#And still stalks him even after he promised he’d stop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

squirmhoney · 6 months

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RAFE - NSFW ALPHABET

A/N: What is this? I guess you guys got what you wanted ♥ Warnings: Dark. Voyeurism. Smut. Non con. Dub Con. Breeding Kink. 18+

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

His aftercare is good but he does it to manipulate you. His hands soothing your bruised skin, kissing along the bite marks he had left from where he lost control. Eventually you’d forget how mean he just was, only focusing on the gentle tone in his voice as he reassures you everything is okay. And when he feels awful, knowing he took something too far, he’d have you under the shower crying with you as he promised he’d do better. He swears that wasn’t him and you really can’t leave him because he couldn’t be without you.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of their partner's)

It’s your ass. One of the main reasons he can get away with touching it in public. He give it a light tap or squeeze in front of people, making sure they knew exactly who you belonged to. Then there was the fact he loved playing with your ass, spreading your cheeks as he ate you out from behind. Or leaving nasty marks that you would feel for days, that made it impossible for you to think about anyone else but him. He’d sometimes even just place his palm against it in public, resting there instead of the small of your back in a possessive manner.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically.)

That man is cumming inside of you, even when he doesn’t manage it, he’s scooping it all up so he can push it inside you. At first you didn’t even have a clue, thinking it was just him being possessive, trying to make sure you knew who you belonged to. It only clicked what he was really trying to do when he stopped cumming in your mouth, always wanting to finish inside your walls. Every hand job and blow job having to end with sex.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you ever got together, Rafe had always had a thing for you. That was probably known in the way he got rid of any other competition or practically stalked you on occasions just to get you to talk to him. That was not the secret.

The dirty secret was him stealing little things of yours, like an absolute perv. Underwear mainly but before he could sneak in your room it would be anything he could get his hands on, a hair tie, a necklace he had bribed a girl to steal from you, anything. He was obsessed in more ways than one and he kept a stash of it all even after you got together.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

Before you Rafe had his share of experiences, he was the Kook King so of course he had practically fucked the entire kook island. He knows how to make any experience pleasurable with you, even when you’re pushing him away, he somehow finds a way to have you creaming around his dick. Rafe knew how good he was and he liked to make you feel good, listening to your whimper or fight back moans is what pushed him to thrust into you harder.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

While Rafe loves throwing you against every surface, ass against his crotch for an easy quickie, that isn’t his favourite position. He likes you vulnerable, ankles by his ears as he cages your body in. From that position he can watch your lips part as you try to regulate your breathing, trying to stop yourself from moaning underneath him. But eventually you’d break, eyes watering as you cum around him, begging him just to give you a second to breathe.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s very serious in the act, he only chuckles when he’s being cruel and taking enjoyment in your embarrassment. There isn’t real humour when Rafe’s pressing your hips into his bed, keeping you still so he can get his dick wet. He doesn’t joke around about fucking you, he’s too busy either reassuring you that you’re fine with each harsh rut of his hips or telling you just to lie down and enjoy it as he fucks you till you’re passing out on his bed.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s trimmed down there of course, he takes pride in the way he looks as the Kook king. And the carpet matches the drapes, 100%.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

It doesn’t matter what mood Rafe is in, he’s always telling you how much he cares about you. The way he watches you intently with his eyes or when he groans at the sounds you make underneath him, it feeds something in him and something that you tried to ignore inside of you. It’s never romantic but when Rafe tells you how great you feel when you’re squeezing him or reassures you that he’s doing this because he cares, because you’re the only person for him, you can pretend for a second. Because when he does say those things, you find yourself cumming harder than ever, unable to stop those words from getting to you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

When another man looks in your direction, Rafe gets jealous. And he isn’t afraid to confront anyone, throwing them on the ground and shoving his fist into his face until his knuckles are bruised and their blood is splattered on his face. No one notices the way he stalks over to you after, pressing his bloody fingers into your cheek as he uses his other hand to drag you by your neck into the nearest room.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink. It’s the one secure way this man can tie you to him for the rest of his life and he’s going to use it. After a while you start to realise when he’s constantly making sure to cum inside of you even when you beg him not to. Eventually he’d stop trying to hide it, telling you how he can’t wait to see you with a swollen belly, all round with his child. Then everyone will know you’re his.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the deed)

Everywhere and anywhere. Rafe doesn’t care where it is, he’d do it in front of his friends if he had to. As long as when he needs you, he can be inside you within seconds then he doesn’t care. Rafe would have you bent over any surface in a matter of seconds, having your feet dangling off the floor as he holds your hips to fuck you. And he’d want you to be loud, liking when other people could hear you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on?)

I think Rafe gets turned on by certain outfits you wear. Short skirts mainly, especially if he’s seen you round the driving range in a skirt there barely covers your ass. He’d be right behind you as he shows you every move, making sure that you don’t go out of his sight in such an outfit. Then his t-shirts, driving him wild at the thought of you knowing who you belong to. He likes you to wear them while he fucks you, going all gentle on you when you wear his clothes.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Rafe is a freak. But one thing he won’t do is be submissive for you. He’s the dominant one in the relationship. You can be on top but he’ll have his hand guiding you the whole time or even holding your hips in place so he can continue fucking you when you get tired. He always has to be in control.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Rafe is a selfish prick who loves to receive. Having you go down on him in the comfort of his car before a party, lips round the base as you gag around his length, he lives for that shit. He loves taking advantage of you like that, keeping your head down until you’re choking on him, slapping at his thighs to get him to let your head go.

But Rafe also gives, the main reason he doesn’t like to be down there with his mouth is because he can’t see your face when you cum around his mouth. He eventually finds a way around that, using his camera to record you both as he laps at your pussy, allowing himself to get lost in your taste and the sound of your sweet moans. He can just watch how much you enjoyed it after.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Mainly Rafe is rough and mean, he’s always getting lost in his head during sex, taking out his anger on the cut, from his dad and from the rest of his fucked up life on you. He’s frantic whenever his hips grind into yours, making your thighs shake from how deep he’s going. At these moments the moans are ripped from your throat as you press your hand against his hips in a feeble attempt to stabilise him. He can and sometimes will take things slow with you but it’s just rare to see.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Loves a quickie. Anywhere and everywhere, sometimes a quickie is all he can get. Especially if you’re in a place with his family and his dad is nearby, he can’t be gone for long but he also can’t resist you when you make his parents laugh or his father tell him that he’s happy for the pair of you. He needs to show you how much he appreciates you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Only likes to risk things for himself, I think he’d like to experiment with a few things but only things where he’s the dominant one. He definitely wants to do anal with you and he doesn’t mention it to you until you’re exhausted from so many orgasms that you hardly notice him playing with your slick. Not until he’s pushing his thumb inside your walls telling you to relax when you tense up. There’s no use fighting him off in your state and that’s why you relax and let him get his way even if you weren’t sure this is what you wanted.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

For hours, there will be times where this man has just held you up by your hips to continue fucking you. Even fucking you in your sleep because he still has all this pent up energy. When Rafe manages to get a weekend alone with you, it’s all he allows you to do. He barely wants to take a break to eat or sleep, only doing so because he knows you need it.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I don’t think he’d like the idea of most of them. The only things he’s ever liked is but plugs, using them to keep you filled with him during the day. Or ropes, liking all the ways he can tie you up without you being able to escape from him.

I think he wouldn’t see the point in a dildo or a vibrator. You had him, why would you need any of that. It’s not like you’d have a spare minute to use him, you’re around that man all the time. And there’s no way you’re using anything on him, no way.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I can see Rafe being a tease, kissing your soft spots before dinner outings or rubbing you through your panties underneath blankets while watching movies. But I don’t see him lasting long before he needs to have his fingers knuckle deep in your walls, have your pussy squeezing his thick fingers and feel the wetness coating his rings. Teasing always turns into sex for him, he just can’t help himself.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

I wouldn’t say he’s super loud and while he does groan when your cunts squeezes him in some sort of way, he’s too busy listening to your moans to be making any of his own. But he’s vocal, either praising you or degrading you, he’s whispering something in your ear. It’s the only moment he can free the thoughts going around his head, all of them being blocked out by you. Any thought that comes to his head is spoken, it’s his own sense of relief.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

“Rafe,” you whined, squirming on top of him as you buried your face further into his neck.

Your cheeks were burning against Rafe’s neck and even though you tried to hide them from the people around, you felt their stares. And if they noticed your flush cheeks, they probably noticed your awkward position on Rafe’s lap or how he kept pushing your hips to adjust your position on top of him. They knew he was buried deep inside of you, especially with the way you kept swallowing your moans with every roll of his hips.

“You okay there?” You heard Toppers teasing voice behind you.

You ignored him, hoping the blanket was really covering what was going on.

But then you felt Rafe grip your hair as he yanked your head back to look at Topper.

“Topper asked you a question babe,” Rafe mocked, making you stare at his friend.

Topper was grinning like a man starved as he stared back at you.

“I’m fine-“ your words were cut off as Rafe bucked his hips up into yours.

“She’s better than fine,” Kelce chimed in as you let out the lewdest moan.

They all began to laugh at you, their laughter only growing louder when you tried to hide away from them again.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Big, thick and veiny. You need preparation before him.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high. This man always wants to be inside of you and you can tell as soon as your eyes connect with his. Those blue eyes always seem so dark when they stare back at you, his hand shifting so easily to slide towards your inner thigh. He’s always dragging you into different rooms or groping at you inside his truck before you enter a function. It’s constant with Rafe Cameron.

Z = ZZZ (... how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once he’s finally got his fill, he sleeps amazingly with you in his arms. But he’s a light sleeper. If you try and leave while he’s sleeping then he’s up within a second, following you to wherever you go. If it’s only to the bathroom, he’ll let you drag his tired body back to bed where he can spoon you again. But if he’s had to go all the way down the stairs, finding you getting a glass of water or a midnight snack, he’d be ready to take you again. He’d sneak up behind you pressing kisses to your shoulder as his hand dips into your pyjama shorts. You won’t be going back to bed for a little while.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron smut #dark rafe cameron

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midnightarcheress · 15 days

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Simon travels with you.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader cw: mentions of stalking/threats 3 | gold rush masterlist.

the flight is strange. he was used to flying on an excruciatingly loud helicopter, with adrenaline overflowing on his bloodstream as he prepared to jump in the field, or in a simple commercial plane back to Manchester after a long deployment, dwarfing on cramped corridors and elbowing people sitting beside him. a private jet was far too removed from his reality.

but not from yours. from his seat on the back of the plane, he would glance at you from time to time, crossed thighs on the soft cushioned seats like you were simply lounging at your own sofa, not cruising miles up in the air, with eyes attentively going over the plans for the next few days with Daniel.

he doesn’t understand half of it, but you’re some sort of spokesperson? ambassador? of cosmetic’s brand, whatever that’s supposed to mean. everything he hears just passes straight through his brain. he just cares about what he’ll have to do – follow you around like a guard dog who’s not allowed to bark.

“last time you promised me a day off, Dan. what’s the point of all this travelling if i can’t even explore the city i’m in?” a huff escapes your lips, utterly annoyed by the limitations of your schedule. a life too micromanaged to bear any autonomy.

“i told you there’s no time for a day off, you have back to back appointments–” the man stops, staring at the puppy-eyed gaze you give him, the magical pout that would get anyone on their knees, “fine. i guess i can arrange a free afternoon before we leave.” Simon can’t help the hint of a smirk forming under his mask after you got what you wanted, internally commending your ability to bend any resolve without lifting a single finger.

after landing, you head directly to the hotel to get ready for the big event. Simon’s stuck with you in a room that’s almost as big as his entire flat, bored out of his mind watching frantic people dolling you up – activity he sees no purpose in, since you couldn't get any prettier in his eyes. his eardrums are already hurting from the constant noise in the place, but still functioning enough to pick up the double knock on the door.

you also hear it, shifting on your chair and glancing around the room as if you were looking for someone, until your eyes land on him. “Ghost?” you say, head tilting in the door direction, “could you get that, please?” he sighs and nods, pushing himself away from the wall to answer it.

the hotel employee hands him a bouquet of white lilies, courtesy of the brand, the man says. as soon as the lock clicks again, Simon notices your beaming smile at the arrangement in his possession, eyes shining like a child in the toy section. he passes you the bouquet, not missing how your smile fades into a frown the second you skim through the small card hidden between the flowers, raising an alarm flag in his brain. “something wrong?”

“what?” your eyes dart between his and the paper in your hands, quickly tucking it in your robe pocket, “oh, no, it’s nothing.” your lips curve, barely so, tentatively brushing off the topic as you finish getting ready. his brows furrowed, not fully accepting your dismissal and sensing that you’re covering something, but he doesn’t want to press you in front of everyone. he just hopes that you’ll trust him enough to come to him if it’s another threat.

he’d seen the content of a few of the letters you received, as a part of his briefing, just to understand what he was dealing with. some of them were pathetic expressions of emotion, serving you undying devotion and promises of eternal love, but some were filled with a predatory fury, a mixture of jealousy and hunger, visceral descriptions of how they wanted to rip you apart. all with the same signature. you never talked about the situation, never addressed to him the necessity of having a bodyguard. he could only imagine the turmoil of fear inside your chest.

a couple hours later, much to his relief, the event ended, allowing him to take you back to the hotel without having to hear any more french buzzing for the rest of the evening.

“Ghost?” he stops on his way out, hand hovering on the doorknob and face turned to you. every time you call him, he feels a piece of his defence wall crumbling, determination to keep his distance slowly disappearing due the sweet sound that travels through the air. “can you, uhm, help me?” you look over your shoulder to the back of your dress, the zipper being impossible to reach without dislocating a joint.

his brain momentarily freezes, scrambling to form a quick and coherent yeah, sure, or to simply shake his head in agreement. he takes a step closer, letting you turn around and move your hair before daring to touch you.

