The Moment His Tongue Slid Across Your Folds, Shivers Ran Down Your Spine, Leaving You Utterly Pliant

When he makes you laugh during sex and then you feel his hands tighten on your hips and his jaw clenches, muttering a stiff “ease up,” while he tries to stop himself from cumming early because “if you keep squeezing my cock like that I’ll cum.”

Lucy Maclean and Maximus in Season 1 of FALLOUT

It Was Never Meant To Hurt

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

It’s been 4 days since she’s seen him last. Four days since they gave into each other and she woke up next to an empty bed. It hurts more than she cares to admit, to be used and discarded.

Masterlist

Four days.

Four days since she woke up to an empty bed, the wonderful memories of the night before, the touches and whispered promises against skin going sour the longer she stared at the empty spot next to her.

He’d taken his boots, the shirts he sometimes left in her army-issued wardrobe, and even the pillow smelled nothing like him anymore.

It was almost like he’d erased every trace of evidence that he might be in her life.

And it hurts like a bitch.

“Stay?” She’d whispered into the crook of his neck, shuddering breaths shared between the two of them as she lay there pliant and sweaty in his arms.

“If you insist, love.” He’d whispered, lips pressed to her temple, a deep, satisfied sound rumbling in his chest. It was the best she’d felt in so long, safe and guarded and blissful just laying there with the person she’s loved for over a year now.

They’d been together for a few months now, shared heated glances during meetings, lingering touches before missions, teasing remarks through the comms. It had been good, they had been good. She thought Simon had come to trust her more with the way he’d taken his mask off for her the first time he kissed her.

She’d tried to convince herself it was all in her head at first. That Ghost just wanted his clothes back. Keeping his boots in his own room was more convenient after all, and scents normally faded away, didn’t they?

It was easy to pretend at first, to go about her day like nothing was wrong, like there wasn’t a gaping hole in her chest expanding with every step she took, every dark corner she glances in hoping to see a glimpse of that mask of his.

She’d lost hope on the third day when she finally spotted Ghost in the hallway for the first time since that night…

And he’d walked right past her.

Not even a glance.

She remembers standing there for a moment, stunned at the blatant ignoring, the soft footsteps fading away indicating his departure.

So was she just…another notch in his bedpost?

Was he just playing with her to get her in his bed? It made sense. He’d gotten what he’d wanted and if that really was the case, there was no reason to talk to her and keep her around other than for their missions, was there?

She wants to laugh, or cry? Scream, maybe? Would that make it feel better, loosen the tightness in her chest at the indignation of being used and discarded like-like she was someone cheap?

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forces her feet to keep moving to Price’s office. This feeling could stay lodged inside her, but it didn’t mean she could disregard her duties for it.

Still, hot, angry tears prick at her eyes, ones she refuses to let fall lest they show the world her inner turmoil, her embarrassment, and anger.

                                · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

Four days.

Four days since Ghost last felt anything close to content.

Clenching his jaw, he focuses on the methodical movements of the pistol in his hand, checking the capacity, reloading and firing off a clip.

One, two, three.

Head, neck, heart.

Three lethal shots.

Three days since he last felt her touch.

Taking a deep breath, he lowers the weapon a fraction, trying to get his thoughts together. Ghost was a cold man, he knew how to push things aside and focus on the task at hand, but he never could seem to push her out of his mind.

Even now, in the middle of practicing in the base’s shooting range, every time there’s a moment void of the bang of a shot fired, his thoughts drift to her as if his mind needs her to fill the physical absence left behind.

“Fucks sake.” He mumbles under his breath, switching out the bullets.

He loves her too much.

The day Simon Riley loses her is the day he fears he’ll lose whatever’s left of him. The shattered, broken pieces of a man that she had somehow stitched together into something worth loving in his eyes.

All his broken pieces are jagged and sharp, nicking and cutting the fingers of anyone who tries to piece them back together.

Her hands are bloody with the effort.

It’s why he needs her to understand, needs to stay away from her because Ghost is not someone who is easy to love. Inevitably he’ll put her in harm’s way, taint her with his darkness to a point where even she may consider it unforgivable.

Avoiding is easier than giving it a chance.

Ghost calls it a tactical retreat.

The door opens, and he doesn’t hear it creak but it’s through pure instinct alone that Ghost spares a glance to it, catching wide eyes with his own.

His body hums with anticipation, with the itch to reach out and touch, grab, feel. She looks…tired, he registers. They’re still staring at each other, his gaze impassive, hers surprised and…was that a flash of anger and hurt? They stay exactly where they are.

She’s expecting him to say something, Ghost knows. Maybe to break the silence between them that’s been lasting the past half week, maybe to explain and clear the air.

He turns away from her silently, fires off a couple of shots at the nearest target.

It was for the best.

Ghost was a selfish man, but not selfish enough to cause someone he loves harm. Being with him was a liability, he’d realised that when she’d drifted off to sleep in his arms, an action so full of trust it made his cold heart twist. He has no doubt she can handle herself. She was part of the 141 after all, handpicked by Price.

But at the end of the day, she was still human. Not immortal.

So was he, if the painful ache in his heart was anything to go by.

He half expects her to leave, so he’d be mildly surprised and frustrated when she plants herself a few feet away from him, bringing up her own weapon. She fires.

Three shots.

Heart, heart, heart.

There’s nothing but the popping of bullets for the next few minutes, though Ghost never seems to look away from her for more than a couple of seconds. Her movements become more agitated, more jerky like she’s getting progressively more antsy.

It’s only when her gun clatters to the floor and she lets out a pained groan that he snaps his head towards her instinctually.  

Clutching onto her hand, she glares at the gun underneath. She’d touched the hot barrel, her fingertips an angry burning red.

“What?” She snaps, the frown on his face deepening when his eyes flicker to her face. “Finally got something to say?”

“You should get that to medbay.” Is all he says, turning back to his own weapon.

A beat of silence, then a huff of frustration, and suddenly she’s right in his face, standing so close if he breathed in deep enough their chests would brush. It jars him on the inside, being so close to her after so long but outwardly he pins her down with a calm, blank stare.

“So that’s it then, Simon?” She says, eyes narrowed. “We’re back to this now?”

He clenches his jaw but says nothing. It’s the wrong move because it seems to irritate her further. “You just-you left me.” She exclaims. “Acting like I don’t exist, actively ignoring me? What the fuck, Simon?” Mixed in with the fire in her eyes is a layer of hurt which he spots easily.

How does he explain himself?

She doesn’t give him the chance.

“I mean, fuck-” She exhales sharply, turning her head to the side for a moment. When she turns back his heart drops at the light sheen of dampness in her eyes. “If I knew you just wanted to sleep with me I wouldn’t have gone along with it.” Her voice is the barest bit less angry now, more…defeated. “You led me on for five months. Five months. Just to get me in my bed and call it a day.” She barks a laugh that makes a chill run down his spine. “You’re a heartless bastard, you know that?”

Her voice cracking at the end makes reality crash back down to him.

Muted horror creeps into him as he takes in what she’s saying, what she’s assumed.

She thinks he used her. Just wanted to get into her pants and toss her aside.

For the first time in years, Simon Riley feels dread.

“What was it? Was I not good enough for Ghost?” She mocks, but it’s almost like she’s talking to herself, reflecting in some sick way. “You saw someone who was easy on the eyes and took it as a challenge, is that it? For what, some kind of intrinsic satisfaction?” She runs a hand in her hair, briefly pulling at the roots before letting go. “You shouldn’t have pretended it meant anything to you when-”

“You don’t know anything.” He cuts her off with a low voice.

“I think I understand enough.”

“You don’t.”

“Then explain.” She exclaims, shoving him hard. The man doesn’t budge, hands snapping up to grab her wrists and keep them pressed to his chest. “Try and talk yourself out of this once you mangy-”

“It’s for your own good.” He says.

“Who the hell are you to decide what’s good for me?”

“I’m not easy, love.” He says, tightening his grip when she tries to pull her wrists away. “This was never going to be easy.”

“Don’t call me that.” She hisses, and damn if Ghost was a more emotive man it would have made him wince. “I was ready for that.” She clenches her fists. “I knew it would never be easy, but you’re making it fucking impossible by avoiding me.”

“You’ll get hurt.” He sighs, frustrated that she just doesn’t seem to understand.

“You’ve already hurt me.” Her voice breaks.

He blinks, her words rattling around in his mind for a second.

He has.

Simon has hurt her. Perhaps more than any physical injury probably could. Tears prick at her eyes, just barely about to fall, and he’s never seen her look so tired, so exhausted, and shaken even after some of their toughest missions.

