#‘you’re a fury. WHAT. happened. to your legs.’

[writeriguess]

Katsuki x f reader one bed trope??? PLEASE????

Frozen Flames

Snow crunched beneath your boots as you trudged up the steep, frost-bitten slope, the icy wind biting at any exposed skin. The mission brief had been clear—track down and neutralize the villain terrorizing the nearby village. But of course, luck had thrown Katsuki Bakugo into your path, turning an already difficult mission into a nightmare.

“You’re too slow,” Katsuki sneered, his voice barely carrying over the howling wind. “At this rate, the villain will be sipping hot cocoa before you even show up.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks stinging from the cold and his biting words. “Not all of us need to blow everything up to get the job done, Bakugo.”

“Maybe if you actually did something useful, I wouldn’t have to.”

You bit back a retort, focusing on the task at hand. Katsuki had always been a thorn in your side since UA. Every mission, every training session was a battleground, not just against the enemies but against each other. You both had climbed the ranks quickly, proving your worth as heroes, but your rivalry never simmered down. If anything, it had only intensified.

The villain’s hideout was nestled in a cavern halfway up the mountain, obscured by snowdrifts and jagged rocks. The ambush happened fast—a blur of motion, cold wind, and ice shards hurtling toward you. Katsuki’s explosions countered them, the blasts lighting up the twilight sky.

Your quirk surged to life, heating the air around you and melting the snow at your feet as you redirected the villain's attacks. But the terrain was unforgiving, and your focus slipped for just a second.

A sharp pain tore through your side as a shard of ice embedded itself into your flesh, your blood seeping out in a vivid contrast against the pure white snow.

“Idiot!” Katsuki roared, his eyes wide with a mixture of fury and—was that worry?—as he blasted the villain backward. “Can’t you do anything right?”

You grit your teeth against the pain, forcing yourself to stand straighter. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly, you do.”

With one last explosion, Katsuki subdued the villain, snow and debris settling around the both of you. His chest heaved, crimson eyes blazing as they darted to your wound.

“Let me see,” he demanded, stepping closer.

“I said, I’m fine.”

“And I said let me see!” His voice was harsh, but his touch was surprisingly gentle as he peeled back the torn fabric to inspect the injury. The cold was quickly numbing your senses, making the pain less sharp but more dangerous.

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. “There’s a cabin a few minutes from here. Can you walk?”

You nodded, though your legs felt like they were made of lead. “Just...don’t blow anything up on the way.”

The trek to the cabin was brutal.

The wind howled like a wounded beast, whipping the snow in furious spirals that made it almost impossible to see beyond a few feet. Your boots crunched against the icy ground, each step sending a dull ache through your body. The wound in your side burned and throbbed, the cold numbing the pain but stealing the strength from your limbs.

And then there was him.

Katsuki Bakugo walked beside you, his presence an irritating combination of warmth and hostility. His hand, firm and unyielding, had latched onto your arm the second your knees threatened to buckle, and he hadn't let go since.

“Stop dragging me, Bakugo,” you snapped, your breath coming out in visible puffs of air.

He scoffed but didn’t loosen his grip. “Oh, excuse me, princess, for stopping you from eating shit face-first into the snow.”

“Maybe I want to eat shit. Did you ever think of that?”

His eye twitched. “You’re so damn annoying.”

You shoved at his shoulder with what little strength you had left. He barely budged, the heat from his body stark against the bone-chilling cold. “Then leave me alone.”

“You’d freeze in ten minutes. Not my fault you’re built like a damn icicle.”

Your retort died in your throat when the cabin finally came into view. It was a squat, wooden thing, nestled between the jagged ridges of the mountains, almost buried beneath thick layers of snow. Smoke no longer curled from the chimney, which meant it hadn't been used in a while—but at least it was shelter.

You barely had the strength to stumble through the door before Katsuki kicked it shut behind you, shaking the snow off his arms with an annoyed grunt.

The interior was barebones—worse than you’d hoped. A single wooden table, a few cabinets that might hold emergency supplies, a fireplace, and…

Your stomach dropped.

One. Single. Bed.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Katsuki followed your gaze, blinking at the pitiful excuse for a sleeping arrangement before a slow, smug smirk crept across his face. “What’s wrong? Scared to share a bed with me?”

Your face burned hotter than it had any right to in subzero temperatures. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

“Be my guest.” He shrugged off his heavy coat, tossing it aside before crouching by the fireplace. With a few well-aimed sparks from his fingertips, flames roared to life, casting flickering shadows against the log walls. The warmth was immediate, seeping into your frozen bones.

Reluctantly, you shuffled closer to the fire, rubbing your hands together.

Katsuki glanced at you, then at your still-shivering form, and let out a long, suffering sigh. “You’re still cold?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re useless like this. Get in the damn bed.”

Your stomach flipped. “Excuse me?”

“You’re freezing, dumbass,” he grumbled, standing to his full height and stripping off his gloves. “You’re losing heat too fast. Either we do this the hard way, where you pass out and I have to warm you up anyway, or you stop being stubborn and get your ass under the covers.”

You hated that he made sense. You hated even more that he was always warm—like a walking furnace, his body heat already making the space around him feel unfairly comfortable.

But the alternative was actually freezing, and you were really starting to lose feeling in your toes.

“…Fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, standing on shaky legs. “But if you try anything, I’ll—”

“Yeah, yeah, stab me in my sleep, blah blah. Just get in.”

The bed creaked under your combined weight as you clambered in first, bundling yourself under the rough, thin blanket. The moment Katsuki slid in beside you, the whole mattress dipped, pressing you closer together. Your entire body locked up.

And then—

Heat.

The contrast was almost shocking. His warmth radiated, sinking into your frozen limbs, your aching muscles, the marrow of your bones. You exhaled a shaky breath as relief flooded through you, but that relief was immediately overshadowed by the realization that you were spooning.

Spooning. With Bakugo.

“Relax,” Katsuki grunted from behind you, his arm firm around your waist to keep you close. “You’re shivering like crazy.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore how solid he felt, how the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back was weirdly steadying. “I hate this.”

“You think I’m enjoying this?” His breath was hot against the back of your neck, making you worse. “Tch. You’re ice-cold, it’s like hugging a damn corpse.”

You elbowed him weakly. “Then let go.”

He didn’t.

Silence stretched between you, save for the occasional pop of the firewood. The exhaustion from the fight, from the cold, from everything, started creeping in, turning your limbs heavy.

“…Thanks,” you murmured reluctantly.

“For what?”

You swallowed. “Dragging my ass up here. And, y’know. Not letting me freeze to death.”

Katsuki huffed. “Damn right you should be thanking me.” But then, quieter, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it:

“…Just don’t die on me, idiot.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. The warmth, the exhaustion, him—it was all too much.

For once, you didn’t argue.

[wylansvanhendriks]

musical!percy they’ll never take away your gay swag

[4unnyr0se]

Haikyuu characters catching you masterbating ?

❥ caught ya! | haikyuu guys catching you pleasuring yourself

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader mentions of masturbation (duh), jealously, fingering, teasing, voyeurism, toy usage, lewd language

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 650

a/n: hopefully i assigned the characters correctly

got a request? my asks are open!

❥ They think it's cute

He walks in on you, knuckle-deep in your soaked pussy, panties hastily pushed aside as you plunge your fingers into your dripping heat over and over again. You were too preoccupied with fucking yourself on your fingers that you didn’t even notice how the door to your bedroom closed, your boyfriend crossing his arms in amusement as he leaned against your dresser. He observes how his name falls from your lips like a broken prayer, your nose sniffling pathetically as you try too hard to rip an orgasm out of you. But sadly, your fingers were no match for his own, and they never will be. You squealed in delight as you finally hit that sweet spot that you so craved, only to have your moment of bliss interrupted by your boyfriend's gentle cooing.

“Did my baby miss me while I was working, hm? Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’ll just stand here and watch. Go on, try to make yourself cum without my help. You’re so fucking adorable, my precious angel.”

SUGAWARA, kuroo, yaku, ennoshita, UKAI, semi, hanamaki, kenma, OSAMU, kita

❥ They think it's stupid

He hears your oh-so-familiar moans behind your shared bedroom and busts in without a second thought. Who the hell was ripping those perfect noises from your pretty lips without his permission? Why, was it you, of course! A bullet vibration practically danced on your throbbing clit while your legs were spread like a slut, your slit drenching the innermost part. Your perfectly manicured hand squeezed your breast, your thumb rolling over your nipple whilst your pearly whites bit down on your bottom lip, hips bucking into the air on occasion. His eyes filled with fury as he ripped the vibrator off your clit, earning an annoyed moan from your slutty mouth.