“funny how after the party there’s no one to help you clean up, right?” your eyes roam around the empty room and you chuckle, but the saddened tone of your laugh is easily recognizable, “so different from earlier.” his large digits find the invisible zipper in the fabric, slowly tugging it down as his other hand stays on your lower back for support.

his heart is thumping loudly, the gradual exposure of your back being sufficient to divert his blood flow and make him feel something that he definitely shouldn’t. despite the profound temptation to trace your naked spine with his fingers and to lean closer to your soft neck, he steps back, clearing his throat and going back to the exit, “so, uhm, goodnight then."

you turn slightly, holding the gown by your chest and gently grinning in gratitude, “goodnight, Ghost.”

lol took me so long to write this, i'm still scrambling with the ideas/scene sequences for the story (but now it has a name)

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ghostie-luvs · 11 months

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Yandere! Jock (part two) <3

Part One!! Part three!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

more of my works :)

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

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amhrosina · 1 year

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frank with reader who’s really touchy and loves to touch frank and after a bad mission he snaps at her and she knows it’s because of what happened that night not her but she still feels really bad and distances herself

A/N: hey bestie i got this ask and felt so inspired that i wrote 90% of it in my free time at work today. fastest turn around time ever??? don't get used to it lol i hope you enjoy!!

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Frank knew he had fucked up the second the words left his mouth. He watched the words hit you, watched you process the rage induced slip-up that had forced its way out of his mouth – the way you recoiled your hand from his skin and stumbled over yourself to move away from him. It made him sick. Guilt coiled in his stomach, and before he could apologize, or say anything at all, you turned and left the room, mumbling an apology under your breath.

Frank couldn’t figure out where it had gone wrong. He’d never snapped at you before tonight and was almost as shocked as you were when the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“Stop fucking touching me. I said I’m fucking fine.”

Regret gnawed at his stomach, and if he wasn’t bleeding so hard out of the wound on his arm, he would’ve followed you out of the bathroom, dropped to his knees, and begged your forgiveness. But blood was hard to get out of carpet, and he didn’t want you upset about two things tonight.

So he stitched himself up, and wondered where you were in the apartment, and hoped to God you weren’t somewhere crying. The tears, your tears, he realized, were his least favorite thing in the world, especially if he was the cause of them. He’d rip any fucker who made you cry in half, a promise he’d made good on multiple times, but he hadn’t accounted for the tears he, himself would cause. The guilt overwhelming his senses were doing the job for him anyways – the longer he waited to confront you, the more he felt like an absolute asshole.

He tested the durability of the dressing on the wound, winding his arm around until he winced. A sharp pain clanged through the left side of his body, and though it made him grimace, he sat with the pain for a moment – let it ground him so that the stress of the evening could leave him. Pain usually sharpened his senses and made him feel more at home in his body. Tonight, it only unsettled him more.

He wondered if he screwed it up with you for good. You’d worked through a lot of things with Frank, but never this, and the idea of you leaving before he could even try to make things right targeted the urgency in him. He stalked to the door and began his search.

The hard brick dug into your back as you sat down, and for the third time in half a minute, you questioned your decision to clamber out the window and climb to the roof. You didn’t mean to leave so quickly, but the idea of pacing around the apartment listening to Frank grunt his way through stitches made it hard to breathe, so you did the next best thing – aka the roof.

You didn’t even need time to think the encounter with Frank over. You knew why he’d said it and what he’d been through tonight, but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest from blooming. It also didn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. You had tried to blink them away, but the more you tried to ignore them, the more your vision blurred.

You’d always been a touchy person, though it had never been quite as present as it was when you were near Frank. When you first met him, you’d been so drawn to his charming aura that you hadn’t realized you’d been shaking his hand for at least 45 seconds. He hadn’t said anything – just kept watching you watch him with a soft smile on his face.

And the rest was history. You spent the entire first weekend after you met wrapped in each other’s arms, fucking on every available surface in your apartment. You didn’t quite understand why you felt the desire to be constantly touching him, but he didn’t complain and allowed you to give in to your desires as often as you wanted to. You had mentioned to him early on in your relationship that he could tell you to stop if he needed his space, but he’d never asked you to stop.

Until tonight.

And you respected it. You did what he asked. You “stopped fucking touching” him as soon as the words had left his mouth, and maybe it hurt your feelings, but you weren’t going to push that on him. If he wanted you to stop touching him, you would, even if it carved a deep, cavernous hole in your heart.

“Sweetheart?”

Your heart seized, and you jumped at Frank’s sudden appearance.

“Hey.” You mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. “How’d you find me?”

“I worry about you too much not to be able to find you.” You quirked an eyebrow at him, unable to resist looking at him any longer, and he shrugged. “You left the window to the fire escape open. Can I sit?”

You shuffled to the side, allowing him the space to sit down, though you were careful not to let your skin brush against his. Frank let out a choked scoff and pressed his leg against yours. You turned to him, brows furrowed.

“I thought you didn’t want me touching you.”

And yeah, maybe you threw the words in his face to make him feel a little worse, but he was cracking jokes after snapping at you, and you couldn’t help the bite in your tone - didn’t want to help the bite in your tone.

He shook his head, expression turning grave.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“You said it, though.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I know.”

You watched him take in your features – the swollen cheeks from the few tears that slipped earlier, the wildness of your hair after one too many run-throughs with your fingers, the way you could barely look at him before turning away again.

“I was just trying to help you.” Your eyes crinkled at the thought of him snapping at you again.

He nodded, cradling your face in his palms.

“I’m an asshole, baby.” His voice cracked, “I never want you to stop touching me. I love it – I love you – and I’m sorry.”

You gaped up at him, at the desperate expression on his face. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the back of your eyes. You gnawed at your bottom lip, unsure what to say.

“Don’t cry, baby.” He shook his head, wiping your tears away with the soft pads of his thumbs, “Please don’t cry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You don’t understand how sorry I am.”

You sniffled, nodding. He’d groveled enough, and you weren’t entirely sure you knew how to stay upset with him for longer than 10 minutes.

“Did you tie the stitch off correctly?” you asked, nodding to the injury that was now covered with gauze.

“Of course.” Frank nodded. You narrowed your eyes at his nonchalant tone.

“Are you sure?”

“No.” He huffed a laugh and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“Why not?” You giggled, swatting him away.

“Because if this didn’t work, I was going to complain about my awful stitches later and hope my muscles would entice you to forgive me.”

He smirked, and laughter bubbled out of you from deep in your chest. You climbed to your feet, holding your hands out toward him.

“Okay, Mr. Muscles, let me fix it before it really does get uncomfortable.”

He rose to his feet, using the leverage from your hold on his hands to pull you against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he paused, “again.”

“I know, Frankie.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his nose.

“I love you.” he added, smiling.

“Shut up and kiss me, muscles.”

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obsessive-valentine · 3 months

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Yandere!Hockey-Player x GN!Reader

A peak into the darker side of out beloved ice-hockey-jock boyfriend, what he’s willing to do for his darlings happiness. TW bullying and blood from fist fight

Not to proud of this one but wanted to get something out for you guys, promise I’ll post more soon.

Even though you are now dating one of the more ‘popular’ boys in your new school, not everyone changed up their attitudes towards you. It’s been almost a month but you’re still considered ‘the new student’- trying to find your place amongst people who already know each other. And although it’s easier now with your boyfriend keeping you company most classes, when he’s not around you find it hard to fit in.

It’s one of those days where he doesn’t have many classes with you, he walks you to your class and tells you he’ll meet you outside your class for lunch. For the most part your new classmates are nice to you, you sit comfortably on a table with people who have introduced themselves and offered you a seat on the first day. And the teachers are always welcoming.

But since the start of your introduction one particular boy known for interrupting class to wreak chaos and poke fun at classmates. Recently you found yourself being the butt of most his jokes. Poking and poking waiting for a reaction. You tried to keep your head down, ignore him and let the teacher handle his childish interruptions, but it’s just seems to make the situation worse.

From behind you you felt a quick tug on a few strands of your hair demanding the test answers, you ignored him which only worsened the torment. Then you felt your chair jerk over and over, the teacher to busy to notice him kicking your chair, so you don’t make a scene. He had the gull to tug at your hair again then poke at you with a ruler harder and harder, his friend snickering beside him

After one particularly hard poke you tried to tell him off but the teacher beat you to it, sending him to the back of class after you told her about the harassment. You kept your head down refusing to see the nasty glare he was no doubt giving you.

...

Leaving class he caught your backpack stopping you in your tracks “you shouldn’t have done that” he scoffed before pulling you back further making you stumble and walking out in front of you. You didn’t dwell on the threat seeing you boyfriend at the door and walking over to him, his face looked troubled “who was that?” Having watched half the interaction “just some idiot who thinks it’s fun to annoy me”

“What’s he done?” His voice sounded unusually serious and his back straightened defensively, making you focus the sheer size of the ice hockey player and how serious he becomes before a game against opposing school team. Sometimes you forget how much of a aggressive battering ram he can be due to his golden retriever personality.

You confided in him, ranting to him about how annoying this ‘class clown’ can be as you both walked to the lunch hall. “What a jerk, I’m sorry babe, he won’t touch you again” before you can question what he means he said “you gotta tell me about stuff like this” as you both settled on a table.

...

Most days he’d drive you back home after school but today you had a training session in at the ice rink and he didn’t -so you both parted ways “call me as soon as you’re done” he smiled waving goodbye. As soon as you were out of sight he walked back towards the school waiting in the parking lot.

His pupils dilated and practically seethed through his teeth, how dare someone cause stress to such a kind hearted and innocent person, his love. You failed to see the way his hands painfully clenched into fists as you told him about the ruler and the hair tugging, how he ground his teeth and nose flared in disgust.

He now stood expectantly doing all those same things but with a deadly scowl. And there was his target walking with a small group of boys, he let them pass and walked behind them stalking them out the parking lot and to a foot path before pulling on the targets bag, spinning him around and punching him hard across his face.

“Stay out of this” he shouts as his friends come to save him, shoving one in the chest who got to close. At some point they were both on the floor, both bleeding but one much worse than the other “you touch them or even look at them one more fucking time and you’ll be dead at the bottom of a lake that same day” he growled in his year before letting go of his shirt and letting him fall to the pavement.

Satisfied he walked back to his car, his bloody hands hands smearing on the steering wheel as he let out a relived sigh. He cleaned himself up before going into his house his mother questioned the split lip and bruises, worriedly grabbing his face inspecting it “We got a bit carried away in P.E mom, I’m okay” he reassured.

He gave you a similar excuse when you FaceTimed that night, saying he and the team played a few rounds of rugby on the field after school. You didn’t question it and fell asleep on call.

...

However when he picked you up in the morning and his hands were evidently bruised you began to doubt he was telling the truth about where the came injures from. That isn’t a harmless game of rugby.

And you knew what happened when in class the boy that loves to pick on you, now sat quietly in the farthest seat from you, a violent black eye, multiple scratches and cuts. He refused to look at you, you knew why now. Seeing how bruised your boyfriends knuckles were you could only assume the damage was worse under his clothes.

You couldn’t focus all lesson, would he really do this to someone? So you asked and he apologised promising you that he went to confront him about it but you bully was the one who threw the first punch, he had to defend himself. He saw your face twist in a mix of emotions he reassuringly squeezed your hand “I’m sorry babe, I can’t stand people treating you like that I just wanted to talk -trust me please. I didn’t think it would escalate” he looked like a scolded puppy “I didn’t want to worry you with a little scuffle so I lied” he held both you hands sincerely.

You forgave him, agreeing that boys fight all the time and this wasn’t his fault. Inevitably you’d forget about the incident and choose to believe his reassurances, he doesn’t come across as someone that would start a fight (if only you knew the things he’d do to keep you happy). And once his bruises heal you don’t give it a second thought.

Your adoring boyfriend who drives you everywhere, opens the doors for you, loves his mother, cheers you on during practice and competitions, buys you flowers, falls asleep on FaceTime when he can’t be closer, who just is overall a gentleman -he couldn’t do such a thing. Your sure of it.

#yandere oc #x reader #yandere #yandere hockey player

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atypicalamortentia · 3 months

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Their Reactions To You Reading A Spicy Book

Synopsis - The boys reactions to you reading a spicy book.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - Characters aged 18+!

Word Count - 1.6k.

{Caffeinate Me}

{TikTok}

SEBASTIAN SALLOW walks in on you reading a spicy book in the Undercroft. At first, he’s completely unaware of the contents of the book, that is, until he takes it off you and begins to read the lewd words aloud. Your face heats up as he reads, his eyes wandering to your form every now and then. He stops mid sentence and stares at you, “you’re seriously reading this when I’m right here?” He asks, folding his arms.

“I thought you were busy!” You exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air. “Besides, it’s just a book.”

“An extremely raunchy book by the sounds of it,” Sebastian grins, throwing the book onto the conjured sofa you were sitting on. He practically launches himself onto you, kissing you as if his life depended on it.

When he pulls away from you, Sebastian is grinning like a mad man. “What?” You ask softly, almost breathless from his kiss.

“Why don’t we enact some of that book out, hm?” He asks with a hum, fingers trailing down to buttons of your blouse.

“Sebastian!” You gasp, face blushing red.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re going shy now,” he grinned. “I liked the part where he spat in her mouth. Are you going to let me spit in your mouth, pretty thing?” With wide eyes you find yourself nodding slowly, watching as Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “Then let’s not waste another moment.”

Let’s just say, after the intense sex that has Sebastian cumming multiple times, he is more intrigued by the books you read.

OMINIS GAUNT is blind, so obviously he can’t see what it is that you’re reading. Sure, he’s enquired about what you read before but you’ve always said they were cheesy romance novels, something you didn’t think he’d be interested in. It’s when you’re reading one evening, next to him in bed, that you feel it’s probably appropriate to tell him what kind of books you’re actually reading. “Ominis, are you awake?” You asked, gently shaking his shoulder to gain his attention.

He stirs for a moment before sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and facing his head towards your general direction. “What is it sweetheart?” He asks softly.

“Wanted to tell you about this book I’m reading,” you say shyly, closing the book and placing it on your lap. Ominis nodded as you began explaining the plot to the book: a woman escapes death and is being stalked by a ‘faceless man’ both in her waking and sleeping life. “And then they have rough sex in the shower.”

