Someone Called Him Loser Boy In The Tags And My First Instinct Was To Put It On A Shirt

I left for three seconds…

Merry xmas from L💖V too early though, but this was started week or 2 ago. Been thru a lot while drawing this, and almost dropped 👀🥴😞 must...be...strong

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@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

Everyone's Watching Him (But He's Looking At Her) (4)

Actor!Bucky Barnes × Assistant!Fem!Reader

< < PART 3 | Series Masterlist

Summary: Bucky begrudgingly undertakes his press tour and PR relationship with Sharon as you question if you can continue your job whilst watching him fall in love with someone else.

Warnings: shy & insecure reader, angst, idiots in love, miscommunication, soft fluff and an extremely happy ending 👀

Word count: 4.0k

A/N: photo credit by @bwsebastianstan, dividers by @vase-of-lilies

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You can’t even look at him.

That’s what destroys Bucky the most.

The past week he’s been completely deprived of the soothing comfort he feels when your eyes meet his in a crowded room.

You’re seemingly so disgusted that he would stoop so low as to fake an entire relationship to promote some stupid movie that you can’t even look at him.

Between all the cameramen, producers, make up artists and rotating allotment of interviewers, whose eyes are all focussed on him, you’re the only person in the room who isn’t gazing in his direction, when your attention is the only one he cares about.

Each time he looks up, eyes instinctively searching for you, it feels like a dagger twisting in his heart to find you’re still acting as if he’s not there. Bucky’s found himself perpetually stuck in your blind spot, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt as alone and desperate for someone to notice him whilst simultaneously being the centre of attention, in all his life.

No one’s interested in the movie, the intricate plot, the dynamic between the characters or even the difficult stunts he performed himself, all anyones asking questions about is Bucky and Sharon’s supposed relationship and the manner in which they got together after months of filming.

He can’t blame Sharon for playing the part perfectly, like the extraordinary actress she is, this is her chance to create a name for herself in this ruthless business and she’s pulling out all stops to make it count.

But Bucky hates it.

This is not why he became an actor and it would mortify his younger self to think this is all his career boils down to.

“And cut!” Someone yells and all of a sudden the room bursts to life again. He’s barely focussed on the questions being thrown at him, opting to let Sharon take most of them because it feels less dishonest that way. The fewer words he says, the less lies come out of his mouth and it makes him feel ever so slightly less guilty lying to the entire world.

Sharon squeezes his hand to grab his attention and gives him a look which screams ‘try harder’, but because they’re surrounded by a hoard of people she can’t actually say it aloud.

Maria’s on the phone beside one of the cameramen, and even through all the bustling noise, he can hear the distinct sound of her making arrangements for ‘the happy couple’. Dread settles in his stomach which sinks beneath the floor like an anvil.

To top it all off, he looks beyond where Maria is standing to find you busy discussing something which much be exceedingly important with some other crew members. Normally you’d be watching on with a reassuring smile, and when his gaze would meet yours, everyone else would melt away and it would seem like you were the only two people in the whole world. But he can’t exactly blame you for doing your job.

Bucky suddenly feels extremely claustrophobic, caged in by the bright lights, cameras and people working in the limited space provided by the set. It’s like his body is viscerally holding in his last breath until you turn around and look at him, and he’s suffocating waiting for something he intrinsically knows won’t happen.

He stands up, waving off the make-up artists who are rushing over from their station to ensure Sharon and himself look perfect for the next interview.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He mumbles, not waiting for permission he knows he wouldn’t receive before trudging away to his dressing room.

Bucky relishes the moment alone, away from the mayhem, having the space to take a breath and calm the swarming anxiety in his chest. It’s not as effective as the comfort you provide whenever you are in his presence, but he knows it’ll have to do for now.

At that moment Becks’ name flashes on his phone and guilt pangs in his stomach that he’s forgotten about until now. He’s been ignoring her calls all week - his excuse is that he’s been insanely busy since the premiere, but he knows the real reason is because she’ll be disappointed he hasn’t told you what she could so plainly read on his features when the three of you were in the same room.

He hits ignore once again with the internal promise that once he summons enough courage to disclose his feelings for you, he’ll return her call. Ringing with either fantastic news, or in need of consoling a broken heart.

“Bucky?” He hears your voice call his name and he immediately turns around to the source, heart skipping a beat seeing your eyes land on him for what feels like the first time since under the dim light outside the premiere venue a week ago. He takes a couple seconds to commit your features to memory, knowing burning the image in the back of his mind will help him gather the strength he needs to return to the monotonous stream of interviews.

“Yes?” Bucky enquires to break the silence, something that even now, when he’s positive you’re avoiding him because you’re opposed to his promotional methods, has never been awkward between the two of you.

“They need you back out there.” Before he can even so much as thank you for the instruction, you’ve closed the door and he’s all alone again.

He can barely function only seeing glimpses of you. There’s a certain quality about you that no matter how tired he is of answering questions and interacting with people, he’s never too fatigued to be around you. Time spent with you allows him to recharge, and without that it feels like he’s running on empty.

Bucky takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and picturing how he felt the night after the infamous Alexander Pierce interview when you stayed up with him until the early hours of the morning, laughing at old movies and throwing popcorn in each others mouths, before he carried you to bed and seriously considered climbing in next to you.

Those are the memories with you he cherishes, even more so now that you’re giving him the cold shoulder, and is what will keep him going for the rest of the day. Probably even the rest of his life.

And with that happy thought, he’s ready to take on the next interview.

* * *

You feel your heart sink below your stomach for what feels like the thousandth time this week.

Each interviewer is asking the same damn question, ‘how did the two of you get together?’, which of course prompts Sharon to deliver the same damn response each time. You could recite her answer word for word at this point, but it doesn’t make hearing it yet again any less painful.

It’s a recurring nightmare you’re unable to wake from.

You do your best to keep busy, which isn’t all that difficult when there’s a million different interviewers rotating through who you need to provide copies of Bucky’s ‘no go’ list in an attempt to prevent a repeat of what happened on Alexander Pierce’s late night show.

But Bucky and Sharon are the eye of the storm, everything revolves around them, so it’s impossible to avoid their relationship altogether, nor the hollow, sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach when you catch a glance of them lovingly smiling at each other.

With each rotation of interviewers your resilience dwindles further. It’s only been a week, but you’re just about ready to break. The doting glances, the constant stroking of his arm, the intertwined fingers, adoring hand kisses, are each an additional stab to the heart which brings you closer to your demise.

You really would think of them to be such a cute and affectionate couple if one half of the pair wasn’t the beginning and end of your whole world.

You want to go home and cry your eyes out until the headache you get from being dehydrated is worse than the ache in your chest from your breaking heart.

As someone yells ‘cut’, the room coming to life with a frenzy, you do your best to fight the urge to look at the main stage where Bucky is currently sitting. All your instincts tell you to sneak a glance, but you know deep down seeing them together will bring about a heartache you’re sure you’ll never recover from.

So as arduous as it is to avoid staring at the same eyes that bring you a never ending supply of comfort and reassurance, and that seem to soften each and every time they notice you, without fail, you choose not to. Because at this point, the fear of more agony outweighs the morsel of solace you might find.

Why are you subjecting yourself to this?

To him, you’re just an assistant. Someone to do the organisational tasks that he either doesn’t have time for or purely doesn’t want to. A job multiple people who aren’t life shatteringly in love with him are qualified for.

You’re positive there will not be a day that goes by in which you will not be in love with James Buchanan Barnes, but quitting as his assistant would allow you a small fragment of peace that constantly being around him and Sharon will never allow.

That even if he isn’t yours, you wouldn’t have to watch him be someone else’s.

Perhaps that’s the most tranquillity this cruel world can grant you now.

Are you really about to do this?

In your moment of reservation you make the mistake of looking over to Bucky, in hope that seeing the handsome face which never fails to give life to butterflies in your stomach, will remind you why you do this job, but what you see instead does the exact opposite.

Sharon leans over the minimal space between the two chairs and kisses him, lingering for a few agonising seconds before pulling away, all toothy smiles as they intertwine hands.

Your heart crumbles into irreparably small pieces and you have to force yourself to heave a shaky breath.

It is unfortunately not the first time you’ve seen the two share a kiss, but you determine to yourself it will be the last.

You’ve made your mind up. You can’t endure this any more. You’re done.

After the last interview tonight, you’ll hand in your resignation.

* * *

As you knock on the door and twist the handle in response to Bucky’s mumbled ‘come in’, you feel yourself approaching the bottom of the seemingly eternal abyss you’ve been falling into since learning that Bucky is dating Sharon.

When you feel the sensation while sleeping, you get the relief of waking up, but the past week has been a nonstop, agonising plunge.

Though you’re nervous about how he’ll react, and petrified that in a moment of weakness you’ll disclose romantic feelings you want to keep secret in order to justify your departure, you’re certain this is the right decision, and that provides you the drop of courage you need.