“What the fuck is this, hm? You seriously couldn’t wait for me to get back so I could fuck you? Who the hell needs this stupid toy when you have me? That’s it. Get on all fours. Right now, don’t fucking test me.”

kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, kyoutani, IWAIZUMI, atsumu, suna, sakusa, ushijima, daichi

❥ They're completely starstruck

Oh, fuck. They have absolutely no idea what to do. He’s fantasized about this so much, and it’s finally fucking happening. He caught you bouncing on a dildo you had bought yourself, whimpering as the silicone head hit every spot so perfectly deep inside your gummy walls. His eyes landed on your pretty fingers, desperately swirling your clit, beads of sweat flying off your forehead. You looked so fucking ethereal, he had to say something. He just had to let you know how fucking pretty you looked!

“Holy fuck, you look so fucking pretty. Can you keep going for me, please? I wanna see you cum over and over again, please, baby girl. I’ll fuck you as much as you want, just put on a good show for me. God, you’re perfect.”

HINATA, yamaguchi, asahi, GOSHIKI, oikawa, akaashi, takeda, TANAKA

❥ They join you

His ears perk up once he hears you mewling in pleasure from your bedroom, eagerly slamming the door open to reveal your hands fucking a vibrating bullet in and out of your weeping cunt, the sheets beneath you a filthy mess. He smirks and practically pounces on the bed, not even bothering to shut the door as he peppers your face in a million kisses. You always look so pretty when you wanna get yourself off. What if he fucked his fist in tandem with you? That's the best idea ever.

“Shit, don’t stop just for me, baby. Let’s cum at the same time, yeah? You wanna fuck yourself with that cute bullet I got you while I fuck my fist to the sight of your pretty tits? C’mon, don’t say no! It’ll be fun, I promise! Then I’ll fuck you nice and good afterward, okay? Thank you, pretty baby.”

nishinoya, BOKUTO, konoha, matsukawa, TENDOU, terushima, yamamoto, lev

[nottsangel]

Bsf theo bullying you into cockwarming before bed. 🫠

bsf!theo is too much of a sweetheart in my eyes so i changed it to brothers bsf!theo if that’s ok <3 n i hope the italian in this makes sense lmao sorry if it doesn’t !!!

“hey, where’s the—” theo begins as he suddenly bursts into your room, but his words quickly trail off and his eyes widen, a smirk tinged with disbelief spreading across his face. you squeal in shock, instantly jerking your hand away from between your legs and hastily pulling your skirt down, covering your dripping, exposed cunt. meanwhile, pornographic sounds echo through the room from the speakers of your phone, which you clumsily dropped in panic.

“what the fuck is your problem?! you fucking asshole! leave!” you yell with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw, your cheeks on fire as you can feel your heart pounding in your throat. you try to reach for your phone that has dropped to the ground, stretching your arm as far as you can, but theo quickly seizes it right before your eyes. “theo! i swear to fucking—” “dio santo, what the fuck are you watching? fuckin’ disgusting.” theo snarls in disgust, chuckling condescendingly as his eyes are glued to the screen, the loud, pornographic sounds making your cheeks heat up even more.

“theo…. GIVE IT TO ME NOW!” you scream at the top of your lungs as you try to reach for your phone, but he jerks it away right before you can snatch it out of his hand and holds it above his head, staring down at you with an amused, mocking look on his face. you jump up, huffing as you stretch your arms as far as you can, but to no avail. “you better be quiet before your brother hears. you don’t want him to find out that his sweet little sister watches this kind of porn when she’s all alone, huh?”

your breathing quickens out of sheer anger, as if steam could practically come out of your ears while you glare at him with furrowed brows. “i mean, if it was just ‘normal porn’, fair enough. but this… nah, that’s just… fucking embarrassing, porco giuda.” he taunts, nodding disapprovingly as he stares at your screen with a mocking expression of shock on his face. “give. it. back.” “oh, don’t worry. i will give it back to you, piccola.” you let out a sigh of relief, the tense muscles in your body gradually relaxing as you start sit down, but then he speaks again. “but only if you watch more of those videos with me.” “what the f—” “while you sit on my cock.”

you scoff in disbelief, blinking rapidly as you stare at him, thinking he must be joking, yet the same serious, intense expression doesn’t falter from his face, making you realise he’s dead serious. “wha— why the fuck would i want that?” “hm. ‘cause you’re fuckin’ dripping, idiota.” he smugly gestures with his eyes towards your arousal trickling down the insides of your thighs. you look down at where here’s staring and quickly press your legs together, a mix of embarrassment and fury raging through your entire body. “you’re a bit slow sometimes, you know that?”

you’re ready to yell at him again, to call him all the horrible names you can think of, but you don’t— instead, you grab him by his shirt and frustratingly push him onto your bed, causing him to gaze up at you with the cockiest, most arrogant smirk ever, clearly just at surprised by your unexpected behaviour as you are. “don’t think i’m doing this because i want you, alright? it’s just— you just happen to have a dick!” “yeah, yeah. you hate me, i get it. c’mere before i change my mind and tell your brother.”

he grasps your wrist and forcefully pulls you onto his lap, biting his lip as his firm hands wander towards your ass under your skirt, squeezing it roughly. your hands hastily reach down to his crotch, eagerly unbuckling his belt while he shifts his attention to your phone and scrolls through the endless videos, trying to pick the perfect one. “and you know what? maybe i’ll let you move if you’re able to sit still enough while watching them with me.”

ੈ♡˳

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[hyunsuloves]

boyfriend myung-gi in the games.

warnings … uhm spoilers ☝🏽🤓

lovely notes … i’m back after five months, we rejoice. & this low key trash cause i haven’t wrote in forever.

꩜ [ 526 words ]

bf!myung-gi who didn’t intend to tell you that he was entering the games because he didn’t want to worry you. he spewed out some half-assed lie so you wouldn’t be worried about him.

bf!myung-gi who makes it his lifelong mission to protect you once he realizes you’re in the games with him. though, he tries not to show how he feels to the others.

bf!myung-gi who had you stand behind him for the entirety of the red light, green light game, ultimately putting your safety first.

bf!myung-gi who lets you scold him after the first game ends in front of the rest of the players because he loves you, and he knows that he’s in the wrong for not telling you the truth. in any other situation, he’d drag you away from the prying eyes of other people, but he knows it’s best to let you unleash all your fury onto him.

bf!myung-gi who immediately seeks your comfort after the entire situation with thanos and nam-gyu. he was well aware that he was somewhat in the wrong, but it didn’t stop him from pursuing the warmth of your arms.

bf!myung-gi who defends you from thanos, despite how inadequately the last situation ended. the last thing he wanted was people such as him getting their grimy hands on you, the love of his life.

bf!myung-gi who has you sleep in his bed every night, without a care for the passing glances the both of you receive from the other players.

bf!myung-gi who doesn’t want you to go the bathroom in the middle of the night because of the possibility of someone attacking you. it wasn’t entirely improbable, and if it were to happen, he wouldn’t be there to protect you.

bf!myung-gi who teams up with you for the six-legged pentathlon game because he doesn’t trust any other team to ensure your safety.

bf!myung-gi who holds you in anticipation while watching the other teams. from time to time, he grips you a little too tightly, but he makes sure to sooth the area by gently rubbing his hands up and down, and of course, whispering low apologies in your ear.

bf!myung-gi who hugs you so intensely after every game that you start to get slightly concerned. he can’t help but want to feel you, to make sure you’re tangible.

bf!myung-gi who votes to leave the games, despite his debt because the possibility of you dying here tugs at his heartstrings. he’ll figure out his financial situation with you by his side.

bf!myung-gi who won’t let you go for the entirety of the mingle game. he wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost you amid the moronic crowd.

bf!myung-gi who seeks you out, once again, after the brawl with thanos and nam-gyu in the bathroom. you’re the first person who he thinks of when needing consolation.

bf!myung-gi who hides with you when the fight breaks out at night, vowing that he’d protect you no matter the circumstances.

bf!myung-gi who stays with you when the revolt takes place, once again, unwilling to leave your side. he’ll eventually get the both of you out of here, no matter what it takes.