Simon has seen her get shot in the leg and walk it off without a trace of tears, yet here she stands in front of him on the verge of breaking down because Simon made her feel used.

Worthless.

Because of him.

Shit.

Releasing a shaky breath at the realisation, Ghost lets his hands travel up her arms until they graze her shoulders, grabbing gently. She lets him.

It’s more than he deserves after what he’s let her believe for the past four days.

Dread, loathing, and anger churn through his gut. Not at her, never at her. At himself, for thinking that pushing away someone so strong-willed could ever result in anything but catastrophe for the both of them.

Screw him and his attempts at being selfless.

Simon Riley is a selfish man at heart.

He pulls her into his chest, sighing in muted relief as she pressed her forehead against his chest. Like she used to.

Like it belongs.

“Thought you’d be safer if you kept your distance.” He says low and accented into her temple, brushing his lips against it through his mask like he did the night he left. “I realised it that night.”

“So you left?” She whispers shakily, hands clutching onto the back of his t-shirt. “Instead of talking to over with me, you just fucking left?”

His throat tightens uncomfortably. “Thought it was best.”

“Well, it wasn’t.” If he feels her tears soak through his shirt, he doesn’t bring it up.

“I see that now.” He tangles a hand into her hair, and the familiarity of it nearly knocks the breath out of her lungs. “Didn’t know it’d hurt you this much.”

“I didn’t think-…” Her breath hitches, and she pulls away to try again, meeting his gaze with tear-stained eyes but a demanding, soft gaze. “I didn’t think it’d be that easy for you to leave.”

Screw him. His hands tighten around her and he shakes his head firmly.

“You think it was easy to leave you?” He scoffs, disbelief painting his voice. “You’re out of your mind if so.”

She blinks, stilling as if it’s new information and he’ll admit to feeling the slightest bit remorse that he’d led her to believe that he’d have no problem leaving behind one of the only good things in his life just like that. Without a second thought.

“It was harder than any goddamn op I’ve been through.” He rumbles, watching her eyes widen. “Didn’t think I’d get past your door before turning back.”

Her silence unsettles him, because she doesn’t speak for a moment, just takes him in. Weighing him, weighing his words and his actions. Five months of progress against one night of fucking up.

Simon won’t admit that he holds his breath, knowing that her next word would be a declaration of where the both of them would go from here.

Her answer comes in the form of her wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.

The relief that hits him is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

“I’ll fix it.“ He mutters, rubbing circles into her waist. “I’ll fix this, sweetheart.”

“You better,” she whispers into his skin, her eyes fluttering shut.

Requests Are Open!

(30/06/2023)

I wish you would write a fic where….

Sinclair bros. gang bang tbh

Alright Nonnie, here we are. I've been wanting to write something like this for a while but the maximum number of people I've ever had sex with at the same time is one (1) so it was kind of daunting to tackle three at once (heh). It got away from me a little bit on the buildup but I hope you like it! Happy to write more like this in the future so if you want me to give it another shot, lmk.

The Sundress

Poly!Sinclairs x Hinge!AFAB!Reader

Smut, group sex, oral, voyeurism, praise kink/dirty talk, no pronouns used but reader wears a sundress, gets called "doll" and "pretty"

This morning you decided to wear a very particular sundress.

You found it at a thrift store on a solo venture into town. It was cute, had a tiny floral print and ruffles on the straps. It wasn’t completely your style, but there was just something about it. It fit your frame perfectly and at the same time, it was both scandalously short and devastatingly low-cut. You wondered if it was too much as you gave the skirt a little twirl in the dressing room mirror. There was a time when you wouldn’t dare wear something like that out of the house for fear of the attention it would attract.

Now, however, the only attention that existed in Ambrose was much more than welcome.

You went ahead and bought it. The thought of each of your boys’ reactions made you giddy and a little smug. You hung it in your closet and waited for the right day to come along to bring it out:  a day when you felt especially sexy and particularly devious. A day when things had finally calmed down after a long and busy week in which you all barely saw each other and most definitely had not spent any quality time together.

That morning, you took a few extra minutes getting ready. The stars had aligned for your little plan. Your hair was gorgeous. Your skin was glowing. You looked like a snack and felt like one too. You practically pranced down the stairs despite admonishing yourself to play it cool.

Bo and Vince were at the breakfast table, enjoying a leisurely morning after the hectic week. Bo had his nose deep in a Clive Barker novel, absently sipping his coffee. Vincent was chewing on toast and sketching.

“Good morning,” you say cheerfully, pulling open the fridge and leaning forward just a little to see if there was any orange juice left.

You hear Vincent stop chewing. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you watch him hit Bo in the arm, his eye glued to you.

“What the hell d’you – oh my.” Bo’s eyebrows shoot up and he immediately places his book facedown on the table. “Well good mornin’ to you, doll.”

You flash them a sugary smile as you pour yourself the dregs of the juice. Vinny’s eye is wide as a saucer. Bo is actually licking his lips. “Did you guys sleep well?”

“Sure did,” Bo says. “What d’you have planned for today?  Anything…in particular?”

You perch on the edge of the table, skirt sliding up beneath your ass just a little bit. “It’s supposed to be real hot today, so I figured I’d go through and water all the flowers one more time.”

Vincent is scribbling absently back and forth over his half-finished sketch. “Good plan,” he signs. “Need any help?”

“Nah, I think I’ll be alright. I can manage a hose, you know.”

“Yeah I bet you can,” Bo murmurs.

You smile at him. “What do you have on the list today?”

Bo talks and Vinny signs at the same time.

“Nothin’ much – ”

“Basically nothing – ”

“ – just gonna clean up around the station a little – ”

“ – probably going to do some inventory of art supplies, super boring – ”

“ – definitely gonna be, y’know, a little bit lonely….”

“ – could use some company for sure….”

A giggle almost escapes your lips. “Well, maybe I’ll catch up with you later.” You hop off the table, adjust your skirt, flounce to the doorway and then turn around. All eyes flick back up to your face. “Hey, when does Lester get back?”

“Lester?” Bo says flatly.

“Late, I think, very late,” Vincent signs.

“Oh, okay. Good to know. Bye guys.” You give them a little wave.

The morning passes with a shocking number of chance encounters. Something is broken in almost every building you visit, and Bo simply must fix it today. Similarly, Vincent informs you he needs to do a spot check of wax figures to make sure they’re holding up alright, and wouldn’t you know it, there are flowerbeds nearby every single one.

Watering flowers is hard work, and you can’t possibly be blamed for the sheen of sweat that glistens on your face and arms, nor the number of times you are required to bend over a planter box, nor the fact that you filled the watering can too full and splashed a little water on your bodice and Bo missed his aim with a hammer and smashed his thumb.

When the heat of the day rolls around in the mid-afternoon, you decide to break for lunch and head back up to the house. The twins are nowhere to be found. You are halfway up Main Street when the rattle of a familiar truck engine reaches your ears.

You turn around and beam at Lester, who is quite literally hanging out the driver’s side window. “Hey stranger!”

“Hey yourself,” he says, parking the truck in the middle of the road. “You look – well, now – that is a mighty fine dress.” He blushes.

“Thank you!” You give him a twirl.

His mouth is actually hanging open. He quickly closes it and swallows hard. “Y’know, I would…I’d offer you a ride, but…how ‘bout I just walk you home instead?”

“I would love that.”

Lester climbs out of the truck and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. He is remarkably clean, nothing but a few bloodstains below his knees. He offers you his arm, which you gladly take.

“Don’t you need to move the truck out of the road?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Nobody comes here anyway. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, just watering flowers. It’s hot today.” You toss your head, fan yourself.

“You’re damn right. Been workin’ up a sweat, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Geez.” He cannot take his eyes off you. “Where’re Bo and Vincent?”

“I’m not sure. They’ve been hanging around all day, but I haven’t seen them for a minute.”

“Yeah I’ll bet they have. You’re prettier than a field o’ phlox, honey.”

You squeeze his arm. “Thank you, Les.”

He stops at the edge of the yard. “Hey listen. Lemme go change outta these clothes, then why don’t you and I sneak over to that lil meadow on the east side o’ town?  Do a little catchin’ up.”

“That sounds lovely.” You start towards the house.

“Ah-ah, why don’t you wait here?  I’ll just be a minute.”

You frown innocently. “But Lester, it’s hot.”

“Well I’ll grab you a drink and bring it back out with me. I jus’ don’t want you gettin’ sidetracked is all.”

“Okay I guess.” You shrug your bare shoulders.

“Be right back, sweet pea.” Lester kisses your cheek, immediately turns bright red, and practically leaps up the front steps and into the house.