“Hi.” Even in just the single syllable you can tell he’s completely worn out, but there’s a hope and longing in his eyes at the recognition it’s you who’s entered his dressing room that even his exhaustion can’t quell.

He hasn’t even put up a defence to what you’re about to do, but even just by looking at him, at those damn steel blue eyes which shine bright enough to illuminate even your darkest days, you question if you can go through with it.

Bucky looks at you expectantly, knowing you must have come in for something. There’s a small part of you, despite what you’re about to do, that makes your stomach clench at the thought that even though you’ve been avoiding him the last week, he still smiles when he sees you.

“I’m handing in my two weeks.” You manage to say, but your voice is weak and lacking any kind of conviction. It sounds more like a question than a statement.

“What?” His smile turns into an expression of shock in the time it takes you to blink. He stands, knocking his chair backwards, but his eyes are wide and only focussed on you. “I don’t accept your resignation.”

“Well then it’s a good thing it’s technically Maria’s management company that employs me. I just came here as a professional courtesy.” You turn to leave, unable to look at the undeniable hurt in his eyes and on his features you’ve caused. That will be your legacy to him, your last action in his life will be wrought with the agony of abandoning him.

“Is that all I am to you? A formality?” His words make you pause. As much as you need to move on from your own heartache of watching him in a relationship with someone else, you can’t leave knowing he believes he means so little to you.

You turn back to look at him and it feels like you’ve been shot in the chest, seeing desperation and hopelessness brimming in his eyes. You’re the cause of that.

“Not even close, Bucky. You mean so much more to me, that’s the whole point.” You put all your effort into making your voice level and believable. You might be leaving him but the reasoning behind it is because you care too much about him, not too little. With time, you hope he can understand that.

“The whole point of what?”

“Why I’m quitting - do you really think I’d be leaving if you meant nothing to me?” There’s a flash of something in Bucky’s eyes that you can’t quite place, perhaps something of a revelation, but so much more profound.

“Then why are you leaving?” You can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You are dangerously close to revealing deeper feelings you promised you’d keep to yourself, that you wouldn’t divulge to Bucky and put him in the awkward position of having to turn you down because he’s already in love with another woman.

The searing pain of vocalising your devotion, the inevitability of being rejected by him overcomes you and you find your heart won’t let the words of affection leave your lips.

You take a deep, steadying breath and find yourself staring at the floor merely because you don’t have the strength to look into his bewitching eyes.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Is what you say halfheartedly, though you do believe it. Surely it’s too late now to be of any consequence. He’s fallen for another woman, you’re just the expendable assistant, nothing can change that now.

“Yes it does! You matter to me, so why you’re choosing to leave my life matters to me.” Your heart aches. You might matter to him, but not in the way your heart needs. Not in the all consuming, life changing, inescapable way that plagues every second of his life as he does yours.

You can feel your heart beating in your throat as you respond to him.

“All I want is for you to be happy, Buck, and you’re happy with her. I’m not going to jeapordise that, but it doesn’t mean I need to torture myself by having a front row seat to your love story.”

“Doll, you are my happiness!” You try to ignore the way your stomach flips and heart clenches as a result of his words. He’s just trying to make you stay… he doesn’t truly mean that. But then he continues and your world comes to a complete standstill. “If you’re referring to Sharon and I, that’s all fake! I’m not dating her, I’ve never been interested in her like that, it’s all for PR.”

Your hands start shaking and knees feel weak as your mind works to process his words. This can’t be happening. It was all fake? But then your mind flashes back to the fondness in Bucky’s eyes as he looked at Sharon at the premiere, as well as the way your heart ruptured when Maria confirmed their relationship and you can’t give your heart permission to believe him.

“No… no, that’s not what Maria said.” You stammer, replaying her words in your mind as you had done continuously since that infamous night to ensure you hadn’t misinterpreted them.

“What did Maria say?” Bucky’s voice has an edge of irritation which is hard to miss.

“She said Sharon was your girlfriend, real girlfriend… that you’d started dating while filming together.” Maria had been sure, unwavering, almost clinically so. She left no room for doubt.

“I’m gonna kill her.” Bucky mutters, almost to himself. “Doll, none of it was real, purely written into the contracts for promoting the movie. I think Maria saw how I feel about you and for her own twisted reasons wanted to push us apart.” You have to remind yourself to breathe because every single cell in your body is so overwhelmingly focussed on Bucky’s words that even your vital functions have stopped.

“How you feel about me?” You repeat his words breathlessly, unable to process their true connotation for if you’re wrong, it would surely end your entire existence.

Bucky’s eyes stare into your soul in a way that they never have before. He looks resolute, but somehow simultaneously vulnerable. Though you’ve seen him at his lowest, the fragility he’s openly displaying makes you suspect that there was always one last wall he kept part of himself concealed behind, shielding himself from one last heartbreak he just couldn’t bare to endure.

You observe in his eyes he’s pulled that wall down, and it’s like you’re seeing him, all of him, for the first time. And you’ve never been more in love.

“I was gonna tell you last week, after the premiere, but then you left and…” He shakes his head as he gathers his thoughts. When he looks up his eyes are filled with intent and don’t leave your gaze as he steps closer. You allow him to grasp your hands in his, his thumbs swiping over the backs of your hands affectionately and it takes every ounce of strength in you not to melt into his warm, musky scented embrace. When Bucky speaks there’s a crack in his voice. “The thought of you leaving takes away all my air, I can’t fucking breathe thinking that in two weeks you’re going to walk out of my life and never look back. I need you. You are absolutely everything to me. You are in every moment of my life, regardless of if you’re actually present for it. It’s you I will always search for in a crowded room. Whose eyes I find solace in and whose smile gives my life purpose. I live to be the reason for that beautiful smile. You are who I want to tell every good piece of news to first. Whose hand I instinctively reach for when I need the reminder I’m not alone in this isolating spotlight. Every moment of my life revolves around you. You are the nucleus of my world that I cannot live without.”

“Bucky…” You feel like you’re about to collapse. Your mind is racing too fast for any coherent thoughts to form, but warmth and adoration fills your entire body like a sugar high.

“Doll, please, you are it for me. There is no one else, even if you do choose to leave. You are my definition of love. You will be the person who I compare everyone else to, and I can already tell you with absolute certainty that none of them will even come close. There will never be anyone else for me, because it always has been and always will be you.”

You feel like you’re floating on a cloud, euphoria flowing in your veins and a warmth blooming in your chest so fiercely it almost feels like an ache. Tears sting behind your eyes, but you compel yourself to not let them blur your vision. You want to remember the pure love and devotion in Bucky’s eyes, how he’s looking at you like you truly are the only one in the world for him. As if, when he looks at you, everything else becomes hazy and you’re the only thing he sees.

All those moments, all the shared tender glances and lingering touches, all the generously sweet words you hope implied more than a simple boss-assistant relationship, it wasn’t just your imagination wishing he reciprocated your feelings.

Bucky had felt it too.

It was all real. So earnestly real.

“Bucky…” You reach up and cup his cheek, wiping away a stray tear which gently trickles from the corner of his eye with your thumb. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes and savouring the care in your contact. His prosthetic hand, which is still holding yours, gives you an encouraging squeeze, and when he opens his eyes again, his gaze is overflowing with adoration. “You are my home. The only reason I was going to leave was because I didn’t want to watch you fall in love with someone else. Loving you comes as easy as breathing for me. There is no one else in the entire world that I will ever love in that way, only you.”

You don’t even have time to breathe, for when those words leave your lips Bucky decides he simply cannot wait a second longer before kissing you. Though, you’re not complaining, it’s an urge you’ve been supressing constantly since you started working for him.

This kiss starts fast and frantic, you’ve both waited entirely far too long to express your love that you’re eager to feel as much of each other as possible. Bucky’s hands roam around your back, pulling you flush with him as yours start by cupping his face, before tangling in the long strands of his hair.

But when the realisation hits you both that you don’t need rush, that in fact you’ve got the rest of your lives to explore and memorise the intricacies of each other, the kiss slows to a sensual make out, taking your time to enjoy each other and what you’ve been longing for since the moment you met.

“Bucky?” You mumble his name against his lips, but he doesn’t allow you to say more then a single word and take a quick breath before his lips have covered yours again. You’re not sure how long you’ve been kissing him, but he’s clearly not done with you yet.

“Mhmm.” He hums into your mouth, hands slipping below the hem of your shirt, gliding over the smooth, bare skin of your back, sending shivers down your spine. He touches you gently, like you’re a precious flower he doesn’t want to crush, but rather preserve and admire for years to come.

“Take me home.” He pulls back, and your lips already miss being connected to his. You’ll never get enough of him, even if you were to kiss him for the remainder of your days.

He looks at you with a fondness and amazement that makes you think he can’t quite believe you’re his, even though your heart has belonged to him for as long as you’ve known him.

You tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear so you can have an unobstructed view of how he’s looking at you, soaking up the confidence which inflates in your chest when he gazes at you as if you hang the moon and stars in the night sky.