[rizzanon]

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m.list | prev | next

The door slammed open so hard it reverberated through the sterile hospital room. Bruce didn’t flinch. He barely blinked. He just sat there, slumped in the hard plastic chair, his hand resting on yours—cold and lifeless beneath his touch.

“What the fuck am I looking at?”

Bruce didn’t answer, didn’t lift his head.

“Bruce.”

Nothing.

The last fraying thread snapped. The figure crossed the room in a hearbeat, and the next thing Bruce registered was a fist colliding with his jaw.

Crack.

Bruce hit the ground with a heavy thud, his head snapping to the side as the impact split his lip and bruised the skin around his cheekbone. He didn’t move to defend himself, didn’t even try to stand. He just lay there on the cold tile, blood pooling in his mouth, the metallic tang sharp on his tongue.

He deserved this.

“Get up,” Jason spat, towering over him. His chest rose and fell like a man drowning in rage. “Get the fuck up!”

Bruce pushed himself into a seated position, back against the chair he’d fallen from. Slowly, he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Jason…”

“What the hell happened? Tell me, Bruce. Tell me why—“ Jason’s voice shook as he gestured wildly toward your body. You, lying there on the hospital bed, covered with a sheet up to your chest. Still. Too still.

“Tell me why the hell am I looking at her like this?!”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, his own voice hoarse, like gravel scraping against stone. “She went after a drug ring. Alone.”

Jason froze. A muscle ticked in his jaw, his eyes blazing. “What?”

Bruce hands dropped into his lap, empty and useless. “She tracked them down herself. She found out where they were moving shipments. I don’t know when she left—by the time I realized, it was already too late. She—“

“And you let her??!” Jason’s shout rang through the small room, loud enough that the walls almost shook. He pointed at Bruce, his hand trembling. “You let her go after them?! Alone?!”

“She didn’t tell me.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Jason’s voice cracked, raw and vicious. He let out a bitter, humourless laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me, Bruce? You’re BATMAN. You’re supposed to KNOW when this kind of shit is about to go down!”

Bruce finally lifted his gaze to Jason, his face haggard, the bruising around his jaw already deepening. “She didn’t tell me, Jason,” he repeated quietly, like the words were an admission of failure. “She went on her own.”

Jason’s fists clenched at his sides, knucles white. “You should’ve known she’d do this! You should’ve stopped her! You’re supposed to keep her safe—that was your job!”

Jason’s voice cracked again on the last word, and Bruce couldn’t meet his eyes.

“She made her choice.”

“Bullshit!” Jason snarled, stepping forward like he might hit him again.

He should, he thinks.

“She shouldn’t have had to make that choice. She wouldn’t have done it if she thought she didn’t have to. She—“ Jason’s voice faltered for the first time, his fury cracking around the edges, breaking apart into something more brittle. He turned his head sharply toward your still form, his chest heaving.

Jason’s voice dropped, quiet and shaking. “She’s dead.”

The words hung in the air, terrible and final.

You were dead.

His sister was dead.

Jason let out a shaky breath, raking a hand through his hair. He turned toward the wall, his vision blurring, the tight knot in his chest turning into something he couldn’t contain. Before he knew it, his fist collided with the drywall, the sound loud and violent as it split under the force.

“Goddamnit!” Jason’s voice broke, raw and thick, the cracks in the wall mirroring the fractures in his heart. His chest heaved, his legs suddenly feeling too weak to hold him. He stumbled back a step, then two, before his knees hit the ground.

Bruce didn’t move.

Jason leaned back against the cracked wall, his forehead dropping against his knees as he struggled to breathe through the sickening weight pressing down on him. His voice was barely audible now, a broken rasp.

“She’s dead,” he whispered again, like saying it out loud would make it easier to believe. “Damnit, Bruce, she’s gone. She’s gone.”

He was furious at Bruce. For allowing this to happen. First him, then Alfred, and now… you.

He was furious at himself. If he’d just been there…. If he hadn’t stayed away like a selfish coward, like he thought pushing you away would protect you, like he thought pushing you away would make you drop the mantle, maybe—maybe—this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe you wouldn’t be lying there, cold and lifeless.

“Goddamnit,” Jason choked out, his fingers gripping his hair as he tried to keep himself from shattering completely. “I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve been there.”

Bruce, still on the floor across from him, watched Jason quietly. His voice, when it came, was low and rough. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fail her.”

Jason’s head snapped up, his eyes red-rimmed, furious. “You did. You failed her.”

He bowed his head down, and gritted his teeth. “….And I did too.”

With that, Jason fell silent. He stayed there, crumpled on the floor, staring at your lifeless form as the weight of it all—your death, Bruce’s failure, his own failure, his regrets—settled over him like a suffocating shroud.

And for the first time in a long time, Jason didn’t know how to pick himself back up.

The night was deceptively calm, a quiet blanket over Gotham that felt almost serene. But Dick’s heart was anything but that. It hammered in his chest like a war drum, each beat fueling the storm that raged inside him. In the shadowed alleys and dimly lit streets, he moved like a storm, tearing through the remnants of the drug ring that belied the peaceful night.

Every punch, every kick was driven by something deeper—something raw and consuming. His movements were precise, brutal, and unrelenting, each strike a wordless scream of anguish. This wasn’t just justice. It wasn’t even revenge.

This was the drug ring you had been chasing. The one responsible for your death.

And Dick wasn’t stopping until they felt the full weight of what they had taken from him.

One of the thugs came at him with a crowbar, swinging wildly. Dick ducked low, his movements precise, and drove his elbow into the man's ribs. The thug stumbled, wheezing, but before he could recover, Dick caught him with a roundhouse kick to the temple. He went down hard, blood streaking his face.

Another rushed him from behind, but Dick anticipated it, pivoting sharply and catching the man's wrist mid-swing. He wrenched it back with brutal efficiency, the crack of bone echoing in the alley. The man screamed, but Dick silenced him with a punch to the throat, sending him crumpling to the ground.

A third lunged at him with a knife, slashing at his chest. Dick sidestepped, grabbed the thug by the wrist, and twisted hard enough to disarm him. The blade clattered to the ground as Dick's fist connected with his jaw, snapping the thug's head back. He didn't let up, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall.

“Where are the rest of you?” Dick snarled, his voice venomous. The man whimpered, struggling against his grip, but before he could answer, another figure charged at Dick.

This one didn't even make it close. Dick spun, releasing the man he'd been holding and delivering a brutal flying knee to the newcomer's chest. The thug crumpled on impact, choking and gasping for air. The alley was littered with bodies-groaning, bloodied, broken.

But it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

Dick's eyes locked on the last thug, the one who'd been cowering in the shadows, trying to make a quiet escape. His boots crunched on the asphalt as he closed the distance, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. The man froze, wide-eyed, as Dick grabbed him by the front of his jacket and slammed him against the wall.

“Where's the rest of your crew?” Dick growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I-I don't—“

The man's excuse was cut off as Dick slammed him against the wall again, harder this time.

“Don't lie to me,” Dick hissed, his grip tightening. His knuckles were already sore and bloodied, but he barely noticed.

“Where are they?”

The thug whimpered, trembling under Dick's glare. “Warehouse... on 14th... Please, man, I'm just—”

“Shut up.” Dick's voice was ice, his eyes dark with fury. He raised his fist, ready to deliver another blow, but a voice crackled in his ear, sharp and commanding.

“Nightwing!”

Dick froze, his fist hovering in the air.

“Dick, that's enough!” Barbara's voice was firm, but there was a crack in it—a tremor that cut through the haze of rage clouding his mind. “They're down. He's down. You've got what you need.”

For a moment, Dick didn't move, his chest heaving, his fist still trembling in the air. Then, slowly, he let the man drop. The thug collapsed to the ground, coughing and clutching his chest, too terrified to move. Dick turned away, his hands shaking as he secured the thugs with cuffs. He didn't bother calling it in to the GCPD. He just fired his grappling hook and ascended to the nearest rooftop, the wind whipping at his face as the adrenaline began to fade.

And then the guilt hit.

The rooftop was silent save for the distant hum of Gotham below. Dick leaned heavily against the ledge, staring down at the city that had taken so much from him. He pressed two fingers to his comm.

“Oracle,” he rasped, his voice raw. “You there?”

“I'm here.”

There was a beat of silence before Dick spoke again, his voice trembling. “I should've been there, Babs. I should've been there for her.”

