#& feel free to flesh the connection out yourself

[nottswitch]

⋆˙⟡♡ VENUS IN SCORPIO

venus in scorpio keeps their walls up at all times, not letting anyone past the cold, unfeeling facade. but beyond the mask lie raw passion and power. if a scorpio venus lets you in, but you end up toying with their emotions instead, you can expect yourself to end up in the receiving end of their… displeasure.

tom riddle x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, brat taming, face slapping, choking, hints at oral (m receiving)

nav // event / more

"on your knees."

"no."

you stand defiantly, arms crossed on your chest as you regard tom with narrowed eyes. you see the slight clench in his jaw, and the little movement fills you with pride. it’s not often that he reacts to all the bullshit you seem to be constantly pulling, but this time, you might’ve gone too far – and you’re enjoying it far too much for your own good.

"i could make you," he says calmly, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, yet there’s an undeniable strain to his voice. no one else would notice, but you’ve known tom for far too long not to. "i will make you."

you scoff, lifting up your chin to look more confident, even though tom’s intense gaze is doing a great job at pinning you down. "you can try."

tom doesn’t have to be asked twice. with two long strides, he walks up to you, his eyes flicking up and down your body for a split second. next thing you know, his hand is wrapped around your throat, fingers tightly curling into your tender flesh as he tugs you down. your knees give out without much resistance, roughly thumping against the floor – would’ve hurt more, but a rug provides a cushion.

"you just love being a brat, don’t you?"

your breath gets stuck in your throat as you take a sharp inhale, yet your defiance doesn’t seem to fade away just yet. you look up, taking in tom’s features, pulled together in a small scowl. good, you think, you’re getting a reaction.

"how did you know?" you ask, letting a smirk tug at the corner of your lips – you just know it will irritate him more, which is exactly what you want.

tom tilts his head to the side a bit, bringing his free hand to your face. his thumb glides over your bottom lip, the gesture almost tender, before it’s suddenly pulled away. a sharp slap lands on your cheek, but his hand on your throat doesn’t let your head fall to the side. you hiss, biting your lip to stifle a sound, but the effect can’t be ignored – heat starts coiling low in your stomach, and you clench your thighs together, searching for friction.

"stop that." tom’s foot shifts, pressing at your knee to stop your legs from getting any closer to each other. you try again, but his stance is firm, his foot firmly on the floor, unmoving. his fingers dig further into your neck, tugging you closer to his crotch. you can see the bulge that’s starting to form there, and a smirk is back on your lips, your eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him again.

"what if i don’t?" you ask, your voice just a little shaky, just a little treacherous of your own arousal. tom’s expression doesn’t change, but you can feel his hand moving before his palm connects with your cheek again, leaving a budding yet strangely pleasant sting in its wake.

"then i’ll make you. over and over again."

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

Tomorrow free update for Drink Your Villain Juice

also did you know that on the Patreon, there are exclusive POVs from various members of the cast... for example, Beth who has just been released... here is the first page (and it's 6000 words long! and multiple choices!)....

As the blinding blaze of twin novas fades, stars blinking across Beth’s vision, a sudden weight yanks her to the side. There’s an uncanny feeling of connection, of sensing with a part of herself that didn’t exist before this moment.

Beside her, Prii screams, shuddering wildly. Something cracks, and Beth’s stomach lurches as she realises it’s her friend’s skull. Blood pours down their face, horns pushing through flesh and bone, the screams reaching a fever pitch—

“Miss Volkova?”

Beth startles. Her eyes refocus. Where—who—

DPR Hexbury. Officer Jalen Lamont. He’s seated across from her, hands laced together and resting on the table. A mug of coffee sits in front of her, untouched and probably stone cold.

“I’m sorry,” Beth rasps, throat crackling. “Can you repeat that?”

“Of course.” Lamont smiles. He’s a few years older than her, if she’s to guess, though the thick beard might be throwing her off.

Beth’s never felt less of an adult.

Lamont continues. “As a fresh flare, our responsibility is to ensure that you can learn to use your powers safely, while supporting you through this difficult time.” He sighs. “What happened to you was horrible, and you shouldn’t have to handle it alone.”

“My friends,” Beth mumbles for the sixth or seventh time. She can’t help it. Prii, Morgan, and Shauna are still in danger. Grant’s still in danger, a couple rooms away down three pints of blood. Beth’s not the one who needs help.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Lamont replies for the fourth or fifth time with the same patience as the first. “Sky Surfer and Lockstep have taken every available officer to investigate the area you described.” Lamont has told her that already too. The mask names barely mean anything to her; she’s never paid parahumans much mind beyond their presence being a simple fact of life. Hexbury isn’t the kind of place where heroes and villains battle upon the streets.

Underneath said streets? It appears that’s a separate story.

The reality of the situation fades in and out. It’s morning now, Beth thinks. She hasn’t slept. She isn’t sure she’ll ever sleep again. If she squeezes her eyes closed hard enough, she’ll reopen them surrounded by her friends, preparing for an ‘adventure’ worthy of the name only after judicious video editing. Grant will tease, Shauna will worry, Prii will herd the cats, and Morgan—

Lamont is speaking again. “Our current concern is that whoever is behind this will go to ground, especially if what happened hits the media.” Lamont lets out a small sigh, brow creasing with sympathy. “I’m sorry for what you went through. That creature you encountered sounds… monstrous, and in my books you handled yourself remarkably well.”

“She claims her friend’s injuries were inflicted by some kind of mutated animal. Frankly, if she wasn’t dragging around half the metal in every room she enters, we wouldn’t even be bothering you with this. I suspect drugs—”

“Thanks, doctor, we’ll take it from here. Appreciate your discretion.”

The hospital staff had taken one look at Beth, blood-splattered, babbling in panic, and hauling around Grant’s unconscious body, and written her off. Lamont has accepted everything she’s told him at face value, from what she and the others were doing in that place to her description of the monster.  

She still can’t accept the compliment. She ‘handled herself well’? She left almost everyone behind.

[froggiequarium]

(unedited) nsfw; caleb having you in a headlock & fcking you into the mattress :x inspo from this art based on this imagine

-

you'd always had a hard time keeping your eyes in check whenever caleb wore shirts that accentuated his arms, namely the loose tanks he'd sport in the warmer weather or even just during his workout.

you tried your best to hide it, you really did, but it was difficult to keep yourself in check when every subtle move or flex of his arm clearly showed off his bulging muscles.

aside from endless admiration for them, you often fantasized about having one of his beefy arms trapping you in a headlock, just to feel his strength in such a vulnerable state.

which is how you're here now, flat on your stomach against the mattress, meaty bicep wrapped around your neck, hands weakly gripping at the thick limb, gasping and choking out moans, drool seeping past your lips as caleb's body presses yours into the mattress, driving his hips against yours, the sinful sound of your connection ringing throughout the bedroom.

"couldn't stop starin' at em, could you? nngh, bet you were just waitin' for me to take you like this..."

his breath is raspy against your ear, only pulling another choked moan from your throat. caleb huffs out a laugh.

"you like when i get a little rough with you like this, don't you?"

you breathe out a sigh, floating to another world as he rams repeatedly into you, hips stuttering for a moment.

"ah, shit, you just clenched down on me. you're enjoying this, huh?"

"ca-leb—"

you needily gasp out his name, drool slipping past the corner of your lips and down his arm, the man wickedly grinning down at you in response, pace steady and punctuated, feeling your walls fluttering and clenching more and more— a sign that you're getting close.

he releases the pressure on your throat just slightly, your pretty sounds and whines going straight to his cock, ploughing faster into you, leaning closer to your ear, body crushing you into the mattress so fully.

you loved being taken like this.

"gonna make you feel real good, ok?" his voice is a sensual whisper against the shell of your ear.

"please... please, caleb! so close, hahhh" you whine under him, boneless body completely at his mercy.

in the next second, the pressure around your throat increases again at the same time that he slams against that sweet spot inside of you. he feels you clench down hard, groan escaping through gritted teeth as your eyes roll back, nails digging into the flesh of his arm, mouth falling open at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

airway constricted by the colonel on top of you, your sounds are choked, only managing needy pants as you reach your summit, cumming hard around caleb's thick cock still driving into you, helping you ride through your high.

"that's it, that's my good girl... shit, you really liked that, huh?"

he softens his grip again, hearing you gasp out for him, pleading whines of his name escaping your hoarse throat as he drives you into overstimulation.

"ca—leb, ah— sensi-tive, ah~"

"almost there, princess, almost—"

with a few more harsh thrusts, caleb cums with a loud groan, spilling himself completely inside of you. you whine underneath him at the sensation, weak and overstimulated from the treatment, courtesy of the man above you. you're trying your best to even out your breathing, fatigue tugging at your droopy eyelids.

caleb leans his head over your shoulder, planting a soft kiss against your bare shoulder blade.

"you okay, pipsqueak?"

"tired...." you whine, arms moving to hug his arm still around you, nestling your head against it.

he breathes out a laugh, warming your skin.

"yeah, i bet you are," he breaths out, free hand moving up to pet your head.

"let me clean my pretty girl up," he muses.

you hum, letting your eyes shut as he lifts himself off of you. you feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whimper at the loss before calming once more, breaths evening out waiting for caleb to return and clean you up.

and just as the edges of sleep are gripping at whats left of your consciousness, one singular thought circulates your mind:

you both definitely need to do that again.

-

this has been sitting here for a bit but i needed to finish it bc the art i saw was driving me insane tbh i need this so bad sigh

-

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Cult. [M]

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Raw Dogging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Implied Unwanted Pregnancy, Power Imbalance, Big Dick! Ghost, Soft Dom! Ghost, Cult Leader! Ghost, Submissive (and Breedable)! Reader, Implied Abortion Attempt, Fem Reader, Profanity.

He’s filthy in the way he treats you, like a common whore, spreading you out over his desk – once-varnished mahogany, now bleached with weeks’ worth of spend, of tears, rubbed raw in places, the phantoms of many a night relentless under your leader – and bearing your body like it’s his god-given duty.

In essence, it is. Albeit, a god he created – fabricated – to lead lambs into a wolf’s den. And with the primal, savage way he forces himself into you, his tip pulsing and throbbing with the many hours he’s subjected you to, you can very well believe he is the very image of a predator.

“Won’t stop ‘til you’re full – ‘til it’s– fuck– ‘til it’s taken,” Simon pants, his shadow cloaking you, the sweat from his broad chest dripping down onto your sodden back. Your cheek is pressed into the desk, and in the corner of your vision, between the narrowed eyes you fight to keep open amidst the electric annihilation sparking between your legs, just below your stomach, you see him with bared teeth and dark eyes that glint with some unholy purpose. A purpose that only makes the feeling writhing inside you stronger, heavier.

With a deft hand – his other planted by your head, a cage – he finds your clit and presses it between two fingers as if it were the stub of a cigarette. He squeezes. Hard. 

Your lips quiver around him and a strangled moan escapes you, euphoria becoming you, possessing you as something had him. 

You keen on his hand, desperate for contact, for friction, despite him already filling you utterly and without mercy. Your arousal drips into his hand, pools in his palm. It takes all his will not to drink it then and there.

“I know, Doll–” ‘Doll’ – the name he’d given you, the name that reminds you you’re his to use as he pleases. His fingers squeeze your clit between them, a flesh vice. You’re gasping. He doesn’t stop, subjecting you to a pleasure so carnal you know only he can grant you it.

His free hand finds your shoulder, slips down your soaked back – a collage of brutal love-making, of animal rutting, of feral and incessant breeding – leaving goosebumps in its wake. He finds your rump, squeezes it, his hand flipping further between your legs until he finds your epicentre.

You’re so sensitive, and so swollen. He’s done this enough times to know that you’re red there, too.

He finds the spot where you’re connected, the modest sliver of his shaft that hasn’t been consumed by your wanting hole – where your combined arousal slithers out of you, dripping down his tightening ballsack – and plays at the edges of your lips, those that create a milky ring at the base of his cock, those that twitch with the almost overwhelming orchestra of sensations he is subjecting you to, playing you as his instrument.

Your hips twitch, pushing back against him, inadvertently impaling yourself on the inch or two he’d spared you from. 