“As you wish, my love.” Bucky affirms, the twinkle in his eye makes excitement surge in your stomach - the night is far from over. He kisses you once more, savouring the feeling and to tide you both over until you make it back to his place.

Bucky takes your hand and refuses to let go as he proudly walks with you by his side through the studio, not giving a damn who sees the two of you together.

If you’d like to see more of these two, make sure to let me know ♥️

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Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) [Actor!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @sunnyjane4 @valhalla-kristin @learisa @crispysublimecupcake @iamfandomwasted @blackwidownat2814 @hailey-holt @rosepetalsinwinter @wifeofbarnes @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @vicmc624 @oliviagreen99 @gabshouse @raging-panda @priya212 @highlyintelligentblonde @buckyseddie @erynnnn @endless-summer-soldier @one-shot-plus-size @takeabreathdearh @its703pm @nefelibatansoul @theweekndhistorybook @albinotigerpython @goldenharrysworld @buckyslove1917 @supersanelyromantic @gothkitteh @ahrahrahraha @hopelessromantic423 @misshale21 @happeevacationday @farfromjustordinary @blackgirlbydna @mrsgweasley @readreblogfics @ashenc-blog @redbarn1995 @thewackywriter @missvelvetsstuff @broadwaybabe18 @buckys2lut @arny-montana @calirindo @justfic @crazyunsexycool @helpishouldstudy @alluringsirensworld @sarahyk27 @aya-daydreams @hotleaf-juice @kareish @yukio369 @hjzmwoodz @sabbbsstuff @vespercarmichael @fanfic-freak-cevans @marygoddessofmischief @cevansswhore

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

Good girls should just stay home, lest something goes bump in the night.

cw: NSFW • Implied Murder • Implied Serial Killer • Consensual Non-Consent turned Non-Consensual • Noncon • Dubcon • Abuse • Fingering (F) • Oral (M) • Deep Throating • Rough Sex • Attempted Murder • Hair Pulling • Degradation/Slight Humiliation • Dacryphilia • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • a little OOC • This story possessed me and basically wrote itself • Barely proof read tbh

wc: 7k+

Something must be wrong with you.

Or at least, that’s what you imagine the world would think if anyone knew what you were doing.

The room was dark aside from the blue glow of your computer screen. The black web browser with red lettering almost ominous as your eyes scanned the consent form again. It was a consent form just to access the full website, on the surface serving only as a dating type of situation for the BDSM community. Beneath it though were layers deeper than what the simple description actually provided. You only found out about it through a deep dive into multiple sub-threads of Reddit. It was a basket case of crazy, the majority of information or advice, but you managed to dig up one reliable looking source.

This website you were currently on. L@ce&R0pe.com happened to provide a wide variety of goodies, from sex toys to actual published books on shibari, there wasn’t much you couldn’t find. Except like all websites not swallowed up by the deep web, there was never any section like the one you wanted so desperately.

Except this one, because your mouse didn’t hesitate to shift and hover over the drop down section for MEET, where you could link up with real people for whatever your heart desired really. You trailed down to NEW FRIEND, and clicked. A new tab opened, this one themed differently than the main website. It was light blue and pink, almost like a baby shower, except the only thing on the page was a single drop down menu, and clicking it made your head ache. There were thousands of options, but thankfully it was organized alphabetically, so you could easily scroll mindlessly until you hit the C section.

You found what you wanted, clicking it as your chosen option and hitting GO.

The screen changed, this time it looked similar to a dating profile fillable. You worked quickly, efficiently even, as you typed all your information in.

Not your name or address, nothing silly like that. Just your measurements, your favorite foods or beverages, the color of your eyes, your hair color, your height, and even the style of your nails. It asked if you liked to brush your hair everyday, how often you showered, what shampoo or body wash you like. You answered them all, as invasive as they soon became, you never wavered. What brand of deodorant do you use? How often do you clip or file your nails? To what length? Do you shave your pubic area? How often? What style? How many sexual partners have you had? Where have you had sex? Which hole do you prefer? Are you a crier or a screamer? Does blood turn you on? Do you like physical or mental pain more? Have you ever been raped before?

They got more personal and physiological as you answered. You felt hot and stuffy despite the window being open and the cool autumn air blowing in. You kept answering even as your throat got tighter and unease nestled into your clavicle.

Do you want to know who your new friend will be?

This time you do hesitate. Knowing would make it feel safer. Knowing would give you some semblance of control. Knowing would be the smart choice.

You clicked “no” and submitted the form, sealing your fate as your hands shook and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You set the date for October 31st. Now all you had to do was wait and show up.

A notification hit his phone, lighting up the screen as cigarette smoke billowed around him in the back alley. A quick glance was all he needed to unlock and fully see the entire screen. The leather of his jacket rubbed against the brick he leaned against.

Halloween was probably the best time for such fun, crime rates skyrocketing and parties being loud and wild really left a big gaping hole for any type of heinous activity to occur. He grinned as the information poured onto his screen. His dick already becoming painfully hard as he read all your supplied information. You liked breath play, having someone spit in your mouth, even being slapped around. He was always amazed by the lack of shortage for sick freaks like you, but then again, he was one of them too. Licking his top lip, tongue piercing flicking out to rub against his cupid’s bow, he clicked “ACCEPT” on the notification. He had all your information, the when and where, and your adorable little comment of “Please don’t degrade me.” What more could he ask for? His smile is sinister in the low light off the neon sign of the bar, casting a purplish hue on his skin as he chuckles and shoves his phone away. Flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground, he cracked his neck and knuckles before going back inside to finish his beer and round of pool with his friends.

He’ll see you on Halloween. He might even dress up a little for the occasion.

It’s cold.

It’s nearly November so you hadn’t expected warm weather necessarily, but it seemed chillier than usual despite your fairly insulated dress.

You dressed up as an angel, the irony not lost on you at all but it felt fitting almost for the occasion. The pristine white looked off in your surroundings. It was nearly midnight, but despite that the sidewalk of the park was filled with a fairly regular crowd of people passing through, on to the next party or home to sleep off all the alcohol. Really, you weren’t too out of place, in your white stockings and black heeled boots, the fluffy ruffled white babydoll dress that barely covered your ass or tits and the wings which were strapped around your shoulders and jutted out behind you. On your head was a slim clip which was attached to a white shiny halo that seemed to float above you, only a thin wire keeping it up. You’d at first felt a little exposed passing children going home for the night after trick or treating, eyes of judgemental families which you ignored boring into you, but now it was time for the adults to have fun. You’d already passed a plethora of college students or older dressed even more scantily than you, making you feel better, safer, out in the park you’d chosen. You’d chosen 0300 as your designated meetup time, but specified you’d be early in case they wanted to start sooner. So here you stood, under a streetlamp that illuminated you in a yellow glow, making you seem even more angelic despite the ominous darkness surrounding you. You were busy playing on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and trying not to appear too excited. Or scared. You figured it was a combination of both, the arousal and fear bleeding into one very specific but unnamed emotion. Tapping your boot to a rhythm only you could hear, the night drew on and another hour passed. The droves of people passing didn’t dwindle, but it was always a group, never a single individual which you hoped was your new friend. It was almost 0130 when you felt watched, goosebumps rising on your skin as you realized someone must be looking at you. A quick glance around showed no one though, and after ten minutes your hope dissolved into disappointment. It seemed your friend wasn’t an early bird.

“Hey,” a raspy, deep voice speaking almost directly into your ear, startling you enough to elicit a yelp. You turned, eyes landing on a dark clothed chest and trailing up to a hooded face you could barely make out through a mess of blue hair. His lips look a bit chapped, a small scar decorating a corner, but his teeth are white and straight as he smiles a grin that causes shivers to shoot down your spine.

…maybe your friend was an early bird, just not as much as you.

You take a step back, stuttering stupidly due to your overactive nerves and the earlier shock of his sudden appearance. “H-hi…um,” the stranger tilts his head, eyes still not visible, dark hoodie baggy on his frame. He looks a bit thin, like he wouldn’t have a lot of strength, his jeans having some strange splattering of fake blood or something on them. You lick your lips, heart ready to leap from your chest but not quite ready for the events to unfold.

Or maybe you were very ready.

“You’ve been standing here for hours,” he comments nonchalantly, hands moving to shove inside the large inner pocket on his hoodie, “Aren’t ya tired of waiting for your boyfriend?” His question is a bit confusing, and when you glance around you, it dawns that there’s no one out right now. When had the crowds dwindled to nothing? “I don’t… have a boyfriend…” you had clearly stated that online too, so he already knew the answer to your relationship status. Was he just teasing? Keeping this as realistic as possible? It made you a bit pleased. You fiddled with the ends of your cute frilly dress, exposing a small portion of your skin and garter belt which kept your thigh high socks up. His eyes tracked the motion, lips pulling up even higher making his smile menacing. Dangerous. “That so?” He asks, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a reply as he steps closer, his beat up sneakers so silent on the ground it’s a little unnerving. Since he’s playing along so much, it feels wrong for you to not reciprocate.