Today has been quite the success so far, you think as you kick at the edge of the lawn with a sneakered foot. You’ve been in Ambrose and involved with the Sinclairs for a good while now; it’s nice to know you can still fluster them when you feel like it.

You wait around for a fair few minutes before the front door opens and Vincent steps out, beckons you. “Hey angel, why don’t you come inside?  I’m almost done with lunch.”

“Aw Vinny, that’s so sweet of you. But I told Lester I’d wait for him to finish changing.”

“C’mon, you know he’ll be a while. He’s got no concept of time.”

“You’re right about that. I am pretty hungry.”

You climb the stairs, step inside. Vincent shuts the door. Your eyes fall on Lester, who hasn’t even changed yet, standing next to Bo, who has his arms crossed over his chest. Vincent comes up behind you, weaves his strong arms around your waist, holds you against him. You furrow your brow in mock bewilderment. “What’s going on, guys?”

“You’ve been a regular little cocktease all day, that’s what,” Bo says.

“Me?”

“Yeah you.”

“It ain’t fair,” Lester pipes up.

“Prancin’ around all day lookin’ like that.”

You can’t help but smirk and shrug. “Sorry.”

Vincent drops his hands to your hips, pulls you a little closer. You feel a half-established erection pressing against your ass.

“Well, lucky for you, we’ve all come together and decided on a solution,” Bo announces, moving leisurely toward you. “You wanna put on a show, darlin’?  We’ll let you put on a show.”

A thrill shoots through you. “Well I suppose that’s only fair.”

“More’n fair, I think,” Bo says as he squares up in front of you.

The first press of Vinny’s lips to your neck sends chills down your back. Bo takes your chin in his hand and bends to capture your mouth. You feel Vincent suck at the thin skin behind your ear, relishing the salt of your sweat.

Already your brain begins to fray with the input of so many sensations at once. You put one hand over Vincent’s, grip Bo’s shirt in the other, and have almost forgotten there are three Sinclair brothers when you feel a gentle brush of fingers on your left thigh, then your right, and then Lester’s hands are beneath your skirt and sliding your panties down. You wonder where he can possibly fit in this arrangement for only a second before you feel his tongue on your sex.

A hopeless moan escapes your throat and Bo breaks your kiss. You open your eyes and note with satisfaction that his face is flushed beneath that smug expression.

“I sure do love seein’ you flustered, darlin’.”

“Right back atcha, sugar,” you say.

Oh, but he does love a spitfire. He seizes your lip with his teeth, running his thumb over your collarbones. Vincent slips the straps off your shoulders and continues his adoration of your skin. Lester, ever the dark horse, already has you unsteady on your feet with long, slow licks. You weave your fingers through his hair and arch your back as Vinny’s deft hands slip beneath the fabric of your dress to cup your breasts.

When you cannot possibly hold yourself up any longer thanks to Les’s ministrations, they disentangle themselves for a brief, heartbreaking moment so you can weave to the couch. You ease yourself back against Bo’s chest, let him hold your wrists in place around his neck, all but trembling with anticipation as Vincent positions himself at your entrance.

“Now darlin’,” Bo murmurs in your ear, “I don’t want poor Les feelin’ all left out here. So why don’t you keep your eyes on him while Vin makes you feel real good, alright?” You nod desperately, lock eyes with Lester, who winks at you. Bo cups your jaw, thumbs your lip. “An’ I’ll be right here, makin’ sure you know what a good job you’re doin’, what pretty sounds you’re makin’. Does that sound okay, doll?”

You open your mouth to respond and Vincent, ever the opportunist, picks that moment to ease himself into you, all the way, an inch at a time. The whine this elicits from you is positively wicked and you hear Bo chuckle against your temple.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so much fun.”

As Vincent picks up the pace, hands running over your legs, you do your best to keep your gaze fixed on Lester, whose hungry expression leaves you feeling a whole new level of naked. All the while Bo pours a steady stream of praise and filthy commentary into your ear, rutting against your backside as his twin draws a series of sinful sounds from your lips.

Eventually Vincent trades Bo and Bo trades Lester, and you have the unique and genuine pleasure of experiencing the techniques of each one of them in quick succession. Somewhere along the way you are lost in oblivion, your body electric, lavished in kisses and caresses and admiration from all sides.

When at last you are spent and so are they, Bo brings you a glass of water, Lester plants a tender kiss on your brow, and Vincent carries you up to bed.

And that sundress sits in a heap on the floor, forgotten for now, until the next time you decide to capture your lovers’ attention.

Spit In My Face 4

— PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: New York Fashion Week is coming up, and you are going to visit your first fashion show in the company of Patrick Bateman himself. The chain of events that happen there will reveal a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew he had.

— CONTAINS: Angst, implications of self harm & panic attacks, (almost) character death (drowning), hurt/comfort, smut, oral (reader receiving), fingering, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, Daddy kink, Praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman himself.

— WORDS: 4.5k

— SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face🖤

— A/N: I really didn't plan this mini-series to be that long, so I promise the next chapter will be the last. Please enjoy!🥰

— LINKS: [PART 3] [MASTERLIST] [SERIES MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

There was something special about New York at night, when millions of lights were shining like diamonds, reflecting on the water of the Hudson River and taking your breath away with the feeling of being so small in such a huge city, where the numerous soaring skyscrapers were almost touching the sky.

Tiredly, you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned on the armrest of the car door, watching the scenery change behind the window. Patrick listened to the music, as he always did, his hands stroking your knee from time to time, but you could hardly feel it, since you were completely overwhelmed by emotions, feelings and thoughts. It was hard to believe that even after all that had happened, you still let him take you home, knowing damn well that he wouldn't just stay in the cab when it stopped at your place. 

Just as you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, you heard his slightly nervous chuckle and little comment.

“Mmm, it's pretty clean here.”

His words almost made you choke. “Did you really think that my place would look like a dump just because I don't live in Manhattan?”

“I didn't mean that.” Bateman murmured behind you, following you carefully down the hall. “Where can I put my coat?”

“Why do you ask? I don't remember inviting you here,” You took off your coat and put it on the rack next to him. “Aren't you afraid your coat will stink  of poverty?”

Patrick couldn't help but chuckle in a husky voice. “You're funny, Cupcake.”

And why did you trust this man at all? What was so special about him?

You didn't say anything, only a thin smile ran over your tired face as you turned around and saw him putting his coat over yours. After that, you continued to walk to your small kitchen, and as soon as you reached the table next to the window, your eyes began to search for something.

“Did you lose something?” He asked, leaning against the wall and hiding his hands in his pockets.

“N-no,” you stammered, as if he had caught you doing something bad. God, he was embarrassing you in your own apartment! “Just … It's been a while since I've had guests.”

Patrick hummed something incoherently and crossed his arms over his broad chest, then moved lazily to the kitchen counter when something caught his eye while you were busy gathering all the stuff on the kitchen table — including some books and various papers from work.

With undisguised interest, Bateman picked up the medicine to take a closer look at its name. “Don't you know these things can cause addiction?”

“What?” You turned to see him examining your sedatives.

“How long have you been taking them?” He asked again, his perfect eyebrows knitted together now.

You sighed tiredly and walked over to him, holding out your hand. “Not too long. Now give it to me, please.”

“I can bring you much better medication than this, since it obviously doesn't work,” he stated in a stern voice, without looking at you. “Because the panic attacks are still kicking your pretty ass.”

His words made your jaw clench, but you didn't even try to snatch the medication from him, instead you just let out a soft groan of annoyance, crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“That's very kind of you, but I have to decline your offer.” You replied, watching him shake his head in irritation. “Besides, you can only get those pills with a doctor's prescription.”

Patrick just shrugged and put the pills back on the kitchen counter.

“That's not a problem,” he quickly straightened his red tie before stepping closer to you. “I have one of the best therapists in the city.”

“Uh-huh, and the pharmacy you go to is probably one of the best, too?”

He grinned. “Sure, I usually get my meds from the one on Broadway.”

“Good for you.”

You started to saunter away from him, but his hands caught you faster than you could react. The next thing you knew, Bateman was holding you tightly against his tall, broad frame, looking down at you with obvious concern.

“Cupcake,” he murmured in a sweet voice, tracing a finger along your cheek. “I just want to help.”

Damn, this man only had to touch you a little bit and you were already lost in him. 

“Patrick, you don't have to. I—” You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence because your lips were sealed by his. 