He’s swollen – painfully so. Plugging you, preventing you from getting away. Something you realise all-too late as you try to pull away, to ease the searing ache in your lips, in your womb.

You’re crying, he’s grunting, throat raw with hours of praise, of nothing short of feral growling – curses to something other than his god.

You whine as he withdraws his hand from between your legs, instead coming to cup your breasts and pull you flush against his chest.  Squeezing around him again, the bulge of his cock inside you becomes ever more apparent when his hand slips up to your throat and he shunts you forward with his hips.

You’re weak – a ragdoll against him – and you’re pushed back down against the wood. He presses your stomach to the desk, your head now handing over the edge.

“D’you feel it, love?” he rasps. “Gonna give you a baby – put it right there.”

You do feel him, like an eel, slithering into any space he can, any space he hasn’t already occupied. You feel your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and you feel his in the head of his dick, rabid. You want to sob, want the pleasure coursing through your every fibre to overwhelm you, to send you hurtling into a high nobody else can give you.

But you know this will have consequences.

You know there’s no morning after pill strong enough to overcome Simon’s seed, none strong enough to stand a chance against the sheer amount of his spend. You know this because you’re already pregnant.

You’d originally tried using a multitude of contraband substances – pills, medication, anything you could get your hands on – to stop the inevitable. To prolong it just long enough for you to find a way out of the hole you’d dug yourself into.

When Simon had found them – no doubt with the help of one of his disciples, one eager to please and who would settle for the simple pleasure of being the dirt beneath his boot – he made absolutely certain to undo all your hard work.

For days afterwards, when he gave his sermons, you had to stand, hands clasped in prayer, with his cum rolling down your thighs beneath your compound-issue garments.

 And despite how you know you don’t want this destiny he’s imparted upon you, you still urge your hips against his. Especially as you feel him twitching, your hole leaking and almost squealing with his semen and the memory of the many times he’s already pumped you full this same night. He’s ready to bust at any moment, ready to find and create any excuse to empty his load into you, his favourite disciple.

You finish first in a fit of euphoric fury, an outpouring of devotion, a static explosion that leaves you utterly spent and entirely limp, unable to move as Simon continues to pummell you, using you, not stopping until you hear him give nothing less than a guttural roar, throwing his head back as he empties every ounce of his spend into you.

Any chances of escaping, any hopes of the world beyond the company you’d embroiled yourself in – they’re all gone now. Knocked clean out your head and from your reach, your mind nothing but a post-haze. You feel full almost to the point of bursting, but your body settles for a ballooned discomfort in your middle. One which you know will only grow bigger and heavier over the coming months. And no doubt beyond that when Simon deems you capable – worthy – of bearing him more offspring.

Simon is panting behind you, hands planted either side of you, head hanging between heaving shoulders. As if he’s impregnated you with his very soul.

His hand slips across the desk down to your front, where he manages to levy his fingers between your exhausted form and the hard wood beneath. And, as if by divine intuition, he gives a hum. Presses a languid kiss to your exposed neck, uttering a “Well done, love.”

He’s going to be a father.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad X

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ WE F⍣CK OFF & ON, OFF & ON .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ As the campus’s well known f⍣ckboy, Satoru Gojo wasn’t known to stick around for more than one night in one bed. Well, that unspoken rule just didn’t apply when the bed was yours.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, uni au, smut (mdni), protected s⍣x, f⍣ckboy!gojo, hair pulling, p⍣ssywhipped!gojo, mentions of alc⍣hol & bein’ drunk, dirty talk, slight dumbification.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ Thank you so freaking much for 1.5K!!! 🥹

Absolutely unbearable.

If there was any way to describe the campus fuckboy, it’d be that.

He was known—infamous for his unique way of fucking women and somehow leaving them attached, yearning for him once more after just one night, while he only left unscathed with his balls empty.

Satoru Gojo was insatiable. And you hated him.

You failed to see what everyone saw in him—he was a total idiot for fucks sake! Granted, he had a pretty face and could be quite charming, and you really couldn’t say for yourself if he was that good in bed, but good things about him paled in comparison to his horrid personality. He knew how attractive he was, and used that any chance he got.

How did he manage to talk his way into and out of anything? You simply didn’t know. But you hated him.

That was…until you yourself finally had a taste of Satoru Gojo.

Drunk at a party and so utterly wasted, you’d failed to acknowledge who was hitting on you, who you got into the taxi with to drive back to who knows where. His hands all over you—so rough yet inviting, even after the alcohol in your system had gone you still found yourself pulled into a trance.

A trance that seemingly pushed you to his bed and under him. Seemingly had you moaning his name all night and for more to come.

And seemingly, now, opening the door to your apartment so he could come in. So he could come in and fuck you like he’s been doing for the past months. Well, that’s just what he thought would happen anyway.

“Satoru,” you huffed, watching as the tall freak plopped himself onto your couch, momentarily jerking his head back before he responded with a hum.

“Can you stop acting like a fool and try not to break anything for once?” You chastised, pointing to a hand of his already playing with the flowers in your prized vase—he hadn’t given you those and had no right to taint them.

The white haired man groaned, rolling his eyes and following you down the narrow hallway to your bedroom. Your steps halted at the doorway and so did his, a low snicker leaving his lips as his hands slid to your waist.

“So,” he sighed in your ear, brushing his soft lips past the skin of your neck, big hands squeezing the flesh of your ass as he snaked them down. “Y’just gonna keep on being grumpy or you gonna let me fuck?”

“Satoru,” you exasperated for what seemed like the umpteenth time, though you didn’t dare take his hands off your body, already surrendering to the feeling. “Just because we’ve been fucking doesn’t mean that I only invite you here because of that.”

You turned around to face him. “We have a project to do, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll start after I start.”

And what was Satoru’s definition of that?

It was pushing your head further down into your pillows as he absolutely ravished your cunt, simultaneously holding both your hands back with just one of his.

His thrusts were deep and calculated—to the point where it felt like he knew where every pleasurable spot inside you was. Perhaps he did.

“Dick’s got you all quiet now, hm?” he smirks, sliding his free hand up your back and to your head, pulling your hair back as he speaks. By then you were a drooling mess and as much as you’d hate to admit it—you’re practically dumb on his cock, moaning incoherent little babbles of his name and how big he feels.

Satoru grins behind you, smug because he’s got you, the most prim and proper girl on campus choking on her own saliva. It all felt so surreal, you felt surreal—your soft hips, the succulent ripple of your ass as his hips connected to it, your moans—fuck everything you did was driving him crazy. Even though it was supposed to be the other way around.

He was the one who was supposed to be ingrained in your brain—but here he was, inches deep inside your wet, reeling pussy after he swore the last time he was in your apartment would be the last.

But there’s always a reoccurring cycle with you. He just can’t stop.

“Hah—mph—slow down, S’toru!” you mewl, fat tears swelling in your waterline, your ears perking up at the rhythmic plap! plap! plap! of your sweaty bodies colliding. “If ‘m too loud my neighbors might hear,”

“Yeah? Let them hear how good I’m makin’ you feel then,” he breathes, shallow and unsteady, his toned chest moving in tandem with his inhales. The deep tremble of his voice seems to move throughout your body, vibrating through you in such a maddening way that you’re almost cumming from the feeling alone.

What was even more provoking was the way he pulsed against your gummy walls, thumping and pulsing inside you loud enough that it seemed you could hear it.

And—god was Satoru close, so close he could feel the static of his high zap though his fingers. He groaned, head thrown back in bliss as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so deliciously.

Your head was spinning from the mind-dizzying pleasure, eyes rolling back in what Satoru can only admit is the most remarkable expression he’s gotten out of anyone he’s fucked.

His hair was sticking to his forehead now, sweaty from how fast he was working to thrust into you at his abnormal pace. “Can I—“

“No.”

A defeated sigh and a pained grunt as he pulled out just as he was about to teeter off the edge of pleasure, taking himself in his hands and finishing the job. Satoru jerked himself as he watched you shake and convulse in euphoria, your body unwinding as you let your limbs go limp.

Cum seeped from your pussy, dripping down to your clit and sheets—and that sight was all he needed before his hot seed was spurting all over your back, the sensation causing a broken cry to leave your lips.

“Fuck,” Satoru mouthed, breathing hard as he gave your ass little smacks of approval. “That was—shit—so good.”

You nodded, head turning to the side as you watched him take off his cum-filled condom, and dump it in the trash. Satoru plopped back on your bed once he was done.

A smirk graced his lips and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, knowing nothing good could come out of that look.

“When do you think we could do it raw, hm?”

“When you get tested for every type of STD.”

[asharasasylum]

♡ drabble booklet - entry 1

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ warnings: step-cest. corruption kink. dry humping. smut. 18+

Step!Brother Rafe finds you irresistible as you try to make yourself comfortable on his lap. You’re wearing that sheer slip, the one that practically leaves you bare in front of him. It’s stupid, he thinks but he tries not to comment on it, knowing it’ll only make you pout at him and try to slip away from him again. 

Like the way you're softly pouting now as you look at him. “Rafe,” you fearfully whisper, staring at him with wide doe eyes. “I don’t think we should-” 

He shushes you quickly, fingers threading themselves through the strands of your hair as he pulls you forward. “Relax,” he tells you, nudging his nose against yours. “Just like I taught you,  remember?” 

You nod, leaning further into him and being the good step-sister he had taught you to be. You press your lips to his, gentle and almost unsure at first when they connect, only to grow hungrier when he reciprocates. It’s always the same, you pretend to not like it, to not be that into it, only to become desperate from his touch. You soon find yourself eagerly parting your lips when his tongue swipes against them, letting his tongue roam freely in your mouth. 

Rafe thinks he likes the little game you play, you acting coy every time he comes into your room, only seconds later for you to be whimpering into his mouth. He likes the idea that he is corrupting you. 

“I’m going to guide you, okay?” Rafe tells you, with a smug smile. His hands fall to your hips as they grip onto them, kneading his thumbs into your flesh as he prepares you for what he’s about to do. 

You nod bashfully, barely taking notice of what he’s actually doing until you feel it. Your crotch rubs against him as he rolls your hips, eliciting a gasp from your lips. 

“You okay?” He asks, cupping your cheek with one hand. You nod again, only this time your eyes are half lidded as you dazedly stare at him. “This okay?” He rolls his hips upwards, his hardened cock pushing up against you in the process and watching how your lips part to take another steady breath. 

“Yes,” you mutter, reacting to him as you follow his movements. As always you’re a quick learner, taking what you want and letting your desires guide you. 

“There you go.” 

You barely register his words, or when his hands start to roam over your body. You’re too lost in the feel of him rubbing against you, your clothed pussy becoming slick every time he nudged upwards into your clit. You can’t even think about kissing him, and you love kissing him, you’re just too focused on the feel of him underneath you and the way your stomach knots in delight. 

The clothes between you don’t lessen the friction and yet you still really want to take off your shorts. You think he can tell, reading your fucked out expresion as you stare at him through hazy eyes. If he can’t see it written over your face, he can hear it in your sharp breaths as you move your hips faster. 

“Rafe,” you whimper when he stops, pulling your hips up off of him. 

“Give me a sec,” Rafe hisses, hand slipping down to his shorts. 

You follow his hand, watching as he adjusts himself in his shorts. You’ve never seen it before, not even like this, his hardened cock a thick outline in his shorts. He’s big, you can tell even though you have no other guys to compare it to. 

He groans, when he manages to get it into a more comfortable position. His cock slaps forward, the tip peeking through the waistband of his shorts. Bright red and leaking. 

“Take it out,” the words fall from your tongue catching you both by surprise. 

“You sure?” He asks, with furrowed brows. 

“Please,” you pout at him. 

His hand slips back into the waistband of his shorts with no hesitation, and you watch with wide eyes as he pulls it free. It seems bigger for some reason and you can’t help but stare as he gives it a few strokes. 

He’s quick to yank you back down on top of him, bringing you both back to moments ago. Only it’s better now, Rafe can feel how wet you are, literally dripping through the sheer panties you call shorts. He groans at the sensation, grinding himself harder up into you and eliciting a moan from your lips. 