Ominis’s eyes widen as the words leave your lips, completely not expecting them to fall so effortlessly. He almost choked on his saliva. He was that surprised. “I’m sorry, what?” He asks, wanting to make sure he had heard you properly.

“They have sex in the shower,” you repeat, an awkward smile on your face.

“You read smut?” He asks, eyes still wide as his head continues to look in your general direction. You hum at him in response and watch as his face contorts into a sly smile. “So you don’t read cheesy romance novels?”

“Sometimes!” You defend quickly. “But most of the time, it’s smutty goodness.”

Ominis’s hand finds yours on your lap and he brings it up to his lips, pressing soft kisses to the back of your hand. “Well, do you want to go and have some shower sex?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You pinched your legs together, desperate for some sort of friction between your pulsating cunt. “Use your words baby.”

“Yes please baby,” you whisper back almost breathlessly.

“Come on then,” he smirked, removing his lips from the back of your hand. “And I promise, you won’t ever be able to read that scene again without thinking of me when we’re finished.”

GARRETH WEASLEY likes to read with you. Finds it’s a nice bonding experience for the two of you, but there is something about the most recent book you had picked up that felt different to him. Yes, the author was different, the writing style was different, but there wasn’t really a plot to it… it was just, porn. You couldn’t help but squeeze your legs together as you got up to a particularly raunchy part of the book, all of which didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. He raises an eyebrow and looks away from the sensual book scene to focus on your face, your own eyebrows knitted together as you squirmed uncomfortably. “Are you okay, pet?” Garreth asks you with a sly grin on his lips.

“Mhm,” you respond, your hum a slightly higher pitch indicating that you were, in fact, lying to him.

Removing his arm from around your shoulders, Garreth places a hand on your thigh and squeezes slightly. “Getting a little bit worked up there, sweetheart?” He leans in against your ear, whispering seductively. You can’t help but bite your bottom lip, trying to stop a low groan from emitting from your throat. You place the bookmark into the book and close it, turning to Garreth with a look of desperation on your face. “Do you need some help, bunny?” You nod at him and almost immediately, his fingers hook up your skirt and play with the fabric of your underwear. “You’re so wet darling, maybe we should read spicy books together more often if this is where it’ll lead.”

Garreth climbed on top of you, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking at your flesh. “Don’t tease me,” you whimper softly, arching your back as Garreth’s fingers prod at your entrance.

“As you wish, pet,” he growled. Let’s just say, if he was going to fuck you that way everytime, you’d ready smutty books together more often.

LEANDER PREWETT isn’t one for reading, so when you read he usually leaves you to your own devices but today was different. You were sitting in the Room Of Requirement with Leander by your side when a soft noise escapes your lips. Your eyes widen and dart towards your boyfriend who is just as surprised as you are at the noise that slipped past your lips. “What was that?” He asks, obviously teasing you.

“Don’t know,” came your response as you casted your eyes back down to the pages of your book.

Leander watches as you turn your attention back to the book in your hand, admiring the way your face scrunches up as you mime the words. Leander was interested now. “Whatcha reading?” He asks after a few seconds of watching you.

“Nothing!” You exclaim, closing the book shut with a slam and turning your attention to your boyfriend.

Leander smirked at you, “hiding something, are we?”

“N-No,” you stuttered.

“Let me just…” Leander yanked the book out of your hand, opening it to the page you were on before scanning the words. His eyes widened at the crude words in front of him. “You’re reading this filth?”

“It’s interesting,” you mumble, trying to reach out to take back the book.

“Interesting? What’s interesting is that you’re getting horny over words on a page,” Leander snorts.

“I didn’t say I was horny!”

“Oh sweetie, it’s obvious,” Leander grins down at you, throwing the book across the room and allowing it to land on the floor with a slight thud. “Need some help baby girl?” You bite down on your bottom lip and nod slightly, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. “You just sit back and let me do what I need to do baby, I’ll take care of you better than a stupid book ever could.”

A low moan leaves your throat as Leander forces your legs open, bunching your skirt up around your hips and tugging your underwear to the side. He made you cum twice on his tongue before he finally fucked you the way you needed it after reading that book.

AMIT THAKKAR is the one who introduced you to spicy books but he didn’t think they’d become a daily occurrence for you. Every book you read outside of classes had some level of smut in them. He even gave you recommendations when you first started reading them, handing you book after book and simply exclaiming, “you’ll love them.”

Now you were sitting in the library reading a particularly hardcore smutty book that you had discovered on your own when Amit approached you. Peering over your shoulders, he briefly read the erotic scene before looking at you with wide eyes. “What?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow.

“This is… different,” Amit said, motioning towards the book you were holding.

“Different? How?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in slight confusion.

“Knife play, gunplay, blood play,” Amit read aloud, “the list goes on…”

“What’s wrong with that?” You asked, eyebrow raising as you closed the book slowly.

“N-Nothing!” Amir stuttered, his face blushing bright red. “I just, I didn’t think you’d be into that.”

“I just love reading smut now, thanks to you,” you reminded him, placing the book on the table.

“Well if you’re into that, there’s actually something I want to try,” Amit mumbled shyly under his breath. He whipped his wand out of his robes and began to trace your thigh with it, getting closer and closer to your sopping clothed cunt. Your eyes widened when you realised what he meant, a blush spreading across your own cheeks now. “If you’re up for it,” he whispered, kissing your cheek.

“Meet me in the astronomy tower, five minutes,” you giggled. Standing up you rushed to the astronomy tower where, true to his word, Amit met you. He might not have had a knife, or a gun to fulfil your seemingly dark desires, but he had a wand and boy, did you make a mess of it.

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royalsweetteaa · 1 year

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Title: Take cover

Pairing: Winter soldier/Bucky barnes x reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: dark themes, stalking, obsessive/protective behavior from Bucky, Bucky is semi delusional/mentally unstable, fluff (in the end), reader is a bit naive, post-CATWS, Bucky on the run, fluff.

Summary: you discover someone has been watching you, - but like a guardian angel or a viscous stalker? You’re about to find out.

“I know what you’re doing.” You called out to the man hiding in the shadows. “Leave me the hell alone.”

For weeks you had noticed something off with your daily routine. You felt watched, - like someone had their eyes following your every movement as you went about your days.

It was about a week in where you caught a man walking the same route as yours a distance behind you. It wasn’t the first time you had been followed, - in fact you could have sworn you were followed by three men a while back but they disappeared after a second glance. This guy was someone else entirely though.

You had never seen him before, and while it could have been merely a coincidence that he was taking the same routes you take on a daily, that reassurance was quickly crossed out when you started to test him, - to see if while you stood still he’d walk right past. But he never did. When you stopped or slowed your tempo, so did he. When you walked a different route, so did he.

It was beyond creepy, and it didn’t help that he was dressed basic with his cap hiding his face and a brown jacket. Only thing that made him different from other men was his longer dark brown hair and his taller figure. Not many men in town were quite as tall as him, which made you feel even more threatened.

As you became more aware of him, you stopped taking afternoon strolls and tried your best to be in crowds to feel safer. It didn’t work much as he never seemed to loose track of you though. Walking into your favorite cafe didn’t stop him from waiting around the area to continue his stalking as soon as you got out. You didn’t think he could have a job with how much time he was occupying following you from work to back home.

You thought of going to the police, but in this town in particular there was little to no such luck of getting actual help from the police, let alone a stalker case where the guy in question could argue he’s just walking around by his right to do so. So, it left you with two options; either hope for the best of not getting murdered (or worse) by your stalker or confront him.

The 5th week was your last straw, and you decided to go with the confrontation as you were standing outside of your apartment, eying directly at the man who had done nothing but walk after you.

The man was stunned when he heard you, not leaving his spot, - as if he couldn’t believe he was caught. When your eyes at him told otherwise, he left the corner of the next block building, slowly walking towards you.

He mumbled, “I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Stop following me or I’ll call the police.” You interrupted with a harsher tone.

This seemed to make the man agitated, and he reached out his hands in surrender. “No, please! Don’t! I have a perfect explanation for it all. Hear me out, - I won’t get any closer to you.” He offers reassurance, not making you any less scared but he sounded convincing enough to give him a chance of explaining himself.

First thought that came to mind was he could possibly be working for secret service, or something like that. Crimes had been on the rise in this part of town, and there had been rumors of FBI lurking around to check after illegal activity. But what could you have possibly done to make yourself seem suspicious?

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think. I promise, I would never. The reason why I’ve been following you all this time is to protect you, Y/N.”

How does he know my name? You had to wonder. “Protect me?” You repeated his answer in question. “What’s that supposed to mean? From what? Who are you?” You added questions, emphasizing the last one.

The man swallows before he answers, “My name is James but friends in my past used to call me Bucky, - I think. And I’m protecting you cause…there are a lot of terrible people around than you realize. People who would want to hurt you. I knew the moment I saw you that I was meant to protect you from those people.”

He thinks his name is that of what he told? Trying to protect me from terrible people? His answers confused you even more. He must be on something, and it freaked you out knowing you were dealing with a crazy person. “Y-You should seek medical attention. I don’t think you’re in your right state of mind -!”

“You don’t understand!” He interrupted you and broke out. “You’re the only thing, - person, who brings consistency to my life. Me using hours and nights looking after you, to make sure you leave for work and come home safe gives me a purpose. I… - I have nothing left to live for.”

Your lips fall a little, sad as you had only heard those lines in fiction used typically of that one hopeless character clinging to the last branch of hope before it all falls for them. Why did you have to be so sympathetic? You had no idea who this man was. One thing for sure, he was a fucking stalker.

You should call the police as you speak, but you don’t want to.

Why didn’t you want to? Why weren’t you running into your apartment and locking the front door? Why did you want to get a closer look at him?

“Sir, I…”

“Call me Bucky. Please.”

“Bucky, listen…I don’t know your life story, but this isn’t healthy. This is obsessive. We don’t even - you don’t even know me!”

“I know enough to like you.” He argued. “I know you like animals, - you sometimes trail off from your main path home over to the park to watch the dogs play there. You order any sweets at the cafe but only if there’s strawberry or vanilla in it, - strawberry milkshake, vanilla shortcake, - you name it. I know you’re a good person, always opening the door for the elderly by the library and voluntarily help stack books by the shelves. I have caught you smiling when you read romance novels. Those seem to be your favorite genre. You live alone, no siblings or parents in the picture that I know of. You’ve always been…alone, for as long as I’ve been watching after you. That makes the two of us in a sense.”

Why did he have to call you out like that? Sure, it was nothing but the truth. You didn’t have people you could call friends at work, and you had long ago lost contact with your friends from college. Also, you did in fact have no siblings but you did have parents - you just weren’t on speaking terms at the moment.

You were alone as one could possibly be.

You didn’t know what you could add to what he had said as it was mostly true, but you didn’t need to as Bucky continued, “First time I laid my eyes on you…three men walked behind you in that lonesome street in the evening. I know you saw them cause you turned around once. They had knives in their pockets, and one of them had a rope. I was only a small distance away when I heard them say ‘let’s get her’. So, as you made the corner, I beat them up, one by one. Because like I said, I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you. You don’t deserve that at all. You deserve to be safe. That is why it’s you. It may sound dumb but I believe it was fate. I feel at peace when I know you’re okay, and I can’t remember the last time I felt that. He doesn’t allow peace in my mind, but he seems to make you an exception.”

You’re simply taken away by what you had been told. So your gut instincts were right, - you were followed then too, except apparently they hadn’t just disappeared. Your stalker took care of them.

Bucky let you process in silence till you started to get closer to him as you asked him all of a sudden, “Are you armed?”

“No…- well, I do have this…” Bucky reveals as he removes his jacket carefully, showing the metal arm he has forcibly attached to him. Your mouth parts a little, your eyes widening at the sight before you turn to look at the ground.

“You don’t have a place to stay?” You ask.

He shook his head with a sigh. “No. But I’m used to it.”

You look up again, offering the unexpected, “Come. I have an extra mattress in my apartment. You can use that while we figure out your situation.”

Bucky looked up at you in awe, beyond shocked of what you had just suggested. If it wasn’t dead quiet at this time of hour, he would have assumed he heard you wrong. “But why? I thought you said that…”

“I have heard of you, you know. That metal arm of yours with the red star…you have been around for quite some time, yet you haven’t aged. My uncle who worked for the military knew about you as he was a witness at the Hotel Inessa where an assassin with a metal arm just like yours committed a massacre. Ever since that day he used the next years connecting the dots to previous cases, and he told me all about it once. That was before…he got taken out within the base. No one knew for what particular reason but I always knew. And what do I know, he was right. You’re real. You’re the winter soldier.” You conclude, putting Bucky on the spot as he realized just how small the world was.

The odds of someone outside of government officials knowing of his past was unlikely, yet here he was, the one person he found purpose with knew about it. He didn’t like it. She must think I’m a monster, - rightfully so, he thought. “I don’t know what to say…I-“

“You didn’t kill him.” You cut him off, “Person of interest was described to have two human arms. He was presumably a Russian spy within the base and took it upon himself to take out my uncle before more came out about what he knew.”

He shrugs, “Still…it doesn’t make sense why you would allow me into your home, - now knowing what I’ve done, what I was controlled to do. It was still me. So again I ask…why?”

“Because, I need answers,” you reasoned. “And knowing what I’ve learned about you, you would have taken me out a long time ago if you had plans to do so. And it’s clear to me that you’re a bit out of it but from what I understand, seeking psychiatrical help is out of the question for you. So let’s help each other. You’ve been in hiding, right?”

Bucky nodded again, “They’re still after me, you know. I can’t drag you into my mess.”

“Well, you have been good at hiding so far, and if something happens you’ll protect me, right? Like you’ve done all this time.” You remind him.

He smiled shyly as he let out a quiet ‘yeah’. He was sure he would keep doing that with his life.

With that, you let him into your place, not aware that this was only the beginning of a heartfelt relationship with the ex-winter soldier himself, - one that would bond the two of you for eternity.