Barbara's breath hitched over the comm. “Dick—”

“I was supposed to protect her.” The words came out sharp, biting, the anguish behind them bleeding through. “I'm her big brother, Barbara. I'm supposed to protect my family. Protect her.” His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms hard enough to break skin. “But I wasn't there. I wasn't there, and now, she's...” His voice cracked, the rest of the sentence dying in his throat.

Barbara's voice was soft but steady. “You couldn't have known, Dick. You were-”

“Don't,” he snapped, his anger flaring again. “Don't tell me I couldn't have known. I should have known. I should've been paying attention. I was in Bludhaven, dealing with lowlifes while she was...” He trailed off, his chest heaving as he struggled to find the words.

“She was dying, Babs,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I wasn't there. (Name) is dead.”

Barbara was silent for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was laced with pain. “You're not the only one who feels this, Dick. Don't act like you're the only one who lost her.”

Dick let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You don't get it—”

“Don't I?” Barbara's voice cracked, sharp and raw.

Dick froze, his breath catching.

“She died as Batgirl,” Barbara said, her tone trembling with emotion. “She died wearing my mantle. Do you think I don't blame myself for that? Do you think I don't feel like it's my fault she's gone?”

Dick turned, guilt twisting in his gut as he heard the crack in her voice.

“She was under my guidance,” Barbara continued, her voice rising. “She was wearing my symbol. That's on me, Dick. Just like how you thought Jason’s death was on you.”

Dick flinched at the name, his chest tightening painfully. That was a low blow. A low moment in his life in which he didn’t want to go through again. But here he was—

“So don't you dare think for a second that I don't understand,” Barbara said, her voice breaking now. “Because I do. I know exactly how this feels for you. Every second of each day, I feel it. And it’s killing me inside.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Finally, Dick spoke, his voice barely audible. “I can't lose another one of us, Babs. I can't. Jason came back, but she...” His voice cracked again. “(Name)’s not coming back.”

Barbara's voice softened, though her pain was still evident. “I know.”

Dick closed his eyes, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a physical force. “This is my fault, Babs” he admitted, his voice trembling.

“Not just yours… mine as well,” Barbara replied, her voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, the silence between them heavy with shared grief.

there was too much fluff (mlb asks + uf trio asks) posted tdy, i needed to balance it out 🥰🫶 i love it when dick goes feral in the comics lol (its hot)

taglist (1/2): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows @thethingwiththefeathers @mochiivqi @pix-stuff @narration-ator @nebulousmoon3990 @delias-stuff @froggy-voidd @jjsmeowthie @kore-of-the-underworld @nen-nyy @juthesillylesbain @vikkus-main @emilylouise123 @blueiones @horror-lover-69 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wassupbroski55555 @reallyromealone @plsfckmedxddy @sea-glasses @203moonysello @luvly-writer @dovey-quacks2332 @love-theangel @hotdinoankles @vebbiewuzhere @animegirlfromvietnam @estreiiuh @simply-lovely78 @twismare @ssak-i @g4bbi3xx @alor-thes

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ shades of cool ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous, a part two, do you think you’d kill for me, one day? and a part three, ultraviolence.

˚ ༘♡ you stirred, the weight of consciousness creeping back in like a slow, unwelcome sensation. the first thing you noticed was the pain, not sharp, but dull and ever-present, pulsing from your leg in as a painful remnant of what had happened. your eyes fluttered open, and the room before you swam into view, blurred and unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ soft, warm light illuminated the bedroom, the golden glow radiating off polished wood and gilded accents. the room was lavish beyond imagination. silk curtains hung in folds along the high windows, their rich, deep hue a stark contrast to the sterile white sheets covering you. the bed beneath you was impossibly soft, its headboard ornate and meticulously carved.

˚ ༘♡ it didn’t feel real.

˚ ༘♡ your gaze dropped to your leg, your breath hitching at the sight of thick, pristine bandages wrapped around your injured knee. the ache was dulled, numbed, and for a minute you thought it was a dream, until the frigid tug of an iv in your arm brought you fully into reality. clear tubing snaked its way from the crook of your elbow to a stand beside the bed, the consistent drip of fluid into your veins the only sound in the unnerving quiet.

˚ ༘♡ panic set in as you scanned the room for answers. sleek medical monitors blinked softly in the corner, their digital hum an eerie companion to the slow rhythm of your heartbeat displayed on the screen. the pure cleanliness of it all, no blood, no chaos, no grimy stairwells, was jarring.

˚ ༘♡ the door creaked open.

˚ ༘♡ your body tensed instantly, your hands gripping the sheets as you turned toward the sound. standing in the doorway was young-il, but something about him was different. he was dressed head to toe in onyx-black now, the sharp lines of his attire immaculate, his presence nearly unrecognizable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught in your throat as a sensation of horror surged through your body. you struggled to push yourself up, wincing as the motion sent a jolt of pain through your leg. “you bastard,” you spat, your voice hoarse and trembling with both fury and anguish. “what the hell is this? what did you do?”

˚ ༘♡ his expression was undisturbed, his face composed, as though he hadn’t betrayed you, shot you, and left you to bleed out. his voice was soft when he spoke, almost gentle. “you’re safe now.”

˚ ༘♡ safe? the word felt like an insult, a mockery of everything he had done. “safe?” you snapped, your voice rising despite the weakness in your body. “you shot me! you killed them! where are jung-bae and gi-hun? what happened to them?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated, the pause heavy with unspoken truths. “their fate… isn’t yours to worry about,” he said at last, his tone measured, deliberately vague. the non-answer only stoked the fire of your anger, your hands clenching into fists.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t give me that nonsense,” you grimaced. “tell me what happened to them!”

˚ ༘♡ his gaze softened, as if he pitied you. it made your stomach twist. “you’ll have your answers in time,” he said evenly. “but for now, there’s something more important you need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ your chest heaved with ragged breaths as you glared at him, the venom in your gaze meeting his unnervingly tranquil demeanor. “and what’s that?”

˚ ༘♡ he stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the floor, enveloping you in its reach. “my name isn’t young-il,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an undertone that made your pallid skin crawl. “it’s hwang in-ho. i am the front man, the overseer of these games.”

˚ ༘♡ his words hit you as though it was a physical blow, the weight of their meaning sinking in too slowly, too horribly. your jaw slackened as confusion, revulsion, and fear collided within you. you shook your head, as if denying the truth could erase it.

˚ ༘♡ “no,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “no, that can’t be…”

˚ ༘♡ “it is,” he interrupted, his tone kind, almost soothing, as though he were breaking news to a child. “i know it’s a lot to process, but it’s the truth. everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve seen, it all leads back to me.”

˚ ༘♡ his serenity, his gentleness, only made it worse. you stared at him, horrified, unable to reconcile the man before you with the one who had saved your life, who had stood by your side, who you thought you could trust. your heart pounded in your chest, a desperate beating of denial as his revelation sent cracks through your already fragile world.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, your mind frantically trying to stitch together some coherent explanation for what he was saying. every word felt like a jagged shard, cutting into what little remained of your trust. the man you thought you knew had unraveled into someone monstrous, someone you couldn’t even begin to understand.

˚ ༘♡ “you want answers,” he said quietly, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. his hands rested at his sides, his posture unnervingly relaxed. “then let me give them to you.”

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t reply, your throat too tight to push out words. the tremor in your hands betrayed the dread coursing through you, though you tried to mask it with a glare that had lost its edge.

˚ ༘♡ he let out a desolate breath, his gaze dropping briefly before returning to yours. “a long time ago, i was no different from you or any other contestant for these games. i was desperate, clinging to whatever hope i could find. my wife…” his voice caught, for a split second, but he quickly recovered, his expression hardening. “she was pregnant, but she was sick. we didn’t have the money for the treatments she needed. i tried everything, loans, work, begging. nothing was enough.”

˚ ༘♡ you felt a pang of unease, the words pulling at a part of you that didn’t want to empathize, didn’t want to understand.

˚ ༘♡ “when i heard about the games, i saw no other choice,” he continued. “i thought… if i could win, i could save her. i convinced myself it was worth it. the blood, the horror, it would all be justified if it meant saving her.” his eyes grew distant, as though he were watching memories play out before him, each one dragging him deeper into a place he didn’t want to go.

˚ ༘♡ “and you won,” you said bitterly, though your voice lacked strength. the image of him standing victorious in those games twisted your stomach, making you sick. “so why are you here? why are you doing this to other people?”