“You’re soaked,” he tells you, hands roaming over your body once again. 

“Your fault,” you mumble, bringing your lips down to his. You don’t kiss but your lips part as your moans slip from your tongue and into his mouth. It feels good, too good. Especially when your panties get caught, sliding to the side and your bare pussy ends up gliding over him. 

“Shit,” Rafe hisses at this, the sensation and the way you’re panting like some bitch in heat, driving him insane. 

You’re close, your toes curling as your stomach begins to stir and you begin to clench around nothing. He can tell when your hands grip onto his shoulders, and you bite back at a noise that threatens to be too loud. 

He helps you through it, using his hands to keep you sliding up and down his dick, watching how you finally crumble when your orgasm washes over you. He watches the way you fight to keep your eyes locked with him and the way your teeth sink into your lips to hold back your moans. 

But Rafe doesn’t stop there, prolonging the overstimulating feeling as he continues to grind against you, grazing over your sensitive clit repeatedly. He uses you, groaning into your lips as he chases his own high. He doesn’t even think when he starts to spill out onto his stomach, thick ropes coating his abdomen, completely forgetting that he’s still rubbing you over him, coating your pussy in his cum. 

Even as he does realise he’s too shameless to care, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you down against him. He knows he should clean you up, but he doesn’t want to as he presses his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. And he thinks you don’t want to either. 

[monstersholygrail]

Bite Me Baby

Werewolf bf x fem!reader— rough sex, clawing, marking, biting, brief mentions of blood, edging, aftercare

You had been nervous when you told your Werewolf bf that you were a vampire. You knew there were all those legends about your species being ancient rivals and even worse how some still believed in them. You knew your bf wasn’t like that and yet you were still nervous.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for his reaction. Instead of apprehension or worry, your Werewolf bf’s eyes flooded with lust. About the same time yours overflowed with alarm at the sight of it.

Further alarm moving through you when Werewolf bf jumps to tackle you down onto your bed. Inhaling deeply at your scent he can now pinpoint where he previously couldn’t before he nuzzles into the flesh there, adding his own scent to yours. Tiny growls leaving him as he does. You’re frozen, eyes wide, not knowing what to make of this reaction.

“Do you know how hard it’s been trying to hold back from taking you as roughly as I’ve wanted? Not wanting to break my pretty mates human body,” Werewolf bf snarls.

His hands move down your shape with a new fascination. His love for your body, perfect as it is, grows even deeper. He no longer bothers to be gentle, claws scratching down your form, fingers digging into your flesh, weight leaning on you. All to see how much you can take.

You moan, finally feeling his touch on a higher level than ever before now that neither of you have to hide or hold back any longer. “I want everything you can give me,” you beg.

Werewolf bf snarls, hands rushing to rid you of your clothing. Trying to be respectful but eventually using his claws to simply tear through what left you had on. You cry out, only getting more aroused by his intensified dominance.

“I expect you to bite back,” Werewolf bf snaps cheekily, a feral smirk on his face.

You go to bite back, so to speak, when Werewolf slams his long length inside you in one thrust, turning your words in a fierce shriek. All speech is immediately forgotten as your bf begins pounding into you. Sharp claws digging into your soft hips as he helps slam you down on his cock with his every movement.

Your body curls unnaturally in around his and he chuckles, watching how you squirm for him. Arms wrapping around his neck you bring his warm body closer to yours, allowing his cock to sink in even deeper inside you. Mirroring moans leave you both and Werewolf bf nips at your throat.

While sex with your Werewolf was naturally mindblowing and out of this world, the connection you two manage to reach now is nothing like you’ve ever felt. The pleasure not only coming from your bodies but also from your hearts. Nothing else standing between you two, both of you free to be yourselves and basking in the freedom of it. The acceptance you’re both met with continues to intensify the actions between you.

Suddenly remembing his words you nip back, but being a vampire your fangs naturally happen to sink in even deeper. A load roar echos throughout the room. Your bond with him forming as you mark him brings an indescribable ecstasy. Shocked from the noise you lean back, your fangs leaving with it.

The feeling suddenly fades and Werewolf bf snaps his hips even harder into your weeping pussy as it contracts around his length, eagerly searching to get that sensation back. Your jaw drops, your mind momentarily losing itself as you think about how good he’s fucking you and how addictive the feel of his cock is. Shaking your head of all other thoughts you force yourself to focus on your bf.

“My love, W-what’s wrong?” you pant out, rolling your hips and trying to keep up with his furious speed. Your body practically moving on its own as it subconsciously searches for him.

Werewolf bf merely grunts, brows furrowing as he searches for an explanation. The only conclusion he can come to is that you’re a vampire. Marking someone of his species must be different. Follow different rules and needed different steps.

But in the meantime… until those rules were followed and those steps were taken… you could mark him as many times as you wanted. It would fade as soon as your fangs left him and he’d get to feel that ecstasy once more.

Overcome with a newfound urgency, Werewolf bfs pace gets impossibly faster, making a complete mess out of you as your pussy gushes with arousal. His stamina only achievable due to his werewolf genes. Your bf shakes his head, huffing loudly as he moves.

“Nothing. Nothing. ‘So good, baby. So good. Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t you dare stop,” Werewolf bf snaps in desperation, tiny whimpers and whines leaving him.

Your hips arch as a gasp rips from your throat. Eyes widening you can see just how deeply you’re affecting him. Satisfaction swirls through your gut. Time and time again your Werewolf bf has managed to reduce you to nothing but weak noises one-word responses. Now the tables are turning and he’s finally getting a taste of his own medicine.

Truly wanting to make him pay, you clench your tight cunt down on his cock and watch as he howls, his eyes growing hazy. You lean up and lap at the drops of blood trickling down his neck. Werewolf bf begins to pant, his cock driving into you as a force of which only two supernaturals could ever withstand. Your bf’s hair stands on end and your body buzzes at the nerves he ignites within you.

“What? Want my fangs in your pretty little neck? Would you like my mark?” You whisper slowly in his ear, fang grazing the lobe.

Werewolf bf’s hips jolt forward, slamming into your cervix and you cry out, the pain mixing with the pleasure in an addictive fashion. You both hold onto each other, squeezing tightly. Using each other to ground yourselves against the friction of your bodies. Neither of you caring to be gentle any longer knowing you can take it as if you were made for each other.

And history called you enemies? When there has never been a match more perfect.

“Yes. F-fuck, please! Mark me. Over and over again until I pass out!” Your boyfriend growls out, his words barely audible through the rumbling animal noises leaving him.

Your eyes widen, having never heard your bf beg before. You start meeting his rabid thrusts with even more vigor and you come to the conclusion that you quite like it. Making your boyfriend a slobbering mess of a pup. With that realization you don’t waste another second before sinking your fangs back inside your Werewolf bf.

He howls his delight, a mix of growls and purrs leaving him as he feels the mating bond form between you. His cock twitches inside of you and he continues the relentless pounding of his hips. The combined sensations clashing together in a way that has him feeling like he can’t even breathe.

But then you remove your fangs and your bf exhales heavily. His mind growing more foggy, eyes growing more glassy, but his pace remaining just as brutal as ever. Never stopping in his pursuit to chase the pleasure he’s certain only you can give him.

Over and over the cycle continues. Sinking your fangs into your bf’s neck, letting the bond form, and then promptly removing them. You feeling the repetitive motion of the bond forming only to have it ripped away just at the precipice. Seeing the way it impacts your boyfriend adds to your already immense pleasure even if you can’t feel it the same way he does.

When you feel your Werewolf bf drooling onto your shoulder you know you have him right where you want him. Throwing your head back with a moan as your bf grinds his cock against the happy spot along your walls, you can see just how deep he is.

“Wanna cum, baby?” She ask through heavy breaths.

Your bf immediately whines, head nodding eagerly. You hadn’t been known he was waiting for your order but you can feel his knot swelling and pushing against your opening. All this too brings a deep satisfaction through your stomach and straight to your tingling messy core.

“Go then. Cum inside me and make me yours. It’s your turn to claim me.”

With those words it’s like your Werewolf bf returns to himself in a snap. With a ferocious roar he’s pulling his hips back and slamming his entire length inside of you. Forcing his knot into your puffy and sopping pussy. Your screams join his own as you two erupt together, your orgasms clashing into each other as you two cum at the same time. The world flashes white as you feel his hot semen splash along your walls, the waves of pleasure more than you can handle.

You both continue your steady rocking, riding out the waves of your ecstasy and prolonging it for as long as possible. His knot and your squeezing pussy keeping you both tightly together. Werewolf bf purrs lowly and nuzzles into your neck, touching as much of you as possible. You reciprocate without even realizing it. The closeness helping you both calm down from what you two experienced together.

The smooth glide of Werewolf bf’s wet nose rubbing along your nose has you humming in content. Adding to the feeling that you’re on cloud nine. A moment later your bf leans back and his content gaze mirrors your own as you look deep into each other’s eyes.

“The mark didn’t stick, did it?” He croaks out the question, his voice holding a tinge of sadness.

You angle your head and look down at his already healed neck. Not even a scar mark left behind. An ache settles in your chest as a sadness overcomes you as well. All it takes is the slow shake of your head to give him a proper answer and your bf lets out a long wolfy whine. He leans back down and nuzzles into your pulse point again.

“I’m going to mark you properly and I’m going to do it soon. Sooner now that I know you’re not human, my sneaky little mate,” your bf rumbles out. He can feel the heat of your blush as it runs up your neck and to your cheeks.

“Now I’ll be able to mark you back…” you whisper in his ear, trying to shake off your embarrassment for having foolishly been nervous to tell your bf the truth about your nature.

Werewolf boyfriend playfully snarls and snaps his jaw near your neck, earning an exaggerated gasp from you. But as your bf’s cock twitches inside your sore cunt, already prepared for another round, you’re not sure how playful that nip was.

You bare your neck to him and your bf instantly grows harder at your submission. Looking into his eyes you issue the challenge and he has no issues meeting it. More than ready to be the one to bite you this time.

[strawberrykidneystone]

put her canine teeth in the side of my neck

lest x female reader

summary: you’re lest’s favorite client, but her services aren’t free

a/n: yk that saying of the devil works hard but fan fiction writers work harder? yeah.

tags: fluff, making out, dry humping, drug use, lest is transfem, female reader, biting

ao3 version

you tentatively knocked at the door with your hood up over your head, glancing back to make sure no one had followed you. lest opened the door with a hum and stepped to the side, an open invitation that you happily took. shucking off your cloak and setting it on one of the hooks by the front door, you made yourself at home on her couch.

lest was in a comfortable purple skirt with slits up the side and a simple strappy white tank top. she strode into the living room where you were lounging, her hips swaying side to side in a very purposeful way. glancing over to her as she leaned down with an intentional arch in her back, she could feel your eyes burning into her ass. your mouth salivated a little which you embarrassingly gulped down, turning your gaze away quickly as she straightened up. with the shimmer paintbrush in her hand, she kneeled down next to the couch and started painting a twirling pattern on your wrist.

lest continued to paint patterns and gently dragged the paintbrush up your arm, ending with a swirl around your bicep that matched the other patterned brush strokes adorning your skin. a familiar buzz worked its way into your bloodstream as the shimmer traveled through your veins, giving you eyes a purple glow at the peak of your digestion. your body sagged with relaxation and a euphoric sigh left your lips.

currently, you were in lest’s shoebox apartment draped over her velvet flea market couch with faded tassels lining the edges. some were missing while others had very few strings left, but she had the couch re-stuffed and replaced the springs so it felt like new. she usually insisted on traveling to her client's houses instead of letting them into her home, but you were a lifelong friend, so she didn’t mind. maybe a friend was the wrong way of putting it, friends don’t usually kiss.

seeing as you were properly satiated, lest turned to her own vice of smoking through a pipe. while she mainly worked with clients who preferred being painted, she always smoked. if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it you supposed to yourself.

she carefully set the brush into its proper case and stuffed it into her doctors' bag. picking up her pipe from the coffee table, she took a long drag and blew the air straight up. you watched as the purple clouds danced in the air and slowly dissipated as if it were never there in the first place.