N/A: I know this was short but there might be a part two for this if I’m feeling up for it! Let me know what you liked and if you’d like a next part.

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! Thank you!

#winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

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cissywritess · 1 year

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𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒆 | Three

Summary: You’re in your last year of high school, you want out of this town. It won’t be so easy when you got a stalker.

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x reader

Warning: 18+ Contains Dark Themes, Do not read if you are a sensitive person. Always check warnings before reading any 18+ post.

Notes: This one was kinda rushed, my cat got spayed and I’ve been busy taking care of them.

You woke up, you then slowly start to remember the events that happened last night. Your eyes opened wide and you stood up. You looked around and were shocked you were in your room. You quickly ran downstairs to see if your mom was there. Fortunately, she was in the living room drinking.

“Mom? Do you know how I got home last night?” you ask she didn’t even turn her head as she gulped down her drink. A second later she poured more alcohol into her glass.

She didn’t say anything making you concerned, you walked in front of her. “Mom, you okay?” you didn’t say anything else before she started crying. You were taken aback at first, but you crouched down to make eye contact with her. “What’s wrong?” Your mother never cried not since your father died.

“They’re gonna take care of you, take care of you the way I couldn’t.” she was nodding, you were lost but quickly assumed she was very drunk.

“Okay Mom, why don’t you get to rest?” you suggested, but when you were gonna stand up she shook her head.

“I love you, you know that right, even- even if I didn’t show it, they promised to give you a better life dear, promised to make you happy,” she said, okay now she was starting to scare you.

“Mom, who promised?” right after you finished that sentence you saw Bucky and Steve come out of the hallway, your face switched from furrowed eyebrows to panic, you took steps back. Your mother didn’t even look surprised when they showed up, and you had a feeling she had done something. “what did you do,” you said, trying to sound brave. You didn’t look at her, your eyes were kept on them.

“She told you already,” Bucky stepped closer.

“Don’t make this hard Y/N,” Steve told you. Your mother stood up,

“I can’t see this,” She stated and started to walk towards the front door but you stopped her taking her hand.

“Mom don’t leave me,” you looked at her on the verge of tears. She shook you off and continued to walk, you tried to follow her but Steve and Bucky grabbed you holding you in place, just as she was about leave she gave you one last look.

You had to get out of here, you backed up quickly running upstairs you heard Bucky laugh as you entered your room locking it, you had to think of something fast.

“A game of hide and seek sounds fun,” You heard Bucky saying. You tried to open your window but it was painted shut. You had no choice but to hide in your closet.

“Your mom did put quite a show on, I would have probably believed it too,” You heard two pairs of steps walking up the stairs. You could feel your heart racing. “Sad she traded you for a couple of bucks,” You heard Steve. Tears spilled, you knew not to believe him at all, even if your mom wasn’t a saint, she still loved you. Your heart stopped, you heard one of them trying to open your door.

The door slammed open making you jump, you covered your mouth and nose to stop breathing so loud, “Come out where ever you are,” You heard Bucky close to where you were, you felt like you could faint at any given moment. “Is she under the bed,” Bucky looked under there to see an empty space, “where could she be”

Steve was also in your room getting the things that he’d seen you use. Bucky stalked over to the closet, “Maybe in here,” He opened the door to see you, “I found you,” he smiled,

He then grabbed your arm roughly pulling you out, “you won’t like what I’ll do if you were to scream,” He warned,

“what do you want from me,” you cried out making Bucky sigh in annoyance.

“Patience Bucky,” Steve said still putting your things in a duffle bag.

“We love you Y/N, so much that we want you with us for the rest of our lives,” Bucky’s words horrified you, “We’re being nice we even gave you a chance to say goodbye to your mother, so this is how it’s gonna work, we’re gonna leave and we don’t want one word to leave your mouth until we get home understand,” Bucky didn’t need an answer he knew you won’t do anything fear covered your thinking.

“Sweetheart, is there anything you’d like to take before we go home,” He asked, you didn’t say anything, even if you wanted to take something you wouldn’t have said it out loud.

“guess not,” Bucky shrugged at Steve.

・❥・

You tried to figure out where you were going but Steve kept taking so many turns, you knew you were out of town, very far out. They had taken you to a cabin where it was only surrounded by forest trees and wild animals.

When you got there they lead you to a room, it looked almost like your room. “Here sweetheart you can decorate however you want,” he gave you the bag. When they left you dropped the bag and started crying, how could this have happened?

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cupids-scream-queen · 6 months

Text

A Little Murderess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*

❀ female!murderer!reader x poly!ghostface ❀

Part 6 // 3.5k words

-> Part 5

Warnings: stalking, breaking and entering, graphic descriptions of murder, homophobic slur (once), details of dismemberment.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summary: You've just moved to a new town after the death of your little brother and stepfather with your mother. You're not ashamed of what you do to cope with the deaths; especially when you make two new friends who you might have more in common with than you thought...

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He hadn’t called. He apologized for it at school, telling you that Sidney called, and keeping up appearances, he couldn’t leave her hanging. He told you he’d come by tonight, or perhaps call, but to keep an eye and ear out for him. You promised you would.

The first time your phone rang after Billy left was Tatum, confirming your presence at her house on Friday night—two days away. Agreeing, you wrote down her address, and wrote down a shopping list of supplies you’d need to have in order for it to be, in Tatum’s own words, a successful sleepover. A list including alcohol, weed, and nearly every movie with Tom Cruise in it.

The second time your phone rang was Ghostface, though you weren’t quite sure which one it was at first. The tone was dull and inviting, which initially led you to believe it was Billy, but one key detail led you to correctly guessing Stu—the slang.

“Dammit, he was right,” The voice changer off, Stu was clearly upset. “I guess I do have a way of talking.”

“Everyone does, Stu, it’s called dialect,” You tell him, but he ignores you, continuing to rant about how he doesn’t understand that people can figure out who you are based on what kind of language you use, or how you use it. “It’s kind of like how different actors can play different roles without coming across as the same person. It’s how people speak.”

“So like, how Johnny Depp is in fucking…Edward Scissorhands, and is also in Freddy’s Dead?”

“Kind of. You don’t think of Edward when you’re watching Glen on screen, do you?”

“No, I just see the character.”

“Exactly, it’s because the characters are fundamentally different from one another. You and Billy may operate on the same wavelength, but you two still have characteristics that make y’all unique.”

“Oh. I got it,” You giggled, and Stu joined in for a second. “Sorry, I’m kind of stupid.”

“Is that what Stu stands for?” You teased, and you could practically feel Stu’s comeback.

“No, it stands for Smart Terrific Unit,” He confidently confided. “And it means my parents definitely love me.”

“Do they have resentment towards you or something?”

“A bit, yeah. Ever since my younger sister died. My older siblings moved out of the house, and they kind of distanced themselves from it, too. They didn’t want to be home, they didn’t want to be near me.”

“Was her death your fault?”

“Not really, no. I was just being a negligent older brother, that’s all,” Stu chuckled a bit, but you knew it sounded kind of sad. You hadn’t realized that Stu had actually had to deal with death before, death with someone that he loved.

“My brother died,” You confided. “Not too long ago. And my stepfather. My biological father killed both of them, and then my mother shot him in self-defense.”

“Is that why you started…?”

“Yes, it is. As a form of control more than anything. I guess I just was tired of feeling powerless, so I started to take the power away from people, even if they had nearly nothing. It made me feel better, and it still does. I’m not sorry for it,” You tell him, and you could tell that this was the sort of conversation Stu hadn’t had in a very, very long time.

“So does that mean you won’t stop?”

“I don’t know,” You confessed. “I might, I might not. Not right now, that’s for sure, but once I’m older…who knows? I might become the world’s most prolific serial killer.”

“Naw, that’s the title Billy and I are after. Ghostface is gonna rule the world.” Billy and him. The terrific two. The dynamic duo. The terrifying twins. They weren’t including you in their plans. You felt something like sadness. “What if I joined in?”

“What, you start killing like us? Wearin’ the mask and shit?”

“Yeah, just for a few kills. What if we start planning massive kills, together, and confuse crowds? It’s not like we’re going to get caught if we’re careful.”

“We’d have to run it by Billy, the dickwad likes to control everything,” Stu laughed, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe this weekend after the Slumber Party Massacre?”

“Sure, we’ll run it by him. I don’t see the harm in that—but there’s gonna be harm later.”

“Are you excited to kill Tatum? Do you have a motive?”

“Not really—just peer pressure. I’m far too sensitive. She’s also a bitch and a whore—she cares too much about her appearance and reputation to be anything other than a shallow cunt.”

“Why date her?”

“Get close to Sid and ‘em. Y’know that’s who we’re after, right? Sid. Tatum’s murder is just gonna be because she’s friends with the wrong kind of people.”

“What are we gonna do with Randy?” “Randy?” Stu mused. “Billy’s got something in mind for him. I guess Bill doesn’t like how close Randy’s gotten to you, and if I’m being honest, I don’t either.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“He looks at you like you’re a goddamn fleshlight,” Stu deadpanned, his tone flat. “And I, personally, do not like it.”

“Is there any reason?” You twirled the phone cord around your finger, liking the way this conversation was going.

“If there was, I’m not telling you,” Stu said decidedly. You decided you wouldn’t push him to answer you—if Billy’s display to you earlier was anything to go off of, both killers had a particular spot in their hearts for you, and you were going to use that to your advantage, even if you knew, deep down, you had feelings for them as well.

“Ah. Well, Billy said he’d call me tonight, and I guess I kind of owe him that,” You tell him, and you could sense Stu’s tension.

“Why not just meet up with both of us tonight?” He asked, and you had to stifle a laugh.

“My mom would fucking slaughter me,” You tell him, and he kind of made a small whining noise at the other end of the phone. “If you want, you can come over.”

“I might take you up for that,” Stu said, and you weren’t sure if he was entirely joking. “Might even bring Billy.”

“And what would we even do? Plan a murder?”

“Pay our pal Randy a little visit.”

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

It was nearly a quarter to one in the morning when you, Billy, and Stu finally all met up at your house. Billy brought the famed ladder, and he and Stu climbed up to your window, where you let them in. This time, both of the boys brought bookbags filled with things you knew were instruments to aid their destruction. You had the same thing as well.

“As you know, Stu and I are Ghostface,” Billy began, and Stu looked like he was trying to stop himself from laughing. “And you’re going to become one of us.”

“Is this a fucking cult?” You playfully asked, and Billy hushed you.

“Now, you’re going to prove yourself to Stu and I tonight. Randy’s home alone, and will be for the next three days. Tonight, you will go and kill Randy, by methods Stu and I employed to Casey and her boyfriend. If the murder is successful, you’ll be allowed to wear one of these,” Billy pulled a mask out of the bag, and another identical one. Stu took out his mask, and started aiming it around like a slingshot. “Don’t dick off with those, Stu, I don’t know if I can find other ones.”

“Lighten up, they’re like five bucks a pop,” He aimed it at Billy and let go, but surprisingly, Billy caught it.

“You’ve lost mask privileges tonight, Stuart,” Billy said, pocketing the mask. “Anyways, you’re going to kill Randy, and we’re going to guide you through what to do. These ain’t your normal killings, they’re fun, gruesome, and belong in a movie of their very own.”

“In other words, you’re Michael Myers wannabes with a phone connection?”

“No—we’re artists,” Stu collapsed on your bed, his shoes on your comforter. You held your tongue from saying anything, even though you wanted to scream at him to get off your bed with his musty crusty dusty ass shoes on it.

“Okay, so what? Am I going to prank call Randy, freak him out, torture him, chase him around a bit, cut him up, scare him to death, then stab him and take his organs out and hang them on the clothesline?”

“Something like that, sure,” Billy eyed you, not suspiciously, but carefully. Wondering to see how you’d fair tonight. He knew you weren’t an amater killer, hell, you’ve done it more times than he and Stu. But he knew yours lacked fanfare. Yours lacked style. You were a teenager with a knife, they were teenagers with a cunning plan. And now you were involved in this plan, and he wanted to see if you were capable of doing your duty and making this plan succeed.

“We’ll start heading out a two, I want to kill him at roughly three-thirty,” You suggested, and the two of them nodded. “What do you want to do in the meantime?”

“Get to know you better, babe,” Stu slung his arm around you jokingly, but surprisingly to him, you didn’t move. You watched Billy carefully as you did this, noticing the peculiar glance in his eyes that made you realize that perhaps, Billy had feelings for multiple people in your bedroom.

“We could watch a movie,” You offered, and Billy shook his head.

“Nothing interesting. You’d put on some fucked up 20’s movie knowing you,” He clicked his tongue twice, indicating that he’d thought of something. “What about we play spin the bottle?”

“There’s three of us, that’s a party game,” You pointed out, giggling. Stu nudged you, indicating that you should shut up, or perhaps suggest something different that didn’t involve kissing. “Truth or dare?”

“That’s a girl’s game,” Stu wrinkled his nose in disgust, moving his arm from you. He got up, and trodded towards Billy, and flung his arms around him. “We’re men.”

“You’re a fag,” Billy deadpanned, but he didn’t move. Stu hung off of him like a deadweight, yet Billy did not attempt to remove the boy. You curiously stared at them.

“Maybe we could bake?”

“Isn’t your mother home?” Billy asked, and you shook your head.

“You two suck at stalking. She’s gone tonight, she’s out with some dude. I don’t know who he is, though, and quite frankly don’t care. She’s out of my shit and I stay far away from hers.”

“We kind of gave up on you,” Stu admitted, and Billy hit him in the back of the head.

“Don’t admit shit like that, idiot,” Billy said. He turned towards you. “Don’t worry about him, doll. He’s just a little talkative when there’s murder in the room.”

“Right. Well, wanna see my knife collection?” You offered, and the boys looked like they’d just won the lottery.

“Hell yes!” Stu lept up from his sulking place, and ran over to your side. Billy joined you two as you opened the doors of your closet, revealing two swords hung up on the wall, and a bin full of knives, all with their sheaths on.

“Holy fuck.”