˚ ༘♡ his lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening. “i won,” he admitted, his tone heavy with something you couldn’t name. “despite my efforts, my win and the prize money came too late. she died, and so did the baby… our baby. nothing i had done mattered, not the lives i’d taken, not the suffering i endured. it was all for nothing.”

˚ ༘♡ the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, but it was the coldness in his eyes that terrified you. it was as though the memory of that loss had hollowed him out, leaving behind only shards of the man he once was.

˚ ༘♡ “after she died,” he said, “i had nothing. no one. those behind the games saw that. they saw what i had become, angry, empty, ready to do whatever it took to escape the emptiness. they offered me purpose, a chance to rebuild myself in their ideology. and i took it.”

˚ ༘♡ his admission hung in the air, suffocating and heavy. you wanted to scream at him, to ask how he could justify becoming the very thing that destroyed him, but the words wouldn’t leave your lips.

˚ ༘♡ “and you…” his voice mellowed, and for the first time, his mask of stability cracked only slightly. “you remind me of her. not simply for how you look, but… the way you care. the way you fight, even when everything is against you. there’s a tender beauty in you that i haven’t seen in any soul for years.”

˚ ༘♡ his words sent a chill down your spine. notion idea that he saw any part of his late wife in you was unbearable. you stared at him, horrified, searching his face for any sign of deception, but all you saw was the unsettling truth of his sincerity.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t,” you whispered, your voice quivering with rage. “don’t you dare compare me to your dead wife. don’t you dare use her memory to excuse what you’ve done.”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t flinch, though something appeared in his expression, regret, perhaps, or something deeper. “i’m not excusing it,” he said quietly. “i know what i’ve become. but it doesn’t change what i see.”

˚ ༘♡ you shook your head, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words pressed down on you. the man standing before you wasn’t just a stranger, he was a nightmare, a ghost of the person he once was, and you couldn’t decide which was worse.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t reconcile the man before you with the one who had pulled you out of the fire so many times before. the one who had shielded you, consoled you when you were hurt, and risked his life to save yours. even as he revealed the truth, this sinister, unfathomable truth, a part of you couldn’t forget the way his hands had steadied you in instances of chaos or the way he had spoken to you with warmth when everything else had been so cold.

˚ ༘♡ yet that part of you, small as it was, waged a bitter war with your anger and disgust. you couldn’t ignore what he’d done, what he was. you had seen him kill without hesitation, betray without remorse. yet somehow, despite everything, the memory of his quiet acts of care gnawed at your resolve, complicating the clarity of your rage.

˚ ༘♡ “why?” you demanded, your voice cracking under the weight of everything. “why did you save me if you were just going to do this? why did you act like you cared?”

˚ ༘♡ his expression softened, and for a second, the cold, calculating overseer seemed to fade. in his place was the man who had once held your hand, who had spoken with a gentleness that felt so real you couldn’t dismiss it entirely. “because i do care,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “more than you know.”

˚ ༘♡ you shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “you don’t get to say that,” you whispered, your voice quivering with misery and despair. “not after everything you’ve done. you don’t get to care.”

˚ ༘♡ he stepped closer, the weight of his presence filling the space between you. you wanted to recoil, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, frozen in place. “i know what i am,” he said softly, his tone stable yet tinged with something raw. “i know what i’ve done. but that doesn’t make what i feel for you any less real.”

˚ ༘♡ “don’t,” you murmured, though the word came out weak, your anger faltering under the intensity of his dark gaze. “don’t try to make this about me. you’re just trying to justify…”

˚ ༘♡ “i’m not,” he interrupted, his voice firm but quiet. “i’m not trying to justify anything. i… i couldn’t lose you.”

˚ ༘♡ the confession hung in the air, heavy and morose. you wanted to lash out, to shout at him, to tell him that his words didn’t change anything. but instead, you found yourself searching his face, looking for the lie, the manipulation. and you didn’t find it.

˚ ༘♡ you hated him, but you couldn’t deny that you had trusted him, even cared for him, before the truth came crashing down. those memories, tainted by what you knew now, lingered like ghosts, haunting you in ways you couldn’t escape.

˚ ༘♡ “you don’t get to feel that way about me,” you said, though your voice wavered, lacking the conviction you wanted it to carry.

˚ ༘♡ “i know,” he murmured, his gaze unwavering, his closeness almost unbearable. “but i do.”

˚ ༘♡ before you could think, before you could stop it, he leaned in. the world seemed to still as his face drew closer, his presence overwhelming. you hated him, you loathed him, but the confusion, the anger, the lingering warmth of the man you thought you knew muddled everything.

˚ ༘♡ when his lips met yours, it wasn’t soft or careful. it was desperate, a confession in itself, and against your better judgment, against every screaming thought in your head, you didn’t pull away. instead, you let the infatuation consume you, the bitterness, the anger, the ache of betrayal melding together into something raw and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ when it broke, you were left shaking, your breaths uneven as you stared at him, your heart pounding with emotions you couldn’t even begin to name. you hated him, but lord, you hated how much you wanted to understand him even more.

a/n: you all asked for another part so i had to write part four!! i had a cosmetic procedure that requires me to stay home for a few days so if you have any requests, this is the time!! i hope you all loved reading!! 🤍

[naomiarai]

— desperate !

╔. ■ .═══════╗

sex with your enemy

╚═══════. ■

➤ PAIRING — jake × fem! reader

➤ GENRE — pwop, slight fluff, (but literally no plot), kind of fwb? e2???

➤ WARNINGS — dom!jake, sub!reader, jake is kinda mean (?), manhandling, degradation, unprotected sex, backshots, kissing. lmk if i missed anything.

➤ WC — 1.3k

➤ AUTHOR — not proofread. i had a jake brain rot idk what happened but i put my SOUL into writing it even though it’s quite short. but again idk how i feel about it.

“I fucking hate you!” you shout, your voice shaking with anger as Jake drags you into an empty bedroom. The door slams shut behind you, the sound echoing in the small, dimly lit space.

Jake clicks his tongue in response, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Yeah? You always seem to fucking forget that when you’re sitting on my dick” he retorts, venom dripping from his words. His grip tightens on your arm, and in one swift motion, he lifts your skirt, his touch rough and demanding.

Youyr breath catches in your throat, a mix of fury and desire swirling inside you. “You’re such a jerk” you spit out, your voice wavering despite your attempt to sound resolute.

Jake’s lips curl into a cruel smile. “Maybe. But you like it, don’t you?” he says, his voice low and taunting. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine despite your anger.

You struggle against him, but the resistance only seems to fuel his determination. “Let go of me” you demand, though even you can hear the faltering in your voice.

His hand moves from your skirt to your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin. “Say it again” he challenges, his tone daring you to defy him. “Tell me how much you hate me”

“I do!” you whisper, your voice barely audible as his touch ignites a fire within you that you can’t control. “I hate you”

JJake’s laugh is a dark, hollow sound. “Liar” he murmurs before his lips crash against yours, silencing any further protest.

Your hands come up to push him away, but they falter, instead grasping the fabric of his shirt. His kiss is punishing, demanding, and you respond with equal fervor, anger and desire intertwining until you can no longer differentiate them.

Jake chuckles when you pull him even closer, his tongue slipping into your mouth, intertwining with yours. Saliva starts to pool at the corners of your lips, creating a wet, heated mess between you. He pulls away, breathless, his calloused hands gripping your ass possessively. “Just like all the others, ready to spread her legs wide for dick” he rasps, his voice dripping with a mixture of disdain and lust.

His words ignite a flare of anger deep within you, your eyes narrowing as you retort, “And you’d stick your stupid dick inside any fucking hole that presents itself” The tension crackles between you, electric and charged. His gaze darkens, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes as he pulls you even closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Is that what you think?” he growls, his hands roaming your body with a roughness that leaves you breathless. ”That I’m just some mindless animal looking for a place to stick it? When you were practically fucking Heeseung out there? You have no idea what you do to me”. The intensity of his words sends a shiver down your spine, your body betraying you as heat pools low in your belly.

You struggle to maintain your composure, your own hands clawing at his back in a desperate bid to regain some semblance of control. “Don’t flatter yourself” you hiss, though your voice wavers. “You're nothing special”

His laugh is dark and humorless, his grip tightening on your flesh. “We’ll see about that” he murmurs, before capturing your lips in another bruising kiss, his tongue dominating yours with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air.