was she always this pretty or did the shimmer haze just make her seem more ethereal?

she climbed on all fours onto the couch and straddled your lap. your hands connected to her hips and squeezed the soft flesh. rubbing her sides to slightly pull up her shirt, you softly dug your fingers into her fur and felt her shiver above you. she took a long drag from her glass pipe and blew the purple smoke into your face, which you happily inhaled.

she set the pipe down on the table and started rocking her hips against yours, a soft moan sighed from her lips. leaning forward, she panted her hands on either side of your head. you met her rocking by thrusting your hips up against her, arching your back against the couch and zeroing in on her lips. she chuckled at your eagerness, you were always so needy when you were high.

she pressed her lips against yours, her canines quickly nipping your bottom lip for access into your mouth. the taste of the shimmer smoke flooding your mouth as your tongue danced with hers, her sandpaper-like tongue ticking your wet muscle. you giggled into the kiss and she smiled against your lips.

you felt her bulge pressing against you and you’re sure that she could feel the wetness soaking your underwear that was surely moistening your pants. a loud purring started in her chest as she continued to lazily grind again you, kissing down your neck. she licked up the side of your neck, smirking as you squirmed beneath her and held back your giggles. your hands trailed down her waist and gripped the flesh of her ass, needily bucking up against her with a whine. she scraped her sharp teeth against your neck, sinking them in shallowly at the junction between your neck and your shoulder. you gasped as she sunk her teeth into your skin, pleasure quickly overcoming the initial pain that you felt.

she pulled back and gently licked at the bite mark, burying her face in your neck with a deep sigh. you hummed and closed your eyes, rubbing her back as the tones of her purring slowly lulled you to sleep. while the shimmer was nice in your system, holding lest in your arm was better than any drug.

part 2

[simonbrain]

the mask is something simon just can't part with. maybe the piece of clothing shouldn't bring him such a strong sense of security, and maybe it shouldn't feel so right when people view the skull as his actual face rather than the hardened flesh that hides behind the mask, but he's too attached. he doesn't think he'll ever let go of it.

and then you come along with your sweet face and your gentle words, and it's everything simon has ever wanted—everything he's longed for when he's alone in the silence of his room. the hole in his chest seems to cling back together again, as if the dead ends are regenerating with each smile and each shy laugh you send his way. it's like his body is trying to accept those soft emotions he's been suppressing for so long.

although he finds that even if he can't fix himself, if he can't fully heal, your love fits snugly in the cavity of his chest much better anyway.

honestly, he didn't think he would ever gain the courage to get into a relationship, not after everything he had been through, not after how awkward and stiff he was when trying to ask you out, but here you were—his own little heaven on earth.

you don't even complain about the heated makeout sessions through the layer that separates your need to fully consume each other, nor do you pressure him to take it off. you always say kissing like that is hotter, anyway.

it's humbling how quickly you had slipped past the walls he built around himself, how the alarms that used to ring in his head transformed into sweet little bells that lulled him into a pure feeling of bliss that he hasn't felt in years. his selfishness knows no bounds; you had fully given yourself over to him, and he hadn't wasted a single ounce of your energy. he wants to return the love you seem to endlessly supply him with. he wants to share everything about himself with you.

which is why you're both seated on the couch, one of your hands grasped in his for comfort as he quietly announces that he wants to show you something. you don't even have to ask what it is.

"take your time, si," you murmur, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. his free hand digs tightly into the bottom of his balaclava, holding it in an iron grip even though he knows you'd never pull it off, and he swears his heart is pounding in his ears. what if he's not what you're expecting? what if you recoil from him in disgust? the scars he's hiding aren't exactly flattering, he knows, and his teeth might not be the straightest bunch, but—

you raise your hands up and gently cup his cheeks, leaning forward again to nuzzle against his face. you giggle softly when he tilts his head so your lips connect through the thin barrier, and your heart flutters when he relaxes in your hold.

"i have an idea," you whisper when you part from him, a wet spot formed on the front of his mask now. he hums softly in response and tries his best not to tense up when your hands slide down to his neck, your fingers smoothing underneath the fabric, resting there. "and you can't laugh."

simon chuckles quietly at that, his anxiety dissipating almost immediately. "promise."

"how about i see half of your face at a time?" he makes a noise at your question, about to interrupt when you lean in closer and begin peppering kisses over his jawline. "i can see the bottom half when we're kissing," you murmur through your pecks, reaching the corner of his mouth, "and later on, when i'm sitting on your face, you can take it off and i can see the rest." your tongue slips out to lick over his lips, a tease of what's about to come.

simon doesn't respond, not verbally, but you can tell he's already itching to get the damn thing off his head.

[wicked-barbie]

Sparks Fly

Agatha All Along: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 1.2k 

Prompt: “If you’re gonna be the death of me, that’s how I want to go” -Collar Full by Panic at the Disco for @sweetspicybingo (Lyrical Bingo Collection)

Warnings: PWP. oral, strap-on, spanking, hair pulling, biting, magic, power siphoning, manipulation, mommy kink, role-playing

Summary: Agatha reminds you who you belong to

Agatha’s sharp teeth sank into the delicate peach flesh of your neck; pain blossomed through your body, sending a pulsing deep in your belly. Flames licked inside your stomach as her fingers curled into your hips. Your flesh surrendered to her harsh bite, bruising in the wake. It made your head spin as a shiver ran through you.

“You’re in so much trouble, baby doll,” she purred in your ear before gripping a fistful of hair.

You didn’t mind a little trouble, truth be told. It always ended well for you.

“Sorry, Mommy, please be gentle,” you whimpered, playing up the role.

“Oh ho ho, you know I won’t be,” she growled before ripping your shirt over your head.

Her fingers tore at your clothing like greedy claws. Talons shredding your bra, your underwear, your jeans until you stood trembling naked before her. Her hungry eyes raked over your bare skin as you squirmed over her scrutinizing gaze. It had only been a bit of harmless flirting to secure yourself a free drink, but you knew it would get under her skin. You felt ignored lately and this was your way of getting her attention. Consequences be damned.

Her boots clicked against the floor as she circled you, her fashionable black cape billowing around her and her dark hair cascading down her shoulders. She was all sleek and sultry in head-to-toe black, the fabric hugging her slender, svelte flame, reminding you of a black panther ready to devour its prey. You were ready to drop to your knees before her or have her bend you over and do whatever she wanted. She snapped her fingers and pointed to her feet, making you quickly scramble to your knees. The sparks of purple emanating from her fingertips were not lost on you.

Her hand gently cupped your chin as she tilted your gaze toward hers. “I’m going to remind you who you belong to tonight, baby doll.” You couldn’t wait.

You spent a good ten minutes bent over her lap, squirming as the palm of her hand connected firmly with your upturned, naked rear. Each slap left a searing reminder of her mark. You’re mine, you’re mine. You could hear her voice echoing in your head. Her thigh-high leather boots dug and nipped at the soft skin of your stomach as you writhed. Your flesh felt abused and tenderized adequately by the time she was finished, tears clinging to the corners of your eyes and wetting your lashes. Yet still, your clit throbbed in anticipation.

One of Agatha’s fingers caressed down your wet slit, and you felt a jolt from her sparks roll through you. You let out a long whine, digging your hands into the couch cushions as you arched back into her touch.

“Please, Mommy, please,” you begged.

Her hand swatted the tender flesh of your thigh.

“Tell me why, baby doll,” she hummed as her fingers returned to their gentle caress of your aching pussy.

“I’ll be a good girl, I promise. Please just make me feel good. I’m yours, all yours!” you sobbed, voice desperate with need.

Her dark chuckle rang through the room as she pinched the sore skin of your bare ass. “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Mommy!” you wailed, the throbbing between your thighs so intense that it made your stomach clench.

Her finger pressed to your clit, slowly circling the sensitive nub. “Only Mommy knows how to satisfy you, doesn’t she?” Agatha cooed.

“Yes, Mommy,” you sniffled, tears running down your cheeks, but you were thankful for the relief.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, baby doll. I want to see those lovely tears as you eat Mommy out, then I’ll give you what you want.”

“Yes, Mommy.” You slowly pushed your body up, blood flowing through your limbs once again before straddling her lap. The fabric of her bodysuit scraped against your well-spanked backside as you unhooked the silky collar around her neck that held it in place before sliding it down her body. She arched her back and lifted her hips until you peeled it down midthigh. You tugged the bottoms free from her boots before finally being able to peel the silky material entirely free. The black cape framed her pale, slender, naked body, and your mouth watered at the sight. You pressed your lips to her taut stomach, feeling her flesh warm under your mouth. The sharp tug on your hair made you pull away.

“I believe you have a task at hand, baby doll. Pay attention,” Agatha scolded, a wry grin on her face.

You gave her a sheepish look before pressing your face between her thighs, sliding your tongue over her sweet pussy. The pink tip delved between her silken folds, swirling the taste of her around your mouth. You continued to tease her, enjoying her soft moans before you sought out her clit. The engorged bud pulsed against your lips as you wrapped them around it. You suckled gently, listening to her moans bleed into a more guttural sound. Your tongue traced tantalizing around her clit, feeling her tremble under your gesticulations.

“Oh, baby doll…I’m gonna…” she gasped, rocking against your mouth before spilling sweetly over your tongue.

You gently lapped the aftermath clean before resting your head on Agatha’s thigh. She stroked your hair, a loving look in her eyes. “You were wonderful, baby doll. Time for a reward.”

If you had a tail, it would have been wagging, but instead, you scurried off like an overexcited puppy to retrieve the purple strap and harness from the bottom drawer of the TV stand. Agatha chuckled, the black cloak partially shielding her naked body as she stood, taking the toy from you. Once it was secured in place, she pulled you close, the tip of her cock teasing you as her lips melted against your mouth. A deep rumbling filled your belly, spilling warmth—hot, crackling magic in the air. Chemistry sparking.

You were floating, legs wrapped around Agatha’s waist as she buried herself deep inside you. Your hair sprawled around you, fingers flexing through the empty air before grabbing hold of Agatha.

“Oh,” you moaned, eyelids fluttering.

“You’re so beautiful, baby doll. Mommy’s special girl,” Agatha murmured, rolling her hips as you clung to her.

Indescribable pleasure rolled through you, feeling sparks flicker up and down your spine. Her cape billowed in the air as the two of you swirled, locked tightly together. Entraped in delightful rapture. Your head lolled back as she hit the particular spot inside of you, sending waves crashing through you as you came.

“That’s my good girl,” Agatha cooed, her warm hands sprawling over every inch of your bare skin until you began feeling drained like every ounce of energy had been zapped.

Your head rolled onto her shoulder as she lowered you both back to the ground, keeping you in her arms as your legs almost gave out. “I’ve got you,” she whispered.

She took you upstairs, tucking you beneath the soft sheets before loosening her cape and letting it fall to the floor before joining you. You tucked your head under her chin as her fingers gently danced over your naked skin.

“Thank you for the jolt, baby doll,” she whispered, purple flashing in her eyes.

“You’re welcome. Anytime you need it, Mommy,” you purred, not minding that she siphoned your power every now and then.

“I’m afraid I might be the death of you,” she chuckled.

You simply smiled, keeping your thoughts to yourself. If you're gonna be the death of me, that's how I want to go.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 09 - Impact Play

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda spanks you and makes you cum.

content warnings: impact play

word count: 1.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Wanda’s cold fingers dance along your spine, feeling every vertebrae as she gently makes her way from your neck down towards your tailbone. You shiver, feeling goosebumps erupt in the wake of her touch. With your eyes blindfolded and head buried in a pillow, every touch is intensified, like small bolts of electricity that hum beneath your skin. 

“Comfortable?” Her voice is warm and low, murmured in your ear as you sigh. 

“Mhmm,” you mutter, your words accompanied by your uncoordinated nodding into the pillow. Wanda chuckles somewhere above you, her fingers still moving over your spine. 

Stretching out, you pull slightly at the handcuffs connecting your wrists. You were comfortable, safe even, in the knowledge that you were under Wanda’s control. Wherever she was in charge of a scene, you absolutely loved the loss of control and power. Handing over your body and freedom to her, even if only for an hour or two, felt freeing. 