“You really are the Knife Girl,” Billy said, his tongue in his cheek. You hadn’t seen the expression on the boy’s faces before, but you assumed it was as close to pure joy as they could feel.

“No shit, I didn’t get that nickname for nothing,” You stepped away, letting them look at the blades in awe. “I don’t kill with the majority of those.” They didn’t seem to care, though. You watched as they took blade after blade, finding the ones that best suited their hands, finding the ones that were pretty or sharpest or the ones that you most liked. They found your murder blades, the knife they got you, and all sorts of other sharp objects. They liked it. You could tell this was an intimate moment for the three of you.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Three rapidly approached, and the three of you had to start moving to Randy’s house for that night’s murder. Dressed in the Ghostface gear, you clumsily went down the ladder, nearly tripping at a few parts. The long robes of the killer costume was a tripping hazard, and you briefly wondered why they hadn’t mentioned it, until you remembered you were using Stu’s robes, and he was nearly a foot taller than you. It wasn’t a hazard for them.

You crept through the night, joining the boys in the backseat of Stu’s car, and started your drive to Randy’s. The car was silent, but the boys were in their element, though nobody dared to speak a word. Everyone knew the familiar buzz you’d get before you took a life. It was something that was addicting, and you knew it with every bone in your body. You relished the feeling of taking life, and you knew that Billy and Stu felt the exact same way.

You pulled up to the house, which was a small two-story one situated on top of a hill. The flowerbeds were neat and tidy, the house a light white color. The front porch lights were on, and you could see the light on in what you assumed to be Randy’s room.

“Call him,” Stu whispered, handing you the phone. You dialed Randy’s number, surprised that you remembered it at all. “And make sure the voice changer is on.”

You did as you were told, and began your speech to make Randy afraid. Terrified. You could hear his amusement at first, when you asked him his favorite horror movie. You could hear the first tremblings of his breathing when you asked if his bedroom was the one with the light on. You could hear the pounding of his heart as you knocked on the back door, and you could hear how he was absolutely afraid when you, Billy, and Stu knocked from different entrances.

“Get the fuck away from my house,” Randy’s voice was shaky, and you knew you struck a chord with him. “Get the fuck away before you get hurt.”

“Funny thing to say when you’re the one who wants to die.” You taunted, and threw a rock at the window, breaking it. You could hear the yelp on Randy’s end even without the phone. “Randy, do you want to play a game?”

“What the fuck do you want man—what the fuck,” Randy’s desperate pleas on the other end excited you, made you drunk with power. You were in control of the variables here. And Billy and Stu were here to guide you.

“Play a game with me, Randy,” You hear him move in the house, grabbing a kitchen knife. If there was any chance of getting injured, you knew Billy or Stu would step in. They didn’t want to see you get hurt. “Let’s play hide and go seek. If I find you, you die. I’ll count to…hm, let’s see. Is forty seconds enough? Yes, I’ll count to forty seconds. If you hide and I do not find you, you win. If I find you, you’re dead.”

“What the hell,” You could hear Randy crying at the other end, but you didn’t care. You enjoyed this with every fiber of your being, and you wanted to keep this going as long as possible. Stu looked at you, and slipped his mask on. Part two of the plan.

Randy stood no chance of surviving. Realistically, there were far too many of you and only one of him, and he had no experience with anything of this caliber before. One of you would enter the house through each of the entrances, and once you found Randy, you were to whoop or holler or make some kind of noise to alert the others. Once the others are alerted, the three of you are to kill Randy at once, a frenzy of attack.

The third part of the plan was stringing his insides out on the clothing line. This was your added touch, a small detail of gruesome carnage that made Billy swear he would have kissed you right there and then.

You had the front door, and you carefully went inside. The house was still, silent. You paid attention to try and hear any breathing. There weren’t many hiding spots, and you knew Randy might’ve gotten creative. You prayed that one of the boys found where Randy was.

Luck was not on your side. You whooped as you spotted Randy ducked behind a couch, and the two other whoops let you know they were on their way. Scuttling out from behind the couch, Randy tried to attack you with a knife, but you tripped him, causing him to fall. The knife fell from his grip, and you kicked it away from his reach.

Your knife went down on him nearly at once, right in the shoulder blade. Deep. It was joined by a second knife, Billy’s, which was aimed at the back of his neck. Stu was only a few seconds later, plunging his knife into the other shoulder. You started to take your knife out, twisting as you went, Randy’s screams and cries of horror and pain motivating you to do more. You started to stab at his back, hearing the cracking of his ribs encouraged you to do more. Still alive, you heard Randy’s breathing take a sharp inhale as you stepped on his back with all of your strength, lodging your knife deeper within his body. Billy tapped you on the shoulder. Phase three.

You took your knife out of Randy, which took some effort, and you and Stu flipped him over. Randy was still alive, barely moving as Stu undressed him. Completely naked, Randy’s eyes were like a deer’s as Billy placed his knife right above a nest of pubic hair, but then stopped, and looked at you, as if to tell you that this was going to be your kill. You put your knife where Billy’s was just moments ago, relishing the feeling of having someone under your mercy like this. The boys watched as you slowly started to carve your way through Randy’s body, and Randy started to move his arms down to stop you. Billy and Stu lodged their knives in his arms, trapping him to the floor. You made a cut across Randy’s body, and then made the killing blow: ripping his throat out, leaving the blood splatter to the floor. Upon the death of Randy, Billy was the first to speak.

“Do you want to gut him or will Stu and I?”

“I’d like to help,” You said, already starting to poke around in the chest cavity with your blade. “After all, doing laundry is a woman’s job.”

“Spoken like a real one,” Stu joked, and joined you with poking in Randy’s body. You two cut out his stomach and intestines, and handed them to Billy, who put them in a yellow laundry basket that he found upstairs while you were searching for Randy just moments before. Various parts of Randy made it in the basket, including his heart, but Billy took it out of the basket.

“We should leave this in his parent’s room, don’t you think?” The grin on his face was sinister, and you nodded alongside Stu. Billy chuckled, putting the basket on the floor. “Finish gutting him. I’m going to set up a surprise for the happy couple.”

You and Stu did as you were told, finishing emptying Randy’s body. You weren’t sure of their plan with the main body, just that your job was now in action. Stu finished up, placing the last organ in the basket. You stood up, shaking the blood off of your robes and taking the basket to the backyard, where you hung them up with clothespins.

Stu, meanwhile, was carefully arranging a flower display in the corpse of Randy. He was giggling as he did this, moving the body to lay on the couch, and adding the displays of flowers Randy’s mother kept around the house in the chest cavity.

Billy was upstairs, arranging Randy’s heart on a silver platter, with a fork and a knife on either side of the plate. He joined the two of you downstairs, inspecting the handiwork.

“I think we’ve got ourselves a new partner,” Billy said, watching you hang the intestines up. “She’s good.”

“I like her,” Stu said, giving Billy a small kiss on the cheek. Billy nodded, and placed one on Stu’s forehead. “She’s got balls.”

“She’s going to need them for Friday’s murder,” Billy stepped outside. “We’re going to go, alright?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” You grinned at them, and the three of you went in the car, taking the stuffy robes off. You weren’t quite sure how Tatum or Sidney would react to the death of Randy, but you sure as hell were looking forward to the publicity of the body. Your handiwork was going to be on television. A dream come true for a girl like you.

Enjoy my writing? Please like, reblog, or follow me! The support is super encouraging, especially since I'm going to make this a longer fic and post nearly daily 💕

-> Part 7

♡ Want tagged every time I upload? Just send me an ask 💕💕

Tags:

@citrusbunnies @ilovefamousmen11

@winkev1 @itsyoboysparkel

Me when my phone won't let me tag two ppl ;-; I'm sorry I don't know what the fuck I'm doing.

#billy loomis x reader #ghostface #ghostface x y/n #billy loomis #ghostface x reader #scream #slashers x reader #slasher fucker #stu matcher x reader #stu matcher x you

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tilvcei · 1 year

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► 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 PT.2

⭢ In which: you can’t escape ethan’s grasp and find yourself in a tuff situation. sam and tara are trying their best to help you get away from them, but if only you could let ethan go. it’s not that hard, and you know it’s not.

☆ | Warning(s): stalking, obsessive behavior, slight choking, suggestive language,

☆ | note: I’m so glad you guys wanted a part two my loves:) this is a little more longer than the last one. I hope you all enjoy sweethearts ! this is also in a bigger font.

☆ | gender: she/her (reader)

☆ | key: (b/f/n) means bestfriend name ;)

Tagging 🏷: @groovyponypatrollamp @ru99978 @avatricu @ky-nextsblog @stilesandjames @claustrophobicc @suspiciousmuffin @keithdgaf @nessa-styles @aawomenslovelifee @coughdropthings @breesxmulti @snixx2088 @spidersbbg @thicc101q @babywantskith @simpforthesullys @knightinshiningdenim @poranaisionparapio @bordeleau @mslowlife

You regret every 'I love you' you’ve ever said to ethan. if only you could take that back. Quinn and Detective Bailey were dead now thank god. now it was only ethan left. he warned that if Sam and tara were to touch you he’d kill them. then it’d just be you two.

After waking up wide awake, you noticed there was rope tied around your wrists. a pained groan came from your lips, was there anything to get out of these?

"Tara, sam..?" you called out, in hopes of them hearing you. but there was no response. there was nothing for you to do than just sulk and cry.

Tara made her way over to you, seeing you hiss in pain cause of how hard the rope was tied around your wrists.

she made her way over to you and kneeled down, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw you were okay. her hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up to see a small bruise on your neck from where ethan pricked you with the needle.

"Hey, hey, I’m here. it’s okay, he’s not gonna hurt you." Tara reassured, placing a hand on your cheek, "No, no. he’s- he’s gonna hurt me." you replied, shaking your head.

"No, look at me. no he’s not. I promise- look at me! he’s not gonna hurt you." Tara stated, a pained cry came from your lips and tears fell from your eyes when blood started to come from your wrists.

Tara noticed this and untied the rope from your wrists, "come on, I’ll help you up." she said, she wrapped her arms around your waist and hauled you up, your side was still bleeding from that fall.

"And just where the hell do you think you’re taking her, tara?" it was ethan. stopping in your tracks you slowly turned around in fear, tara’s eyes locked with Ethan, she threw a hard glare his way.

Ethan felt enraged at the fact tara was touching you. and why would someone think it was a good idea touching his significant other?

"Stay away from her you motherfucker!" yelled tara, tara turned to you, "go, run now!” she told you.

even though your side was hurting badly, it didn’t matter. you had to get out of here

And so, you ran. the more you kept running the easier it was to get to the front door. where was sam? was she okay? you hoped so.

You tried unlocking the front door but it was locked, how the hell did they manage to lock the doors so quickly right before dying?

Meanwhile when trying to open the door you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you, ethan appeared and he looked…

Very, very angry. his hair was extremely messy and if you were able to see his eyes, you would know how angry he looked.

Before you could process anything, a hand wrapped itself around your throat and squeezed, cutting the oxygen from your lungs.

You could feel breathing on your shoulder, you could feel him smirking. your eyes closed in fear of getting hurt by him.

then you felt him come close to your ear.

"Ah, hi there baby. did you think it was going to be that easy to get away from me? you were pretty successful for a second, I’ll admit; you got me good there." Ethan stated.

You tried at least hitting him but he was quick to dodge it, "I’m always ready for a fight. especially if it’s the fun ones!" he giggled.

"My pretty baby.." he whispered in your ear, this caused a shiver to run down your spine. then you felt yourself getting dragged backwards.

"I-…" there was no use in fighting it anymore. there was no use in fighting him. so why did you keep trying? you didn’t know. but at least you tried.

Blood was still falling from the side of your waist, "Tara’s been dealt with, but for now I can’t honestly say if sam’s next. I wanna see her suffer." Ethan spoke.

"What did you do to her?!" you yelled, you looked over at tara — well, she wasn’t dead yet thank god.

Ethan smirked, "it was obvious she liked you. I could see it myself. but I wasn’t going to let her take you away from me. it’s sad, seeing how much she cares for you when she knows you’re mines." He stated.

"I c-called the police. it’s not like you’re gonna get away. they won’t let you-" before you could finish ethan cut you off with a laugh.

"Fuck the police! they hardly do shit anyways. they only arrive when they get called in. But it was a smart move. now, let’s see…I’ll just set this up as tara getting stabbed by her sister and then my sister and dad got caught in the crossfire and I wipe all the DNA off the knifes and put sam’s DNA on it. perfect crime scene." Ethan explained.

He took his mask off and the clothes, ruffling his hair and yawning a bit. he did seem a bit tired, and so were you.

"Ethan, why. why are you doing this? I understand you love me and all..but is this what you really call love?" you questioned.

Ethan turned to you, "yes. it sure is what I call love. and you’ll learn to cherish it like I cherish you. understand? after all of this is over with, we’ll move together and live together. alright? this was what we had to get out the way. we finished our plans. Richie can finally rest." he explained, kneeling down to you and cupping your cheek.

All you did was nod, "ok. I- I trust you." even after everything he did? you trusted him? right, cause you couldn’t just let him go. you needed him.

He smiled, "there’s my good girl, such a good girl f’me." he continued, you felt tears forming in your eyes, why did you submit to him? all this, caused because of him.

Ethan frowned, "Ah, ah. no, no. why are you crying pretty thing?" he asked, you could only sob in reply.

Ethan placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and pulled you close to him. he didn’t want to see you cry, all those precious tears your letting fall is hurting him too.

"Over here!" Ethan yelled, one of the EMT’s went to attended to tara and then you, only now you just noticed the police and ambulance had arrived.

"Okay, mind telling me what the actual hell happened here..?" A female police officer asked, turning to you.

As much as you wanted to say something, nothing could come out of your mouth which made it more difficult for you.

"I really don’t think questions are needed right now, you can see she’s injured." one of the EMT’s said.

All you did was continue to sob, ethan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, brushing some hair out of your face.

"No, no it’s okay. I can- I can tell you wh..what happened." you said, breathing heavily, you felt like you were about to hyperventilate at any moment.

