little Girl

Hannigram x Reader

Prompt- “Let me kiss it better.”

Warnings- Drugging, Forced Regression, Implied Kidnapping, Mentions of needles, Yandere Behavior, Dumbification, Use of Daddy and Papa, Breakdowns

Keep reading

#I can’t say it’s great without saying how scared I am #it’s so good and it’s made me sad #yandere hannibal lecter x reader #yandere will graham x reader #hannigram x reader #hannibal x reader #will graham x reader

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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Enoch O'connor - Space Jump

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Masterpost of Masterlists

Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children Masterlist

I sat in the garden, reading as the sun hit the pages, the words forming pictures in my mind.

a weight pressed against my shoulder, black hair falling within my eyesight.

“hi Enoch” I murmured as I shuffled forwards slightly, leaving room between the tree I had been resting against and myself.

“hi (y/n)” he muttered, sliding behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as his head rested on my shoulder.

“you okay?” I asked and he sighed.

“new kid asks to many questions” he huffed and I giggled.

“how old is this one?” I questioned, turning my head as I peeled my eyes away from my book, looking at him.

“sixteen? it’s his first loop. he’s Abe’s grandson” Enoch muttered, pulling me closer to him, pressing a kiss against the corner of my lips as I laughed.

the sound of footsteps and talking brought us out of our little bliss.

“and this is (y/n)” Emma brought the new peculiar closer and I raised an eyebrow. he looked almost exactly like Abe, except with none of Abe’s confidence and charisma. he looked almost awkward and out of place.

the other peculiars will fix that in no time.

“hello Emma, who is this?” I asked, tilting my head as I dropped my book into my lap, not bothering to stand up.

“(y/n) this is Jacob, Abe’s grandson” she introduced us and I smiled, holding my hand out for him to shake.

“so I’ve heard. Enoch came and found me.” I felt Enoch lift his chin off my shoulder, probably to glare at Jacob.

“hi Enoch” Emma gave no reaction as Jacob looked both startled and scared.

“have you met everyone else yet?” I asked and he nodded.

“I think so, everyone except Victor i think. where is he?” he asked and I tried not to show my surprise.

they haven’t told him yet I suppose.

oh well. not my place to tell I guess.

“inside last I saw him” I answered and Emma flashed me a thankful look.

“we should head back inside, otherwise Millard and Hugh will ask you to play ball with them” Emma said, pulling Jacob along as I waved.

“goodbye” I waved and picked my book up.

it wasn’t until the sun had gone down and Enoch was trying to get my attention again, that I realized it was time tea.

“give the new kid a scare?” I asked, a cheeky grin on my face as I stood up, grabbing his hand to help pull him up.

“god I love you” he answered,smirking at me as he entwined our fingers, watching as I shut my eyes and jumped.

“they won’t be in until the very last minute” Millard explained, just as I jumped in.

“he’s correct of course.” I smirked, trying not to laugh as Jacob jumped.

“how did you do that?” he asked and Enoch chuckled, already used to the sudden movement that came with my peculiarity.

“her peculiarity.” he smirked, leading me to the seats ready for dinner.

“grandpa never told me your peculiarity” Jacob frowned and I raised an eyebrow.

“really? he used to jump with me, used to scare Emma with it.” I shrugged as she chuckled.

“he stopped after I did it to him though. remember how he jumped?” Emma laughed and I smiled.

“my peculiarity is very practical” I hummed, taking a seat next to Enoch, opposite Emma.

“I think your grandfather took a photo of me mid jump actually. not sure if he kept it or not.” I commented and Jacob nodded.

“He did. he was proud of it.” he answered and I smiled.

“he tried several times to try and catch a photo. he always missed by a few seconds. until that one day. he got Claire to Olive to distract me so he could quickly set it up so he could take a photo.” I giggled with Olive as we remembered the day.

“why did he go through all that effort?” Jacob asked and Enoch scoffed.

“it was a small bet we had going on. if he could take a photo of me mid jump then I would confess to Enoch. if he couldn’t do it by the end of the two months then he’d confess to Emma. he took the photo on the very last day of the bet.” I explained before miss Peregrine came into the room for dinner.

dinner was a quick affair, Enoch and I leaving to go up to his room.

he sat at his work bench, creating more creatures as I sat on his bed, reading.

we sat separately for a while, engrossed in our separate hobbies until a small creature came over to me, climbing into my lap and kept moving until I put my book down and picked it up.

it sat in my hands calmly as I looked up at my lover, sharing a smile as he stood up, walking over to me before he sat on the bed.

he kept shifting until he pulled me into his lap, arms wrapped around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder, pressing delicate kisses against my neck.

“you alright love?” i asked quietly, turning to look at Enoch as he stopped.

he smiled.

“nothing. just glad you stayed” he murmured before pressing a kiss against my lips, raising one hand from my waist to cup my cheek.

I slowly lowered my hands which held the creature until he climbed off my hands and onto the bed, one of my hands gently grabbing onto his sweater, pulling him closer as I closed my eyes, kissing back.

he pulled away with a small smirk as I giggled, opening my eyes.

“read to me?” he asked and I nodded, picking up my book and shuffled down the bed slightly until my head laid on his lap, his fingers running through my hair as I began to read again.

and when miss Peregrine came in to check on us that’s how she found us, Enoch smiling at me, running his fingers through my hair as I laid my head in his lap, reading softly.

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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they need to meet up right now i am so serious

#they’re being consumed by rainbow capitalism

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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FUCK OR DIE/COFFEE SHOP • DAY FIVE OF KINKTOBER

Summary: Life isn't too kind. Getting a warning that you're probably going to be fired and then being kidnapped alongside the cute barista you started flirting with... well you gotta roll with the punches.