Completely defenseless and vulnerable — that was how you felt right now, and it seemed as if he could feel it as the kiss grew deeper and more intense with each passing moment. Cautiously, you rested your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to the lapels of his suit, fumbling with the soft material and feeling the ground disappearing beneath your feet.

It was already too much.

Only when you were both breathless did Patrick decide to break the kiss, but his arms were still wrapped around your waist, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage. 

“You were involved in all this because of me," he paused and leaned down to you again, letting your noses rub against each other. This little physical contact made your heart flutter. “And you really made me worry.”

Bateman said it so quickly, as if he wasn't even thinking properly at that moment. Embarrassed, you shrugged a bit in his arms. No matter how hard you tried to believe this man, all you could think about now was whether you were trapped in his other manipulative, mind games.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your fingertips and the next second you pulled your hand away as if you got burned. “Anyway, it’s late already and you probably have some more interesting stuff to do.”

His soft chuckling was annoying but pleasant to hear. “You’re not quite hospitable, aren’t you?”

Eventually, he let you go and stepped aside, unbuttoning his jacket — that scene caused your pulse to race. 

“What are you doing?” “What does it look like?”

You crossed your arms and sighed. “Patrick, I really appreciate your help and… the show was really cool, but I doubt I would ever go back to that place again.” Damn it, did you actually say that?

After Bateman removed his jacket, he carefully put it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tucked his sleeves. 

“You’re welcome,” he beamed with a cocky smile. “I thought you would offer me some tea, coffee or something?”

“I doubt I have anything good to your taste,” slowly, you turned away from him, as an unpleasant feeling of shame struck you right through your chest. “Mmm, I can only offer you mineral water but it’s not Apollinaris.”

“Oh, dear,” he crooned and suddenly hugged you from behind. “I didn’t expect you to have Apollinaris. Honestly.”

Gasping barely audibly, you covered his arms on your waist with your own arms and cocked your head to meet his brown eyes and for God’s sake, why did he always look so tempting, so captivating, so… magnetizing?

With a sharp breath, you managed to avoid another kiss he planned to pull you into, and it coaxed a low growl of disappointment to erupt from his half-opened lips which were so intended to collapse with yours. 

“Patrick,” you gulped when he nuzzled against your neck, leaving small wet marks along your sensitive skin. “Please, stop. Let me just bring you some water and I want to relax a bit, after… after everything that happened.”

It was kinda unexpected that Bateman decided to let you go as easy as that without even trying to overpower you like he always does.

“And what do you do to relax?"

“Hot bath.” You responded without looking at him. Annoyed, you stumbled past him to grab the meds he was inspecting a few minutes ago, and then you opened the fridge to take out the bottle of mineral water. As soon as you started to pour the water into the most beautiful glass you had, you noticed his persistent stare, which made you almost spill the water onto the kitchen counter. “What?”

“These pills are no good for you, (y/n),” his anxious tone was very unnatural, you didn’t even remember him sounding like this ever before. “Stop being stubborn.”

With a small thud, you put the glass on the table next to him and replied a bit aggressively: "I don't think they're worse than coke."

At first, Bateman just gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a quick sip of the mineral water, trying as hard as he could to play cool.

“Thanks.” Was all he said and that was actually not the reaction you have expected.

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for some seconds and none of you wanted to continue this conversation, but once you tried to move his hand (that was wrapped around your forearm), his low voice engulfed you like a hot steam.

“Cupcake, I just want to make sure you won’t do anything bad.” “W-what do you mean?” You frowned in confusion and glanced at his hand before you raised your eyes to his perfect face. “Patrick, I suffer from panic attacks… not the things you're thinking of.”

“Then, go take a bath and I’ll leave after that.”

“But I’m not a child,” the more you were trying to resist him, the more your body was yearning for his touch, his large palm on your back was enough to make you forget how to breathe. “You don't owe me anything, this is my problem and I’ll handle this, just like I was doing it before.”

“To be fair, your behavior only shows how immature you are,” he crooned and traced a long, sensible line along your spine. “But, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re overwhelmed.”

At some point, you found yourself tired from trying to convince him to leave you alone, so you just nodded and quickly took your sedative before heading to the bathroom under his attentive gaze. After all, even if you even attempted to make him go away you would fail because compared to him you were so small and weak — Patrick had power over you in all ways, and he knew that. 

You were trapped in your own flat, what nonsense.

In a few minutes, you were sitting in the bath and letting the warm water bring you some relief, just like it always did. Affected by sedatives, you didn’t even remember whether you closed the bathroom door or not, but being honest, you didn’t really care, because even if Patrick came here he wouldn’t see anything new. 

The bitter aftertaste of what happened made you feel like shit, and you really didn't know how to find a way out from it. As if it was not enough for you to be dependent on Patrick (you owe him a lot of money), now you gave him more weaknesses that he could potentially use against you. 

Excellent!

Hugging your knees, you burst in tears — salty tears that were falling into the water, leaving small circles on it. Before now, you didn’t even realize how devastated you were. You closed your eyes for a second and you drifted off almost instantly, and with each passing moment, your body was submerging into the water more and more.

Meanwhile, Bateman was sitting on the little couch in your living room, which he suddenly found pretty cozy, though he checked if everything was clean enough before he dared to take a seat. Did he really think that people outside Manhattan used to live in dirty, trashy apartments? Well, maybe he did, since he didn’t even remember when was the last time he was in such places.

Ever since you left, Patrick had been fighting the temptation to go through your things to find something interesting, which he would of course use for his own interests. But instead, he picked up one of your books from the coffee table, and as he did so, a small piece of paper fell out. Squinting suspiciously, Bateman leaned down to grab it, only to almost crumple it when he saw your handwriting —  the paper was completely covered with your notes, and they were all the same phrase — "If I want to be loved as I am, I have to be willing to love others as they are." Patrick couldn't count how many times you had written that, but each line he read evoked something strange in him — the unraveling feeling that urged him to rip the paper, to crumple it. Is it compassion that he was so afraid of?

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bateman took a deep breath and put the paper back in the book, no matter how much he wanted to destroy it or forget what he had just read. After that, he checked his Rolex and noticed that it had been quite a while since you had left. Slowly, he got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. His 'sixth sense' had never failed him before, so he decided to rely on it and check on you.

Patrick didn’t knock once he noticed that the door was not closed, he just stepped in, looking for you.

“Cupcake, are you—”

A chilling shock swept over him when he saw only the top of your head above the water. Without a second thought, he ran across the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub to pull you out of the water, and the moment he did, you began to cough, clinging to his arms and desperately gasping for air.

“Pat-Patrick,” you were shaking so badly, so he had to hold you in one place, pressing you against his solid chest. “I don’t know how that happened… I… I didn’t want this I—” “Shh, (y/n),” Bateman cooed at you in order to calm you down, but he wasn't any less scared than you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Trembling, you looked up at him — your eyes so red from tears, your heart beating like a broken alarm-clock. “I think I ruined your suit… I’m so sorry!”

Appalled, you tried to break free but Patrick didn’t let you move, his strong arms were holding you like tight ropes. Damn, he was so angry — he could sense his blood boiling inside his veins, forcing his jaw to clench in a silent growl. He was so fucking mad at himself. 

How could he let this happen? 

As this question ran through his bewildered mind, he froze in fear. He didn't know if he was talking about letting you nearly drown in your own bathtub or letting you take roots on his broken soul. Maybe that was the reason you two had bonded, two broken souls seeking for something that would stop their pain, something that would bring them freedom from a burdened life. But how could he help you when every day he was fighting his dark side, the side you didn't know about yet? The side he wished you would never meet.

Never.

"God... I'm so stupid." You cried out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. 

"Shh," Bateman husked, cupping your face. "Stop talking!" He sighed and looked into your blurry eyes, breathing so heavily that it was almost painful. "Just don't say anything right now."

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the sedative had a side effect on you, but as soon as he tried to pull you out of the tub completely, your hand slipped down his chest to his groin — your sneaky fingers instantly playing with the buckle of his belt, causing a shaky groan to escape his lips. Dazed, you moved your hand lower to feel the outline of his thick cock getting harder under your touch, but as you were about to unzip his pants, his firm hand stopped you, confusing your cloudy mind and inducing you to raise your eyes to meet his. He could swear no one had ever looked at him like that — so innocently, yet so sinfully. 

"Cupcake, you don't want this," Patrick murmured, removing your hand. "Trust me."

"I do want this!" You replied in a trembling voice, pouting like a child.

"You're so fucking lost right now, you just don't understand," he manhandled you out of the tub and you almost punched him in his beautiful face, but Bateman paid no attention to your attempt to hit him. "Towels, where are they?"