You searched for any comfort from anyone, hoping to feel safe. cause I’m a few hours you know you’d be going through hell.

"Baby, go on, tell them." Ethan said, you looked into his eyes, seeing that reassuring and comforting look in his eyes.

Well shit, you couldn’t tell the truth. what would be the truth? nothing. because sam’s DNA is already on every item in here — ethan made that possible.

"Sam. It was all sam carpenter, she- she hurt her sister almost killing her. and she hurt me. I don’t know what else to tell you since I blacked out right after, but she was psychotic—" you felt bad saying these things about sam when it wasn’t true.

The EMT turned to you, "this is very brave of you, hon. being able to tell us what happened after everything you’ve been through. you and you’re boyfriend are safe now, I promise you. if you want him to accompany you, he can come. if not-" you cut her off.

"I need him. I don’t wanna be alone." You and, and you were honest about that. you didn’t want to say it before, but your saying it now.

And there’s no taking it back.

The EMT’s put you on a stretcher, ethan was by your side the whole time. you’ve always felt safe around him.

But there was one question still lingering — where were you both going after this?

"Holy shit, (Y/n)!" a voice yelled, you were taken outside, you wondered how you were still alive anyways.

(B/f/n)! it was (B/f/n). thank god she was okay, she looked over at ethan suspiciously, looking him up and down.

"So..you aren’t the bad guy? I want to believe if it’s bullshit or not but-okay." (B/f/n) said, ethan only smiled.

He had everyone exactly where he wanted them.

"I’m okay, (B/f/n/n)." that was your nickname for her since, well, forever. she took your hand in hers, "see you at the hospital?" (B/f/n) questioned, you nodded.

"Yeah, I’ll see you there." this was your life now.

You were now in the ambulance, staring up at the ceiling in wonder. what if you hadn’t loved ethan back? would he still have killed you?

Your eyes glanced over at him, "we’re gonna be ok, right?" you asked in a hoarse tone.

Ethan took your hand in his, "I promise, we’ll be alright." he answered, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

you were going to be alright.

Ah, here’s the long awaited part 2! hope you enjoyed. I might make a part 3, who knows?

#ethan landry #xreader #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #obsession #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 x reader #scream 6

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nina-renmen · 11 days

Text

You’re Mine Pt.4

I’m in my era where I can produce 2-3 fics a day but I lose motivation within a week 😭 anyway, sorry for the long wait! As you all know there are Yandere themes such as mentions of drugging, murder, drinking and other themes that are not suited for minors or people that can’t handle this. You have been warned! (This fix is not prof read)

part 1 part 2 part 3

The worst thing about this job was the aftermath of missions. The one thing y/n didn’t like was having to stay in one place after getting shot. The darker toned woman sat down, her leg throbbing. She was just thankful that it stopped bleeding. Unbeknownst to her, y/n’s captain stood around the corner. Y/n had gone on a solo mission, it was completed with no casualties but she did pay the price by getting shot. Although the bullet went straight through, price knew she wouldn’t be on her feet for a few days, maybe even weeks.

Outside he stood holding a sugary treat. Something y/n had told him she liked on their ‘date’. He fiddled with the packaged candy in his hands. Contemplating on going inside of her room, but just as he decided to do so, he heard y/n’s phone ring.

Looking down at her phone y/n saw her father’s contact name. Without waisting any time she answered it, putting it on speaker so she could changer her bandages. “Hey dad.” Y/n spoke first as she grabbed the roll of bandages and disinfected. “Y/n, sweetie….are you okay?” He asked. His voice sounding worried. Y/n only brushed it off as him being worried because of her wound. Word travels fast within the military.

“Yes dad….the bullet went through my leg. I should be back on my feet in two weeks or so.” The sound of bandages opening filled the silence as her father didn’t say anything in return. After a few moments he finally spoke up.

“No….thats too long. I’ll have one of my men come get you.” He said in almost a rushed tone.

“My wound isn’t that bad. I’m taking care of it and-“

“Not the wound y/n. I want you to stay away from Price.” General l/n spoke over y/n. Like a commander, barking orders at his subordinates. “Dad…Price isn’t that bad. He’s can be a little rough around the edges but he’s not bad.” Y/n said as she finished pouring the disinfectant alcohol over the wound.

“Y/n….Price has been looking into you. He’s stalking you. I want you out of that squad immediately.” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows as she hauled her movements. Sure…it was normal to look into someone. Y/n had looked into Price to see what he’d accomplished to get in the role of a captain but that was it. “Dad….thats normal. Maybe I’ve been late to a meeting or-“

“Stop making excuses for that man….ill tell you what. If I get you stone hard proof, you leave that squad with now argument. Okay?”

Y/n sighed as she wrapped her leg. Making sure not to put it on too tight. “Dad, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Y/n paused. She wasn’t sure how he’d react to this. “He’s my soulmate. I found out a while ago and-“

“You don’t think to tell me?” General l/n’s voice was softer this time. He seemed more understanding of the situation. “If I had known I wouldn’t have had made a big fuss.”

“It’s alright. I know you’re only looking out for me.” Y/n replied. As she finished tiring off the bandages.

“I still don’t trust him. My parents were soulmates and my father killed my mother, but you know that already. Don’t drop your guard just because he’s your soulmate.” Y/n’s father started. “Just because he loves you, doesn’t mean he won’t hurt you. Treat him just like any other man you’d come across.”

He was right. Loving someone dosn’t always mean you’re compatible or vise versa. “Okay..”

“Promise me.” General l/n’s voice grew stern.

“I promise.”

“And make sure you carry a gun on your dates.” Y/n’s father advised.

“I already do. No need to remind me.” Y/n said as she rolled her eyes.

“I’m just making sure you’re safe. You’re my only daughter.”

Y/n smiled at that. “I’ll be safe…..” There was a small silence between the two of them until he spoke up. “Alright then. Well I have to get back to work. Don’t cause too much trouble, I love you.”

Y/n laughed as she told him she loved him before he hung up. Sitting in silence, y/n thought about what he said. Even though she brushed it off she couldn’t help but be a bit wary of John.

A knock on her door startled her from her thoughts. Pushing those bad feeling away she called out. “Come in.”

The door opened, revealing John. He was in nothing but a blue shirt and khaki pants. His hand holding up y/n’s favorite sweet treat.

“I…heard you got injured. So I got you this.” He said, holding it up. Y/n’s eyes trailed over to the sweet treat. A grin carved on her face, giving price the green light to step into the room. He closed the door behind him before handing Y/n the sweet treat. Y/n’s fingers wrapped around the packaging. She thanked him with a smile as she tore open the wrapping paper like a child that had just been gifted candy.

“Is the medication working?” Price asked, trying to make small talk as he sat in the chair that was beside Y/n’s bed. He got comfortable in the chair. It was obvious he planned on staying a while.

“Not really.” Y/n said truthfully. “The medicine here dosn’t really work on me.”

John looked at y/n curiously. “Why is that?”

Y/n let out a nervous chuckle, as she leaned back into her pile of pillows that propped her up. “I didn’t grow up in a stable nehiborhood. My parents worked so much that I was sent to live with family members that weren’t so great. I picked up some bad habits if you know what I mean.” Y/n stated. “I’m clean now, but I still have a high tolerance for it.”

John nodded. He didn’t seem disgusted or disappointed. He seemed grateful that y/n told him. “I appreciate you telling me.” He said honestly. Unfortunately for y/n he only appreciated that y/n told him about it so he can up her dosage. If she hadn’t told him then he would have been confused as to why she hadn’t passed out after eating the snack he spiked.

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strawberriemarswrites · 2 months

Text

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chapter Summary: You've made a harrowing discovery, and you can't shake the suspicion that someone you trust is behind everything. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ for the story, referenced NSFW) TW: none in particular this chapter, mentions of the stalking that's going on but that's about it. Ao3 Link: Chapter Eight (4.036 words)

Your heart thundered in your chest. Bartolomeo promised he’d look out for you. He hadn’t mentioned seeing or hearing anything since you asked him to start. How did this get past him? How long could this have been getting past him? You really didn’t want to think that he was failing to keep his promise, so maybe whoever had been getting in stopped for a time, and they were picking back up again now that the weather was warmer. You had to tell Bartolomeo what you found.

The racing in your mind should have ended there. You should have closed the window and just hoped that the fan being on would be enough and wouldn’t blow around stale, hot air. You should have gone back to bed, ready to talk to Bartolomeo in the morning.

Instead, you leaned out the window, peering down the fire escape, wondering how someone could even get up to your floor without anyone noticing. Though it was hard to tell for sure, the ladder at the bottom looked too high off the ground. The average person would need to get a little creative to reach it. Although, on the subway commute you’d seen pretty tall locals, so it wasn’t that it was impossible to reach without having one’s own equipment or by exerting a bit of effort. Just unlikely.

As you leaned back in and closed the window, a tiny voice in the back of your mind piped up: Barto could reach that ladder.

You froze. No. No, that was highly unlikely. Bartolomeo wasn’t the type to do something like that. No way. He was kind to you, protective even, and... and he knocked that guy’s teeth in today!

He showed up with pretty convenient timing.

He could have just been out running errands. It was lucky that he showed up like that.

Your stuff stopped going missing for a little while after you asked him to help. How long was it before things got weird again?

Bartolomeo tricked a creep into drugging himself, he wouldn’t stoop so low as to be a creep!

Unless he was protecting something he thought was already his.

No. No, no, no.

You slowly sank to the floor, your face in your hands. There was no way that all this time, Bartolomeo had been stalking you. You felt nauseous at the thought. He’d been so kind, and supportive — he was your friend for fuck’s sake! No. You just weren’t thinking straight. You were panicking over some fucking debris on the floor, that could have come from anywhere.

Luffy hopped down from the bed and approached, purring and nuzzling your ankles. In his little kitty mind, he was trying to ask why you hadn’t come back to bed, because since you weren’t going to the kitchen to feed him, it was obviously still bed time. Then, when he leaned into your palm as you reached for him, he gradually became aware of your distress. You started making sniffling sounds, like the ones he’d done when he had gotten a little sick. He began to purr louder — purring always helped him, maybe it would help you.

You scooped up Luffy into your arms, petting him against your chest. His purring softened for a moment before picking back up, and you gradually felt the panic leave you. There was no way Bartolomeo was the one who’d been breaking in. It couldn’t have been him.

Right?

...It was too late at night to keep dwelling on the thought. You set the fan against the window — if it opened, surely the fan would be knocked over — and turned it on, carrying yourself and your cat back into bed.

Your paranoia would have to wait until morning to be sorted out. You needed a clear head to do so.

Vivi snapped her fingers in front of your face a few times. “Hello? Anyone home?”

You jumped, shaking your head free of the image of the debris in your bedroom. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

She propped her elbows up on the table and placed her chin in her hands. “I asked if you’re okay. You’ve been extra quiet today.”

You nodded, picking at your takeout lunch. “I’m fine. Just... distracted.”

“Over Bartolomeo again?” Drake asked, sipping at his coffee.

“No,” you said a bit too quickly, turning pink. “Sort of.”

Vivi cocked her head. “What’d he do? I thought you guys were doing the ‘just friends’ thing.”

“We are. He didn’t do anything.” You tapped your fingers on the table. “Or he did... guh, I dunno.”

Vivi stared at you expectantly. Drake eyed you suspiciously over his glasses.

You sighed. “After I moved in, someone started breaking into my apartment.” You scratched the back of your neck, avoiding their surprised gazes. “Barto said he’d keep an eye out, and it seemed to stop for a while. I figured he had it handled. But just last night I noticed something that makes me think the break-ins didn’t stop.”

“Do you think he’s been missing whoever’s doing it?” Vivi asked.

Before you could answer, Drake read your mind. “You think he might be the one doing it, don’t you.”

You shrank back, putting your face in your hands. “I don’t know what to think.”

Drake took another drink of his coffee. “Well let’s start with why you would think that.”

You sighed again, running a hand through your hair. “He seems kinda protective of me, the more I think about it. Like what he did at the bar, and then yesterday...” You again avoided eye contact. “He might’ve. Beaten some guy to a pulp for harassing me.”

Vivi’s brows ticked upward. “Wow, really? I would’ve thought that would be more reason not to suspect him.”

“That’s the thing,” you continued. “It was when I was going home. Bartolomeo and I — we weren’t even hanging out. He just... happened to show up.”

Drake’s frown deepened. “Sounds a little too convenient, if you ask me.”

You nodded. “Exactly. And when I think about it, the times I noticed that something was off in my apartment line up with times when he’s been home.”

“Then that settles it!” Vivi jumped up, her hands splayed out on the table. “It’s gotta be him!”

“Slow down,” Drake said, putting an arm on her shoulder to coax her back into her chair. “What would make you think it’s not him?”

You fidgeted in your seat. “Well, he’s been so nice. He comes across as this tough, scary guy, but you should see how he plays with Luffy. He even calls him ‘Mister Luffy’ in this tiny voice I didn’t even know he could do. He’s been helping me keep him secret from the landlord. And he works at that bar partly because he’s helping out his friend’s grandmother. He’s kind of... tender, y’know?”

Drake cocked an eyebrow, silently prodding with a look that said “That’s the best excuse you have?”

You relented, “He doesn’t seem tall enough to reach the fire escape. I haven’t had a chance yet to look at it from the ground, but it looks pretty high up.”

Drake nodded. “All right. How far off the ground do you think it is?”

You leaned back in your chair and twisted your lip. “Eight feet? Maybe nine?”

He pushed out his chair and stood. “How tall is Bartolomeo compared to me?”

You eyed him up and down, tilting your head. “Almost the same height. Maybe a little shorter.”

“But that’s just from your memory,” Vivi said as he sat back down. “Maybe Drake could come by and see if he can reach it? Just to make sure.”

“It’s probably best that I don’t,” Drake said, though with a tint of reluctance in his tone. “If he’s the one behind the break-ins, and if he was stalking you home yesterday, it’s better not to let on that you’re on to him. Not yet, anyways.” He finished his coffee and added, “We also don’t know how he’ll react to other people in his territory, for lack of better term. You said he beat someone to a pulp yesterday?”