Word Count: ~3k words

Character: Foolish

Warnings: fuck or die, its not really explained. Foolish gets changed for unknown reasons and he looks more like the shark totem skin so yeah. Also this does traunatize them. Kidnapping. Bonding over that. Yeah. Uh. Enjoy?

tag list: @oyakuya @ruminationnn @despicablenotions @grrrlsagainsthumanity @wolfie-doggo @boiled-onionrings @struggling-with-time @midnighthasstruck @modx-reborn @cleverjokehaha

Kinktober Masterlist

“Next!” I step up to the counter, smiling as if nothing is wrong and like I wasn’t about to be fired, and greet my favorite barista.

He likes to go by Foolish, says it fits him better than the name on his birth certificate. He also has claimed that he lost it.

His green eyes and dazzling smile takes the edge off my mind, and when the pitch in his voice hikes up and he leans over the counter a little bit, it’s hard to not be so charmed by him. He was always in front of customers for a reason. “The usual?” He asks, reaching around the register to get a cup, writing my name on it probably. I shrug my shoulders and then glance at the pastries displayed. “Maybe something else today?” I look back at him and he’s caught me, eyes flickering between me and the display.

“Maybe the raspberry cheesecake muffin?” I try, and nearly cringe at myself. One, I said it because it was the first name I saw and two, I hate the cheesecake flavor here.

“One raspberry cheesecake muffin for my favorite regular!” He says with a grandiose sway of his body, snapping the cute pastry box open and placing it oh-so-delicately inside. I bite the inside of my cheek, accidentally watching his uncovered arms for too long.

“Just the macchiato and muffin, then?” He says, pressing several buttons on the register, I nod. He turns back to me, a wide smile reaching his eyes. “That’ll be three seventy-five.”

My mouth drops open a little, “that’s- that’s only for the macchiato, you forgot-” but then I remember the long line behind me and rush to hand him the note, returning a smile in confusion as he slid the muffin towards me. “NEXT!” And then I’m pushed aside, Foolish’s next customer spouting off their order while I make my way to the end of the shop, waiting for my drink.

As soon as it’s on the counter, made all perfect, I don’t hesitate to grab it, it’s when I go to drink it I see it. A number on the side of the cup. With Foolish’s little name written underneath it, a cute smile adorning the numbers and name.

I bite down the grin, glancing back at the barista but there he continues to stand, behind the counter and letting himself charm the customers into spending more money than they need to. Walking out, I breathe in and out, because as much as I would love to start texting him and blow his phone up, I still have to get through the meeting. And probably the end of my job at the stupid company.

My gut, though, turns and I feel like I’m being watched. I try to look around as I keep walking, sipping as I do but I see nobody. No strange person, no oddly placed van crawling at my pace, waiting to snatch me. Just the usual bustle on the sidewalk and the usual traffic happening to the side. Appearing in front of the office, I cross my fingers, breathe out about twenty please’s and push the door aside.

Let’s keep this as civil as possible.

I push on the large doors with little effort, ignoring the obscenities being shouted at me from behind, from my now old boss. I did try, I really did. He started it!

Moving through the building, I’m walking down the stairs with a box of my things, enjoying the solitude the stairs gave me. Being a big enough building that it was a separate stairwell from the other parts of the open plan, it means no one is in here to listen to me sniff pathetically.

And as I’m out of the building and now back in front of the office building, I look both right and left. Nobody is looking at me, nobody is standing stock still with binoculars. Nobody is acting strange.

Except for me, I sniff again, turning down to my right, heading back in the direction of my home.

In the span of the next few weeks, as the season gets colder, the air and sky both turn crisp in quality, I form a sort of friendship between Foolish the barista and me, sending cute pictures of the cats in my apartment, him sending pictures of his pets, talking about stress from work. Foolish finally admitted that he never liked customer service but always toughed it out because I’d always come in at the same exact time and he just couldn’t stay away.

Hearing that left me feeling more than flustered for days and finally after dancing around the subject, we agreed to meet for a coffee date, at his place where he could show me how he makes a macchiato. My favorite. He promised he wouldn’t charge too much for the special blend, I had to snort at that, knowing he had to be smiling like the dork he is.

That day though, after dreading the hours before without knowing what to wear, I found something and left as soon as I could.

He doesn’t answer the first time I knock on his door. I don’t sweat, he’s probably in the restroom, not near the door, or maybe he can’t hear that well if he’s got a loud fan blowing the highest setting.

I knock for ten minutes, calling between the minutes, and pressing my ear against the door. I don’t even hear a pin drop, not a single bark or meow. Briefly thinking about trying to open it, I just face the music. He does not want to see me.

Doesn’t answer his door, straight to voicemail, and now that I’ve just been hired at a boutique far from his coffee shop, it’s like I’ve been ghosted.

“This fucking sucks.” Turning around and keeping my eyes closed, I lean against the door, only opening them when I hear a click and the cold press of metal on my forehead. In between my eyes is a pistol, and the guy holding it? Covered with glasses and a bandana over his mouth and nose. I’m going to die.

“Could’ve been worse.” He says and moves too quickly for me to see, I collapse with one blow to my head.

When I come to consciousness, I’m in the same clothes I was, the simple jeans and old band tee, this time with infinite more dirt and blood covering it. I have no recollection of getting these jeans, what the fuck? Looking away from my clothes, I am more freaked out as I see more and more. Stuck in some cell, with a bed shoved against the wall to my right, I turn to my left and I can see someone else struggling against restraints in another cell. They’re huge. Gold metal plates covering their skin but gray features decorate their back. I can’t see more than that. Muscles rippling alongside their back and arms. Some cloth holds loosely together to barely be called pants.

“Glad to see you’re awake, sorry about the whole kidnapping thing, you know these things are,” Jumping out of my skin, I look towards the speaker in the corner of this cell. Um, no I fucking don’t. The quick anger on my face is apparently prominent, “nothing personal, I swear, would’ve been easier if I didn’t have to but he insisted it had to be you.”

“Who’s he?” I ask, too quick for my own good.