You melt into his touch again, cursing at yourself for doing it so easily. Jake’s hands are everywhere, rough and demanding, yet somehow the sensation of his touch makes your skin tingle. He pulls away from your lips, his breath hot and ragged, and you see the flicker of raw desire in his eyes. In one swift motion, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the cold, hard surface of the nearby table.

The unexpected pressure against your body sends a shiver down your spine, your pussy throbbing and pulsating with need. You can feel your arousal soaking through the delicate fabric of your white thong, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “So fucking wet already” he murmurs mockingly, his voice a low, seductive growl that sends waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hand lifts your skirt, exposing your soaked underwear to his hungry gaze.

Your breath catches in your throat as you decide to push his buttons, a dangerous game that excites you to no end. “Heeseung probably has a bigger dick” you whisper, your voice dripping with defiance and mischief. The words hang in the air, a clear provocation meant to stoke the flames of his jealousy and possessiveness.

Jake's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh almost painfully. You can feel the tension radiating off him, a mixture of anger and arousal that makes your heart race. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “Is that so?” he growls, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. “Then let me know if he fucks you like this”. He zips down just enough for him his cock to spring out, tip red and angry, leaking precum

With a rough tug, he tears your thong away, the sound of ripping fabric mingling with your gasp. His hands spread your legs wider, positioning you perfectly for him. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

Jake thrusts into you without warning, filling you to the hilt in one hard, punishing stroke. The sudden invasion makes you cry out, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves you breathless. He sets a relentless pace, each thrust deep and forceful, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“You like that?” he growls, his voice harsh and breathless. “You like being fucked like this? Like a slut?” His words send shivers through you, the degradation only heightening your arousal.

“Yes—god” you gasp, barely able to form the word as he continues to pound into you. “Jake p..please! —hnng”

His hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in quick, tight circles. The combined sensations are overwhelming, pushing you toward the brink of ecstasy. You can already feel your orgasm building, a tight coil of pleasure ready to snap. One of Jake’s hand grabs at your asscheeks, spreading it open to sink how cock in deeper, causing you to let out a string of moans.

“Mmhm— right there! don’t stop” you moan out with a string of moans. Jake laughs at you meanly, “Stupid slut, look at you going clueless now” he says but you’re too out of it to give him an answer.

“Cum for me” Jake commands, his voice rough with his own need. “C’mon, aren’t you desperate to milk this cock baby?”

His words are your undoing. With a strangled cry, you fall over the edge, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crash over you. Jake follows soon after, his thrusts becoming erratic as he finds his release, spilling into you with a groan.

For a moment, the world is a blur of sensation, the intensity of your shared climax leaving you both breathless and trembling. As the waves of pleasure subside, Jake pulls out of you slowly, his hands gentle now as he helps you stand.

You turn to face him, your legs still shaky, and meet his gaze. There’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, a hint of vulnerability that makes your heart ache. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both catch your breath.

In that moment, you realize that despite the intensity, despite the games and the jealousy, there’s something deeper between you and Jake. Something that goes beyond the physical, something that might just be worth exploring.

But for now, you’re content to just be in his arms, savoring the afterglow of your shared passion.

[intrepidacious]

bring your hunger

summary: There is a Witcher in your house.

pairing: geralt of rivia x succubus!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), light dubcon due to demon magic, penetrative sex (p in v), some biting and choking 😌 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: somehow it's been over a year since i posted a full fic but one ao3 writer's curse later here we are. whole new fandom. i've also never written smut until this show rewired my brain so bon appétit (please be kind). my biggest love to @aphrogeneias and @brandycranby who both let me complain about this story for about three months, i adore you!!

masterlist | read on ao3

There is a Witcher in your house.

You smell him long before you lay your eyes on him, the stench of his magic permeating the forest, harsh and acrid. Somewhere in the woods nearby, something is burning.

For a moment, you hesitate, considering your options. A lesser creature would’ve turned on the spot and run, would’ve stolen a horse in the nearby town and gotten as far away as possible, and maybe you should be doing the same. Forsake your home and this region and try to forget them to save your neck.

But your instincts are never wrong, and right now they are drawing you closer, one cautious step in front of the other, until your door creaks open.

He’s sitting in your chair, turned to the side to have a clear view of the entrance. He is propped up against the dining table, his matted white hair sticking to his forehead. The air is heavy with the smell of blood and sweat. Whatever happened across him managed to get him good; he seems to have bandaged himself up, somehow, but the gashes in his chest look painful.

He stares at you, frown deepening on his face, but he stays very still. There is a dangerous look in his amber eyes, full of fire and fury, and for some reason, that doesn’t scare you. Not at all.

Gods, you’re hungry.

There’s a steady pulse of power coming from him, muted but incessant, like his body’s not ready to drop the fight quite yet. He doesn’t, however, reach for the weapons he’s carelessly dropped on your good carpet.

So instead of fleeing, you draw the door shut behind you and you tilt your head.

It’s stronger now, the smell of your own powers. You don’t think it holds as much sway over Witchers as it would do over mere mortals, but it’s still enough for him to white-knuckle the edge of the table.

"I know what you are," he grits.

The low timbre of his voice makes you grin.

"That makes us even, then." You get closer to him, gingerly stepping over his swords. "Are you going to do something about it?"

His nostrils flare a little, but apart from that his face stays unreadable. Only his eyes betray him, still trained on your lips. He can’t help himself.

"I don’t kill your kind," he says.

"How generous of you." You come to a halt between his legs, reaching out to tilt his chin towards you.

He lets you, and there’s the slightest hint of amusement hidden at the corner of his mouth. From up close, the fire in his eyes burns even brighter.

"Let me show my appreciation," you say lowly.

His scent changes ever so slightly with the first small spike of his arousal. It sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your fingers trail down his throat, along his broad shoulders, down the taut muscles of his back, leaning into him even more. His hands fall to your hips, almost involuntarily. Slowly, unhurriedly, you let your nose brush against his and he inhales with a shudder.

This is always your favourite part. The final moments before they give into their desire, your meal prepared and served up on a silver platter, ready to indulge in.

"Don’t," he says, barely a warning.

"Don’t what?" You can feel his breath against your smile.

"Don’t tease."

"No?" He’s got remarkable restraint, this Witcher; but you can hear his racing heart. "Alright then."

And between one moment and the next, you let your clothes disappear.

It’s a simple trick, one that everyone of your kind can do as easily as blinking, but it’s never failed you. His eyes turn even darker as he realizes what you’ve done, as you move back a little to let him take you in. You lick your lips as another waft of his arousal reaches your nose.

Delicious.

"Is that better?" you whisper, tipping your head to the side.

He doesn’t reply. He pulls you towards him sharply, and then his mouth crashes against yours, hard and sudden. One of his hands grabs your ass, hauling you into his lap while the other one cradles the nape of your neck.

It’s a brutal kiss, divinely ferocious. Your naked core brushes over the noticeable bulge in his pants and he groans. You move your hips back and forth, just enough friction to make his fingers curl, nails biting into your skin.

This, you think, this is just what you’ve been craving. This sense of presence, of awareness. Your heartbeats growing faster. Pulling, tasting, wanting. More.

You only break the kiss to undo his belt, and he chases after your lips, hazy, starving.

You can relate.

He is already rock hard when you pull him out of his pants, ready and leaking. He pushes into your touch, raw need taking over.

You let out an appreciative hum, positioning yourself in his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on his chest. You want him to feel good, after all, no: you need him to.

You haven’t been sated in so long.

"Witcher," you chuckle breathlessly as his arms tighten around you, caging you against his body. "Aren’t you supposed to kill wicked, evil things like me?"

He growls, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasp as he drags his tongue over the bite marks immediately; like he’s savouring your taste, too.

When he looks up at you again, his eyes are like molten embers.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you yank his head back to kiss him again, swallowing the sound he makes when you sink down on him, and it’s a pity, really, because you could get your fill from that alone. It’s delectably salty and bitter.

Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he tilts his hips to allow you a better angle as you start moving.

"So good for me," you murmur.

He slaps your hand away when you try to slip it between your bodies, and then his own fingers find your clit, gently teasing at first, but quickly applying more pressure. You gasp, your walls clenching around his cock.

He lets out a breathless huff. "There, huh?"

"That’s it. Just like that."

It’s too much. Your breaths quicken as the air around you starts to hum and crackle with building energy. It’s making your head swim, each precise stroke to your clit bringing you closer to that edge you’re chasing.