“What do you think you’re doing, creep? Stay back,” You hope he’s not offended by the name, figuring it wasn’t too mean or odd of a thing to call him. Your firm stance and defiant gaze make him pause, head tilting again but he’s quick to recover and laugh. It’s less of a sexy and deep chuckle like you expected, and more pitched and giggly. It’s almost creepy to hear from a grown man. Like a child from a horror movie laughing. “Creep? Yeah? Guess I am, but you know what?” His head lifts, and since he’s more centered under the tall street lamp, when he looks straight at you, two red eyes flash. “I’m a lot fucking worse than your average dumbass creep,” you jolt when he lunges at you, hand outstretched to grab you. It’s instinctive how quickly you turn and run, adrenaline helping you shoot off into the park where no light but the moon shined down. This is what you wanted, you chant to yourself to stay level headed enough to not truly panic. This was staged and as safe as possible. He’s not actually going to hurt you. You’d be fine, albeit maybe a little sore tomorrow morning. You shut your mind off and focus on running, though your speed wasn’t great in such cheap and unstable boots, roots and random objects on the ground constantly tripping you up.

You looked like the dumb girl in the horror movies, tits practically out of your low cut revealing white dress, strapless white bra damn useless and more for show than any real support or push-up. You huffed, digging in your heels when you heard a few twigs snap behind you, feet carrying you faster as you realized he was gaining on you quickly. He didn’t shout and you didn’t scream. The chase was exhilarating, your mind becoming fuzzy as your lungs burned for more oxygen. You hadn’t planned a chase, really leaving it all up to fate and your new friend, but this was perfect.

Until fingers tangled tight in your hair and yanked you completely off your feet, your shoes and legs going out in front of you as you landed gracelessly on your ass. Then an intense burning in your scalp erupts, a hiss of pain and a whine escaping as you slide over cool damp foliage, senseless grumbling coming from the stranger as he drags you into a deeper more secluded section of the park, away from any and all prying eyes. Not like anyone gave a damn. “I-it hurts!” You feel childish for crying, tears pricking your eyes but the burn was worse than you imagined truly, soft hands coming up to try and pry his fingers off.

He has a grip of iron apparently, not the least bit phased as he sighs, hauling you up and tossing you in front of him. You land weirdly on your left shoulder, a shock of pain numbing your mind as you heave for air and roll over. When you open your eyes, you’re face to face with him. His hood pulled off, shoulder length blue hair now tied back and up into a little bun while some stray pieces frame his face and forehead. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as they take him in.

He’s young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark bags hugging beneath his scarlet eyes. He’s got a beauty mark just below his lip on the right side, the scar you saw earlier on the other. He’s not hard on the eyes, cute even, but the strange air around him makes the close proximity fill you with anxiety. His eyebrows are thin and sparse, but he cocks one with a smirk. “Not gonna scream for help, crybaby?” The nickname makes you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, you blink them away quickly, shaking your head and trying to find your words again. “I—uh, do you want me to?” Wouldn't screaming just make it more likely for someone to call the police? You figured a little noise was fine, but screaming seemed counter productive.

His eyes widened a bit, confusion painting his features as he crouched down more comfortably on his haunches to get a better look at you.

He’d been watching you since you got to the park. A single party in this sort of place always sticks out like a sore thumb. You looked more ready for a porno than a costume party, from behind the view of your ass indescribably arousing in your short little dress. It was both a slutty and innocent look you pulled off well, at least enough to make him riled up, cock twitching in agreement within his pants. He shamelessly rubbed it through his jeans, caressing the hardening length and letting you watch with glee. Your face made him snort, amusement evident as he chuckles and squints. “You like this, little freak?” You looked like you did, he notes. Your wide pretty eyes, still a little teary and red at the ends, showed your blown out pupils. You looked to be more star struck, not terrified like any normal girl chased through a park and dragged into a little corner between some trees to be out of sight. He watches you swallow hard, lips parting before closing as if you aren’t sure what to say to that question. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he grins, “a cute little slut who stood out at night all alone as if begging for someone to come along and do something nasty.” You release a tiny yelp as he meanly shoves you back, straddling your upper chest with his thighs as he hunches over you, looming ominously above with wild eyes screaming for chaos. “Good thing that I came along, huh? Make all your nasty little fantasies come true.” He watches you gasp as he presses his fingers against your lips, confusion evident on your face but you aren’t really putting up much of a fight as you open and let him slide two in. “Nasty fucking girl, look at you, when you don’t even fucking know me.” He chuckles, and while he’s teasing you mostly, he is amazed. You looked erotic as hell right now, little angel costume all wrinkled and a bit dirty from the earth below, pretty face a bit stained with mascara that had run a little from your earlier tears. You weren’t wearing the waterproof kind it seemed. Lips bitten and chewed on, plump and glossy from whatever glittery shit you swiped on them earlier now wrapped around his digits as he dug around in your warm wet mouth. “Suck on them, slut,” he orders, his smile dropping and face becoming more serious as you hurry to obey, a strange trepidation building in your gut. He groans as he feels your tongue wiggle and swirl, pumping his fingers a bit now and enjoying the little bleats you release when he chokes you a bit with them. “Wonder if you’re soaked down here~” he hums, leaning back a bit and yanking his fingers from your lips, wiping the excess saliva across your cheek and huffing a laugh as your features wrinkle in distaste. His hand moves behind him, easy access to your cunt due to the frilly dress hiked up almost around your waist, revealing cute soaked white cotton panties he growls at the sight of. “You really suck at putting up a fight, crybaby, but I think I heard somewhere that girls get wet when scared too…” those red eyes flick back to your own, "You scared?” He asks, almost softly. He watches you breathe, chest struggling a bit under his weight but your hands curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not pushing him away. “A little…?” Is your shaky response, and he wonders silently if you’re an idiot or just a pervert. You might be both, because when he lets his thumb dig into where your pussy lay poorly hidden, you moan for him and spread your legs wider. You make it even easier to search for his desired location, your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-oh—!” Your head falls back, little halo becoming a bit misshapen as it gets flattened to the ground, he tsks, fixing it with his free hand as he thumbs your little clit and watches you mewl and writhe beneath him, pleasure clearly visible on your face. Your hips buck and wiggle, body pinned beneath his and unable to get away or closer like you desperately want for more friction than he’s providing. “P-please,” you can’t help but beg, hoping your new friend is merciful enough to make you cum and not simply edge you all night.

It’s the pouty expression which makes him nearly feral, his grin spreading wide again as he keeps working his finger on your clit but his face closes the distance between your own. His lips just barely graze yours, and you are all too happy to part your lips and give him a sloppy kiss back, his own tongue finally slipping into your mouth where you suck. The smooth muscle in your mouth and the saliva dripping from it drive you wild, hands now dragging him closer and trying to make him do more for you. The heat spreads slowly however, his pace not changing, and despite his slim build he’s much stronger than you. You aren’t able to take any more than what is given, huffing in exasperation and groaning when he places more force before easing off. “S-stop teasing…” you whine against his lips, which were much softer than they look. He smirks, airy chuckle felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh, “how can I not, you’re such a rare find, I plan to take my time with you.” He kisses you hard to silence whatever whines you planned to release to make him give you more. Instead he forces you into a slow building orgasm that leaves him having to pin your wrists above your head lest your clawing rip his skin open. He works you gently and cruelly into it, loving how you gasp and choke for him, eyes rolling back while you shake almost like you’re possessed and soak through your panties. “There you go, heh, normally I wouldn’t bother to take my time with whiny bitches, but you’re more obedient and sweet than I first assumed.” He whispers into your ear as you come down from the mind blowing high, body limp and pliant like dough now. The insult from him brings out a little whine of protest, teary eyes looking at him with almost something akin to betrayal.

“I-I don’t like being called mean names…I said so online too,” he pulls up finally, the chill of the night attacking full force on your now exposed cunt as he brings your panties up to his nose to inhale. His eyes narrow, almost into slits as he pulls them back and shoves them into his hoodie pocket. “Oh yeah? You post that shit on your social media or something? Sorry, I don’t really use those trash platforms. I have a Twitch stream though,” he acts like this is the time for a regular conversation, even as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, yanking them down his hips to pull his cock free. Your eyes go wide, mind a bit blank and missing something, in favor of looking at him pump his length lazily. A trail of blue curls like on his head travel from his navel to his groin where it spreads out a little, the color a bit darker as it goes lower. He’s not one to shave it seems, but your eyes focus on his cock, average in length but girthy with a tip that curves up almost perfectly. It looks like a cock someone would sell as a dildo at a sex store. It was pretty, admittedly, as a few pearls of pre-cum dotted the tip and spilled over as he slowly worked it above you. “Hungry?” He jokes, but when you nod he grits his teeth and bites back a moan, the night truly more unexpected than he thought. “Open up then, crybaby.” He thankfully didn’t call you a bitch again, crybaby the less of the evils and more acceptable of a petname for your preference as you open your lips and awkwardly lean your head forward. “No need to lean up,” he mumbles, shifting until his knees now rested by your shoulders, tip just in your mouth and his forearms on the earth above your head. He’s looking down at you, and you lay back down as he works his cock in your mouth. He’s going to fuck your mouth, you realize a bit late, the position so easy for him to hit balls deep in your throat and prevent you from running just from his weight alone. You’re pinned to earth, the scent of crisp autumn becoming mingled with the musky masculine odor the stranger had clinging to him. Something smelled of iron too, but it was fainter and didn’t bother you too much, not when he seemed determined to suffocate you with his cock. You jerk a little, teeth accidentally grazing his cock and his hiss of pain alerts you that you’ve hurt him. He pulls up and out of your mouth, glaring ferociously as he looks down at you with contemplation. “Sorry—! I’m not used—,” the words leaving you mouth go unfinished as you’re suddenly looking away and down, confusion wracking your mind before white hot pain erupts across your face and you cry out in agony.