Huffing, he lifted you up, and only then did you calm down, wrapping your hands and legs around him as securely as you could, like you were afraid of falling off the roof of the skyscraper. 

After you pointed at the bathroom counter, Bateman carefully moved towards it to take some big, white towel and wrap it around you — he was drying you off so gently and attentively, it almost made you cry again. 

Emotions were overtaking you.

Patrick didn't even say a word when he was done, he just got another dry towel and swaddled you in it like in a cocoon before carrying you out of the bathroom bridal style. Somehow, he managed to find the way to your bedroom, but once he saw your bed, he scowled and remarked: “Jesus, this bed is so small.”

“I love my bed.” You murmured in reply, hugging his neck and pressing yourself closer against his warm body.

Bateman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement, giving you a brief forehead kiss and sitting you down on the bed. As soon as you lost physical contact with him, you leaned on your elbows, watching him turn around and walk away.

“Patrick! Please, don’t go!” 

Your words echoed inside his head like the most sacred plea, they made him stop and looked in your direction. “I need to remove my clothes since they’re pretty damp,” he checked himself, with a visible disgust on his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good girl, and just wait for me here, okay?”

“Fine.” You mumbled and took the plushy bunny which was resting on your bed next to you.

This scene made him chuckle before he left your bedroom. Now you were completely alone with your thoughts, they didn't wait a second to start eating you from the inside again. With your eyes closed, you lay on your back and began to count.

One, two, three…

What if he lied saying that he would return? Gosh, you wanted him to leave the moment you came here, so why were you getting so upset thinking about him leaving you alone just as you asked him for?

Four, five, six…

The inner voice kept reminding you how many times Patrick has hurt you, how many times he made you cry, how many times you felt like a toy in his hands. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hands against your head to stop thinking.

Seven, eight, nine…

How many times have you promised yourself that you would break out from this circle of lies, pain and suffering? 

“Stop it!” You whimpered, shutting your eyes as firm as you could until the tears started to form.

Ten.

“Stop what?” His voice — it was like a lifeline, like a light in the end of the tunnel, it was everything you needed here and now.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his almost naked form, namely his toned tiddies and his mouth watering V-line, not to mention his perfect abs and the small trail of hair below his navel.

“For one second I thought you would just leave.” You looked into his hazel eyes, which were partly covered by his messy, brown hair.

“In wet clothes?” He giggled and stepped closer to your bed. It was so hard to ignore the bulge in his tight white underwear, but you tried your best not to stare at it. “Feeling better?"

“Yes, I think y-yes,” you swallowed hard when Bateman sat on the edge of your small bed and drew an invisible line across your ankle. “Can I… ask you for something?”

“You can try.” His voice got lower, sending shivers down your spine.

Panting, you uncovered yourself, putting the towel aside and letting him admire the view of your beautiful body, a pleasure he gladly took, his thirsty eyes roaming all over your curves, especially your full breasts and your inviting neck.

“What do you want, Cupcake?” His hand slides up to your hip, teasing the sensitive skin and making you gasp from need. “Tell me.”

“I need you,” you bit your lower lip, frowning from how embarrassed you were. “I n-need you more than ever.”

With no rush, Bateman bent down to your belly to press a brief kiss which elicited a soft moan to fall from your shaky throat. “Show me where you need me.”

You were about to lost it at any second, as the mind-blowing passion was crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, and you didn’t even know if you would survive this. 

Could that be the moment of no return for both of you?

Stifling a moan, you took his big palm and guided between your opened legs – the sound of his fingers sliding along your oozed folds made you arched your back and you thought your heart would break out from your chest. Your heavy breathes filled up the room, and once you felt his hot lips on your mound, you nearly squeaked, creasing the sheets beneath you.

Patrick was enjoying every second of this moment, savoring the taste of your skin, reveling in all your little salacious noises when he encircled his arms around your legs and swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit.

That was the last drop of your resistance and you couldn't control it anymore, throwing your head back and mewling sensually: “Mmhm, Daddy…! You make me f-feel so good.”

“Are you sure you want this?” His sudden question pierced through your head like an electric pulse.

Gulping, you got up a bit to look down at him, his cheeks, neck and shoulders were already flushed, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were as dark as night.

“Yes,” you responded shortly, feeling a tight knot forming inside your lower abdomen just from being so close to his face. “Taste me, Daddy, please… I want to get lost… in you.”

“I see,” he said, hovering over you for a moment to grab the plushy bunny, then handing it to you with a mischievous grin. "Little girls always keep their favorite toys close?”

As soon as you held the bunny, Bateman got back to his previous position, fondling your hips here and there, then he kissed your inner thigh and put your legs together before bending them and pressing against your chest.

“Stay like that.”

After saying that, he brushed away his wavy locks, spit on your pussy and made several, barely sensible, strokes along your bundle of nerves, his sturdy arms were holding your legs to fixate you in one place as his ministrations were making it hard for you to stay still.

“Awww, P-Patrick,” you keened and squeezed the plush toy in your hand, feeling so dirty yet so high from the way his wet tongue was painting various ornaments on your taut lower lips. “I’m gonna faint…”

“Mmm,” he moaned against your feverish little bud before he took it inside his mouth, sucking it so deliciously that your eyes rolled back into your head, your inner walls were already spasming. “You’re my sweet little Cupcake.”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

Slurping at your soaked cunt, Bateman let you rest your legs on his shoulders and pull on his brown hair as you wanted to bring him even closer, moving your hips towards his face. God, you were such a wet moaning mess and when he shoved his long fingers inside of your dripping slit, you lost connection with reality and ascended to the apex of ecstasy.

His fingers were moving inside and outside of you like a clock-work, so smoothly and fast, since he knew your body so perfectly, it was quite simple for him to find your spongy G - spot. Once he started to stimulate it, your toes began to curve and your whole body was jolting as if you were hit by the eclectic shock.

The moment of your orgasm was as astonishing and relieving as a sip of water in the arid desert. But even after you cummed, Patrick didn’t stop eating you out, fingering you harder, so your juices were gashing around your sweaty bodies, the sheets beneath you were already wet and you didn’t know how you would live tomorrow when he leaves you.

“Mmmmh, I’mma cum again, D-Daddy!” You whimpered, squirming around the bed and pressing the plushy bunny against your face as you were on the verge of tears – overstimulation hitting pretty hard.

Bateman only growled in response and stuffed your soaked pussy with another finger, rhythmically swirling his hot tongue around your throbbing tip while his sneaky hand traced up along your shivering body to grope one of your breasts and pinch your engorged nipple.

“Ahhh— GOSH…! Pat—” Your voice cracked as you cummed so hard all around his face that your wetness was literally running down his chin. But he didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered for him was bringing you as much pleasure as he could.

Even when he was panting heavily against your abused cunt, and he almost couldn't feel his fingers anymore, he continued to lap at your cleft. By that moment your legs were looped around his head and you couldn’t stop twitching even for a second, with each lick he sent millions of tingles to your lower belly.

“Daddy, it’s t-too much… I can’t take it any longer.” You felt so goddamn sensitive, and your body was like jelly at this point.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned in a raspy voice after he pulled on your clit with a nasty squeal. “You can give Daddy another one, can't you baby? For me, please?"

This time Patrick buried his tongue as deep inside your womb as he could, licking you from the inside out. He repeated the motion, making you climax countless times in a row, until your little frame couldn't bear it anymore. Soon, you drifted off with a smile of joy on your face, holding the plushy bunny close to your chest. Long time ago that toy was your only friend, but now it seemed like you have become a toy yourself. But unlike the plush bunny, it was obvious that you weren't the only toy for your owner.

Why did it hurt so good to be alive?

[To be continued.]

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.

💗💗💗

I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

a real bed

arthur morgan x female reader

summary: You’re tired. Arthur’s been gone. When he leaves you to spend another night alone, he works to make it up to you and show you exactly what you deserve. wc: 3.4k warnings: TB-doesn’t-exist au, some light/non-graphic smut note: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY @margowritesthings​​! I loved the princess treatment prompt, I hope this is full of the fluff (and smut) you were looking for! thank you to @rdrevents​​​​​ for hosting the valentine gift exchange!

“Carrots are done,” you slide the last of the vegetables into the pot and wipe your hands on your apron.

Pearson grunts, and you accept it as the most you’ll get for a thank you. “Stew is going to be light on the meat again. Where is that man of yours?”

“He’s not…my man.” You don’t look at him when you say it, heat flaring in your face at the words. You know who he refers to, but you and Arthur still felt new. It was no secret, you admit, and after years of pining it was nice to have your affections returned. But as you fill a pail of water for the girls’ washing up, craning your neck to look over the short bridge to Shady Belle, you can see Arthur’s horse is still missing. “I don’t know where he is.”