“Who do you think?” Sounded exhausted, this person. “Big guy over there said that he’d only cooperate if you were safe. And well, you’re obviously safe where I can see you not getting hurt.”

I can hear whispering in the background. “Okay, change of plans, we’re doing this right now, if you could kindly go greet him, he said it was crucial to see him before he’s completely gone. Whatever that means.” I really do not want to meet this large… person is. While the muscles were a nice touch, they could probably kill me while yawning. Except I don’t have a choice as the bars of the cell recede into the wall and the noise attracts the attention of this large, golden person.

When it turns around, I can see a piercing green stare. The same green Foolish had.

No fucking way.

No fucking way this is Foolish.

When he tries to stand up all the way, his head hits the ceiling and I’m halfway tempted to run underneath the bed in here. Wait. Why in the fucking world is there a bed in here?

His mouth opens and words are garbled, but it sounds… vaguely like him. Against my instincts telling me to hide or run, I breathe in and as quickly as I could, I stand up. Pain shoots up my body, and I fall to my knees, grasping at my ankle. What the fuck happened? Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I squeeze them close.

Why is this happening to me?

The incredibly tall golden thing who I think just might be Foolish, doesn’t try to stand up again, though he does get on his knees and elbows, and there’s a sigh over the system. A cloud of green smoke surrounds him and the groan he releases… I will not admit what it did to me.

When the cloud dissipates, Foolish is shrinking just a little bit and he’s able to stand on his feet, though he still has to bend over to avoid the ceiling. “Are-” he coughs into his elbow, and I could see him better, making my heart cinch with an emotion I’m still not sure of, “are you hurt?”

I shake my head and he sighs, head tucking into his hands as he moves around me, right to the bed. And the size difference between us…

Before all this, yeah he was several inches taller than me but now, if I looked hard, it seemed that his palms were bigger than my head.

And while I was distracted over the feelings churning in my stomach, the bars returned to their original place. I can’t help the way I grasp at the cold, cylindrical metal.

"You're not gonna get out unless he lets you." His voice echoes in the otherwise empty room. Right, an over-sized, fucked up Foolish.

"Right of course, um quick question, was he lying when he said that you asked for me to be here?" I turn around, though leaning on the bars for support, I try to hold my stare but he's not even looking at me.

"... yes."

I try to even my breathing but it's not working, biting at my nails as I try to not think about what he means by that. By what any of this means.

"Good, okay good, you two are in there together, makes this part easier. Foolish here already knows the gist but you two have one hour to copulate before the room is filled with plenty of gases that'll melt your eyes. Fun, huh? Anyways, take your time, absolutely no rush. Love ya." And with a click, the system had been turned off and there was no one else to talk to except for Foolish.

Foolish who said it had to be me.

The Foolish with pants that had been on the dangerous edge of falling even further from his waist, even laying down.

The same Foolish I now had to fuck.

"I cannot believe this. I can't-" I would throw up, truly I would, but I don't even remember the last time I ate. I was too nervous for our date and figured he'd have something there but then… this happened. But right now, Foolish is sitting up and is thoroughly embarrassed. Humiliated probably. Ashamed, maybe.

"I shouldn't have asked for you. I should've- he offered it was either a complete stranger or someone I was close to. And I don't know why I said your name but please-" his eyes turn to mine, hands coming up to reach for me but he stops himself, stops himself when he sees me move. "You have to believe me when I say I am so sorry, I didn't want any of this to happen."

My lip is definitely bleeding from how hard I'm biting it. Fuck.

"Did you know him?" I can't even look at him properly, staring down at his hands grasping at the loose pants. "Did you ask him to do this to you?"

"No! Why would I want this? How-" he keeps choking up, "how would I even know him? This entire thing is crazy. I don't even know what they did to me- shit, what did they do to me?" I hold up my hands and limp my way towards him. Despite being forcibly changed into something entirely different, he's still Foolish. He's still the cute, charismatic barista. He's just. Golden. And larger.

Standing next to him, I hesitate but I lay my hands on his shoulders, fuck, they look tiny on his body. But all the same, he looks into my eyes, his own dripping with tears with wobbly lips. "This is not-" I wince, "this is less than ideal but seeing as you're probably not human, we should, um. Should probably do what the crazy person says." And this is the first time he looks away from me, one of his hands coming up to tentatively cover mine laying on his shoulder.

"We could probably take him on." He says, eyes darting around anywhere besides my face.

"Not really."

"But you uh, know I've changed, like I'm taller and it's- well- it's probably not going to… fit in. Fit inside of you." Holy shit. That is-

That should not have been as hot in these circumstances.

"We'll manage." Mumbling underneath my breath, I move my hands to cusp his jaw and tilt his head back, "tell me if I do something you don't like." And he nods in my hands, eyelids fluttering shut as he lets me move closer to him.

I place a gentle kiss against his cheek, moving my hands down his chest, feeling him for the first time. I couldn't imagine what he's feeling right now. My hands move the final hand grasping at the pants, lips touching his as my finger tips graze something warm. His whole body jolts and one of his hands jumps to my hip, squeezing gently as he shakily breathes out.

Everything about this situation is fucked but it is Foolish. I trust him enough. I like him!

And my insides are all melted, my knees feel like gelatin, and I can't look away from his face, watching him react to my touch. Watch his mouth drop open against mine when my hands could barely wrap around him all the way, listening to him moan and press kisses along my skin feverishly. Feeling completely enamored with him. Safe as I could be.

At some point, kneeling before him with my mouth barely wrapped around his tip, lapping at his piss slit and all around the head. I could hardly hold back from touching myself, though I gave full reign to Foolish. Letting him hold my hair back and seeing out of the corner of my eye as he fisted the sheets by his thigh, hand flexing and the veins appearing underneath his skin.

I moaned around his cock, hand dipping below my jeans, pleasuring myself, why not? Course, Foolish had to pull my mouth off of him, breathing heavily as he twitched in the air. "That's not fa- fuck, that wasn't fair." He says, looking at me with dark green eyes, pupils somehow blown out more than I could understand.