“You’re so warm,” Wanda says, her fingers moving over your lower spine. You feel her lips press a kiss in between your shoulder blades, and your muscles relax even further. 

Cold fingers reach the end of your spine, and you gasp as her other hand moves to cup your ass. Wanda’s hands are firm, kneading your skin and muscle as you feel your arousal build while she fondles you. 

You hear the slap before you feel it, the sharp movement of air registering in your fuzzy mind. Pain blooms, a pleasant burning sensation that travels from where Wanda’s hand struck your backside down to your core. 

Fuck, you can feel yourself leaking. 

“So needy already, darling? That was only the first hit.” 

“I-” a hand shoves your face back into the pillow. 

“Did I say you could talk?” Wanda asks, her words sharp and voice slightly cold. 

Shaking your head, you breathe a sigh of relief when her hand removes itself from your head. Her fingers resume trailing over your lower spine, her other hand massaging the place where she’d landed her first blow. 

You wait for her to say something else, your body relaxing even as your mind waits for the next hit. Wanda’s hands are firm, pressing into your skin and rubbing away any knots she finds. She’s humming softly, the sound of her voice soothing. 

Again, without warning, Wanda’s hand quickly comes down. This time, she lands four hits, two to each cheek. The movement is so quick that you barely have time to register the pain before her hands are back to gently running over your sensitive flesh. 

You moan, the deep ache of plain quickly turning pleasurable as you resist the urge to grind your hips down into the mattress. 

Wanda keeps humming, and you can hear her smiling as she does. You wiggle your hips slightly, and you can practically feel the single eyebrow raise as her fingers pause their movements for a moment. 

“Is this your way of begging for more? Or is your body just that desperate to be played with, sweetheart?” 

You can’t respond, so you settle for whining and moving your hips once more. This time, the movement is more intentional, and Wanda chuckles at your boldness. Her hands move away from your body, and you tense slightly in preparation. 

Pain blooms from your ass, her hands hitting solidly as slaps echo around the bedroom. The rhythmic hits and pleasant ache increase your arousal and push you into a vanilla-scented headspace. You can feel yourself relaxing even more, something clicking into place in your mind as you fully submit to Wanda. 

There is a momentary pause, but you’re too spaced out to even realize it. After a few seconds, you register that the hits have stopped, and turn to look towards Wanda. Before your head can even lift off the pillow, you feel something hit your ass. 

It’s heavy, and the pain is a deep ache that spreads and twists through you while you leak onto the mattress. Wanda brings the paddle down again and again, making sure to hit both your cheeks evenly until your skin is bright red and tender to the touch. 

“Oh, darling. Your skin is so hot,” Wanda murmurs, her hands gently running over your red flesh. 

You moan, the feather-light touches of her fingers sending your senses spiraling into pleasure as you sink further into subspace. 

Wanda’s fingers move lower, gently running over your dripping pussy. She swirls her forefinger around your clit a few times, drawing desperate moans from you. You feel her lips pressing against your back as she kisses down your spine. 

“Your body craves pain, doesn’t it?” 

Nodding feebly, you rut your hips forward as Wanda begins to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses on your hot skin. Tingles of pain and pleasure course through you with each kiss, her teeth nipping at your skin occasionally. 

You hear a buzzing sound, and your brain starts working again. You want to protest, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth when Wanda firmly presses a vibrator against your throbbing clit is a pathetic moan. 

A sharp slap against your sensitive ass causes a yelp to force its way out of you. You feel Wanda’s hand gently rubbing the spot. 

“Color?”

“Mmpph… yellow.”

You hear Wanda humming behind you, her fingers trailing softly over your skin. She raises the intensity of the vibrator as she delivers a gentle slap on your abused skin. 

“What’s your color now, baby?”

“Green, thank you,” you say, moaning into the pillow as another soft hit makes contact with your ass. 

“I want you to cum in under ten hits, understand?” Wanda asks, and you nod. 

This is going to be difficult, but when you start humping the vibrator held firmly on your clit, Wanda doesn’t say anything. She simply chuckles at your desperation and clicks up the intensity once again. 

Her hand comes down again, a bit harder but not enough that the pain overtakes the pleasure thrumming through you. She keeps hitting you, and you count 4 hits before your orgasm begins to creep up on you. 

“Harder, please.”

This time, it’s Wanda who moans. Praises fall from her lips as she hits you firmly, and by the time she’s at nine hits, you’re trembling and shuddering as your orgasm hits. 

It’s painful and blissful at the same time, your skin burning as you feel your clit throb against the powerful vibrations. The wet sounds of your pussy leaking onto the toy only serve to move you further into the vanilla haze. You can hear Wanda saying something, but your ears are ringing too loudly to fully understand. 

A second, smaller orgasm hits you, and you try to escape from the painful stimulation. Wanda allows it, turning the vibrator off and quickly undoing your handcuffs. 

“You did so good for me, love. I’m so proud. Catch your breath and I’ll be back with some aloe vera, okay?”

She kisses your cheek, and you lay there with your eyes closed as you feel her body weight lift from the mattress. You can feel yourself slipping away, drowsiness overtaking your senses. The last thing you feel before you drift off is Wanda’s gentle hand soothing your burning skin, and you smile.

[monster-disaster]

Hey, I hope you're doin' great! So... I just read that boss!orc x curvy!reader that you posted a while I go and I was thinking if you could write a part 2 for it? I'm not the one who asked for it but omggg it was so perfect. Thank you. 🥺♥️

orc!boss x human!curvy!Reader Good to know: original request, some lying and manipulation, but nothing angsty or bad, spice, spanking

He has to force himself to keep the growl buried deep within his broad chest. The rumble churns and bubbles in his throat, begging for release, but he swallows it down with a sharp breath before it can escape. His mouth twists into a wild snarl instead. His tusks, thick and prominent, dig into his upper lip. A deep wrinkle forms between his brows, furrowing so intensely it casts a shadow over his dark, piercing eyes as he stares at you through the darkened glass of his office wall.

You sit at your table, humming softly under your breath as your fingers glide over the keypad, pausing every now and then while your eyes flick between the screen and the document in your other hand. The soft glow of the screen illuminates your face, your long lashes, and the gentle gleam of your lipstick. You are wearing a sleek black piece that barely reaches the middle of your thighs. The soft fabric is snug against your curves, cupping your breasts into a delicious cleavage and hugging your wide hips just enough to make the orc's palms tingle to feel your flesh underneath his touch.

You always look beautiful in your dresses and skirts, but today, he knew something was different the moment he laid his eyes on you. You are glowing. You seem lighter, and more cheerful than usual. The way you move as you carry yourself, the brightness in your eyes, and your smile, everything about you is a touch more vibrant. More alive.

And he didn’t have to dig for long to discover the reason for it all.

His fingers curl into hard fists as the thought crosses his mind. A simmering heat flares up in his chest, twisting with something bitter and unspoken. It makes his jaw tighten and his pulse quicken.

You have a date tonight.

After the lesson on keeping your space tidy and the reward for doing so, he made the mistake of leaving things between you two as they were. He didn’t push forward. He let his head, his hesitancy, and the fear of what could go wrong win. And now, he's forced to face the consequences; you with another man. A snarl threatens to break free from his throat, but he swallows it down again. His frustration buzzes just beneath the surface. It makes his posture rigid and tense. No, the orc thinks, clenching his fists tighter. Not if it’s up to me. He can feel his resolve hardening with each passing second as he watches you glancing at the clock on your wrist with a giddy smile on your pretty lips. He had waited too long, but that was over now.

Reaching for the phone, he presses the button that connects straight to your desk. He watches you jump at the sudden noise, your head snapping up, but you answer immediately with your other hand still on your chest to calm down your rapid heartbeat.

"Hey, boss," you greet him. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you remember the file I sent you yesterday?"

"Yes."

"I need them for tomorrow." Even though his jaw is tight and tense, the lie slips out smoothly between his rigid lips.

He sees you freeze in your seat. "What? You said it could wait until next week."

"I got the date wrong," the orc says almost apologetically, his voice deliberately innocent. "Why? Is that a problem?"

"Well... I won’t finish them without putting in extra hours," you admit. Your voice is softer now, hesitant as you click away on your computer, scanning through the files he sent.

"And what's the problem with that?" he asks, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are locked on your figure the whole time.

"I... I already have a program for tonight," you respond, uncertainty lacing your words. "Are you sure it can't wait until tomorrow?" You glance at his way, but the man knows you can't see him through the dark fog of the glass.

"Are you sure you can't postpone your plans?" His voice is calm, too calm. Even though he phrased it like a question, both of you know there is only one acceptable answer.

"Yeah," you sigh in a reluctant surrender. "I can, boss."

"Great."

His satisfaction doesn't last long, though. His triumph fades as the hours drag on while he watches you from his office. Each glance at your hunched form tightens the knot in his chest. Your shoulders sag as you tirelessly type away on the keypad. Guilt gnaws at him, sharp and persistent, and no matter how much he tries to focus on his own tasks, he can't shake it off. The smile he had envied earlier has vanished from your face, replaced by a strained focus. Your pretty, shiny lips now are in a pout. The glow he had been so jealous of is nowhere to be seen. He wanted you to cancel your plans, but now that he has you all to himself, he feels like an asshole.

The thought of letting you go crosses his mind several times throughout the day, but every time he reaches for the phone, his hand hesitates above the button. Each time, he pulls back, unable to go through with it. Despite his inner battle, the thought of you going out with another man burns much hotter in his chest than the guilt that nags at him. He can't make himself let you go.

So he does nothing, and before he knows it, it’s just you and him left in the building, along with the security guard downstairs. The lamps have been turned off, leaving only his office and your desk bathed in a dim glow. The city outside sparkles with lights and neon signs. The apartments' yellow hues spill through the windows onto the busy streets and bustling roads.

The orc remains at his desk. His fingers hover above the keyboard, dancing in idle patterns without actually pressing any buttons. The bluish light from the screen illuminates the slightly curved line of his nose, the fullness of his lips, and the hard edge of his jawline. He tries to focus on the chart in front of him, his gaze fixed on the shifting data, but his thoughts are far away. They are tangled in the images of you and what he did.

"Boss?"

For a long moment, the orc just blinks at you from his desk as you stand in the doorway. The shine of your lips has faded, and you look weary, worn down by the long hours. His heart clenches with guilt once again at the sight. A sharp pang of remorse cuts through him. He should have approached this differently. He should have been honest and asked you out directly instead of pushing you into working on something he didn't even need.

"Yes?" he finally manages to ask, his voice rougher than he intended.

"I'm done."

The orc’s surprise is barely contained. He hadn't truly expected you to finish it. He almost grimaces at the thought of how much you had to hurry with it.

"Thank you, Y/N," he hums. "I’m sorry you had to cancel your... program." The mention of it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

You shrug, allowing a small but tired smile to curve your lips. "It's fine. I can go tomorrow."

The orc's jaw tightens. Being an adult, he scoffs to himself. That option is clearly out of the window now.

"Do you want to sit?" he asks, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of him. "Something to drink?" He adds, already rising from his seat to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. "You deserve it."

You sigh with a nod, heading to the chair. "Thank you."

After handing you one of the glasses, the orc doesn’t return to his usual spot at the desk. Instead, he sits down beside you, legs spread wide. He takes a long gulp of his drink. The amber liquid burns down his throat. He watches you from the corner of his eye, noting how tired but oddly relaxed you look. Your legs are crossed, causing your skirt to ride up slightly on your plush thighs.

"So," he clears his throat, attempting to break the silence. "What was your plan for the evening, anyway?"

A long moment of silence stretches between you, and when he finally glances over, he sees a small, mischievous smile playing on your lips.

"What?" he asks.

"Don't act like you don't know what my plan was."

The orc feels himself freeze, his mind racing. "What?"

"I know you heard me when I talked about it with my friend."

"Y/N..." he starts, the words faltering on his tongue. He feels like he is in trouble, yet, your mischievous grin tells him otherwise.

"Do you want to know something?" you ask, leaning in slightly.

He nods, still not finding his voice.

"I lied," you say, barely containing a laugh as you watch his bewildered expression.

"Lied about what?" His frown deepens into a scowl.