His mouth still trails along your neck, nipping there. Your skin already feels sticky with sweat and magic as you’re hurled ever closer to the peak of your arousal.

Just as the tension in your core gets tight enough to snap, he stills completely. His cock is fully sheathed inside you, but he doesn’t move, his arms around you hard and unyielding, not even allowing a single roll of your hips. Something between a whine and a growl escapes your lips as your canines come down hard enough to draw blood.

The Witcher smiles at you hazily. "Do you want to come, little demon?"

You want to bite him. You want to suck out his energy until he’s nothing more than a sad, empty husk.

Your snarl only brings out a dark glint in his eyes, and his hand moves to your neck, forcing you to hold his gaze. His grip tethers you in your denied pleasure.

"Ask nicely," he says lowly, brushing his lips against yours.

Wicked, evil man.

Underneath your skin, your powers are brimming with unease, not yet refilled, not yet repleted; he knows this. You know he knows, and yet you’re unwilling to give in. "Or what?"

His grin widens just a fracture as his chin juts out in unmatched arrogance. You could burn it off his face. You could dig your claws into the gashes in his chest and widen them even more, feast on his blood instead.

"I know you need it," he says. His cock twitches inside you. "Beg."

A shiver goes down your spine, hot and cold at the same time.

You don’t beg. Ever. You don’t yield control, not even for your meal, especially not to someone like him. But then he expertly applies pressure to your throat and your eyes roll back in your head, all thoughts lost to the thick haze of your desire.

"Please," you whimper, clenching around him again. "Please fuck me."

He groans, hips stuttering into yours involuntarily before he moves in earnest, keeping his hand on your throat. It’s almost agonisingly slow at first, one roll of his hips almost letting him slip out of your cunt completely before he pushes back in with one single, firm stroke.

Your startled cry of pleasure gets stifled by his mouth, coaxing, biting, until your claws dig into the thick muscles on his shoulders. The arm around your back guides your movement, pressing you even closer to his body than before as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over.

You’re so close. You can already taste the precipice, black stars dancing along the edge of your vision.

Another moan rips out of you when you come apart for air, mouths open. "That’s it," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "Come for me."

His voice cracks with rapture, and it’s that more than the feeling of his own climax that sends you over the edge.

This part of your nature never gets old: As the orgasm rushes through you, the pent-up energy surrounding you snaps like lightning, funnelling into your body like an invisible current until you shudder blissfully with your appetite sustained. Your magic crackles around you, dancing on your burning skin like sparks of fire.

You hum appreciatively, your eyes still closed as you take a moment to collect yourself. This day has taken a pleasantly surprising turn, after all. It’s been too long since you’ve felt so thoroughly sated.

However, when you try to move out of his lap, the Witcher’s grip on you tightens decisively.

"Is that it?"

Your eyes fly open.

He is breathing heavily, but despite his loss of blood and the energy you’ve pulled from him, there’s not a trace of exhaustion to be found. He still has that same dangerous twinkle in his gaze. Fire and fury. Something lurches in your stomach.

"I thought your kind’s supposed to be insatiable," he says, leaning in to nuzzle at your collarbone. His medallion bumps against your breasts with a sharp vibration as his fingers trail down your side, a slow, torturously delicate touch. "You can give me one more."

It’s not a question. Still, the hands parting your legs even further are almost as gentle as they are relentless. A light press to your overstimulated clit has you keen, spasming around his cock, and he chuckles lowly.

"Eyes on me."

You hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen shut again. You’re leaning heavily into him now, another wave of pleasure starting to build as the smell of his magic envelopes you.

He growls, moving both of you around so you’re spread open on your dining table, him leaning over you with a look that wants to devour you whole. Like you’re the one being served up for him to make a meal out of. Impossibly, he’s growing hard again as his deft hands coax you closer to your next release.

"Just one more."

It’s such an obvious lie, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re brimming with energy, dizzyingly replenished and yet still ravenous. The air is humming with it, the promise of more.

"Don’t lie to me, Witcher," you still gasp.

His smile is positively sinful. "You said it yourself. I’m just so generous."

You’re so full. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his aura flickering with lust, rich and decadent and beautiful.

"In other words," he continues, his lips brushing your ear right as you reach your peak again. "We are just getting started."

this fic was brought to you by horny hyperfixations. reblogs and comments are what keep your local writers sustained!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics to get notified whenever i post 💛

[macfrog]

epilogue sex on fire

once more for old time's sake, hm?

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: guess who's getting married - and you're all invited.

warnings: age gap, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink, a weird bus metaphor. idk where it came from. but it works. enjoy!

word count: 6.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

It passes in the blink of an eye.

Letting go of your mom’s hand at the school gates; forgetting when you next reached for it. Dancing around a laptop with an acceptance email from your first-choice college onscreen. Walking into a new job with a broken heart; walking out whole again.

All in the blink of an eye.

Joel says it too, as he scrolls through floorplans.

“…Used to be Tommy’s room, way back when,” he swipes to the next screenshot, “I thought it’d look good if we – we took down this wall, and – you see?”

You nod, twisting the hem of your T-shirt around your finger, and curl a little closer into his chest.

He still smells like the fresh coconut bodywash he stole from your bag. The sweet scent that he lathered up and let spill down your tummy, foamy bubbles slipping over your hips.

Under the rainfall shower, he massaged all the pain away. The sweet ache of three hours spent rolling around the bed of your bridal suite, letting him hold you and kiss you and fill you in ways only he has ever done.

You can still feel the heat of him between your legs. You miss him there.

“I see,” you whisper, tucking in beneath his chin.

Joel kisses your head. “You okay? You’re quiet, baby.”

“Just listening,” you reply, and he locks his phone.

“Maybe that’s enough Maple talk for the night, hm? We oughta be relaxing, getting ready for tomorrow.”

“No,” you turn in his grasp, “I wanna see what you’re doing with it. I think it’ll look good, Joel. Did you get the home report yet?”

He slides his phone onto the nightstand and wraps his arms around you. “Not yet. Soon as the work’s done.”

“It’ll look brand new. Totally different.”

“Mhm,” he smiles, “Sure will.”

You lay down on his chest, trimmed hair tickling your cheek. His heartbeat is familiar against your ear. It still skips a beat, even four years in. Still quickens anytime your hand falls over it.

“Are you ready to let go of the place?”

Joel takes a deep breath. “I guess I have to be,” he says, though the words tremble in his throat. It’s not often you catch him feeling uncertain. “Mom’s gone, Tommy said he don’t want it. Unless we pack up ‘n move outta the city, place would just sit there – empty.”

“Hm. Too many memories to let it go to waste.”

“Well, they ain’t all good ones,” he admits, drawing circles on your shoulder.

You thought, that afternoon in your bedroom, that he’d shown you his whole hand. Thought you knew every suit, every card he held. All the things that made Joel who he was – perfectly polished.

The cars, the property, the jet. The company – Jesus, there ain’t a thing he seemed more natural at, than running a multimillion-dollar business. He made it look so goddamn easy.

It used to drive you insane – how together he was. The cracks you could barely see, he’d glued them so perfectly. The ease with which he could hold himself in one hand, and hold you in the other. Just take it all on his shoulders like it weighed nothing.

For every card of yours that was turned, though, Joel revealed another of his.

Maple hadn’t always been the postcard it so looked. White walls, red mailbox. Flowerbeds and slamming doors; two boys’ bikes and one empty dining chair. He told you things with a flash in his eye – and you were never sure whether it was the fire of fury or the salt of sadness.

Joel isn’t so seamless after all. He’s a mosaic of everything that has ever happened to him. Joy and pain, everything in between. A shattered collection of shards, shimmering in the sunlight.

He’s beautiful. For all the brokenness, all the stitched skin – he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He makes you feel beautiful, too.

“Well,” you say, “Maple raised you, so – I love it.”

He looks down at you like you’re brand new. Like it’s the first time he’s ever laid eyes on you.

Running his business looks natural, sure – but loving you comes as easily to Joel as breathing.

“Alright, pretty girl,” he says. “Bedtime.”

You groan into his chest, nose flat against the threads of silver. “Don’t wanna go to bed, Daddy,” you mumble.

He cups your head. “You’re nervous, huh?”

You nod between his pecs, and Joel laughs.

All this time, all the moments of doubt you’ve squashed with the toe of your shoe – and they still manage to creep back in. The corners of your vision still blur, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The scars have long closed, but the skin still remembers.