"Wanna make it fair?" I ask, blinking as innocently as I could.

And maybe it wasn't such a good idea, he switched positions with me and I couldn't hold back any noises, every moan, every whine I let out for him. Everything I did, I wanted him to know it was for him. With my legs over his broad shoulders, I let him have me any way he wanted.

And looking into his eyes after cumming for the second time, I gave him a nod. This needed to happen now. And not just for some experiment. I needed this to happen with him.

And yeah, with his skin being metal and golden and being almost twice my size, with him like this. I'll make it worth his while.

He moves to his knees on the bed, rubbing his cock between my thighs and both of us groan. "If you're not inside of me Foolish I swear-" and the head of his cock pushes at my hole, and I swear I thought I was going to tear around his cock. My eyes fly open and though his mouth had dropped open and he was shaking his head.

"It's not, ha-aah, it's not going to fit in right now," and he's biting back moans, if I focus on anything else, I can see his jaw close and shut and know he's a wreck, whining from the overwhelming sensation.

"Just try, baby," I croak, fisting the sheets just like he had. We need to do this and as long as we get out of here alive, we can figure out aftercare then. He nods and pressed again, and inch by inch, minute by agonizing minute, and fucking hell, he just fills and stretches me and it burns but I like it.

Crying out, I dug my nails into his skin, his skin though looked metal, still felt somewhat like skin. Didn't seem to hurt him, but he stopped moving, stopped everything and leaned over me with ease, hands looking my body over and asking in a quiet voice what he did wrong.

Shaking my head, I pat his arms. "I'm fine, just- fuck, keep going," and he dips his head by mine, groaning into my ear. Hands coming up to brace himself and I'm not going to lie, the feeling is something else, his giant body covering mine with his cock nestled inside of me.

"I'll make it up to you," he mutters, "I swear I will."

"Fuck me good and we're even." I try to grin but then he pulls back his hips and snaps them forward, burying himself back inside me. The feeling? Too good, too much, too fast. And he keeps going, fucking into me and groaning into my ear and when his tongue reaches out and trailed from my jawline to my mouth, I could've cried. I open my mouth up to him, letting him kiss a bruise on my lips, breathing through my nose against his cheek. I could barely hold myself together as he started to go faster.

"I'm gonna cum- whe- where can I cum?" He doesn't slow down but he does pull away, hovering his mouth just above mine, eyes closed.

I could hardly say it but he heard it just fine, his head falling and resting against my collar bone, thrusting inside faster and faster until it felt like he was literally rearranging my fucking organs. My mouth falls open, a silent scream rippling through me as an orgasm is ripped from me, Foolish following close behind. And it's an addictive feeling, being filled by someone so much bigger than me.

Foolish leaned on his forearms, breathing into the skin of my neck as my body relaxed into jelly.

As the system turns back on, there is a pop of confetti falling down from the ceiling and just as the motherfucker explained how he knew we were going to be just fine, a red fog fills the room and I'm susceptible to sleep.

"I guess I'm just… stuck like this." I'm threading my fingers through his hair, holding the somewhat giant in my arms as we process what we went through.

When we both woke up, we were dressed in sleeping clothes and in his bed. Both of his beloved pets were sleeping in their beds. But he'd remained the same. Bigger than normal, golden but firm skin. He couldn't possibly go outside like this. He himself said it.

"I didn't want- you know, it wasn't supposed to go like that. You know, our first time together?" He whispers in the quiet, cold air.

"I know. I know you didn't." I have to reassure him, we both didn't want any of that happening.

We didn't fall back asleep that night and he doesn't let go of me.

48 notes · View notes

ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

Text

Plot Twist - Part Two

Summary: Henry and you hated one another since the day you started working together. However, things took an awkward turn after an embarrassing incident on set. (Read part one...)

Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader (no description of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 2.8k

Warning: 18+, RPF, graphic smut, enemies to lovers, thigh riding, outdoors unprotected sex, hate-sex, profanities, creampie, exhibitionism, slight angst.

*No permission is given for translating, reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

A/N: Hello guys, it's been a while since I wrote something longer than 800 words. 🙈 Many thanks to @agniavateira, my muse and beta. Comment and reblog is you enjoyed. 💖

Plot Twist: Take Two

Valentine's day felt gloomier than ever this year.

Not only were you still single, but rather than being snuggled with your pet back at home, you were miles away from modern civilisation, stuck in an ancient chateau by the countryside where the wifi sucked. Filming was about to last a couple more weeks, but your patience had long waned. You were officially done with this place, done with this production, and more than anything - done with him.

If things between Henry and yourself were... truculent before, now they were downright impossible. Ever since the incident on the horse, you could hardly be in the same room together without feeling the blood rush to your face. All you could think of was the sheer size of his hardness pressing into the cleft of your ass—throbbing, thick and swollen of desire with a single purpose to fulfil.

You.

The worst part was that you couldn't tell who made the first move; not that it mattered, nothing changed the fact that the mere thought of his incredible girth made your belly tingle and your core clench.

‘Stop thinking about it, just stop thinking about it!' You rebuked yourself as your footsteps echoed through the monumental halls of the chateau.

Stranded in this rare medieval location during such dreary weather, the filming crew decided to lighten everyone's mood and host a little Valentine's Day ball. A bad idea for many different reasons — the last thing anyone needed was more embarrassing encounters. Yet despite your contempt, mingling with other people sounded better than dwelling alone in your room while thinking about it.

So you decided to borrow a white floral dress from the costume designer, having no thoughts whatsoever about Henry's reaction once he'd see you dolled up for the first time.

‘I will avoid his stupid face anyway,’ you convinced yourself as you made it to the large terrace where the ball was to occur.

"Oh."

Just like in a bad comedy, all you could hear was the chirping of crickets singing into the night.

Save for one man; the terrace was completely abandoned.

'But of course.'