"I lied about the date," you reveal. The curve of your lips widens, and your eyes sparkle with satisfaction and pride. "There was no date."

The orc’s confusion turns into a stunned silence. "No date?"

"No," you confirm with a grin. "I wanted to see if you cared enough to do something about it."

The orc's mouth opens and closes, but he is too shocked to say anything. You lied. You lied to see if you could make him jealous enough to do something.

You little minx.

Before he can gather his thoughts, a loud, surprised gasp escapes his lips as you stand up and settle onto one of his thighs, facing him. The black fabric of your dress stretches tightly around your legs where they drape over his. Your heat presses down against his trousers as you let your weight rest fully on him.

"Did it work?" you ask, nibbling on your lower lip. The only sign of your nervousness is the slight tremble in your hands as you play with the buttons of his shirt near his belt. You're clearly stepping out of your comfort zone, risking everything just because he couldn't muster the courage to take the lead.

His hands rest on yours for a moment, squeezing your delicate fingers as a reassuring gesture before moving up to your bare thighs. His touch is lingering and exploring. You feel soft and yielding beneath his fingers, and he can’t help but note the contrast between his firm grip and your pliant warmth.

"Did you lie to me, little one?" His voice rumbles deeply, sending a shiver up your spine.

You bite down on your lower lip, the soft flesh already swollen and tender. "Will you punish me for it?"

The orc growls low in his throat, squeezing your hips one time before hauling you up from his lap. The sudden movement punches a loud squeal out of your chest, and before you know it, you are on his table, knocking off his things onto the ground.

“Stay like that,” he growls, pressing one hand firmly in the middle of your back. Your upper body is now pressed down against the wooden surface of his desk, while your bottom is positioned toward him. The black skirt you wear rides up, revealing the lush curve of your ass and the thin fabric of your underwear.

“You lied to me,” he says, his voice heavy with frustration. “I could barely concentrate on my work because the thought of you with another man drove me mad.”

“I’m sorry,” you croak out, but you sound anything but sorry.

“You manipulated me, little one,” he continues, his anger tinged with a hint of a smile. “And now I have to punish you.”

With deliberate movements, the orc pushes your skirt higher, exposing your round ass and the thin black thong wedged between your cheeks. His cock twitches at the delicious sight.

“Ah!” you cry out when his large palm lands on your exposed skin with a loud smack.

“Now tell me,” he hums, his fingers gripping the warm, flushed skin, “was it worth it?”

“Yes,” you reply immediately, your breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. Despite the sting, there’s a spark of satisfaction in your voice. This was your goal all along. And more.

“So there’s no other man?” he asks, his voice rough and demanding as his hand lands on your ass with a series of loud, stinging slaps that make your whole body shudder.

“No,” you cry out.

“No one who wants to see your pretty little ass like this?” His hand comes down again with a sharp smack.

“I don’t care about anyone else." Your voice strained as you lie on the table. Your fingers clench into tight fists at the burning heat on your ass.

“Good answer,” the orc snarls, his hand moving relentlessly. Each slap makes your round bottom flush warm under his touch.

The zipper of his pants presses uncomfortably against his throbbing erection, a constant reminder of the raw, urgent desire he’s struggling to contain, but he knows that if he releases himself, there will be no turning back. He would need to be inside you immediately.

And he has too much fun now to end it so quickly.

The office is filled with the sounds of your panting and ragged moans as you squirm on the desk, desperately trying to rub your thick thighs together for some friction, but the orc quickly intervenes, pushing his leg between yours with a disapproving tsk of his tongue.

"I don’t think you’ve earned it yet," he says. His chest expands at the sounds of your pathetic whines.

"Please." Your plea trembles with need.

The orc grins, pressing his own thigh against your panty-clad cunt, teasing you without offering any real relief.

"Don’t you think you deserve your punishment?" he hums, his tone laced with amusement.

"I do," you reply in a whine, resting your forehead on the cool surface of his desk while he continues to knead your warm, sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he says approvingly, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your black thong. "I will give you pleasure when I think you earned it."

His name is barely out of your mouth when a loud gasp escapes your lips the moment the orc’s hand pulls at your panties, pressing the black fabric deeper between your flushed cheeks. The material slips between your damp folds, soaking up your wetness.

“Fuck, little one,” the orc groans at the sight of your panties almost disappearing into your fat pussy. “I would never let any man see this,” he says with a fierce possessiveness. The thought of anyone else seeing you like this sends a surge of burning anger through his veins. “It’s just for me.”

You remain silent, which earns you another sharp slap on your ass from the orc. You gasp and moan. The combined sensation of the burning sting on your ass and the thong rubbing against your pussy creates a heady mix of pleasure and pain that makes your hips grind instinctively.

“I want your answer,” he demands firmly as he lets go of your panties. His fingers slip between your ass, slipping down and finding the wet heat between your thighs. He teases you, making you shiver as you burn under his fingertips.

"Yes," you cry. "It's just for you! It's just for you!"

"That's what I like to hear," he hums, his fingers digging deeper between your swollen, sensitive lips. Your panties are ruined, the crotch is clinging soaked to your puffy cunt.

He can't wait to taste you, to feel your soft walls around his cock as he pounds into you until you see stars and know nothing but his name.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” he says, his patience thinning with each passing second. “You’ll spend the night at my place, and if you’re a good girl while I feed you, I’ll take you to bed and fuck you on every surface in my house.”

“Yesyesyes,” you sob. You tremble with desperation. “Please.”

“Come on, then,” he groans, pressing his hard cock against your pussy one last time before helping you off the desk and smoothing your skirt back into place. “Let me take you home, little one.”

[revelboo]

AAAH!! I wasn't expecting you to actually do a story for Rumble 😭 I squealed when I saw it on my timeline 💙 thank you so much and every blessing upon ye, I hope your crops are flourishing, skin is clear etc. etc.

🤣 18+ content 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 2

IDW Rumble x Reader

• Almost groaning when the little human leans back to put some space between them, his servos flex against soft skin, wanting to pull you back to him. Wanting more as he drops his head against the crook of your neck, mouth finding and chasing the quick beat of your pulse. Hearing that husky laugh of yours that runs electric through him to wind him tight as his palms slide over your soft body. Why had he been so against coming here? He loves it here, loves the noise and press of bodies. Especially yours as he does drag you back to him. “Maybe we can make this a private party?” You ask and he’s not entirely sure what you mean by that, but he’s hoping his guess is right.

• Your stranger’s mouth is on your neck, his lips branding heat over your skin, feeling the barest slip of teeth threatening to nip sending need shivering through you. Forget taking him home as your blood heats. You want this. Pulling away makes him make a low noise that’s almost a growl of protest as you grip his hand and tug him along with you. Half your attention on keeping an eye out for your ex to avoid a fight as you lead your new friend toward the back storage room. You’d worked in the club right out of high school and knew no one ever bothered to lock that door, and you thank every deity you can think of when you find it still unlocked now. It’s darker in here the one bulb hanging from a bare socket doing little to chase away the shadows as you turn to lock the door behind you both.

• Reaching as soon as the lock clicks, Rumble pulls you back into him, servos sliding over you. Venting roughly against your throat, as you reach back to loop an arm around his neck. “Slow down, I’m not going anywhere,” you say, reaching back your other hand to run warm fingers over his thigh. “You want to take off the costume?”

• “No,” he growls, his own hand sliding down your belly, exploring with hesitant touches along the waist band of your jeans. “No.” The word is more insistent, almost desperate when you catch his wrist, like he thinks you’re about to stop him. Shuddering against your back when you guide his hand down the front of your clothes, showing him where you need him.

• Venting raggedly, he cups slick, warm flesh and finds your core to slip a servo inside, feeling the way your heat grips him. “That’s good,” you whisper, leaning your upper body across a container, thighs spreading to give him more access to stroke deeper, his spike aching to be freed. Pulling his hand free to try and figure out how to undo your coverings has you laughing again, the sound stroking over him. “No chill at all, huh?” Shifting to undo that little button and push your pants down. No, he doesn’t have any chill or restraint, wanting this. Needing it as he nudges you back down on your front over the container, freeing his spike to grip himself and slide his length against your slickness. “Wait, my purse. I think I have some-“ you’re saying as he finds you and buries himself inside that wet, welcoming heat that fists his spike, hearing you moan. “Never mind.”

• So much for condoms, but as he rocks his hips, that thick length stroking slowly inside you, there’s no worrying about anything beyond him moving. “Frag, you’re tight,” he snarls, that rough accent you can’t quite place right in your ear as his big hands tighten on your hips to the point you know there’ll be bruising, but he’s still not moving, so you do, rocking as much as you can with your hips up.

• You move against him, pushing yourself back and then he’s thrusting into that wet heat despite wanting to savor the feel of you wrapped around him, that sense of connection he’d been sure he’d never have because of his size, because of his modifications. You’re so small under him as he ruts against you, using his grip on your hips to pull you back to meet the urgent drive of his hips. Hearing the wet sounds of your body taking him and your low, needy sounds that are only for him, because this? It’s his. You’re his.

• He’s not holding back, hips slapping against you, moving hard and deliciously fast. And he is growling, hands flexing on your hips as his frantic thrusts drive you to that peak, then over as he drapes himself against your back with a deep drive of his hips, his mouth against the back of your shoulder, his hips moving in sharp, shallow thrusts as he releases and you tighten on the thick length of him inside you, milking him. “Rumble,” he groans against your skin, hips still moving in shallow, lazy thrusts and you can feel his excess on your inner thigh.

• You lay your cheek on your outstretched arm, head turning to look back at him from the corner of your eye. Smiling when he hesitantly reaches to slide sweat slick hair back from your temple, the intimate gesture stealing your breath for a moment. “Hi, Rumble,” you murmur, laughing softly when he presses himself tighter against you, sheathing himself deep and savoring it as his spark twists with a hunger that’s new and consuming. He’d never really paid much attention to organics before aside from Starscream’s and they were more like a particularly helpless sibling needing protecting. Nothing like this.

• He hasn’t taken off any of his costume except what he’d needed to free himself to fuck you. It’s weird, but not a deal breaker. Not with the lazy way your thighs are trembling or how he’d felt, still feels, inside you. “Can we go again?” He asks so earnestly, so hopefully, and you rock yourself against him in answer. Because while you’d only wanted a quickie to thank him, you’re wondering, praying, he’s single. Because the almost reverent way his big hands slide against your skin, the press of his mouth against your spine in a hungry kiss? This guy’s going to ruin you.

Previous

Next

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[laylaplease]

So wet for master, aren't you?

ׁ ֶָ֢ ⏤͟͟͞͞☕️ ׁ ࣭ warnings ! ۪ ׁ ⊹ || Dubcon, virgin!reader, virginity kink, fingering, spit, fingers in reader's mouth, gagging, pet-names, Master x Padawan. MDNI.

"It's alright, sweetheart; just let me check." Anakin snakes his arms around you, his broad chest leaning onto your back. "I promise it won't hurt; I'll be careful, okay? You have to trust your Master." 

With his mechanic grip holding you in place by your waist, he's trying to glide the flesh hand inside your robes while you squirm in his grasp, like a hunted bunny about to be devoured.

"I-I'm— Master, please... I'm not sure it's a good idea..." You keep insisting on being spared. You feel your head spin as the coldness hits your upper chest. There is a tingle right at the lower part of your belly, and Anakin is sure as hell aware of it.

“Shh,” He scolds you quietly. “You have to be a good Padawan. I have to take a look; now spread your legs wider.” He pinches your side a bit too harshly, making you flinch. “It’ll only take a second.”

“I swear, I didn’t lie!” You grab his wrist, “I’m pure; I’ve been a good girl, I promise!” You try to convince him; you try to make him believe, and it’s so so frustrating because it’s actually the truth that he refuses to accept.

“Then why are you so scared, hm? If you aren’t a filthy liar and your pussy is still tight, why are you resisting?” His voice is more forceful now; he yanks your body towards himself to keep you still.

Anakin proceeds to push a knee between your thighs, kicking your feet apart. He finally manages to free you from the belt that was holding your robes together. He brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Open your mouth, baby. Have to lube it down there, wouldn’t want it to ache now, would we?”