Keep reading

W.I.D

The following content does not limit the type of requests I accept. If there is a topic or character that is not listed, but you wish to have included feel free to ask! If I’m ever uncomfortable with something I will simply deny the request.

HIGHLIGHTED names are my personal favorite characters. 

WRITING

Fluff

Smut

Angst

Yandere

Violence

Dub-Con

Polyamory

OTHER

Fancasts

Writing Tips

Script Creation

Character Building

CHARACTERS

HORROR

The Boy

Brahms Heelshire

The Quarry

Abigail Blyg

Emma Mountebank

Jacob Custos

Laura Kearney

Max Brinley

Ryan Erzahler

Travis Hackett

The Lost Boys

David

Dwayne

Marko

Michael

Paul

House of Wax

Bo Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface)

Halloween

Michael Myers

Scream

Billy Loomis

Randy Meeks

Stu Macher

American Horror Story

James Patrick March

Jimmy Darling

Yellowjackets

Lottie Matthews

Misty Quigley

Natalie Scatorccio

Shauna Sadecki

Taissa Turner

Van Palmer

SCI-FI

The Boys

A-Train

Billy Butcher

Black Noir

Frenchie

Homelander

Hughie Campbell

Kimiko Miyashiro

Mother's Milk

Queen Maeve

Soldier Boy

Starlight

Detroit: Become Human

Chloe

Conner

Gavin Reed

Hank Anderson

Josh

Kara

Luther

Markus

North

Ralph

Rk600 (Sixty)

RK900 (Nines)

Simon

Fallout

Fallout 4

Deacon

John Hancock

Nick Valentine

Paladin Danse

Piper Shaw

Preston Garvey

Robert MacCready

Fallout (series)

Aspirant Dane

Chet

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul)

Knight Maximus

Lucy MacClean

Norm MacLean

Alien vs Predator

coming soon!

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon

Eugene Porter

James Cameron’s Avatar

Eetu

Lyle Wainfleet

Mansk

Miles Quaritch

Nor

So’lek

Teylan

Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan

SUPERNATURAL

TVD Verse

Bonnie Bennett

Caroline Forbes

Damon Salvatore

Elena Gilbert

Elijah Mikaelson

Finn Mikaelson

Jeremy Gilbert

Katherine Pierce

Kol Mikaelson

Niklaus Mikaelson

Rebekah Mikaelson

Stefan Salvatore

FANTASY

Baldur’s Gate 3

Astarion Ancunín

Dammon

Gale Dekarios

Halsin

Karlach Cliffgate

Lae’zel

Raphael

Rolan

Shadowheart

Wyll Ravengard

Zevlor

REALISM

Red Dead Redemption II

Albert Mason

Arthur Morgan

Charles Smith

Dutch Van Der Linde

Flaco Hernández

Javier Escuella

John Marston

Kieran Duffy

Sadie Adler

Call of Duty

John Price

John “Soap” MacTavish

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Grand Theft Auto

Franklin Clinton

Michael De Santa

Trevor Philips

Outer Banks

Pope Heyward

Rafe Cameron

Sarah Cameron

Topper Thornton

W.I.D.D

Notes :: There may be some things on these lists that are debatable. If they are something I’m willing to write under certain circumstances then it will be ITALICEZED.

WRITING

Racism

Ableism

Ageplay

Underage

Homophobia

Transphobia

Character x Character (w/o reader)

CHARACTERS

Bubba Sawyer

Freddy Krueger

Pennywise

Familiar

Ghostface (Billy Loomis) x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: You've been having a shameful relationship with a certain Woodsboro slasher. One night, during a particularly passionate encounter, you discover who it actually is you’ve been spending time with.

Warnings: Smut, you don’t know you’re fucking Billy so I guess elements of non-con

“Guys come on! So what if I’m a virgin, I mean it’s normal!” Randy sat on the concrete ledge, fighting for his life against the vultures that are Stu and Billy. They cackled and fist bumped, turning back towards Randy to listen to him dig himself deeper into the virginity hole.

You overheard this conversation as you walked towards the group, lunch tray in hand and backpack slung over one shoulder, making it ache. Stu and Tatum sat furthest to the right, as usual, on top of eachother, kissing and touching, Tatum sitting on his lap. Then Sydney to their left, then Billy beside her, chewing on some apple slices Syd had brought. Randy sat furthest to the right, a few feet away from Billy. You strode over, plopping down between Billy and Randy. “What’s everyone arguing about?” You asked with a smile, also silently questioning if your school chicken sandwich would give you salmonella.

Stu laughed, tossing a chocolate in his mouth. “We just figured out that ol’ stunner Randy Meeks here is a virgin.” He threw a candy towards Randy, making him swat it away and flip Stu off. You were conflicted. You could take Randy’s side and say you were too, but that’d be a lie. If you said you weren’t a virgin, then everyone would ask who you’d slept with, because you told Syd and Tatum that you were a virgin. They’d know it happened recently, and you couldn’t exactly tell them you’d been meeting with a certain ghost-faced serial killer.

You shrugged. “Me too.” With a sneer, you peeled the bun back to reveal a questionably pink looking breaded piece of chicken. “You want this?” You held the burger out to Stu, who snatched it up and began to scarf it down like he hadn’t eaten in a month, which left you with a few bland, soggy french fries.

“A-HA!” Randy pointed an accusatory finger at Billy. “Told you! Totally normal to be a virgin. Just cause you're used to seeing movies where every single teenager is having sex doesn’t mean that-“

“It’s not the movies, Spielberg.” Billy interrupted. “Most of the people I know - in this school - aren’t virgins.”

You made eye contact with Billy, just now realizing that he was staring you down, deep brown eyes burning holes into yours. Trying to play off how nervous you were around him, you rolled your eyes. “What’s the big deal, Billy? Being a virgin isn’t embarrassing.”

Billy dropped the apple slice he was eating, leaning closer to you. Something in his eyes looked right through you. It looked like he knew all of your secrets, every little thing you’ve done in the dark. You tensed and backed up, biting half of your cardboard-like fry. “What?” You asked defensively, trying to get him to back off.

He didn’t say a word for a few seconds, staring at you with the same blank expression. “You’re really a virgin, huh?”

Did he know? How could he possibly know? Did EVERYONE know? You started to panic internally, but kept it cool on the outside. “Yes! I don’t know what the big deal is. Just because I haven’t found someone yet doesn’t mean I’m a loser or something.”

“Yeah right! You’re a total loser!” Stu yelled, finishing your sandwich. “I can’t believe a hottie like you is a virgin! Maybe you and Randy can fuck, get it over with.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. You threw a fry at him, but it missed him, unlike Tatum’s slap on the chest, “Ugh, Stu don’t be gross.” She whined.

Randy’s face was bright red. You always thought he might have a little thing for you, but you’d pretty much had your eyes on Billy ever since high school started. You were glad to be his friend, but when he started dating one of your best friends, Syd, you couldn’t help but be consumed completely with jealousy. She knew you’d had a crush on him a little bit, and still dated him. You convinced her you were over it. Girl code, y’know?

“I’m not rushing to not be a virgin. I’m fine with it.” You said matter-of-factly and ate another fry. Billy scoffed, leaning back against his hands, which earned him a glare from both you and Sydney. You had no clue why he was being so rude about this, he couldn’t know. The bell rang out, signaling both the terrible start of your Algebra class and the blissful end of this conversation. “See you guys later.” You mumbled, taking your tray with you as you left.

The alarm clock beside you read 12:36 AM. You had been reading next to your lamp at your desk for a while, procrastinating your homework long enough to where it hopefully disappeared. With a yawn and an ache behind your eyes you decided it was bedtime. As you stood up to turn your lamp off, you jumped at the sound of your phone ringing. Your body had an immediate response, like Pavlov’s dogs. A phone call late at night usually meant a visit from your favorite ghost.

You picked up the line. “Hello?” You asked, a small smile tugging at your lips as you mindlessly chewed on your fingernail.

“Hi pretty girl…” his sultry voice had you hot in your cool bedroom, cheeks turning pink. “Your blinds are closed. I thought I told you to keep those open.”

“Sorry.” You said softly. “It was hot today…” you walked towards your curtains and moved them to the side, standing in the window.

A hearty chuckle sounded from over the line. “There she is…wearing my favorite shirt…good girl…”

You looked down at the tank top you had on, pink, simple, but low cut and revealing. Perfect for bed and, apparently, Ghostface. With it, you wore a pair of plain black lounge shorts that fit loose around your thighs.