At this point, you believed the universe was out there to fuck with you.

There he was, leaning against the rose-covered stone rail - the thorn latched in your backside, the sworn enemy who, in your shameful weakness, you've almost dry humped in front of your colleagues. You wanted to smack your forehead just from thinking about it.

You wanted to smack him as well.

Hearing your footsteps echo on the lustrous marble, he threw his head over his shoulder. His blue sapphires widened in surprise and gingerly glided down in a brazen inspection before he turned to fully drink in the sight of you in that dress.

Needles and pricks stabbed at your arms. After weeks of seeing Henry covered in fake blood and monsters' guts, a fancy tuxedo and neatly combed hair was a pleasant change that even you couldn’t deny.

Hate him or not, he was definitely… a treat.

The silence raged between you, your own breath loud in your ears while you stood nervous and motionless and did your best to avoid eye contact at any cost. Henry, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

'Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that why you wore that dress?'

Nonsense! Why would you want the attention of a man you hated?

"Evening," Henry broke the silence, his voice impassive and mildly raspy.

Seeing that scurrying away would be less than disrespectful, you took a great inhale and greeted him, "Evening, Cavill." You cleared your throat in diplomacy. "Where is everyone? Are we too early?"

"I've been here for 30 minutes. I'm afraid that we've been trolled," Henry sighed and offered a sheepish glare.

"Trolled?" It took a brief moment for realisation to hit before the bile rose to your throat. Why, of course! Everyone on set had noticed the raging ‘theatrics’ between Henry and you; they must have foolishly mistaken your constant bickering for a lovers' quarrel.

A deep frown crinkled your brow. "So you mean this was a set-up?!"

"I believe so," Henry shrugged. He scratched the back of his head and made a careful step forward as if advancing toward a frightened animal.

Although you wished to run, your quaking thighs allowed no movement. Dumbfounded, betrayed by both your colleagues and your body, you stood immobile and watched Henry as he crept dangerously close.

The five o'clock shadow that dusted his chiselled jawline became more and more prominent, and soon, the woodsy scent of his cologne wafted around you like a dark, intoxicating mist. You swallowed to dampen your throat, which did nothing but make it feel even drier.

"Maybe this is a good chance for us to finally talk about what happened," Henry suggested.

Adamant to keep your cool, you clenched your jaw. "I don't think there is much to talk about. We had an inconvenience."

Henry's eyebrows arched in sudden disbelief. Merely a few steps away, his body stiffened when he let out a dismissive scoff. "Inconvenience? That's what you call giving me an elaborate lap dance in front of the camera?"

'Oh no! He didn't!'

There it is—the Henry you despised. Crossing your arms together, you narrowed your eyes and ticked your tongue in dissent. "Don't think you can put this one on me, Cavill! I clearly remember you growling and shoving against me like some horny teenager."

The corners of Henry’s mouth twitched downward. He opened his mouth to respond but then tightened his lips together in a wicked grin and resumed his advances, his eyes darkening with each step.

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"What… What are you doing?..." You paddled back, almost stumbling on your heels. You weren't in any danger—not a real one—yet you swore your heart was about to burst through your chest.

"I asked you to stop, but you didn't ask me to stop. Why is that?" Henry asked again.

An icy shiver slithered up your skin, your eyes scrutinising him with alarm as you continued to tread backwards until your spine collided with something solid and cold. Like a fluffy little rabbit facing a salivating wolf, you huddled into the corner, though how often was it when a prey secretly wished to become devoured by its predator?

Visibly heaving and clenching your thighs, you peered at him with veiled anticipation, unbidden lust scorching at your core which lost all battle to and demanded to be consumed by the heat that radiated from Henry’s body.

'Touch me, touch me now, please.'

You couldn't bring yourself to beg. You wouldn’t.

"Ask me to stop, and I'll leave," Henry baited and stretched one of his arms over your head in a silent yet profound statement: you weren’t going anywhere.

And how could you? The blistering heat surrounded you from each direction—warmth radiating, suffocating—latched you to your spot as if you were tied to a stake, about to be burned alive.

There, below the glimmer of stars, alone in the open midnight breeze, a sharp glint lit his eyes, as if a piece of a puzzle that troubled him for months finally fell into the right place. Sick of the cautiousness that was driven by fear, he stole a caress from your cheek and, with a curious thumb, grazed the length of your sweet lips.

"Go ahead, tell me you hate me."

"I hate you!" You spat without hesitation, yet instead of pushing him away, your mouth longingly opened for his touch, allowing him to pry it open.

Henry's cheeks pulled upward; a sly grin stretched amid them as he accepted this veiled invitation, not bothering to ask for your permission, he kicked your feet apart and forced a thigh between your legs.

Your pathetic weil reverberated in his ear.

"Yeah? Is that so, darling?"

“Yes!” You jabbed again with such a quiver in your voice that even you weren’t convinced by your admission.

"Perhaps we should hate-fuck then, right here in the open." The weight of his body further pinned you to the wall, no escape assured as Henry’s muscular thigh stroke high enough for the taut muscle to brush against the apex of your groin. Swallowing a whimper, you shut your eyes, oblivious to the fact that your nails dug deep into the concrete behind you.

Eager flames bloomed in the pit of your gut. Weak and desperate, you surrendered in the wake of the primal urge elicited from his abrasive touch. Like a whore, you adulated your hips to remedy the painful need.

It was as if the devil lurked inside you, blissfully coiling and whispering words of cunning in your ear.

‘Let him have you. Let him fuck you right here in the open.’

“Fuck…” You shuddered.

A low, raspy groan rumbled on his tongue; his ravenous mouth hovered a mere inch from your gaping lips, breath laced together in an unwritten contract. You wanted more. You wanted… no… needed him to pervade you so you could find what he truly tasted like.

‘Whiskey?... Honey?... ambrosia?’

“Asshole…” was all you could muster in breathless pants.