He lets out a satisfied ‘mmm’ when you comply with his request. It’s better than having his digits forced into your mouth anyway. He glides his ring and middle fingers across your tongue, pressing on it and gathering spit. “That’s it, have to get a bit deeper.” He pushes past the major knuckles, and your throat spasms.

He pulls out soon enough after you start pathetically whimpering from the tears forming in your eyes. A string of saliva connects the pink of your lips with his fingertips. He holds you tightly to himself when his wettened hand slides down your abdomen into the sweetness of your panties.

“There we— Oh… Oh, honey…” He whispers into your ear as his fingers make contact with your slit; his voice drops way lower than before. He nuzzles the soft part behind your ear and takes a deep breath. “It’s already pretty creamy here, mmm?” He circles right at your entrance, juices mixing with spit, ruining your precious lace. “You want to tell Master something?”

“I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it!” You start babbling excuses, not too sure yourself of how you even got so fucking drenched from your master violating your personal space. “Master, please, it doesn’t mean anything; I’m still chaste!”

“I know, I know, my sweetest... Maker, you’re so wet, so wet for master, aren’t you?” He consoles you, and you can’t decide which feels better, his cooing voice or the fact that he’s grazing your folds with such intensity. “Yeah…. Is my little Padawan aroused from me forcing my hand down her pants? You really want that tiny cunt stretched, don’t you?”

“N-no, stop… That’s— It’s wrong!” You try to pull his hand away, but to respond to your annoying whines, he presses his thumb onto your swollen clit and your knees buckle.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? I know it does. It’s okay; we won’t tell anyone.” You can feel his arm supporting most of your body, which is slowly going limp from the heat in your core. “Be quiet now and let master fuck a few orgasms into you, yeah?”

[jaythes1mp]

5070 words, 29086 characters, 239 sentences, 116 paragraphs, 20.3 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

Please send me requests. I love writing but I can only do it with actual ideas to motivate me🙏

On your late-night journey home, you're cornered by one of the numerous street criminals prowling the streets of this cursed city. Getting mugged in Gotham isn't anything out of the ordinary, but even still, you can't help but feel surprised. It seemed that strangely enough, the past four years, thugs had begun to avoid you like the plague.

This was a situation you hadn't found yourself in since you were just a fifteen-year-old kid, still struggling to find your footing in the grimy underbelly of Gotham.

The street thug pinned you against the wall, holding you in place while her accomplice jabbed the cold barrel of a gun against your head.

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, fear and panic clawing their way up your spine. Your breath hitched in your throat, a cold sweat pricking at your skin as you instinctively raised your hands in surrender.

As the cold metal of the gun was pressed harshly against your temple, you fought to tamp down the tremors shaking your body. You knew that any wrong move could spell disaster, so you forced yourself to remain still, praying that the thugs would be merciful enough to let you free.

Your mind raced as thoughts of the worst-case scenarios flickered through your mind. The thug with the gun pressed against your head sneered, her grip on your shoulder growing tighter as she spat out a threat.

The sheer terror you felt in that moment was overwhelming, threatening to swallow you whole. The harsh reality of the situation settled on your shoulders like a crushing weight. You were all too aware that you had no experience in dealing with situations like this, leaving you feeling vulnerable and powerless. Your eyes squeezed closed, a lump forming in your throat.

The rough brick of the wall dug into your chest, the cool air of the night doing nothing to soothe the panicked frenzy of your heart. The thug's hand on your shoulder was a vice-like grip, their fingers digging deep into your flesh.

In times like these, you regretted ever turning down the self-defense classes that your old employer had offered. The weight of that decision settled heavily on your shoulders as you longed to have the skills to protect yourself from the imminent danger.

You silently berated yourself for your naivety and carelessness. It had been foolish to believe that just because the villains had avoided you for the past few years, you would be safe from any harm. Yet, here you were, pressed against a wall, a gun held to your head by street thugs.

As your thoughts ran wild, your mind spiraled into a whirlpool of grim possibilities. The thought of your friends' reactions to your potential death played through your mind - the pain and grief they would feel upon losing you. You wondered if Damian would be upset about his sketchbook, the most constant connection you had to him. If Jason would be filled with anger at the inconvenience of tidying up your belongings, if your... no. She’d probably find relief in your absence... You wondered if Tim would shed tears in sadness. The image of him crying, tears streaming down his face, left a bitter taste in your mouth. Then you thought of Bruce. Would he be disappointed you never got to accept his offer? Your thoughts spiralled as you got increasingly more upset. Who was going to feed your pet turtle...? Would she think you abandoned her?

The weight of those unanswered questions gnawed at your thoughts, the possible reactions of your friends, pet, and the people who had offered you a place to call home. Your mind latched onto the image of them crying, the thought of any of their tears causing a pang of anguish to settle deep within your chest. You didn't want to imagine your friends' pain upon your loss, but the what-ifs haunted your mind like a relentless ghost.

The rough bricks of the wall dug into your chest, the sharp edges of the broken and uneven surface biting into your vulnerable flesh. The cold, unforgiving metal of the gun against your skull pressed further against your skin, an imminent threat hanging in the air. You clenched your teeth together, fighting to hold back a whimper that threatened to escape from the back of your throat.

Damian's heart raced in his chest, thumping out a rapid rhythm against his ribcage. Disbelief and anger twisted his features into a fierce scowl. From his stealthy perch on a nearby rooftop, he had silently tracked your movements throughout the night, his gaze never straying far from your form. But now, as he watched intently as you were cornered by a bunch of worthless thugs, his protective instincts surged through his veins. How dare these lowly criminals think they had the right to touch you?! Especially after all the efforts he had expended to ensure your safety. You were his sibling.

The sight of you in danger ignited a fire within him, burning hot with both rage and protectiveness. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. How could he have let this happen? He had been so careful, making sure to keep watch over you from a distance, and yet here you were, at the mercy of criminals who were nothing but scum. His fingers dug into the edge of the rooftop, the urge to leap down and intervene overpowering his self-control. He didn’t have to think twice before swinging into action.

Damian swiftly made his way toward you, propelled by the rooftops with practiced ease. The cool night air kissed his face as he bounded between buildings, his agility and precision a testament to his years of training. He remained hidden from view, his black, yellow and grey costume blending into the shadows, allowing him to quietly approach the scene unnoticed.

As he drew nearer, he could hear the thug's threats, the cold barrel of the gun pressing closer to your head. His temper flared, a dangerous heat building in his chest. These worthless lowlifes were going to pay for putting you in danger.

Robin, perched high above, kept a vigilant eye on the unfolding scene. Every word from the thug's mouth only fueled his anger. He assessed the area, taking in every detail with a cold, calculated gaze. The street was eerily silent, devoid of any other souls. No potential witnesses or interruptions to hinder his intervention. This moment was perfect. A chance to make these pathetic thugs pay for their audacity. They dared to touch what was his.

Each breath Damian took was measured and steady, his heart drumming steadily in his chest. He knew he had to act swiftly and with precision. He couldn't afford any mistakes. You were his responsibility – his blood. No one was allowed to touch you. No one.

Robin’s muscles coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger. His eyes flickered between the thugs and their guns, mentally calculating the best course of action. His instincts were on high alert, every fibre of his being focused on the mission: protecting you.

He’ll make a mental note to have you under tighter security starting in the immediate future.

With a final, calculated assessment, Robin silently prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation. He would protect you at all costs. The thought of you getting hurt, because of his carelessness, was unacceptable. He would eliminate these fools before they could even think to touch you again.

The woman holding you, pinned your arms behind your back in a rough and painful grip. Their hold was unyielding, causing your arms to bend in an unnatural and uncomfortable position. You couldn't help but let out a small, pained whimper, the sharpness of the maneuver making you wince.

Your eyes pinched shut, and you forced yourself to take deep, measured breaths. It was your attempt to steady yourself, to hold back the wave of panic and fear that was overtaking you.

Your chest heaved with the force of each breath, trying to regulate your racing heart. A small shiver ran through your body, the fear and helplessness of the situation gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pressure of the woman's grip on your arms made you want to squirm and struggle, but you steeled yourself against the natural inclination.

Robin, like a silent wraith, leaped into action. His katanas moved in a blur, swiping the gun away from the goons' grasps before they could even register the movement. His presence was both dangerous and deadly, every muscle tensed and coiled like a predator ready to pounce. His sharp, grey eyes fixated on the thugs, a silent warning in their depths.

A sharp gasp slipped past your lips as the cold metal of the gun abruptly lifted away from your head. The sound of it banging loudly against the gritty, dirtied concrete ground echoed through the air, the sudden absence releasing a tiny bit of the tension that had been coiling painfully in your chest.

You stayed still, barely breathing, your body locked in the woman's tight and cruel grasp. Her hold on you was unrelenting, an indication that any wrong move would result in snapped bones. You couldn't turn your head to see what was happening, fear and pain keeping you rooted in place.

The woman's grip on your arms tightened, a painful reminder of the danger of any movement. You were trapped, unable to see what was happening behind you. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to struggle and get away, but the fear of severe injury made you hold yourself perfectly still. The only thing you could do was remain in this terrifying, vulnerable position.

Robin's mouth curled into a snarl, his anger flaring as he saw you trapped in the woman's grasp. Your small gasp of relief at the gun being removed from your face only fueled his rage. How dare these pathetic humans touch you, his sibling, his family, without any regard for your safety and wellbeing. The thought alone filled him with anger he had trouble controlling. He had failed you.

As Robin stood before the thugs, his katanas held at the ready, he locked his gaze with the woman holding you in her iron grip. His eyes darkened with a fierce intensity, a silent challenge in their depths.

Robin's gaze, burning with righteous anger, fixated on the woman who held you captive. The air around him crackled with a dangerous aura, his muscles coiled tensely as he held himself back from pouncing on the pitiful excuse for a human being in front of him.

The woman holding you in an iron grip was clearly an amateur, her sloppy and harsh moves betraying her lack of experience. She seemed to rely on brute strength, rather than skill, to overpower her victims.

Her careless and overly aggressive approach was a stark contrast to Robin's years of training and discipline. He took in every detail, every movement and expression, noting the flaws in her techniques. She was like a novice facing a seasoned warrior. It was downright pitiful.

To Robin, the woman's every move stank of amateurishness. Her clumsy and brute force tactics were as subtle as a bull in a china shop. It was clear that she had never received any formal combat training; relying solely on the ability to intimidate and overpower her victims. In comparison, Robin was a paragon of discipline, control, and skill. The difference in their approaches could not be more stark. She was insulting you for even thinking someone like her could ever be in your presence.

The woman's lack of finesse and skill made Robin's blood boil. She was like a pathetic child playing at being a thug, an insult to the name of criminals everywhere. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut with restrained anger. He could see her flaws from a mile away, her amateur tactics screaming for correction. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, his mind racing with possible ways to take her down without harming you further.

Robin's intense gaze continued to pierce through the woman holding you. He was like a coiled spring, his muscles tense and taut, ready to pounce at the very next moment. He couldn't help but feel a sense of revulsion as he observed her sloppy moves. This is the type of amateur who would get themselves killed in Gotham in the blink of an eye. His anger flared further as he saw how carelessly she was handling you, her fingers digging into your flesh in a painfully tight grip.

For a brief moment, he considered just knocking the woman unconscious and freeing you from her grip. But then, with a cruel and calculated grin, a different thought occurred to him. He wanted to teach her a lesson. Maybe if she was truly frightened, she might actually learn something.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Robin tossed one of his throwing stars at the ground, the sharp and sudden movement drawing the woman's attention. Startled by the sound, she turned her head to look at the star, her grip on you loosening just a fraction.

Robin seized the opportunity, and in the blink of an eye, he moved behind her, his footsteps so silent that they made no sound.

The woman's eyes widened as she realized Robin's presence behind her, but before she could turn to face him, he had her by the throat, his hand encircling her airway in a firm grip.

As Robin observed your trembling form, your eyes still squeezed tightly closed, his heart clenched in his chest. He could see the fear and helplessness your body was radiating and it infuriated him. You looked like a terrified animal caught in a trap, desperately trying to hide from your captor. The thought of how scared you must be only served to fuel his obsession. You needed their protection.