“I’m in a hurry tonight, princess so get to it.” He said quickly, “Is the window unlocked like I told you?”

You nodded, big enough for him to see from his usual spot in the yard. You decided to listen to the man, getting to work. You set the phone down for just a second, quickly taking your shirt off. You had no bra, so he had a full unobstructed view of your tits he loved so much. You picked up the phone again and heard a small groan from him. “Attagirl…”

You shimmied your shorts off your legs, pleased that you had worn panties he liked, your girliest ones, purple with a little gemstone heart on the waistband.

“It’s almost like you knew I was coming, pretty girl.”

You bit your lip, leaning in closer to the window. “Come inside already…” You whispered needily, voice almost trembling from your desperation.

One minute your yard was empty, normal. The picture of suburban bliss. The next, it was overtaken by the shadow of a brutal, ruthless killer, threatening aura filling the whole yard. He should scare you, but your body had a visceral reaction to him. Face hot, skin tingling, panties wet. You wanted him every single night like you’d never wanted anything before, and seeing him was like lighting a fire in your chest. It was borderline humiliating how bad you needed him.

You slid the window open, screen discarded weeks ago, and you waited with vibrating skin. You watched his gloved hands grip the window sill, strong arms pulling him up into your childhood bedroom. Maybe that was part of the appeal. He was so forbidden, having a secret relationship in your home with a man like him was so hot to you.

There he stood in all his glory, black boots heavy on your white rug. He was on you in seconds, hands wandering, grabbing your tits hard with one, the other pushing your panties down. “So wet already.” He growled. His voice close-up was weird, but something you’d gotten used to. You knew he was using a voice changer, it crackled very once in a while and you could hear another voice in tandem with his deep, modulated one. His real voice. You couldn’t hear it well enough to know who it was, but you liked hearing it anyway.

You nodded, breathless, backing up to your bed while pulling him at the bicep with you. You laid back, and he slid your panties off the rest of the way, slipping them into his back pocket. That made your face flame red. The fact that he wanted to keep your wet panties was insane to you, made you feel hot, made you feel wanted. It made you feel like he needed you as bad as you needed him.

“Please…” you whined, pulling on his cloak as he stepped between your legs.

“Needy, huh? Such a pretty girl shouldn’t be acting like such a slut.” He snapped, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. His gloved hands trailed up the smooth skin of your inner thighs, stopping at the apex to admire the way you looked in the low warm light of your bedroom.

He slid his glove off, something he’s never done before. You looked down quickly at his hand, but a firm grip on your jaw slammed you back down to the bed. “No peeking, princess.”

You nodded, finally feeling his skin on yours. His touch felt so much better than the rough material of his gloves. Based on the glance you got, his hands were big, but smooth. Something you didn’t expect from him. You expected rough and dirty hands, not soft and manicured fingers.

All of your pensive thoughts were scrambled when you felt his finger push inside of you, quite easily with how wet you were at this point. He groaned at the feeling of your warm insides, eager to be inside you. A second finger slid in beside the first, curling upwards against the soft spot he knew got a reaction from you. You tensed, legs spreading further with a whine at his touch.

Warmth spread over your legs and belly, up to your chest and face. His fingers squelched as he fucked them into you, curled upwards at every right moment. Your bedsheets felt so soft against your hands as you gripped onto them, eyes closed and mouth open, wanton moans escaping you. While you weren’t focused, he slid a hand underneath his cloak, palming himself through his jeans.

He grumbled something softly, something you didn’t hear.

“Huh?” You asked, that small word the only thing you could muster between moans.

“Wanna taste you.” He said louder, grinding his hips into his hand. “You're gonna be a good girl and keep your eyes shut, okay?” He asked, but you felt a threatening undertone present in his words. You nodded quickly, but whined when his fingers left you. You felt yourself clench around nothing,feeling empty without him inside you.

You shut your eyes tightly, hearing him move to the window to shut the curtain. Your hands were clammy as they pressed over your eyes, you had to make sure you wouldn’t peek. You wanted to see what he looked like, but didn’t want to end up in the paper as the newest Ghostface victim.

For a minute, you waited, then suddenly, an eruption of pleasure as you felt his mouth on you, tongue running up your clit, hands pressing your thighs down against the bed. Without even thinking about it, your hands flew down to grip his hair. He didn’t seem to mind. You tried to gather what little information you could from the feeling. He felt sweaty, but his hair was soft, a little bit longer. But that’s all you could gather. You scrunched your face to emphasize the fact that your eyes were closed.

He sucked your clit into his mouth as two large fingers pushed inside of you. You let out a loud moan, mouth hanging open and back arching up off of the bed. “Holy shit…” you moaned, tightening your grip on his hair. He groaned, squeezing your thighs tight with his bare hands, to your delight, both gloves were off. He was becoming way more comfortable with you.

You felt yourself get close, you felt tingles on your thighs and up your waist, all the way up to your arms. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, you felt so good and you couldn’t think straight. At that moment, you wanted to see him. You needed to know who he was. Desperately, you wanted to kiss him.

“I’m…I…” you whined.

“You’re gonna cum?” He asked, voice breathy with small pants. You tensed up. His voice changer wasn’t on. He sounded so familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it. It was bugging you, but you couldn’t focus on it too long as your orgasm overtook your body, gushing over his fingers and legs trembling as a damn near shriek left your mouth. You felt like you couldn’t see, your ears were ringing and you felt like you had just been beat up. You decided to look. You had to. His voice. You knew him.

You opened your eyes to see the man you’d been fucking the last few weeks. His lips and chin glistening with your cum, face flushed and soft pants escaping his plumped lips, hair sweaty and tousled from your pulling, falling in front of those gorgeous brown eyes.

You couldn’t believe it. You stared in shock. “….B-Billy?”

❛ 0X81=JUST OURS ˖ 𖥔  ָ࣪ ❜

PAIRING: WOLFSTAR X FEM!READER

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

GENRE: ANGST & FLUFF

Sirius and Remus never really denied being possessive of you. You were theirs, just as they were yours. It was as simple as that. On most occasions, they couldn’t stand pairs of eyes ogling their girlfriend. The eyes that looked at you with lust and longing, and while that did aggravate your two boyfriends, they relished in the glints of envy held in the eyes of others.

They claimed you were only theirs—to look at, to touch, to love. They made it clear on every occasion, especially Sirius. Sirius was something of an exhibitionist; he enjoyed behaving extravagantly around every boy who even dared to spare a glance at his girl. He proudly stole you away, pressing a firm kiss on your lips, quite unlike Remus, who simply wrapped his arm around your waist, staring them down.

You had told them a day ago that Derek Edwards, funnily enough, a very intelligent Ravenclaw boy, asked you to help him on his potions essay. While you were skilled in potions, Derek was too, stirring up suspicion between Remus and Sirius.

Of course, it’s not as if they didn’t trust you, but Derek had a reputation amongst the students of Hogwarts. Incredibly funny, smart, not to mention, handsome. It was no surprise to them if he went after you, equally, if not more beautiful than him. Absolutely perfect in everyone’s eyes.

Of course, it’s not as if they didn’t trust you, but Derek had a reputation amongst the students of Hogwarts. Incredibly funny, smart, not to mention, handsome. It was no surprise to them if he went after you, equally, if not more beautiful than him. Absolutely perfect in everyone’s eyes.

And their suspicions were right. While you were doing your best to help Derek, his gaze remained on you, fixating on your lips and chest, mindlessly nodding to whatever you’d say.

Sirius scoffed bitterly, bouncing his knee almost frantically, staring at the Ravenclaw’s utter desire for you. “Fuckin’ look at him, Moony.” He spits bitterly. “Look at the way he fuckin’ looks at her.”

Remus inhales sharply, breaking his glare from Derek to you. His eyes softened as he scanned your face, looking for any particular fondness or affection. His lips pursed as he watched you laugh shyly, probably at a compliment given to you by the light-haired boy.

“C’mon love, you can’t deny it! You’re the smartest girl in our year, not to mention the prettiest.” Derek purred, resting his hand on your knee.

You shook your head, laughing as he continued his attempts to fluster you. “You’re too kind, Derek.” You smiled at him genuinely. The possibility of another good friend warmed your chest, and Derek’s essay was long gone. You discovered you and him had similar interests, liking most of the same books and the occasional muggle TV Shows.

Of course, what you didn’t know was that Derek was nodding carelessly to everything you mentioned, flickering his eyes from your lips to the frame of your body, and finally, the hand of his stroking your knee.