Henry huffed with a triumphant leer. “So hateful…”

You should have slapped the smirk right off his stupid face. Instead, you squirmed to meet his touch, the pain of your wanton nearly bringing you to tears. At this point, you were willing to degrade yourself, to sell your soul in order to sense the bulging muscles rubbing your clit. Slow, rough, unbearable, Henry joined you in this carnal dance, damp arousal staining his trousers as every nerve raced toward the inevitable.

Nothing in the world could convince you to stop this debauchery, not even if someone was to walk in to find you two grinding together like horny teenagers. The moment you felt the wedge of his hard cock against your belly, you knew you had lost the game.

“So wet… But then… you don’t really want it, do you, pet? So I guess we’ll just call it a night and be on our way.”

His words haven't even begun to resonate when you found yourself suddenly limp and deprived of his heat. Straightening his outfit, Henry weaved his fingers through his hair and turned away from you as if nothing had happened.

Shock and disbelief washed down on you like a surge of icy water, no reason nor drop of logic remained in your blood as rage began to seep through your throbbing veins. The devil within you must have stolen the reins, for you had no control over the feet that stormed after him in a maelstrom.

“How dare you???”

Henry remained stoic to the echo of your heels, not bothering to stop as you rushed after him, but as your nails etched around his shoulder, he made an abrupt turn and hauled you flushed against him to finally, finally, devour your mouth. Your lips never dared refuse him, freely parting wide to allow him to drink from your mouth.

He tasted like the finest sin.

With a hand around your jaw and a quick gyrate around the terrace, he had you shoved flat against the wall once again, yet this time he spared you the usual courtesy of foreplay. You have toyed with him for far too long. Impassioned, he nipped down your neck like a hungry beast while his hand lewdly snaked below your gown to find your panties. All it took was a forceful yank to have them torn to shreds and pilled around your ankles.

For all the days you sat restless in your room, for all his unfair and uncaring treatment, you wanted to strike him, to burn his face with your mark; but instead of swatting him silly, your hand found purchase of his bulge and squeezed it so hard a thundering growl boomed in his throat.

Unable to sustain his aching desire, Henry tore his lips from your tingling neck. In a swift motion, he flipped you against the wall, urgently hiking the many skirts of your gown to expose your rear and captured your wrist to prevent your escape.

“Enough games,” he chided.

The sound of his zipper undone made you clench in such beguiling excitement you feared you would climax the moment he’d enter you. It wasn’t fair! Never in your life were you so aroused, never did you want someone the way you wanted this hateful man.

Yes, you hated him! You opened your mouth to remind him that when…

“Oh god!” The most ancient duet fled from your lips as his rigid flesh split through yours. Thicker than any man you have ever endured, your walls shuddered and winched around him, trying to resist and deny him, but Henry had none of that. Gripping onto your hip he delved deeper, not stopping until his sack forced against your entrance.

Tears fell down your cheeks, the torturous pressure inside you was too much to bear. Scorching tongues of fire laved at your womb—too soon, too close—your legs trembled so wildly the embarrassment made blood spike to your cheeks.

“Wait,” you begged him, “don’t move…”

But the words hadn’t met your tongue. Already he pulled from your heat, leaving only the head of his cock to seal your entrance before he rammed into you with the wrath of an angry god. Had he wasn’t fully sheathed within you, you were sure to fall feeble to your knees.

Amazed by the sensation of your lush cavern, he grunted humid against your ear, his fingers leaving your flesh raw where he held your hip. Fine droplets of sweat beaded his forehead and dampened your hair. Thrust after thrust he fucked into you at an insatiable pace, notwithstanding the waning resistance of your muscles, every collision of his cock with your cervix made the flames within you peak higher.

Surrendering yourself to him entirely, you followed his rhythm and pushed back to meet his furious pummels.

“Yes! That’s my girl.“ Henry revelled in the ease in which you submitted to him. His grip left your hip for a sliver of a second to find your hand and bring your palm against your lower belly where both you and he could feel the jolt of his leviathan cock moving back and forth.

“Can you feel it?” he asked. “Can you feel how deep I am inside you?” His pace turned vigorous as if he meant to punish you for all the unreasonable hate you bestowed upon him since the day you first met - though no punishment was ever so sweet. Every stroke made the rapturous river of molten fire climb higher through your body, the blazes suffusing your gut, your womb and all it took was one deep plunge of his meaty cock to make you erupt.

Wave after wave, the fire scorched your convulsing canal. Crying out in pleasure, you collapsed limp into his torso, allowing him to use your body as he saw fit. The palpable euphoria that flowed through your blood had your vision veiled by silken white sheets and from your throats tore the most inarticulate sounds.

Whatever control or dignity you had left was long but gone, all you wished for was for Henry to destroy you with all his rage and empty his sack inside your womb. Not denying your will, he hammered into you with unrelenting speed, his grunt carrying lower and louder as his cock grew thicker between your tight canal.

“Oh god,” his breath hitched as he shuddered, “I’m going to c…”

With a peal of husky roars, he gripped your hips and slammed you so hard your toes barely managed to graze the ground. Sprout after sprout, your willing womb was flooded by the warmth of his seed, filling to the brim and quickly seeping around his pulsating cock as no room was left for him to fill.

Silence took over. Still stuffed inside you, Henry leant his forehead against your shoulder where rivulets of sweat dribbled from his dark curls. You hadn’t realised that your hand clasped your mouth until your haunches ached from their overzealous effort but once the lush tides of euphoria ebbed away, you felt a great needle in your heart.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid girl! What have you done? You hated him, you hate him!’

So why did it feel so good?

Guilt and self-loathing overwhelmed your throbbing head - rather than finding the relaxation of your post-orgasmic bliss; you began to heave. Henry must have noticed you panic. Gingerly, he drew back, though not without the tender caress of his knuckles over your nape.

“Hey…” he spoke softly. “Maybe we sh…”

“No need for that!” Urgently you pushed him away, your face dropping to the ground, your muscles spasming and jittering as if an electric current had gone through them.