Robin's grip on the woman's throat tightened as he drew her closer to him, his face inches from her ear. His voice was low and filled with a dangerous edge as he snarled, "You dare lay a hand on MY family and think you'll get away with it? You're a pathetic excuse for a thug."

The ringing in your ears and the shortness of your breath is all you can focus on, having not heard the boy’s words. Luckily for him.

Seeing that you were still too scared to open your eyes or listen, Robin tightened his grip even further on the woman, his eyes narrowing as he leaned his head closer to her ear. "You thought you could get away with this? Pathetic."

As the woman began to struggle in his grip, her eyes widened as she realized the severity of the situation. Fear and panic filled her gaze, and her chest began to heave with labored breaths. Robin took a sadistic pleasure in seeing her fearful reaction. He smirked, his grip unwavering.

He was enjoying this. Teaching this low-life a lesson was like music to his ears. He wanted her to be terrified, to feel the same fear she had inflicted on you. You were his family. His.

As the woman gasped for air, her attempts to break free growing more frantic, Robin leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching her ear. The smirk on his face only grew wider. "Not so strong now, are you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with mockery.

As the woman's grip on you suddenly loosened in panic, it caused you to lose your balance and fall unceremoniously onto your knees with a thump. The sudden movement startled you, freezing you in fright. Your limbs locked up in response to the sudden movement, leaving you vulnerable and exposed as you knelt on the dirtied ground.

Robin's heart stopped as he saw you fall to the ground with a thump. His eyes widened briefly, his grip on the woman loosening slightly in shock. He watched as you knelt on the ground, frozen in fear and vulnerability.

His protective instincts flared up, and he had to suppress the urge to immediately rush to your side. Instead, he forced himself to remain focused, keeping the woman pinned in his grip.

Robin's sharp gaze snapped from the woman to you as he heard the thud of you falling to your knees. Concern immediately replaced his previous satisfaction. He could see the terror freezing up your body, rendering you frozen and vulnerable.

He gritted his teeth, feeling a mixture of anger and worry. He needed to get you out of this situation, preferably without causing you further stress or harm. His grip on the woman tightened again, cutting off her panicked gasps as he held her at bay.

With a quick, sharp jerk, he slammed her against the wall, the force knocking the breath out of her lungs. "Stay still," he commanded, his voice harsh and authoritative.

He then turned his attention to you, quickly crossing the distance between you. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes flicking over your form, assessing for any signs of injury.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, his voice a stark contrast to the harshness of moments ago. He reached out a hand, gently touching your shoulder as he tried to coax you out of your frozen state.

You looked up, your eyes wide with surprise and wonder, as you took in the sight of the young vigilante towering above you. Your throat closed up for a brief moment, your mind struggling to fully believe that it was indeed Robin, the Robin, standing before you.

You managed to force out a meek whisper, the word barely audible. "Robin...?"

In your current frightened and bewildered state, there are a million questions and thoughts running through your mind. In a normally clear state of mind, you would have jumped at the chance to ask the youngest vigilante for an interview. In this moment, however, the only thing you manage to let out is a hesitant whisper, his name. Your mind trying to piece together the reality of the situation.

Robin knelt down in front of you, watching as realisation flooded your eyes. He could almost see the thoughts spinning through your mind like a whirlwind. For a brief moment, he was thankful for your stunned silence. It gave him a chance to assess the situation without being bombarded by a thousand questions.

He watched you take in his presence, your gaze wide and filled with wonder and disbelief. The word 'Robin' escapes your lips in a barely audible whisper.

He nods slowly, acknowledging your tentative recognition, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

He could see the questions brimming behind your lips, but to his surprise, you remain silent. It seemed your fear had rendered you speechless, and for a moment, he found himself relieved. It gave him a few precious seconds to focus on the task at hand: getting you out of danger safely. He gave your shoulder a firm, gentle squeeze, his voice remaining hushed as to not startle you further.

"I'm here, you're safe." He tried to keep his tone calm.

Robin swiftly scooped you up, pulling you against his chest in an easy movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to pause, relishing the feeling of having you so close to him. His heart beat fast and loud in his chest, an undercurrent of fierce protectiveness and possessiveness rushing through him. The thugs already forgotten, as he now focused solely on getting you to safety.

As he quickly leaped from one roof to the next, never slowing his pace, he spoke, his voice low and even. "Where do you live?" He’s already running in the direction.

He kept a firm but gentle grip on you, making sure that you were held safe and secure in his arms as he ran. The wind whipped around you, cool and exhilarating, as Robin navigated the Gotham rooftops with practiced ease. He repeated his question, his tone now slightly more demanding, as he continued traversing through the city.

You tried your best to gather yourself, blinking against the cool night air buffeting your face as Robin held you against his chest. Your voice was soft and slightly shaky as you spoke, the wind attempting to carry your words away.

"Just... just around the corner.."

Robin nodded, accepting the information without question. His strides didn't slow as he continued moving, the muscles in his legs propelling him forward with trained speed.

The city lights flashed by as Robin swiftly carried you through the maze-like labyrinth of Gotham's rooftops. His strides were long and purposeful, his movements fluid and precise. His arms held you firmly, one hand tucked under your legs and the other looped around your back.

Despite the circumstances and the speed at which you were moving, he took great care not to jostle you any more than necessary. It was clear that you were in pain and scared, and he wanted to minimize any further distress.

“... thank you.”

As you murmured your thanks, Robin's heart clenched in his chest. The pure gratitude in your voice was a stark contrast to the vulnerability and fear he could feel in your trembling form. He wanted so badly to respond, to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he was willing to do to protect you, but he remained quiet. He had to stick to their plan. Right now, he was solely focused on getting you home, where you would be safe from harm. His arms wrap tighter around you. He gives a simple nod in response.

You lifted your hand slightly, carefully pointing in the direction of your apartment balcony. The gesture was small, but it was enough for Robin to understand your meaning.

Without a word, he altered his course, angling his body to head towards the balcony you had indicated. Each leap and bound over the city skyline brought him closer to your apartment, the destination in sight.

Despite his casual demeanor, Robin was fully aware of the path they were taking. Years of patrol and countless hours of study had etched the city's layout into his memory, a map constantly present in the recesses of his mind.

He could flawlessly navigate the maze of Gotham's buildings, his muscles and movements guided solely by pure instinct. Every twist and turn was memorized, a testament to his extensive knowledge and dedication.

As they approached your apartment, he adjusted his hold on you, preparing to make the final leap onto the balcony.

With a final powerful bound, Robin lands on the balcony gently, steadying you against his chest. He carefully lowers you to the ground, his hands lingering on your body for a moment longer than necessary, as if ensuring you were truly safe and sound.

He takes a moment to glance around the vicinity, his eyes scanning the area for any potential threats. The Gotham night is relatively quiet, the sounds of the city reduced to a hushed hum in the background.

Once satisfied that the area is clear, he turns his attention back to you. He takes a step back, giving you a moment of space. His eyes watch you closely, searching for any signs of distress or injury.

He lifts a hand, reaching out to gently touch your cheek. His touch is gentle, but his voice is firm. Emerald eyes searching your form. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

Despite his mask concealing his face, the concern in his voice is palpable. He takes a step closer to you, his hands moving to your shoulders as he steadies you against him. His gaze remains fixed on you.

You gently shook your head, a small, reassuring grin playing at your lips. Despite your earlier fear, you were clearly feeling somewhat better. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through you, or the simple fact that you were safe now.

Robin noticed the shift in your expression, a slight furrow forming between his eyebrows as he looked down at you. He could feel the tension slowly draining out of your body.

Robin observed the small smile on your face, his eyes studying you closely. The brief moment of relief he felt at your reassurance was quickly replaced by a sense of caution. He could see the adrenaline still coursing through you, but he knew from experience that it was a temporary high. The fear would return sooner or later.

He nodded, accepting your answer but still feeling a small pang of unease. "Are you sure you’re okay?" he repeated, his hands still on your shoulders.

Your brows raise in slight disheveled amusement. This was the infamous arrogant vigilante? You call bull.

“Yeah, I’m alright now. Thank you.”

Robin's eyes narrow slightly at the amusement in your tone. Despite your gratitude, he can sense your slightly disbelieving and slightly amused. For a moment, he wonders if you are treating him like a kid playing dress-up.

He straightens up, his grip on your shoulders tightening ever so slightly. He cocks his head to the side, his voice a mix of annoyance and determination.

"What's so funny?" he asks, the slightest hint of defensiveness in his tone.

Despite the irritation in his voice, there's a hint of vulnerability. He's not used to being questioned, especially not by someone he feels responsible for. He wants to be taken seriously, to be seen as more than just a young boy playing at being a hero.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze never leaving your face. "I'm serious. You could’ve been seriously hurt," he says, his voice stern. He's not used to expressing his emotions openly, but the thought of you in danger is making his typically controlled facade start to crumble.

You bite your tongue, holding back the sarcastic remarks and jokes that usually come so easily to you. You were well aware of how close you had come to serious danger, and the severity of the situation.

Robin can see the restrained smirk, the flicker of a joke on your lips, and it irks him more than the actual sarcasm. He's used to dealing with sarcastic criminals and sarcastic bats, but the thought of you making light of your own safety is frustrating. He clenches his jaw, trying to keep his annoyance under control.

"This is no joke," he finally says, his voice firm. "What you did was stupid. Walking alone in Gotham at night."

Robin's eyes held a mixture of emotions, anger and frustration and worry and protectiveness. But beneath it all, he was most angry and frustrated with himself. He should have been there sooner, he should have been able to stop those thugs before they even got close to you. This event was only proving to him what he already knew - you were not safe in the city, not without someone to protect you. They needed to speed up with their plan before he goes insane.

He withdrew his hand from your cheek, the loss of his touch leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. He fidgeted with his utility belt, a nervous habit.

"I have to go." He murmured, his voice low and laced with a hint of reluctance. His eyes scanned over you one more time, mentally committing your features to memory. It was as if he were trying to memorize every detail, every curve and contour of your face.

"Be sure not to walk alone at night. Or ever." The last words came out as more of a command than a warning, a hint of desperation laced in his tone.

Before you could even think of a response or express your gratitude, Robin had already vanished into the night, leaving you standing alone on your balcony.

Despite the circumstances, a soft, almost wistful grin crept across your lips as you replayed the events of the night in your mind. Despite the danger and the near brush with violence, you couldn't shake the thrill of meeting the young vigilante, the Batman’s associate himself.

Even though you didn't get to ask all the questions you wanted, the encounter was still something exciting.

You silently crept into your room, taking care to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Jason who was probably asleep in his room down the hall. You shrugged off your bag and jacket, discarding them to the side before crawling into the safety and warmth of your bed. You bring your hand out to tap softly against the glass of your turtles enclosure as a silent good night, cuddling further under the blankets.

Feeling the comfortable weight of the sheets surrounding you, you let out a soft sigh, already feeling the exhaustion starting to pull at your eyelids. Unaware of the chaos that was brewing at Wayne Manor, nor the many sets of watchful eyes observing you through the carefully placed cameras that dotted the room.

The cameras strategically placed throughout your room recorded every subtle movement as you got yourself settled into bed. Every blink and every shift was captured in sharp, high-definition video, the images streaming directly to the computer screens at Wayne Manor.

In the depths of the batcave, the video feeds played on several large screens, each one displaying a different angle of your room.

Multiple figures looking over the room full of monitors, displaying your every breath, every toss and turn as you drifted off to sleep. Watching each and every twitch, each flutter of your eyelashes.

The silence in the batcave was heavy, only disrupted by the soft hum of the computer equipment and the occasional murmur between the group of figures huddled in front of the bank of monitors.

Each screen showed a different angle of your room, the camera feeds streaming smoothly, giving an intimate view of your every movement. Every breath, every twitch, was recorded, observed and analyzed by the watchful eyes monitoring you. Every inch of your room was on display, the cameras capturing even the tiniest detail.

Even in your sleep, you were still being watched.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for reader, no mention of gender.

Does anyone have any ideas for the name of your pet turtle?