He watches with a cool nonchalance as you whimper and cry, holding your inflamed cheek and looking at him with teary eyes filled with questions. The sight doesn’t help his hardness, your face swelling a bit from the force of the blow already, but it was still arousing how you cried for him so easily. “Don’t bite my fucking dick and I won’t hit you, clear?” He’s grabbing you roughly by the hair again, yanking you up and no longer in the mood for that awkward position as he stands and pulls you to your knees. This position at least gives him a good eye full of your tits, shaking from your little trembling as you’re made to look up at him. His angry reddened cock next to your injured cheek is a sight for him, his hand gripping his shaft and slapping you lightly on the cheek with it, his hand in your hair preventing you from turning away even as you whimper in pain. “Okay, we’ll try this again, crybaby. Open.” You do, even as tears run like waterfalls down your face, mascara smeared and making a pathetic sight for sore eyes of you, you let his cock enter your mouth once more.

Because you’ve never been more aroused.

Your stranger isn’t nice, pushing hard and deep into your throat immediately and gagging you. You’re careful with your teeth, jaw already burning and aching as he locks his arm and hand, strands of hair tearing out as he works his hips into your face at an uneven pace. “Stop fucking moving,” he growls, stepping even closer, blocking any and all exits and forcing you to take it. His cock didn’t seem so scary when he’d pulled it out, but in your throat it was a plug to your oxygen and felt too big for your poor mouth. It hurt, feeling him go too deep and leaving you coughing and sputtering and even still he wouldn’t pull out, groaning and pressing impossibly deep like he truly means to suffocate you. “You got a good little mouth pussy, crybaby. Fuck—take my cock, just like that.” He moans, watching as you struggle on his dick to breathe or swallow, slobber and tears coating his cock as he makes a mess of your pretty face. He doesn’t care that your eyes are starting to roll back, hands which had previously been clawing at his legs going limp at your sides. You acted more like a hole for him to fuck when you were limp like this, and it drove him wild as he grunted like an animal and rutted into your mouth like he held a grudge against you. Both hands dug into your hair, hands pulling you back onto his cock when his hips bucked you away. “Never fucked a—holy shit—ah, mouth so damn good before—, ah fuck, fuck,” he’s getting breathier as time ticks by, his own eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight. “I’m going to cum, ready for me crybaby? Want it in your tummy or on your face?” He’s being condescending on purpose, but it’s a bit useless considering he’s rendered you nearly unconscious on his dick. He shrugs your lack of response off, pumping his cock down your throat until he sees stars and yanks himself free just before the first spurt misses and hits the grass below, he grips the base, pumping and shooting his next shot right onto your face. He yanks your head against his thigh, delirious face dazed and coughing softly as he finishes on your glitter and mascara run cheeks, using the tip to smear it well into your ruined makeup as he sneers at you from above.

“Hah…” he catches his breath, sucking in oxygen along with you as his gaze turns calculated.

“Wake up, I’m not done with you yet.” He’s more gentle now that he's cum at least once, tapping your uninjured cheek with two fingers as your eyes roll around before opening and looking at him.

He swears, your face making him hard again instantly, blood pooling to his groin at the messy sight of you in your white ruined angel costume. “You really are unlucky I was out tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.” His dead serious comment caused something cold to hit your veins, chills running through you as you gape in shock.

“W-what…?” He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out what looked like a foot long serrated hunting blade. He snickers at the blank look of shock on your features.

“What’s wrong, crybaby? No tears for me right now?” You’re shaking, getting paler by the second as you realize no, it’s not a costume, and yes, there is still dried blood on the blade. There’s dried blood all over him, his spree tonight ridiculously fruitful and his body still high on the thrill. Imagine his luck finding you. “T-this wasn’t in my profile, wh-what are you doing?” Now you look alert, now you act like a regular civilian, he notes cooly. “I only con-consented to the sex and stuff, I said I didn’t like—like blades or blood play.” Your eyes are wide as saucers and you have a cold sweat now forming and dotting your skin, shaky like on too much caffeine as your body dumped chemicals to help you run.

His head tilts, a few more strands of hair coming loose from his tie as those red eyes watch you without any emotion in their depths.

“Ah~ I get it now. Are you some kind of freak who links up with people online for this kind of shit?” He laughs, eyes not matching the manic toothy grin. “Sorry to disappoint slut, I ain’t your tinder or whatever match. Did you do it anonymously?” He’s beyond amused, thrilled by the horror dawning on your face as reality sets in. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He sneers, but he’s joyful when you book it, heeled boots caked in mud as they dig into the ground and you take off for real. True intent to get away now because he’s not your new friend, he’s a real stranger and his energy is nothing but malevolent.

You’re going to die.

It’s a sick thought that twists inside you as you push the hardest you’ve ever, scream bubbling up and out as you cry for help now. “HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!” It’s more broken and hoarse than you want, his earlier abuse to your throat having taken a number on your ability to vocalize.

It’s empty. This damn park is empty.

Not a soul around and you can’t hear him coming for you anymore, and it only makes the tears fall harder as you drive your body to a breaking point. If no one is around you can at least aim for your car, your phone will take too much time to look at and dial the police, you’d be too open and that would mean—

Something—someone—smashes into you, your body thrown sideways by the brute force and flung roughly to the ground where you roll several feet.

It hurts—!

Your body and mind scream as pain lights up your shoulder, a previously dull ache now hounding for your attention so much it left you lightheaded. You twisted your ankle too or maybe broke it, already so regretful for the evening and your life choices that your shoes hardly broke the bank. It all hurt, and yet you still tried to crawl to get away, still eager for another deep breath of air in your lungs even if it hurt to do that too.

“Hck, please, please—help—!,” you’re a sobbing pathetic mess, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the sight. He dusts himself off like he hadn’t tackled you like a linebacker for a major league football team, his lanky form sinewy with muscle and his agility nothing to scoff at. He swirls the enormous daunting blade with a whistle, smiling more genuinely as he strolls towards your shaking form crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, crybaby? I said I wasn’t done with you,” he lands a solid hit to your middle, dirty sneaker smearing mud on your cute little dress, looking less and less white as the night wears on. The blow is not hard enough to damage anything, he’s sure, but you act as if you’ve been disemboweled by how you howl and heave. He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, settling one foot between your shoulder blades and pressing down until you’re left immobilized.

Your vision is blurry, going in and out of focus as you try, and try, and try to get away, cute nail polish chipped and ruined as you claw at the dirt floor for leverage.

He admires your tenacity. “You think you can get away? That anyone is coming to save you?” He brushes a few stray hairs out of his face as he laughs, the urge to gut you strong as he savors your useless little struggle. “Crybaby, look around! No one is coming! I said look,” he grinds out, dropping to one knee while his other leg remains planted on your back, his hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up to see what he meant.

There’s a fence. A metal chain link fence, and it had a sign your vision was too blurry to read through your tears.

“You ran yourself straight into the worst possible area, this is sort of your game over,” He leans down to look at you, yanking your head back and forcing you into an uncomfortable arch. He raises up the blade, fully intending to slit your pretty throat and watch your eyes as the light fades, but you blubber out a sentence which halts him.

“Y-you didn’t finish! E-earlier, hck, earlier you didn’t finish—!” Your eyes squeeze closed in pain as he yanks your head to the side. Confusion burned in him, and curiosity kept you breathing for now.

“Didn’t finish what, crybaby? Fairly certain I finished all over your face, if I remember correctly.” He has a sharp edge in his tone, something metallic fills your mouth and you realize you’ve bitten through your tongue in your panic. A few drops spill past your lips, catching his attention.

“S-shouldn’t you also f-fuck me too? I-it’s why I came out tonight, wh-why I, ah, d-did this,” it’s a long shot by any means, and he’s no fool, but you did make a good point.

He was still hard.