Struck by whatever happened, you reached for the flimsy remains of your underwear, collecting them between your shaky fingers before you stormed back into the mansion. Your high heels nearly failed you as you ran through the halls, their loud taps boomed through the hall, burying the sounds of Henry’s call as he stood behind and watched you slip away.

Remaining by the archway, he glanced at the shrouds of your gown blowing in the flurry of your escape, the glint in his eyes dying out like candlelight deprived of air.

‘What went wrong this time?’ he wondered in painful disappointment.

What could he do to let you see that below this mask of resentment, he actually, truly loved you?

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

#henry cavill x reader #Henry cavil smut #THE ANGST

2K notes · View notes

ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

Text

SHOTGUNNING/THIEF • DAY FOUR OF KINKTOBER

Summary: Listen, walking home after a long shift at work and then getting scolded is not a fun time. So is it wrong of you to fuck somebody who broke into your house?

Word Count: ~1.2k words

Character: Dream

Warning: I do not condone robbery and I definitely don't condone fucking somebody who broke into your house. Personally I would but that's a different thing entirely.

tag list: @oyakuya @ruminationnn @despicablenotions @grrrlsagainsthumanity @wolfie-doggo @boiled-onionrings @struggling-with-time @midnighthasstruck @modx-reborn @cleverjokehaha

Kinktober Masterlist

Sighing outwardly, you continue to walk down the dark street, flashlight tucked underneath your chin as you try to manage the pile of shit in your arms, while listening to this phone call with one of your coworker’s.

“I know you’re being careful but I just think you should let me take you home, it’s a straight shot from the diner to your place,” you roll your eyes, shifting the box of stale pastries in your grasp, “and you know Jenny wants you safe as much as I do.”

Jenny is your shared boss and your coworker’s girlfriend. And Jenny could care less about you. Not that you cared about her either, but lying about these kinds of things seems pointless. “One, it’s twenty minutes away from your place, and that’s if you speed like you usually do. Two, Jenny could give less of a shit, okay? Listen, Zee, I’ve walked from and to work like this for years.”

Zee tries to protest but you shake your head, not like he could see you, “stop worrying and drive home safe, okay? I’ll call you when I get home.” And before he could argue some more, you press a button on your phone and you’re cut off from any other living person. Living on the edge of your city left you with few neighbors. You’re lucky because of that, the peace is what you’d been in need of when you moved out of your folks’ house. Peace and very little to bother you.

Though you didn’t have a car, you had legs, and with those you didn’t need anything else. You got to your job just fine. Everything is just fine.

Especially tonight.

You had a night of light reading, light eating, and heavy silence as you slept the night away. Maybe smoke that little going away present your cousin had given you before you had left your hometown.

Finding your house after ten minutes of walking, you drop your things on your porch bench, shuffling through your pockets for your keys when you accidentally lean too much forward. Hands come out to brace yourself on the door but it’s no help, the door swings open and the full moon brightens up the place, flashlight falling onto the porch.

You locked your door before you left, you know that. You know that for a fucking fact.

Getting to your feet, you dig your hand into your pocket, pulling out that pepper spray Zee had shoved into your hand before you left the diner. You had it ready. And after hearing a bump over your head, you whine inside of your head. Of course they’d be in your bedroom. Hopefully the intruder doesn’t see anything embarrassing. Going up the stairs, you avoid the creaky ones and see a small light through the sliver under your door. You swallow the spit in your mouth, rubbing your thumb over the top, steadying your hand.

You open the door with less grace than you’d have liked, but you find the fucker. And of course he fucking is. Of course the bastard inside of your house is hot. Dressed head to toe in attractive, skin-tight black clothing. Hugging his body unfairly.

And of course he’s smoking your shit.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You say and he doesn’t even react too much. His arm thrown behind the couch against the window, his eyes drag across the walls to meet your face.

“Was wondering when you’d get here, you were gone all day, you know.” And that’s when you notice the gift bag in his lap, on top of his crotch. You would have thought twice about letting your hand anywhere near there, considering fucking everything but you were looking forward to that.

“Cause I was fucking working,” you respond out of habit, and as your hand touches the mesh bag, his hand comes from the back of the couch to wrap around your wrist, fingers easily touching each other. You’re caught off guard by the touch, by the yank he does, a blow of smoke in your face and by the time you waved it away with your free hand, trying to get a word in, his face is too close for comfort. Eyes half-lidded and dark. It does you no good, feeling warm in many places too fast.

“If you let me explain, I’ll pay you back for the weed,” explain just what exactly?

Your eyes squint, nearly twitching.

“I meant to rob somebody named Vick King, know anybody like that?” The only neighbor who complained about anything in this place? The one who’s house you passed to get here?

You flatten your mouth into a line, wondering if giving someone directions to your shitty neighbor so they could rob him would be morally wrong. “Do you want a different type of payment then?” It's definitely a crime to break into your house, but the way he pulls down the collar of his shirt and tilts his head back.

“Are you- are you trying to seduce me?” You squint at him, frowning mostly to yourself how you’re not too upset at this outcome.

“Is it working?” He grins at you and drags one out of the joint, turning to you as you watched him closely. Your head is working overtime trying to process what happens next. Cause he pulls at your chin and presses his mouth against yours, moaning at the skin contact and pushing the smoke inside of your mouth.

Okay, fucking okay. You take it, not entirely there as it seems to soak inside of your skull. But you’re there when you breathe the smoke out, pushing at his shoulders and throwing a knee each side of him, straddling him.

He enjoys the way you hold his shoulders, kissing him harshly where he could feel his teeth knocking against yours and the way he could hardly think straight with you grinding down against his cock. And he doesn’t know who starts it, who pulls away and takes another inhale, but he knows you’re pulling away, watching him through the cloud and taking his breath away again.