Remus felt his stomach churn at the sight of your smile; towards a boy that wasn’t him or Sirius. He gripped his quill tightly, swallowing hard as he tried his best to take his eyes off you. The full moon was approaching and he couldn’t risk doing something rash, especially when it concerns topics as sensitive as you.

Sirius on the other hand was practically losing his mind, eyes bulging from his sockets as he noticed Derek’s hand on your knee. He slowly felt the demon inside consume every inch of his body, burning away the remaining logic and reason within his heart. All that was left was resentment and hatred towards the boy sitting beside you.

“Fuck—Moony—I can’t fucking do this—look at the gits fuckin’ hand!” He whispered harshly, glaring at Remus who found the scars on his hands particularly interesting.

Remus tried to resist, but his ears pricked up at your sudden giggle. He stiffened, snapping his neck up to where Sirius was pointing, and—fuck—he was right.

Remus’ heart sped up at the sight of his hand, but what broke his heart, even more, was that you haven't peeled it off. He willed his hands to stop shaking as he fixed his eyes on your frame.

Internally, he knew how oblivious you were. It was harder than any potions exam he’s ever taken, attempting to prove his interest in you. Though, with the full moon being three days away, every irrational thought he’s ever had plagued his mind. His heart almost ached, the thought of Derek being smarter, perhaps even more handsome was too much to bear.

Remus’ thoughts were interrupted by the sharp scrape of Sirius’ chair against the hardwood floor of the Hogwarts library. Fully prepared to show Derek Edwards who you belonged to, he took one step before he was harshly pulled back by Remus.

Sirius’ eyes hardened and narrowed into slits as he looked up at the lanky boy. “The fuck, Remus?” Remus kept a firm grip on Sirius’ wrist, one that was almost painful. His eyes never left the back of your head as he spoke quietly to Sirius. “Don’t, Pads.”

Sirius’ lip quivered as he searched Remus’ eyes. “Godric, Moony—have you forgotten who Y/N fuckin’ belongs to? Have you forgotten she’s ours? The way that—thing—is looking at our girl?” He spat.

Remus’ voice was calm and collected, quite the contrary to the furious beating of his heart. “You’ll do something you’ll regret. You know she gets attention. I’m sure we have nothing to worry about.” He tried.

Sirius looked at his boyfriend, absolutely appalled. He huffed, looking at you once more before tugging his hand away from Remus’ tight grip. “Fine. But I wanna get out of here. I’ll lose my shit if I look at Edwards ugly face again.” Remus rolled his eyes, and couldn’t help but wish he agreed.

Sirius frantically packed up his bag before slinging it over his shoulder, tugging Remus along, storming away right in front of you.

As you and Derek laughed amongst yourselves, your eyes lightened up at the familiar giants walking past you. “Remus! Sirius! Hey!” You called happily.

Remus froze, looking at Sirius who turned around to meet your eyes. Remus reluctantly did the same, softening at the sight of your smile and hand, eagerly waving at them.

He broke his gaze from you as Sirius tugged his hand, muttering a quiet, “Let’s go, Moony.” Remus nodded hesitantly, looking blankly at you once more before following the shorter boy, not acknowledging your presence besides a mere glance.

Derek narrowed his eyes at them before beaming down at you, seemingly happy by their lack of response. You on the other hand were purely confused. The boys usually wouldn’t waste a second before greeting you with a hug and kiss.

You furrowed your eyebrows, watching them walk away from the library. They probably went to the great hall, you thought, frowning to yourself.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Derek’s hand squeezing your thigh. You jumped, staring at his hand in bewilderment. When did that happen? You glanced at the boy beside you and shifted away from him, suddenly feeling a flood of dread overcome you by the foreign hand on your thigh.

“Oh, uh, Derek.” You cleared your throat as he hummed, smiling slyly down at you. “Dinner’s approaching, let’s finish off things here, alright?” You watched his smile drop before reluctantly nodding. “Oh! Of course.” He grinned.

You nodded slightly before standing up to back your things quickly. You were in a rush to see your boys, they acted so strange minutes ago. Besides, you missed them quite a lot.

Now that the tutoring session was over, you were practically free for the next week. Perhaps a couple of trips to Hogsmeade, you thought, now excited as ever to propose the idea to your boyfriends.

Without sparing a glance or even saying goodbye to Derek, you took off, rushing through the corridors of the school to make it to the great hall, where you presumed Remus and Sirius would be.

Alas, you were right. There they sat, eating quietly, occasionally nodding at James as he howled in laughter. Your eyes lit up as you skipped over to where they were, taking a seat on the wooden bench beside Sirius.

“Sirius!” You cheered, setting your bag down. You smiled at Remus, who only spared you one glance before gesturing to Sirius, who nodded back.

Together, they both stood up and sat on the other side of James, quite far from you. Your heart sank at their actions, watching as they refused to acknowledge you, which was quite strange, as you hadn't done anything wrong, at least, not that you could recall.

Perhaps leaving them alone was the best thing, and the full moon was approaching soon too, so maybe they just wanted to protect you and keep you away, you thought.

A sudden voice in your head erupts. Those are just excuses, it whispers, they’re sick of you. They’ve come to their senses.

Your eyes sting with tears, though you blink them away, shakily exhaling before standing up and walking out of the hall, ignoring the questioning looks from Lily and Marlene.

What you fail to notice is the sinking of Remus’ heart, who droops his shoulders and hangs his head low, feeling a burst of guilt overpowering his fuming jealousy. If he had any appetite in him before, he certainly didn’t now. He was overcome by complete nausea.

He peered up at Sirius shamefully whose eyes were fixed on the entrance of the room, where you once walked out of.

Sirius too, still overcome by anger, felt a sense of longing and anguish. Perhaps it was the best idea to ignore you for now. To cope with the intense feelings inside his heart, to keep him from lashing out at others.

However, after looking at your deflated face, he wants nothing more than to just hold you and ask for reassurance. To hear it from your mouth, you’re all I want, Sirius.

He looked back at Remus, gazing at him pleadingly. Remus nods and together, they both leave their food, friends, and anger, and are set out to look for only you.

As they make their way up the stairs to your dorm, their hearts disposed of all the previous envy they once held. And as they both stood before the door of your dorm, neither could muster up the courage to open it. That fear intensified as they heard your soft sobs and hiccups.

Startled and without thinking, Sirius mutters Alohomora, before twisting the doorknob to reveal your small frame.

Their hearts broke as they looked at you, head lowered in embarrassment as you attempted to wipe your tears frantically. Sirius looked up at Remus to await further instruction, but his heart sank even more as Remus looked at you in utter dread, eyes glossed over.

His stare breaks away from Remus to you as he hears your hoarse voice. “M’sorry…for whatever I-I did. I really am.” You sniffled. “W-What did I even do?” You whimpered, looking up at their tall forms.

Remus shook his head before walking up, hand hesitantly reaching out for you.

“N-Nothing, my love…nothing. It’s just—fuck—it’s just us.” He whispers sorrowfully, stroking your cheek, attempting to wipe your tears away from your face. His other hand reached up to pet your hair soothingly, calming you down.

A sudden gasp could be heard from the corner of the room. Both you and Remus looked up to see Sirius with a look of complete horror on his face. “Y-You…you didn’t know, did you?” He breathed out.

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “Know what?” You urged him to continue, previous sadness now replaced with annoyance as you sat confused as to what caused all this to occur.

“Edwards,” Sirius mutters. “That Edwards was flirting with you.” You shook your head in confusion before your eyes widened in realization. “Jealous,” you began. “You two were jealous?”

Remus shamefully looked down, knowing that you disliked it when they reacted irrationally to their jealousy. “We hadn't seen you in so long, poppet. To see you, with—him,” Remus grunts. “It was horrible.”

“Godric, pup. You should’ve seen the way he looked at you! This whole time! Our darling girl never noticed a thing.” Sirius laughed bitterly, more so to himself for hurting you.

You smiled shyly, before nodding in agreement. “I didn’t. Only until afterward did I notice his hand was on my thigh, but that was it.”

Both their eyes snapped up as they looked at each other furiously, before turning to you with a look of worry. “Your thigh? Last time we saw, his hand was on your knee!” Sirius gritted out before walking towards you, embracing you tightly, peppering quick pecks on your neck. You laughed in amusement as you squirmed away from his touch.

You suddenly looked up at Remus, narrowing your eyes. “Out of all people, I’d think you’d know a thing or two about communication in a relationship.” You pointed out, playfully.

Remus simply rolled his eyes before grinning wolfishly. “We get quite rash when people touch what’s ours, I’d have to admit.”

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ON OTHER SITES — 0x81 ON TUMBLR