You flushed at the memory of Bartolomeo’s shirt and knuckles splattered with blood, quickly nodding your head to dispel the image.

Vivi piped in, “Didn’t you say Cavendish stood you up?”

You blinked, furrowing your brow. “I did, but what does that have to do with this?”

She leaned forward, glancing around as if anyone aside from the three of you were in the breakroom. “What if Bartolomeo had something to do with that, too?”

After a beat, you shook your head. “That’s too far.”

“No, no, think about it!” Her voice was suddenly hushed. “What if he figured it out somehow? If he’s as protective as you say, then someone going on a date with you would absolutely be a threat to ‘his territory’.” She then sat back, her voice returning to normal volume. “Come on, tell me you don’t see it.”

You turned the thought over in your head for a moment, and it sent a sickening shudder down your spine. You knew if you said “no” that Vivi would call you out on the lie, so instead you moved on. “What should I do? I don’t have enough to prove it’s him to go to someone about it, but I also don’t feel like I have enough to prove to myself that it’s not him.”

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, before a phone alarm chimed. Vivi sighed and stood, silencing her phone with an annoyed grumble. She was stopped from leaving when Drake put his hand on her shoulder again.

“I think for now,” he said, “we should keep this between us. No need to worry anyone else until we know more.”

Vivi’s look of annoyance turned serious, and she gave a short nod. “Right.” She then turned to you, making a zipped-lip motion. “Just keep me posted, okay?”

With that she hurried out of the breakroom, just as an alarm went off on your phone to signal the end of your lunch. As you stood, Drake did as well, though he looked deep in thought.

Finally, as you were both leaving the breakroom, he said, “Test him.”

You frowned. “How?”

He slipped a hand in his pocket, leaning against the threshold. “Get him to say something he shouldn’t know about you. Or get him to do something that needs the fire escape. See how he reacts.”

You thought for another moment then nodded. “Thanks, Drake.”

“Any time.” He pushed off the threshold and gently patted your back. “Keep us in the loop. You know anyone here will come running if you need help.” He then smiled, adding, “That’s what friends are really for.”

Bartolomeo was getting nervous. Something was off about you — you weren’t distant or anything, still making time to chat with him and texting him, but you seemed more... tense. He’d asked a couple of different times if you were okay, and you always answered with a shrug and a smile, saying you were just tired from work. Though he could tell that definitely wasn’t the full story, he didn’t want to push.

His patience seemed to pay off, as one evening you invited him into your apartment again for dinner. You’d said you wanted to repay him for knocking the one jerk’s lights out, and who would he be to resist a chance at dinner with you? Let alone a dinner made by you.

Bartolomeo showed up at your door right on time, again wearing a flannel he’d forgotten about. He wondered if he should invest in some nicer-looking clothes, before shaking the thought away — he never before cared about the way he dressed, and he’d only start caring if you said something.

When you answered the door, his heart melted, seeing you again in the blue sailor dress he liked when you... when that Pretty Boy attempted to go out with you. His heart melted further when you hugged him before leading him inside, his stomach doing backflips at the contact.

“Thanks for coming on short notice,” you said, beaming and heading back into the kitchen.

“No prob,” he said, sitting in the dining chair closest to you. “You don’t have to go through all this effort for me, though.”

“I want to,” you said, again making his heart weak. “I’ve actually been wanting to give you a proper ‘thank you’ for a while. Honestly, probably since I got stood up by...” you paused. Your back was to him as you stirred the pot on the stove, and you tipped your head back in thought. “Shit, what was his name again?”

Bartolomeo’s posture stiffened, and he bit down on his tongue. Pretty Boy. Cavendish. But he wasn’t supposed to know that. “I dunno, you never told me.”

You shrugged before returning your attention to the pot. “Well, either way. You put up with me then, and then you saved my ass the other night. I think that’s more than enough reason to go through the effort.”

He smiled. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Something in the back of his mind, however, began to gnaw at him. He started chatting your ear off to stop thinking about it.

Part way through your conversation about the difficulty of mahjong in Yakuza 0, it started pouring rain. You cussed, taking half a step away from the stove before freezing, then looking over your shoulder. “Can you do me a favor? I don’t wanna leave this alone.”

Bartolomeo jumped up from his seat. “Sure — you need me to watch it?”

“No, no, that’s fine,” your eyes then flicked toward the hallway. “I just left my fan in the fire escape window. Do you think you could pull it in and close it?”

He nodded, turning his body instinctively toward the hall and taking a step toward your bedroom, before freezing. His brow then furrowed — would it be weird that he already knew which room the fire escape was in? By process of elimination it wouldn’t be hard to figure out, but... something felt wrong about immediately going for your bedroom.

“Which room is it in?” he asked, trying to ignore the hairs standing on his neck.

And then he saw it. Your shoulders sank just slightly, and your gaze softened. Like you were relieved that was his response. “It’s in the bedroom. Just down the hall and to the left.” You then pointed accusingly at him with a slotted spoon and grinned. “Don’t go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Bartolomeo nodded again, heading for the bedroom and being careful not to trip over Luffy on the way there. He opened the door and hesitated, glancing around. It was the first time you’d willingly let him into your bedroom, and he tried not to think too hard on how you’d looked at him — maybe you were just relieved he was doing you a favor.

As he pulled the box fan out of the window frame and slid the pane shut, something falling to the floor caught his eye.

Flakes of chipped paint and bits of rust, littering the floor by the fire escape.

Fuck.

“Everything okay in there?” you called.

“Yeah, just. Distracted.” He quickly set the fan down over top of the debris and hurried back out, looking just a hair paler.

You cocked your head at him. “You feeling okay?”

He nodded, sitting back down. “I’m fine. You’re room’s just... cute.”

You gave him that thousand-sun smile, a faint blush in your cheeks as you continued cooking. “Thank you. Food’s almost done.”

The rest of the evening went surprisingly smooth, especially considering Bartolomeo was now paranoid that you were catching on to something he really didn’t want you catching on to. He didn’t think that you noticed the debris — after all, it could have been something that just happened. But that little gnawing feeling in the back of his mind told him that it may have been happening for a while, and he wasn’t as good at covering his tracks as he thought. Then it hurt him a little, to think that if you did notice it that you didn’t bring it up to him. He pushed that thought aside quickly, deciding that you were far too good to keep something like that secret from him.

Nevermind that the gnawing feeling tried to convince him you were trying to trip him up.

As Bartolomeo laid in bed that night, after jacking off for the umpteenth time since he’d started stalking looking out for you, he worried at his lower lip, his teeth dangerously close to digging in and drawing blood. The solution was easy — just. Back up off the break-ins again.

Far easier said than done.

Meanwhile, your dreams about Bartolomeo ramped up in frequency. Sometimes he came to you as the beast-like creature, his mouth dripping with blood and drool. He always brought gifts, your tired mind’s way of accounting for the weight of a kitten on your chest. He’d so far brought a heart, a hand, and something that shifted between being a head and a liver.

There was once when he appeared normal, grinning at you like he’d just seen the sun for the first time. It was a smile offset by the broken skin on his knuckles, and the red stains on his shirt and the cuffs of his jeans. It was arguably a more unsettling dream than the monster ones, as he then approached and talked to you like nothing was wrong.

And those were just the dreams where he wasn’t fucking you. Over the kitchen counter, on the couch, in your bed, in what your brain could only imagine as his bedroom. Always moaning “mine” in your ear and leaving bite marks on your shoulders. To your immense frustration, you always woke up before you came.

Apparently, the efforts you had made to try and prove his innocence weren’t enough for your nerves to settle down. You decided to try one more idea.

After much further deliberation, you had a plan. It was pay-day, but you already declined to go out for the usual drinks. You were texting Bartolomeo when he told you that, by some miracle, he didn’t have to work, and you were going to try something a little riskier. That morning you made sure Luffy’s gravity feeder had enough food and his water fountain was still running and full, so you knew he’d be okay by himself for a little longer than usual. Then, during your shift, you pulled Robin aside. After explaining the situation to her, with only the slightest bit of judgment that you didn’t come to her sooner about the part where you worried about a stalker in the first place (though she figured you had your reasons), she listened to your plan.

“I need you to hold on to my apartment keys.”

She nodded, holding her hand out. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to see if Barto’s tall enough to reach the fire escape.” You shuffled through your purse and handed them over. “If he can reach it and unlock my apartment from within, then that might be enough to prove he’s been breaking in this whole time.”

“What if he says no? Or it turns out he can’t reach it?”

“I’ll text you and ask if you can swing by the archives to get them when you guys are done with drinks.” You shrugged, blushing faintly as you added, “I’ll hang out with him until then.”

Robin considered for a moment, before nodding again and dropping your keys into her purse. “If he does agree to help, what’ll you do then?”

You paused, frowning. You hadn’t thought quite that far ahead.

Robin could sense as much, and gently took one of your hands. “If he does it, still text me. I’ll come get you and you can stay with me for a little while until we figure it out.”

You stared at her with wide eyes, then tears began to prickle in your periphery. Without much warning you hugged her. “Thanks, Robin.”

She laughed, lightly hugging you back. “You don’t have to thank me. If this will bring you peace of mind, I want to help you. Rooster’s been good to you, so I hope he’s not behind all this.” She then held you back by the shoulders and gave you a look that sent chills down your spine. “And if he is, I’ll castrate him.”

Bartolomeo heard loud cursing right after the elevator ding. He looked out the peephole to see you digging through your purse, cussing up a storm and bemoaning, “How the hell did I lose them?!”

He opened his door a crack and leaned out. “You good?”

You huffed, frowning. “No, I’m not. I can’t find my keys.”

“Oh, shit.” He fully stepped out and shut his door, trying to subtly lean over and see into your purse. “Where’d you last see them?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned. “I think I forgot them in my work locker. Fuck.”

He couldn’t see them either, not from the angle he had. “Maybe the landlord can let you in?”

“And risk him finding Luffy?”

“...you got me there.”

“So, short of breaking and entering, I’m not getting in until I find my keys.” You pulled out your phone and started texting, before you paused. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to lockpick, do you?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I might. But it’ll risk messin’ up your lock and you’ll have to pay for a new key.”

“Damn,” you huffed, then eyed him up and down. “...Do you know where the fire escape is from the outside?”

He froze. “Uh—”

“Maybe you could climb up and get in for me? Open it from the inside?”

Fuck. Shit. Shit shit shit FUCK. Panic slithered through Bartolomeo’s veins, and he tried to look anywhere but your face. You were on to him. You had to be. Why else would you ask him this? No — no, this was innocent enough. You did say short of breaking in, so maybe you had — what was the word? an epiphany? — or whatever. But... if you were on to him, and he did as you asked, how long would he have before you left him high and dry? Or worse?! After all the work he’d put into knowing you — shit, he was taking too long to answer!

“I dunno,” he said. “Those ladders are pretty high off the ground. I’m pretty sure I can’t reach them.”

You deflated. “Well, how tall are you?”

He swallowed. “Seven-three.”

“Come on, that’s plenty tall enough!” You looked up at him with puppy eyes. “Please? Can’t you try?”

Bartolomeo almost cursed you for having such pretty eyes. How dare you use them against him like this? With every ounce of resistance he had, he shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Even if I could, I don’t wanna break the window tryin’ to open it from the outside.”

You stared at him for several long seconds, your eyes searching his face. He really hoped you couldn’t see the sweat forming on his brow. Please stop lookin’ at me with those eyes. Please, please, please I’m beggin’ you.

You sighed, finally looking down. “Okay, fair enough.” You then returned to texting. “I’ll see if Robin can bring them to me. I think she has keys to the archives.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding, passing it off as a sigh of his own. Another few seconds and he would’ve broke. His mind then circled back around — you couldn’t be on to him. You just couldn’t be. And if you were, how was he going to gain back your trust?

“Shit,” you hissed. “That’s right, it’s pay-day. I wanted to skip out on drinks tonight, but Robin’s still going. She doesn’t know when she’ll get to the archives.”

After a moment, Bartolomeo realized the opportunity before him. Not only could he regain your trust, but maybe... just maybe...

“You wanna hang out at my place for a bit?”

#i'll fucking digest you one kiss at a time #ifdyokaat #one piece x reader #bartolomeo #bartolomeo x you #reader insert #bartolomeo one piece #bartolomeo the cannibal #yandere #PHEW #CHONKY chapter #sorry it's about 50/50 on the barto content but there was a lot of set-up and deliberation i wanted to get through #next chapter.... next chapter we'll have some fun <3

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1-800-cr33py · 2 months

Note

WRITE A STORY WITH ERIC DRAVEN PLSSSSSSS

Of course, though I am going through a bit of writer’s and artist’s block, so i deeply apologize for the quality.

A/N: Angst w/comfort, reader is depressive, something quick might expand on this later though. Eric is…eric.

Hands a bit too cold to be considered normal traced the plain of your stomach, the skin warm beneath his calloused palm. Eric was many things, a murderer, spiteful, any name under the sun one could think of, but in the current moment he was envious. Envious of you, sleeping beneath the many blankets of his bed, practically a nest for the both of you now. He was envious of your warmth, your liveliness, your mortality. There may have been a time when he’d daydream of what his life could have been like in his older years, hair graying and fading and worn band tee shirts. But those days would never catch up to him, but you still remained. Fuck if you didn’t stay glued to his side. He remembers seeing you after he was brought back, the black tears staining your cheeks as you tried to look through him, trying to rationalize the sight before you.

You sat upon the brick wall of what was once a shared apartment, bottles and cans thrown haphazardly around the creaking floors. You, a husk of the person you used to be, in the middle of the mess, eyeliner running down your cheeks and eyes hollow, eyes once so full of life and contentment, now dull, sharp even. If his heart could, it would break at the sight of you. He stalked you from his shadows, not yet ready to face you. Oh how he longed to hold you, to remind you he’d take care of you like he promised so long ago, to simply feel your skin against his would be enough. But Eric remained still, continuing to watch you gulp down more cheap vodka like it was water. Erin grimaced, he didn’t like the sight before him. He saw himself lingering within your behavior, saw his influences in your mannerisms. You, none the wiser to his position before you, didn’t even jump when his footfalls fell upon your ears. Maybe you were to drunk, or maybe it’s because you were to far gone to care.