“He lives down the road, but one, you’re paying me back for the weed,” of course, he wouldn’t have it any other way. “And you’re giving me back my vibrator.” He grins, caught.

“Of course.”

And when he’s gone in the morning, feeling sore in the best places, you find a tiny little note next to a ziploc bag. Written on the note is a little apology, and though you could hardly take that seriously, the edge of your mouth twitches. A phone number and a name.

Dream.

Of course, his name is Dream.

Looking at the baggie, you bite at your lip. At least it wasn’t a total waste, you think to yourself, reaching for your phone. Looking at your phone, you see the latest text from Zee.

Darling. Best friend. Partner in crime. Your neighbor was just robbed blind, you are not walking home anymore.

You blink and remember the vague moment he asked for directions at the end of everything. Guess he wasn’t lying about that. You’d be more concerned if Dream hadn’t scribbled the worst kissy face on the bag. He’s not something you’re too worried about.

You send a text five minutes later before you take another nap.

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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can we talk about how he literally lied to everyone's faces about being blond that is a solid brown my guy

#where are his freckles #I CANT SEE #BITCH I CANT FUCKING SEE

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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What amazes me is that men in Iran are beating up police who are threatening female protestors. Men so rarely have any kind of role, much less a protective one, in women's rights protests.

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

Text

Our Little Prince & The Raccoon

#they are friends:)#ranboo fanart #tommyinit fanart #allium duo

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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#when the fuck did my ancestors have the time to be invaded by Britain #and why was I not taught about it in grade 6

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ghostdoesstuff · 2 years

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AHA IM SO SORRY BUT I CANT GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD

what would yandare Hannibal do if his darling was just wandering around the house and somehow Hannibal didn’t notice they were gone (shocker) till 2 minutes later and started searching the house frantically and he found his darling in the library reading a book

(IM SORRY IF IM SENDING IN ALOT OF RQ ITS HARD TO REMEMBER WHOS ACC IS WHOS SO IF I SENT YOU ALOT IM SO SORRY <<333)

YES YES ABSOLUTELY YES ?????

also never feel like ur sending in too many requests, I enjoy writing and love when ppl come back:) its very sweet

mandatory apology for taking so long on reqs, im sorry): im not a procrastinator ive just had a hell of a lot on and havent had a spare minute at all to write): doing my best atm and thankfully now everything has slowed down

TW: yandere behaviour, implied kidnapping, sorta toxic behaviour, Hannibal being a little clingy, possessive behaviour. reader is GN

If any of this triggers you please scroll and keep urself safe🤍

u didnt specify so as a treat ill write for both;)

Yandere Hannibal thinks GN!Reader has ran away🌷💗

NBC Hannibal

Ohshitshitshitshitshitfuckshitsh

Immediate panic at first, he'd taken his eyes off you for no more than two minutes to focus on frying meat for dinner. He hadn't even heard you get up or walk away, which caused him much much more anxiety. Why were you deliberately being quiet? Why are you being so disobedient? Why on earth are you doing this to him??

He’s quick to put everything on hold, take the pan off the grill and turn down the heat, exit the room and head hastily towards the front door. Despite being quite concerned, hes able to mask it well and paint a scarily calm demeanour on himself

Perhaps you’d gotten bored and wandered into the living room? It was the most plausible theory, yet your absence deemed it invalid

Your sudden and unexpected vanishing angered Hannibal greatly. Who were you to try and leave him? He re-checked the kitchen, twice. Then each upper room of his house, ensuring you weren’t hiding from him in childish fashion.

After half an hour, he was tired. Angry, upset, frustrated, and a large mix of emotions that bubbled around inside him, like rising scorching water, it was only a matter of time before it boiled over.

Dealing with all this, he needed to cool off before searching outside for you. He knew if you ran away you couldn’t go far, and if he recaptured you whilst angry he may hurt you.

Sighing heavily, he retreated to the library, only to be met with the sight of you leaning against the libraries ladder, eyes glued firmly to your chosen book. He couldn’t quite make out the cover as the palm of your hand covered it, whilst the other gently gripped the top.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, your eyes drawing themselves away from your page and towards his large frame in the doorway. The sight of him confused and caused you great anxiety, he looked frantic and angry, as if you’d insulted him greatly

“Um, reading…”

Hannibal let out a sigh, and pulled you into a rather tight hug after walking quite quickly toward you. “Tell me when you’re leaving my side, please.”

OG Hannibal

Oh, you’re gone? Okay.

OG Hannibal is very secure in knowing you cannot leave his grasp. Every door in the house is double locked, you don’t have a key, and you’re terribly loud when trying to be quiet.

He knows you really can’t have gone far. It’s impossible. Literally.

He finishes whatever task he was tending to first, taking him around 10 minutes, before cleaning his workspace and seeing where you’d wandered off to

He understands usually you like to indulge in television, much to his dismay, (but he never judges you), and so he checks the living room expecting you to be sat peacefully on the sofa

He opens the door aaaaand…you aren’t there.

Weird, and it puts him on edge a little, but without panicking he checks upstairs. Maybe you were tired? wanted a nap?

No. You aren’t there either.

Just to be extra-double sure, Hannibal checks both doors, ensuring that they’re still double locked and unopened. And thankfully to him, they are.

Now, with the knowledge that you haven’t ran away and you are in fact somewhere in the house away from him, hes angry.

Why are you hiding from him? Is this a game? If it’s a game, he’ll play.

Hannibal checks every room upstairs, under the beds and in the wardrobes, checks behind the shower curtain and any bottom cupboards you might have squeezed yourself in childishly.

Nothing.

It clicks that there’s one last area of the house he hasn’t checked yet: The library.

He creaks open the door, and lets out a laugh when he sees you reading quietly, curled up on his armchair, which causes you to jump and stare up at him, wondering what’s so funny

“Found you!” he states, calmly. “Why are you in here?”

“I wanted to…read?” you reply, confused.

“Tell me next time.”

#hannibal lector x reader #jingle jingle

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