“Smart little crybaby, aren’t you?” He mutters darkly, setting aside his blade in favor of smashing your face into the dirt, keeping your head down as he presses against your back and yanks your hips up. Your knees are skinned from the rough handling, socks torn open and stained with blood and dirt while his calloused hands slip beneath your dress. Your breath hitches. You needed to think of some way out of this, some kind of plan to escape or incapacitate him.

He’s busied himself with your still dripping cunt. Two fingers roughly filling your hole and uncaringly stretching your tight entrance. “You really are a freak, wet even though you’re going to die, crybaby.” He felt a bit strange as you whimper and mewl below, hand slowing as he tried to place the feeling.

He shrugs it off, instead easily yanking down his jeans which were still unbuttoned and pulling out his cock once more, stroking his shaft a few times before he lined himself up with your puffy lips. “Fuck—,” he swears, eyes seeing stars as he pushes just his tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, mouth opening as licks his lips and stares down at you. “Never had pussy so good…” he giggles darkly, cracking his neck as he pushes each inch inside of you, stretching you out deliciously until you’re speared on his cock with his hips flush with your ass. “Who knew you’d be the best, crybaby.” He muses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, your little dress flipped up and over your ass so he can watch it bounce as he leans back on his knees to fuck you deeper. You need to think straight but it’s difficult with how good your body feels, the pain from earlier seeming to go away with a numb buzz as he fills your pussy, hitting perfectly against a spot that has you arching harder for more.

You really are a freak like he says.

You can’t help relaxing further, eyes dumbly looking to the side where your head rests as he pounds into you from behind, the coil in your gut growing tighter by the minute.

The clouds blocking the moon seem to part just for you, the full moon’s light no longer blocked and illuminating the little patch of grass he’d tackled you into. Something gleams, in perfect reach too as your eyes widen.

His knife.

He’d already proven you can’t outrun him, but what if he was injured? There’s a major artery in the thigh, if you hit that, wouldn’t you be able to get away?

He yanks back roughly, moaning as he feels you squeeze even tighter around him, velvet walls massaging his dick while he tries to fuck himself as deep as possible inside of you.

It hit you despite all your intentions not to, because this wasn’t safe and he wants to end your life and everything is wrong, but your body doesn’t listen. You cum with a shaky cry, and with an awkward turn of your head you watch as his head goes back and he moans, eyes closed in bliss as you coat his cock in even more slick.

You’re louder than you intended to be, but your fingers close around the hilt nonetheless, trembling with the heavy weight in your grasp, you use every ounce of energy inside you to swing it back into his thigh.

“Cute,” you scream as he catches your wrist, hand clenching so tight you feel your bones grind together as the knife falls from your grip. He twists your arm around and pins your wrist behind your back, holding it in place while his other hand remains at your hip.

“So fucking cute, crybaby. Did you cum just to distract me or was that because you couldn’t help yourself?” He’s getting a high from this, from fucking you and turning you into nothing but a toy as he bounces you on his cock, hips still but arms pulling you back and forth with ease. Scarlet eyes drink you in with undisguised sick glee, and he’s finally able to place the feeling from earlier.

“A pretty little slut trying to get her rocks off and getting shown why she should’ve been a good girl and stayed home,” he grunts, releasing you and leaning over, pinning you with his weight and nearly knocking the air from your lungs how deeply he hits you inside from this angle. Dirt fills the underbelly of your nails, your fingers digging into the earth just for some semblance of stability.

You had none. It was a sick and horrifying realization. You have no control. You can do nothing to stop this. As deeply as it made your gut sink, another odd emotion rose to the surface.

A bubbly sensation that tore through you as your tears became less from fear and more from overstimulation.

His hips piston in and out of you, bullying your cervix in this position as he ruts into you like a hound, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he moans and grunts.

You break again, spasm and cinch down on his cock like a vice while you wail as if in mourning. Maybe you are, for yourself at least. “Oh fuck—! s’too much—, please, I can’t—, f-feels good, hah,” your nearly incoherent babbling sends him over the edge along with you, his own dull nails finally drawing blood as he holds you for dear life as he releases deep inside you, tip kissing right up against you womb as he cums. You can feel it too, his cock twitching inside as the night seems to still for a moment.

He holds you for a while. Breathing you in, nuzzling his face into your neck and licking you. He holds you until his cock fully softens and it hurt to be gripped so tightly inside your wet heat, regrettably pulling away.

He stands, putting his sticky limp cock away inside his underwear and pulling up his pants, looking down at your ruined figure that had slumped over to the side.

“Y’know, crybaby… you really resemble an angel now,” he smiles, red eyes almost glowing as the moon blankets his back and shadows his face. His hair seems almost white like this, your tired eyes note. You don’t move or even flinch as he grabs his knife and yanks your limp figure up by your hair. Even now you’re still crying, face lax despite the rivers flowing down your dirty swollen cheeks. You make no effort to stop him, having given up completely.

He crouches down again, mostly eye level now as he makes you look at him.

“You got any last words?” He’s being dead serious. He feels strange looking at the almost glazed over look in your eyes.

“W-what…” your voice is barely a whisper, but the night is so quiet he catches it, “what’s your…name?”

An unexpected question.

His eyes gleam, smile ravenous as he puts his lips against your ear and whispers it.

“Tomura, what’s your name, crybaby?” He asks, gently, almost like he’s actually interested.

You hoarsely whisper it, your last time ever saying it after tonight. He hums, like it pleases him, before he brings down the knife swiftly.

Your vision goes dark, the strike mercifully painless. Your last thoughts blur as you drift into soft nothingness.

He releases your hair, grabbing your limp figure up in his arms as he chuckles and sheaths his knife properly on his hip. “Dumb crybaby” his voice almost singing the words as he whistles and walks away, the park dead silent but even if someone had seen you in his arms, he could just play the good boyfriend taking his sweetheart home safely. It’s not entirely a lie either, his eyes glancing down at your unconscious form, pretty neck unmarred but a bruise would likely form on the back where he struck you tomorrow. Tomura had never felt compelled to allow a victim to live, but then again he’s never fucked a victim either, so you’re the first for a lot. He supposed it made you quite special, his legs carrying him in the direction of his car in the parking lot about a mile south. Obsession and possessiveness swirled in those red depths as they looked at your figure.

“Good girls should just stay home…” he continues his sardonic little tune, his smile gruesome and foreboding.

Vibrant blue orbs check his surroundings again, noting once again his friend was a no show. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was too good to be true. Your profile screamed inexperienced and cautious, despite you clicking that you’d like him to remain anonymous beforehand. It didn’t matter, he’d just go enjoy some sorority girl pussy instead, figuring at 0330 that most parties would be winding down. Drunk girls dressed like sluts were his second favorite.

Dabi clicks the notify option on his app, letting the website staff know you never showed up.

Though, he muses if something did happen, the police wouldn’t be notified until it was too late. Halloween weekend after all meant you could be missing for quite a while before anyone noticed.

Not his problem though.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

Lactation {Pt 1}{Kny Version}

Characters: Muzan Kibutsuji, Kokushibo and Douma.

Female pronouns used here

Some won't make sense

For these, I'm making the reader a demon. (I don't think demons are capable of lactation, but this is purely fiction so...)

Warning/s: 18+, Cockwarming (Only in Douma's part)

Muzan Kibutsuji (Fuck, he's hot here)-

It was rare for the demon king himself to show you affection, as he preferred to keep it behind closed doors.

But here you both were, sitting on his lap while he leaves small bites on your neck. Soft breaths escaped your lips as his fingers rubbed your sides. Muzan leaned in, taking in your scent, which was very different from most. Instead, your scent was pleasant and often calmed him down.

"Soft..." He mumbled, squeezing your sides gently. You didn't say a word or move a muscle. You just sat there, letting him go down to your chest. He rips your top off, circling his tongue around your erect bud. He started sucking it, tasting something sweet.

Without saying another word, his hands grip your hips tightly and he starts to suck your nipple harder.

Kokushibo-

Like his leader, he isn't the most affectionate one. Just like him, he preferred to keep his affectionate side behind closed doors.

You may be a demon, but it was a struggle to keep up with him, even when he's slamming into you at full speed. His hands gripped your hips roughly, leaving possible bruises.

"K-Kokushibo!" You groaned out, your hands gripping his arms as he pounded into your pussy. He didn't seem to hear you and continued thrusting into you. He pushed your legs further, his cock sinking deeper. Your eyes rolled back from the sudden change, letting his arms go and resting them on your chest. You accidentally squeezed your chest hard, some milk leaking out. Kokushibo stared at your leaking breasts, and leaned down to lick the milk.

"Fuck...." He muttered, flicking your nipple with his tongue.

Douma-

Out of all your fellow demons, Douma had to be the most touchy one. Just like with the other upper moons, he's always touching you. But unlike them, you were his favourite target.

Which might have led him to laying his head on your chest, slightly nuzzling it. He had pulled this off multiple times, but none of those times involved him shoving his cock inside you.