“ Look dickhead, I don’t know what the fuck it is you want but I-“ your cold remark was cut short, far to short with a familiar laugh, a laugh you hadn’t heard in over a year, actually thats a lie. It was the same laugh that had been haunting your nightmares for so, so fucking long.

“ Such harsh words from such a pretty girl, you kiss your mother with that mouth pretty? “ Eric drawled, nearing you. You, bottle just an inch from your agape mouth. There he was, face painted a sickly white and black smeared haphazardly across his eyes and lips. It was like time stopped, only the two of you existing at once. Eyes welling with tears, you stayed silent. What could you do? You were there when they put him into the cold hard ground, there to pick up Sarah when her mother couldn’t give less than a fuck about her. You. Eric, now squatting before you, searched your face, for any sign of emotion, emotion he didn’t find. You wanted to scream, to hit yourself and down the rest of the bottle, telling yourself you were dreaming, but you couldn’t. His cologne had long since faded from everything that was left behind, but here now you could taste it. Mouth gaping akin to that of a fish out of water, the bottle fell, clattering onto the floor as your hand reached to his face. Just a touch. Just something to tell yourself this was real, that he was real. With a trembling finger, you pushed the wet stray hairs from his painted face, moving to trace his jaw. He was real this time, a tangible thing before you blessing your teary eyes with a pained smile.

That was a long while ago, he’d yet to find a real reason to pass on yet, though the Crow had quit trying to urge him now. The night was young, though the city lights didn’t make it seem that way, still, you napped, curled underneath the blankets. Eric let out an audible sign, cold fingers mindlessly tracing shapes onto your skin. He’d give anything, anything at all, just to fully feel the true extent of your warmth again, the warmth he felt when he was alive, not just a walking corpse. Eric longed to be the softer man he once was for you, but he knew as well as you did, that man was gone. But for now, he’d be content with this, relearning and healing alongside you.

#1800cr33py #reqs open #requests are open #eric draven x reader #eric draven #the crow 1994 #the crow x reader #brandon lee

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sleepingdeath-light · 10 months

Text

yandere hcs ; stardust cookie

requested by ; anonymous (23/05/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | super epic

character(s) ; stardust cookie

outline ; “yandere stardust cookie headcannons? also your writing is so addicting I keep coming back and rereading all your fics lol”

warning(s) ; unhealthy obsessive behaviours, implied acts of violence, possessive stardust cookie, yandere stardust cookie, stalking

stardust spent the vast majority of his life drifting through the cold and unforgiving void of space — of course he had the stars for company but there are only so many one sided conversations one can have with the cosmos before something snaps

he’d come to the city of wizards seeking answers then companionship then vengeance once he became aware of his origins — and it was through that chaos and anger and fear that he met you

patient, protective, fragile you — a mortal no stronger than a twig yet holding a heart worth far more than its weight in platinum or gold

someone who helped to talk him down from the edge of his mania, who spoke in a voice that rung as bright as galaxies and as warm as the light of a thousand distant stars

you were so familiar despite never having met before — you felt like the cosmos and the void and the life held within, you felt like home

both the home he’d known his whole life and the home he’d been searching for as long as he could breathe in that breathless ocean of stars

he didn’t want to hurt you, to lose you, so then he started to listen — to fold in his wings and retreat his talons until he was human again

human enough, at least

went through all of the necessary motions: fusing with his other half, protecting the city from his attack, apologising and offering his service as an apology

and your companions — but most vitally you — believed him, or at least believed him enough to mostly take him at his word

he promised to keep his distance and help moonlight with her mission of protecting the city and rebuilding it to its former glory and bid you all farewell — biting back his grimace as moon started sighing dreamily about the ocean and it’s song

but he couldn’t stop thinking about you

during the day he was haunted by the brightness of your eyes and the warmth of your hug, ghosts of your fingertips brushing against his spine as he patrolled the ruins of the city from above

and at night your voice tormented him — the tinkling of your laughter morphing into your screams of terror from during his attack, played on repeat like some twisted record that he couldn’t shake or erase

he rarely slept most nights because of it

staying up at night, your face tattooed on the insides of his eyelids — teasing him with how present yet out of reach you were

it had been a month of moon pestering him and him brushing her off before he snapped and tracked you down one night

he’d found you in no time at all, having tracked you with his old friends’ aid (nobody hides from the stars, after all), and he lost his nerve the moment he saw you

asleep, vulnerable and peaceful — completely aware of the entity looming over your resting body

he was torn between taking you then and leaving you be because you were just so… beautiful when you were at rest

beautiful like nature, like the stars, like nebulas, like spiralling galaxies and like everything he’d known and loved — yet you still somehow eclipsed them all

he decided to leave you be

watching over you until the break of dawn, at which point he swiftly took flight and returned to the city before moonlight cookie even realised he was gone

(not that she ever did, all she did most days was sleep and stare out at the ocean)

he goes back the next night

and the next

…

he never does anything to you, though, he’d never dream of hurting you — doesn’t even think he could — he just watches you sleep

watches you smile and shuffle around

listens to you sigh and murmur and snore and breath

the most he’s ever done is brush some hair out of your face and lay beside you and listen to you breathe — revelling in the way you subconsciously snuggled closer to him and feeling warmth blossom in his chest at the way you buried your face in his neck

like you knew he was there

like you wanted him to be there

(of course you didn’t, though, you were asleep, but that didn’t stop his mind from wandering)

(from hoping)

and this little routine of his continues for months at a time — him trailing you and laying beside you as you go about your journey, blissfully unaware that you’re being followed

and he never gives you the slightest hint that he’s there, he’s not ready yet, he’s content as an observer

until him

until he stops by earlier than usual after you’ve just drifted off to sleep, face buried in the pillow of an inn that you’d stopped by for the night — your friends sleeping around you, piled in beds and sleeping bags and all so comfortable looking

he almost envied the simplicity

almost

and he didn’t intend to hurt him, but he could hear him from the window ledge of your assigned room

hear his crude remarks about you

about your body, your mouth, how you’d sound

and it infuriated him — bringing out a side of him that he had tried to keep contained since he almost destroyed the city of wizards

and suddenly he’s all wings and talons and teeth as he lures the drunkard outside with the promise of a good lay and good booze — an easier lie than he’d like to admit

he tortures the man until the break of day and brings back one of his ribs to keep safe in his home — a reminder of his role as your protector

(self assigned, of course)

what remained of him wasn’t even recognisable as human — no body to bury except for fragments and smears

and you were none the wiser

nobody talks that way about you — his light, his heart, his home, his you — not the drunk, nor a musician, nor a duke nor a king nor a god

they didn’t deserve you, none of them did

he didn’t either, not really, but that didn’t stop him from coming back

from hoping that one day you’d be able to accept him wholly

to love him

to adore him

to covet him

to want him

not yet — he wasn’t ready — but some day, and he was willing to wait as long as it took

because you were worth it

because he had nothing but time

because he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it

because you were his even if you didn’t realise it yet

his stars, his void, his nebula, his supernova, his everything and more

… if only he could bring himself to finally say it to your face rather than just whispering his affections to the endless night sky

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #yandere hcs #yandere x reader #yandere crk x reader #yandere crk #yandere cookie run #yandere cookie run x reader #yandere stardust cookie x reader #stardust cookie x reader #cookie run x reader #crk x reader

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satansapostle6 · 2 months

Text

Dangerous Men | Klaus Mikaelson

“Dangerous men make good pets.”

Regina makes a powerful friend in Klaus Mikaelson.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content

Chapter One: Cherry

Klaus Mikaelson watched like a predator stalking its prey. He knew he had more important things to be doing, but he couldn’t help himself. The way that girl danced was something he couldn��t explain.

He was under her spell in a way he’d never been with any woman before in his life. He never would’ve guessed that the devil could know heaven.

“Would you like a dance?”

Niklaus Mikaelson looked up, without consequence, as one of the girls working the floor of the club approached him.

“…No, thank you,” he shook his head politely, blue eyes locked on the beautiful dancer up on the pole with the long ebony locks and perfectly bronzed skin. “What’s her name?” he pointed, determined to find out everything he could.

“Cherry,” the young vampire informed him.

“No. Her real name,” Klaus insisted.

“But, Mr. Mikaelson,” the young woman began, “The club policy—”

“I don’t care about the fucking club policy,” he warned her, a threatening look in his eyes.

She immediately cleared her throat, terrified of the Original vampire.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry. Her name’s Regina.”

“Regina what?” he asked impatiently.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know,” the dancer apologized quickly. “You can ask Steve!” she provided.

Klaus Mikaelson grinned, finally having gotten somewhere. “Alright. I suppose I’m asking Steve.”

He found himself at the club until long after closing. After the customers cleared out and the dancers all made their way to the back, he waited patiently in front of the white Porsche parked out in the lot, the car he had found out belonged to Regina Lugo. She was outside within the next half hour at the most, lavish fur coat draped over her black dress.

Klaus’s eyes were fixed on the beautiful woman, cracking a darkly seductive smile as she dropped her arm, designer bag in her hand.

“Hello, love.”

“The club has security, you know,” Regina said curtly. “They stay until all of us leave”

Klaus chuckled, admiring her composure. “I’m not some customer asking for your number,” he told her patiently.

“Aren’t you, though?” she wondered.

It was becoming more difficult for him to contain his amusement. Regina was, of course, a beautiful woman. Beautiful in a different way than many of her coworkers. Her beauty was timeless, and sacred; there was something indescribably mystical about the darkness of her eyes and the natural cascade her hair.

“I don’t want your phone number, love,” he assured her, his voice nothing more than a suggestive purr.

“Then what do you want?” she asked him, still cautious of him. “Again, keep in mind, security.”

Klaus humored her, as if security could actually stop him.

“I’m not like all the others, you know,” he remarked, dangerous and debonair in his leather jacket. “I could actually give you what you want.”

“And what do you think it is I want?” Regina wondered, crossing her arms.

He smiled, understanding her skepticism of his character.

“Anything you want,” he promised, stepping closed as she just watched him, not quite disturbed enough by him to perceive him as an immediate threat. “I could offer you anything. Not just a spliff, or a Chanel bag.”

Regina looked at him with curiosity, pulled in by his confidence.

“Who are you?” she questioned.

“Niklaus Mikaelson,” he answered truthfully.

She stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed as she tried to place him. The one thing Klaus liked about Regina was that she seemed resourceful, and strategic; she aimed to know everything about the world she was a part of, in order to thrive in it. Not necessarily conquer it, but thrive in it.

Her lack of trust in him, as well as her lack of enchantment, drew him in to her even more.

“You’re one of them,” she realized, looking into his dark blue eyes.

“‘One of’ what?” Klaus asked her coyly, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know exactly… But you're one of them. The ones who get whatever they want when they come in, week day or weekend. The ones who own this city,” she said thoughtfully. “And I’m not talking about through government, or corporations. You’re one of the ones who really own the city. Aren’t you?” she concluded.

Klaus felt himself genuinely impressed by her insight. She was smarter than most of the people in New Orleans, he gathered. She had put together almost all the pieces when most weren’t even aware of the puzzle.

“You’re a perceptive little thing, aren’t you?” he said softly, his undeniably handsome face only inches from hers.

She didn’t answer the rhetorical question. She didn’t seem afraid of him at all, like a little girl pressing her face against the glass at the zoo to see the pretty tiger.

“What are you, Niklaus?” Regina asked curiously. “A rock star? A millionaire? A gangster?”

The guesses she’d made were funny to him.

“Right question. Wrong solutions,” he assisted her.

“The club owners and some of the other girls are afraid of you,” she remarked, seeming to have deduced this completely on her own. “Why? I mean, it’s obvious you have some kind of money, and influence. But why?” she stared at him with curiosity.

“You’re a smart girl. Why don’t I let you figure it out for yourself?” Klaus encouraged her.

“And in the meantime?” Regina wondered, watching him as she observed everything about him.

He looked at her with sharp eyes as he made up his mind, determined to gain her complete trust. Her trust, he had realized, was something of value.

“Tell me something you want,” he told her, before changing his mind, “No. The thing you want. Something that can’t just be bought in a store… Something with character,” Klaus told her.

“Anything?” she questioned.

“Anything.”

“What if I wanted the queen’s jewels?” she asked him.

“Then I suppose you’d be getting the queen’s jewels, wouldn’t you?” Klaus said without a second thought.

She knew in the specific way that he’d said it that he was completely serious. This man could get her the queen’s jewels. Regina didn’t know how, exactly, but she could tell he could. There was a pause as she tried her best to test him.

“Carmela Soprano’s fur coat,” Regina decided, knowing the point she was making.

Klaus stopped with satisfaction as he eyed her, appreciating her sense of humor.

“That’s what you want?” he asked eagerly.

“That’s what I want,” Regina said with finality.

“Consider it done,” was all he had to say, before he completely disappeared.

Regina had no idea at all where he went, or how he had done it, but Klaus was just gone, nowhere to be seen as she was left panting softly as she tried to reason with her own mind as she quickly got into her car. There was something definitely strange about the man she’d met. What it was, she didn’t know.

All she knew was that everyone at the club had known who he was, to different degrees, and strictly referred to him as ‘Mr. Mikaelson’, even if he wasn’t in the room. Regina knew that it was impossible for people to just disappear into thin air, but she also knew that men with Niklaus Mikaelson’s influence may as well have been the gods of New Orleans.

She knew for sure that she’d made a powerful friend when she returned home to her apartment the following night to find a large, black garment bag hanging inside of her apartment, a note card hanging off of it bearing nothing but a set of initials.

- K.M.

Chapter Two

#klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #tvd #tvdu #the originals #to #joseph morgan #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus x reader #klaus x y/n #niklaus x reader #niklaus imagines

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