"So soft~" the upper moon cooed playfully in your ear, nibbling at your neck. You stared at him with worry, afraid someone will walk in. You tried to adjust yourself on his lap, but his cock went deeper, twitching against your walls. His hands found their way to your chest, groping them while tracing his thumbs over your buds. He pulled back when he felt it grow damp, slightly surprised to see darker patches right where your nipples are.

Lifting your top up, he sees milk leaking out. Douma stares at your nipples, and a smile appears on his face. He attached his lips to your leaking bud, sucking the milk out like there's no tomorrow.

Us three // Arthur Morgan x Reader x John Marston smut

Summary: Arthur Morgan & John Marston are having some arousing time with Reader.

Warnings: smut, threesome, double penetration

Words: 2471

Requested by: @porgswillrullgalaxymotherfucker

Author: Cass & Rouge

In that split second before the touch every nerve in your body and brain were electrified. It’s the anticipation of being together in a way that’s more than words, in a way that’s so completely tangible.

And you’ve never thought about being in such a situation.

You were their drug. One touch and the intoxication was instant. Just your scent sent them into a heady trance, one that didn’t end until your bodies were still once more, just warm and snuggled in as close as three souls could be.

Your back were leant against cold, stone wall of the bedroom. Arthur was on your left, John on the right.

Czytaj dalej

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS - J.M

Warnings: pregnancy, main character death, violence, blood, grief

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: you loved Joel more than you had ever loved anyone else and when you were finally ready to start the rest of your lives together, the world collapsed

Wordcount: 4.1k

The alarm woke the two of you up that morning but he ignored it, tightening his arms around his girlfriend of four years as the two of you lay there in his bed.

"Alarm," the young girl called out, hand pounding on the door.

You didn't want to be taken out of the dream you had even though you knew that the morning sickness would wake you up any second.

You hadn't mentioned it to Joel yet but you'd checked and you were going to surprise him before he left for work for his birthday. You were 7weeks along and couldn't be happier.

You were snapped out of your thoughts of your future by Joel's groan as he pulled you tighter against him, "Five more minutes," he said, his voice gruff in your ear.

As you turned over and looked at your husband of two years, you thought of everything you'd done and been through. You were 5 years his junior and had met five years ago at a work event. You were a secretary at a work event he wa doing construction for and after spending the whole night staring at you, tommy had finally convinced him to ask you out.

Now as you lay here in his bed, looking up into his eyes, you knew that he had made the best decision. "Happy birthday handsome," you said and he pulled you closer to him, arms tightening around your waist.

He smirked, eyes opening to look at you as he spoke in his deep morning voice, “Do i get my present now?” He questioned, hand slipping down to pull on the bottom of his oversized shirt you were wearing.

You chuckled, pressing a hand against his chest as you pushed him away before sitting up in your share bed, “We have to make breakfast, Ill meet you downstairs,” you said, getting out of bed.

After getting changed, you walked down the stairs to the kitchen where you saw Sarah as she stood at the stove, cooking some eggs. As you walked past, you pressed a kiss to the girls temple as you went to grab a glass of water from the fridge.

Sarah had only been 7 when you started dating her dad and she love you from the second that you two met. She had never had a mother like any of the other girls t school had had but you were more than enough.

“You want any help lovey?” You asked as you saw the girl cooking the eggs.

Sarahs nose scrunched up in disgust, she loved your cooking but eggs was in no way your forte, “I’m good,” she said, trying to be polite as you sat down at the counter.

You looked over at the stairs when you heard a noise, watching as Joel walked into the room. He walked over to his daughter, pressing a kiss to her forehead before reaching for the coffee machine.

Sarah asked where the pancake mix was and her fathers face scrunched up in the same way Sarahs had earlier, they were more similar than they thought they were, "I don't like pancakes," he said.

"I know, but me and mum do," Sarah said, grinning at you. You would never get over her calling you that because it showed just how accepted you were in the little family. She turned to the fridge, pouring her father a glass of orange juice, "It's Vitamin C,"

He shook his head in disgust, sliding the juice over the counter. You smiled, picking it up and taking a sip as he drank his coffee. You picked the glass up as you both walked over to the table, watching as Sarah placed their food on the table.

"How old are you again?" Sarah asked teasingly.

"36," he said, taking a sip from his coffee. He had missed out on so much in his life but the only thing he wanted now was to grow old with his daughter and his wife, ready to live the rest of their lives together.

He was snapped out of his daydream when he heard the door open and and they all turne to him as he walked in, "Hey, still alive you old fucker," he said, grabbing a cup of coffee fron the pot, "You look cheery, you get some last night?"

"Course he did," Sarah said and Joel choked on his food, looking up at his 12 year old daughter, thinking about what she had just insinuated.

"Sarah!' The two adults exclaimed, looking over at her as Tommy laughed at the idea.

“At this rate, you two will have some evil mini mes running all over this house,” Tommy joked and Joel laughed at the concept.

Your face scrunched up as you looked over at him, brows furrowed at the idea that he didn’t want that with you, “Would that be so bad Joel?” You questioned and he looked ta you, mimicking the same confused look.

He shrugs, looking at you with the ghost of a smirk on his lips, “No, I don’t think it would,’ he said.

The words sent a wave of relief through you and though you didnt want to mention it now, you were. You had the tests upstairs and the first scan that you had gotten the other day at the hospital to prove it. You smiled at him at the idea and his face sank, almost like he was going through all five stages of grief.

“Honey,” he said, his voice quiet as he looked at you, your smile growing every second that you looked at his shocked face, “Are you serious?”

The room was silent as they waited for your answer. Sarah had a huge grin on her face as she looked at you, the excitement of having a baby brother or sister bubbling up inside of her. Tommys eyes were wide as he looked over at the table, realising that he spoiled the surprise - you had mentioned it to him the other day as he had driven you to the hospital.

“Surprise,” you said, your voice quiet as you waited to gauge the reaction from the others, “I had this whole thing prepared for tonight Joel-“

You started to speak and he cut you off, pulling you into a kiss - he didn’t normally kiss you that much in front of Sarah so the act alone made it clear how happy he was. When he pulled away, his hands came up to cup your cheeks and he looked into your eyes, tears welling up in his.

“We’re going to have a baby?” He questioned again, trying to keep his emotion in as he looked at you. Sarahs mother had never stuck around but he knew that you would, he knew that you were everything he was looking for in a person.

You nodded your head and he kissed you again, one hand going down to rest on your stomach, “7 weeks,” you stated when you pulled away from the kiss.

Joel looked around the room, a huge smile on his face as he looked at his family, “We’re going to have a baby!” He exclaimed, repeating the sentiment as he looked at the others.

When he noticed Sarah had started crying, his face sunk as he wondered if she was unhappy about it, even though she was the one who had been begging for a little sibling since you two got married, “What’s wrong baby?” He asked and Sarah sniffled.

“I’m so happy,” she said, laughing in between the tears. He pressed a kiss against her forehead with a smile.

“Me too Sarah, me too,” he said, looking back at you. Nobody in the room had ever seen Joel miller smile that much before but right now, it looked like he would never stop.

“Congratulations you two, guess I get to be the fun uncle for another kiddo,” he said, a smile on his face.

You were laying on the sofa, fast asleep, when you heard a noise coming from outside. When you finally fully woke up, you checked the time and noticed the sound of helicopters flying overhead.

The rest of the breakfast went smoothly, all of them talking about how exciting it wa going to be, what they were going to name the baby, how they were going to paint the nursery but all good things must come to an end. Joel left for the day to pull a double shift at the construction yard and you drove to work.

You started to panic and pulled a jacket on as you rushed to Sarah’s room, you bag slung on your back. When you noicted that she wasnt in bed, you rushed outside, screaming her name.

That’s when you saw Joel’s truck rushing down the street - he had gone out to pick tommy up from jail after an incident - and when the car parked, he jumped outside.

“Where’s Sarah?” He asked, looked around, a wrench in his hand as he walked over.

Just as he said that, she ran out of the Adlers house, the girl running into your arms as you tried to protect her from whatever it was that Joel was scared of.

Nana Adler started crawling out of the house and anyone could tell that the three adults were scared and unsure what to do. You didnt even know what was going on but with Tommy standing there, a shotgun in his hand, you knew that something was wrong.

"What are we doing Joel?" Tommy asked, his voice loud as he pointed the shotgun at the old lady. She seemed sick, her face morphing into something horrid as she scrambled towards them.

When she got closer, Joel did the only thing he could think about doing to protect his family, he hit her over the head. He had to kill the elderly woman because if he didnt, then there was any chance that she could kill his family.

You gasped, pulling Sarah’s face into your body in an attempt to make sure that she didn’t have to watch her elderly neighbour being bludgeoned to death by Joel.

"He killed her," Sarah whispered into her chest and Joel came over to the two girls, knowing that you both deserved answers.

When he looked into your eyes, he could see that you were scared and confused and he felt bad that this was happening to you now. You two were just about to start your family and now you were being flung head first into an apocalypse that you had no idea about.

When his daughter looked up at him, he noticed the look of pure fear in her eyes - she had never looked at him like that before and he could feel the guilt sinking in his stomach "It's not just the Adlees but we're gonna be brave,"

You nodded and he grabbed your hand, checking on the both of you quickly. You watched Sarah get into the car and he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You okay baby girl?” He asked and you nodded, “We’re going to make it through this, all of us,”

You got into the car, sitting down next to Sarah when you noticed that the other two Adlers were rushing towards the car - they were infected, "Get your seatbelt on!" Joel yelled out and the two girls did.

"I'm scared," Sarah said as she looked up at you. You didnt know how to reassure the girl, you didnt even know what was going on. All you could think about was your family, your baby. You looked down at the bag that you had carried out; inside was the present for Joel, the sonogram.

“What’s going on boys?” You asked, trying to hide the shake in your voice as you looked out of the window as they sped through the streets.

Tommy shook his head in the front from where they were sitting, "They're saying its a virus. Some sort of parasite," he explained, looking back at them.

Sarah let out a shaky sigh, "Are we sick?" She questioned, eyes wide as she looked over at you.

You took her hand in yours, "Course not," you said as you tried to comfort her on a subject that you knew nothing about. You could all be sick for all that you knew but you had to make sure she wasnt too worried

"How do you know? How do you know were not sick?" She questioned an you could hear the fear in her voice.

The girl had been so excited this morning, she had picked out baby names that she wanted and was preparing for tthe rest of her life as a big sister. Now she was preparing to potentially die.

Joel turned back and looked at the two of you, "They're saying it people in the city, that's why they got the highway blocked off," he explained and you nodded, unsure what that meant.

He hated seeing his daughter like that, so upset and scared, bur he knew that you would look after her and that you were going to be okay. He didnt know how this morning he had had he greatest news in his life and now he was sitting here, planning on runnning away to save his family.

As they drove through the streets, Tommy looked in horror at a house on fire in a field, "God. That's Jimmy's place," he said, almost like he finally realised the extent of all of it. It was surreal as they heard the sirens on the streets and prepared for the end of the world as they knew it.

"The Adlers would take nana into thr city," Sarah said almost absentmindedly suddenly. You nodded, listening o Joel reassure her that that must be how they got As they drove onto the highway, Joel swore as he looked at all of the other trucks lining up in an attempt to escape the hell, "Everyone had the same fucking idea," Tommy said.

"Take the field, we'll pick it up on the west side," you said and Tommy nodded, the car jolting back and forth as they drove across the grass.

When they were driving through, Tommy stopped aburpty when he noticed that the entire military was lining the highway that they were trying ro get to, "The fucking army," Tommy said.

"Keep moving, head north," Joel said and you could her the panic in his voice as he starts to yell, explaining that there was nowhere else that they could go, "Tommy, come on,"

He would do anything for his family, especially now, "Where do we go?" You questioned, not knowing what they were going to do now. You werent even write sure what really was going on but also, nobody else seemed to know either.

"We go as far as we go, I don't know, Mexico," he said, shaking his head as he tried to save the family that he had spent so long building, "Go to the river, get across. Pick up the highway and then we're out,"

As he looked back at you and Sarah, you whispering to the girl to try to keep her calm, one hadn on her shoulder and one of your stomach, he wanted to cry. He wanted to break down and destroy whoever had done this to his family.

"Maybe its everywhere, maybe there's nowhere to go," Sarah said, trying to stay strong for everyone else but you could tell that her voice was breaking.

"We will be fine lovey," you said, reaching down and grabbing the girls hand, “You’re a strong girl and you’re going to make it, we all are,”

You were absolutely terrified for your family, for your baby but you couldn’t let it show for Sarahs sake. You had never had a good family life and now that you had a this one, you couldn’t bare to lose it.

They started to drive through town, the four of them horrified ad they looked at the crowds of people. Some people were running for safety and some were chewing on other people.

Tommys eyes were wide as he stared into the distance, "I can't drive through them," he said, his hand shaking on the wheel.

"Keep going," Joel yelled out, all of his protective instincts bubbling up. There was no part of Joel that would ever let anything happen his family, to his brother, to his daughter, his wife and his unborn child and he knew that he would kill people to protect them if he had to.

All of a sudden, a large crowd started to emerge in the distance and they realised that there was somethinggoing on over there,probably more infected people. There was no way they'd make it through.

"Back!" Joel exclaimed, his voice breaking slightly "Tommy go faster, mow the fuck over them,

"Joel!" Youyelled out and he turned to look in the front window when he noticed that a plane waas crashign down and was going to land in their direction - it was going to kill them all.

Your head was a blurry for a second as you crashed and when you woke up, you were upside down and Joel waqs reaching through the car to grab you. You winced as he pulled you out.

He pulled you into his lap, whispering your name under his breath as he checked to make sure you were alright. His heart was pounding as he looked over at the other side of the car where Sarah and Tommy were standing.

“Dad? Are you two okay?” The girl called out from the other side of the car, holding onto her uncle.

"She's fine, you're fine aren't you baby," he asked, hands coming up to her face and she nodded, looking in his eyes like it would be the last time.

You took a deep breath, nodding your head, "My ankle hurts, but I'll be fine," you said and he helped you stand.

Just as yu were about to make your way around to check on Sarah and tommy, another car crashed into theirs, blocking the way around, "Head to thr River, we'll find a way," Tommy said, knowing there was no way round.

“Let’s go babygirl,” Joel said, wrapping his arm around her as they started running. When they made it into an alleyway, they started running at the sight of one of the infected behind them. They started running as fast as they could, legs carrying them into an abandoned field at the back.

Just as you thought that you weren't going to make it through, the infected man was shot and you and Joel both looked over to see a man from the Tate police standing in the field.

He wrapped his arm round your waist, your ankle had gotten worse from all that running and he could hear you wincing as he walked over to the man.

“Help us, my wife, she’s hurt her ankle,” he said and the man was hesitating, hand on his gun, “She’s pregnant, please,”

You both stood there for a second, not knowing what the man was going to do or say. You looked up at Joel, looking into his deep brown eyes for wht you wondered may be the last time.

The man picked up his radio, “we have two civilians, a man and his injured wife, she’s pregnant,” the man said.

They couldn’t hear what the man said though the radio after that but when he received his orders, he held up his gun and you both knew that this was not going to end well.

“Please, we’re not sick, we’re not sick,” he repeated and when he heard the bullet fire, he did the only thing that he could think of doing, he turned his body around to shied you but it waas too late.

When he opened his eyes, he looked up at the man who had the gun still pointed at you. The man never shot again and Joel flinched when he heard a gunshot. When he looked at him, the man was falling to the ground and Tommy was standing there with the shotgun in his hand.

The first thing he heard was Sarah’s scream and then he turned to see you laying there. He crawled over to you, tears in his eyes as he looked at he bullet wounds all in your stomach and chest. There was no way you were going to make it.

“Babygirl, babygirl, come on,” he said and when he tried to move you, you screamed. He pulled you into his lap, tears in his eyes as he held his hand to your abdomen in an attempt to save you somehow.

“Joel, Joel, it hurts,” you said through gritted teeth. It was like someone was pulling at you, peeling your skin off completley. You don’t know how you could bre it any longer so you closed your eyes.

“Look at me honey, don’t do this to me,” he said, listening to your sobs. He turned back, tears in his eyes as he looked at Tommy and Sarah, the latter of which had tears streaming down her cheeks, “Don’t let her watch,”

He pressed his hand against your wounds desperately no matter how loud you screamed. He was watching his future slip away from him in those last seconds and you closed your eyes, sobs getting quieter.

“Stay with me baby, come on, come on,” he repeated over and over again and you opened your eyes, looking into his eyes.

“It hurts Joel,” you whispered, “The baby Joel, my baby,”

You let out a scream as he pressed his jacket to your stomach in any attempt to save you. He wasnt going to sit ideally and wait, “We’re going to make it darling, just stay with me,”

“I’m cold Joel,” you said, a chuckle escaping you as you closed your eyes, “Its so cliche, I’m cold baby,”

He let the tears flowed down his cheeks and your eyes fluttered open, focusing on him. You thought back to the first time you looked into his deep brown eyes from across the room and wished you could go back there. As the world slipped away, his hand in yours, you let his face ground you.

He let out a guttural scream ask he pulled you into his arms, feeling your limp body in his arms. Joel couldn’t bare the thought of losing you. He had failed at the only thing he had ever promised you to do, he had failed to look after you.

Even tommy closed his eyes as he watched his brother lose the only woman he ever really loved. He couldn’t watch, he could listen to the sobs from his niece and the screams from his brother as he tried to hold onto any piece of you that he could.

Joels eyes opened when he heard something flutter to the groun and he looked t a crumpled up sonogram that had fallen from your pocket. The pad of his thumb wiped the blood off of it, your blood, as he looked at what could have been his future.

He let out one more visceral scream as he held your body to his. He wasn’t ready to let go and he never would.

dbhwks + shigs as cowboys/outlaws? hell yeah