“You know I’m gonna be there, right?” he says. “The whole time. I’m kind of the one you’re marrying.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “So that’s who you are.”

He lifts his hands, mirrors your stupid smirk. “Pleased to meet you.”

“What if we don’t see each other? I mean – before…”

“We will,” he promises. “I’ll getcha at the bottom of the stairs.”

“’s gonna be a pretty hectic day, Joel. We might not have time –”

His chin lifts. His lips part, the way they do when he’s about to chew up your panicked gibbering. He takes a breath and, straight as the line of his brow, repeats himself.

“I will get you at the bottom of the stairs. Okay?”

Your frown melts. Okay, you mouth, and he pinches your nose.

“I love you. Now, sleep.”

He flicks the light off.

Four years. Four years passed in the blink of an eye.

Twelve hours after your leaving party, you were strolling through Lavender Oaks, hand in hand. Nothing to hide anymore, no one to convince – not even yourself. You loved him then, whether you really believed it or not. Whether you had the courage to look it straight in the face, or not.

You had loved him for a while, really. It was the last card you had to deal. And Joel knew, long before you’d admitted it to yourself. He’s always been the patient one, hasn’t he?

That night, then, deep in the belly of last summer. Some leafy, twinkling rooftop garden of a restaurant that you can’t even remember the name of, because all you remember is him. Loose collar, long day. Drinks menu in one hand, the other cradling yours.

He was tired, and you knew it. He’d hardly stopped since seven a.m., working all through lunch and straight to eight – but he’d promised you dinner that week. It was already Thursday, and he had a conference or a company retreat or whatever it was that weekend.

You can’t remember. All you remember is his face, the second you said –

When are you going to ask me to marry you?

Joel faltered for all of three seconds – though if he’d had a mouthful of wine, he’d probably have choked on it.

Tomorrow, he said. Yesterday. Now. Marry me.

You laughed. I’m serious. I want you to ask me.

Really? His smirk faded into something more earnest. He looked like a boy, the way his eyebrows lifted and his lip trembled. A boy who believed in magic. The candlelight flickered across his face, suddenly wide awake and glowing with life. Would you say yes?

Mhm. And I wouldn’t break it off two days later, neither.

Lucky me, he mused. He paused, then added, You know we don’t have to, right? I’m happy, baby. I’m happier than I ever thought… his voice wavered and he gulped, I’d be happy the rest of my life, the way we are.

Joel, you lifted his knuckles to your lips, I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband. Just – just ask me. I’ll say yes.

He beamed back at you like some lovestruck fool. You suppose he was; suppose he had been since the moment he first saw you. A goner as soon as he opened that office door, as soon as he felt the way your hand fit so perfectly in his.

I love you, he said – for what felt like the millionth time. Somehow, he made it mean more each time.

I know, you replied, leaning over the table to kiss him. I love you, too.

In the blink of an eye, your life changed from lonely blue mornings to bright golden dawns. From two boxes of stuff and a Swiss cheese plant, to an entire office with your name on the door.

You collected stripe after stripe, took leap after stride; chased every promotion, every chance, every speck of something over the horizon. Life got busy, you worked your ass off – but for the first time ever, you felt like you were becoming something. Becoming someone.

Joel sat up through all your late nights at the kitchen table. He poured coffee after coffee, carried you to bed when you couldn’t stare at the laptop any longer. He carefully consoled and aptly controlled every stress-induced breakdown you ever had.

He bought you a peace lily to keep your monstera company. He held your hand at every work event you had. He promised you could do it, and slowly, surely, you realized he was right.

So when you told him you were ready – and only then – Joel traded that little gumball ring for a new one.

A real one.

It happened in Paris. He took you back to that same glitzy restaurant – the delicate wine and rich steak, the chandeliers and renaissance ceilings. He echoed every word of French you spoke in a little Austin accent; played footsie under the table and flirted like it was your first date.

He was nervous. Indestructible as he seems, he still has his tells. He played with your hands the whole night, asked if you were okay every second sip of his drink.

Yeah, you said, I’m good. You?

Yep. Yeah. Good.

Your hands are shaking.

He smirked. I’m on a date with a real pretty girl.

He could barely wait for the elevator to reach the suite. He kept closing in on you, pressing words into your neck and playing with the straps of your dress. I love you, I love you, I love you, he said, gripping your waist.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Everything sparkling – the champagne, the stars, the thousand and one candles he had lining the balcony. Everything golden – the tower, the ring, the feeling flooding through your chest. And in a shaking voice, on a shaking knee, with shaking hands you had to cup as he spoke, he asked you.

Easiest yes ever.

He’s already asleep. Head tipped back, snoring to the ceiling. He looks so cute that it makes you giggle.

“’night, baby,” you lull, and cuddle into his chest.

Joel’s alarm splits the morning at seven.

He reaches over to silence it, groans into his palm, and rubs his eyes open. “Mornin’, angel,” he sighs – same as always. The same two words that kick off damn near every single day since you got together.

“Morning,” you reply, and hug him tighter.

You watch as he comes to life. Stirring beneath you, heart fluttering against yours, skin still warm and sleepy. You’ve been awake for the last hour just watching him – fingers trailing the valleys of his collarbones, nose nuzzling into the rugged hinge of his jaw.

Sometimes you wonder if it’ll ever fade – the rush you feel when you see him. The way the world tinges pink, mutes for a moment or two – and Joel is the only thing in any of your senses.

He lifts his arms in a loud stretch, biceps popping. He sucks in a deep breath. “We should do something today.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

His lips turn. I dunno. “Make some lifelong vows, maybe.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff, pushing yourself up. You roll from his grasp and pad over to the bathroom. “Why don’t we grab lunch instead?”

“Boring?” Joel scoffs. He follows you to the sink and curves around you in a bear hug. “Spent over a hundred grand on this thing, Ms. Miller. You telling me we wasted our money?”

His hands sneak under the material of your tee, lifting it over your bare hips. There’s a weight building against the small of your back – another thing that kicks off nearly every single day. It sits heavy, twitching when you reach for your toothbrush and your ass ruts against him.

Joel hisses. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he grabs your hips and steadies you, “Easy on me, now.”

“I’m not the one groping.” You spin in his arms, toothbrush between your molars.

“Can’t help it –” he kisses your neck, “– when you look –” the other side, “– so sweet –” he lowers with a tiny groan, “– ‘n you taste –” he places a long, damp kiss to your tummy, “– even better.”

You squirm in his grasp. “Joel, we don’t have time for –”

“Sure we do,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue to your slit. “It’s us they’re waitin’ for.”

You drop your brush into the sink with a gasp. “Tommy’s gonna be here any second.

His eyes flash up to yours. “Who?”

He scoops your ass and pulls your thighs over his shoulder. Deft with it, a body he knows as well as his own by this point. A body he loves even more.

You open up for him like he never left. Still warm and wet from last night, still coming down from each high he took you to. Sometimes it feels like this is all you do. Sometimes, you wonder if there’s ever a time you feel more you, than when you’re wrapped around some part of him.

Joel’s voice reverberates through your body. He groans as he licks, nips and sucks between your legs, slowly easing you off the counter and onto his mouth.

You reach for his hair. The salt and pepper streaks, the bedhead only you ever get to see before he’s washed and groomed into that perfect shape of himself. A carefully carved shape, ruggedly handsome but intentional.

He’s more relaxed this way. Your way. Before the world seeps into him, before the suit and tie and hundred-dollar cologne. When only his sun has seen him, stirred him, swept her fingers across his broad chest and whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

Heat is pooling in your stomach, flooding through your veins. It’s cracking open your chest, drawing breath from your lungs. You grip the edge of the counter, back arching, hips rutting against Joel’s tongue – and you come.

He doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t miss a drop. He laps every second of it up, every pulse of your cunt, slowing only when you crumple against the mirror and sigh.

Your fingers swirl around his hair. Your body feels heavy with pleasure. The shock is still looping around your bones.

Joel kisses the inside of your thigh and stands, crossing his arms at your spine.

“I love you,” you hum, licking yourself from his lips.

He smiles. A dreamy, golden thing. Still just him and the sun. “Love you, too.”

This morning, of all mornings, might be cutting it fine. They’ve already started setting up downstairs. Twenty tables, one hundred and fifty chairs, one thousand roses, forty bottles of champagne, three grand behind the bar.

The last thing you need on the day of all days is for the bride and groom to be late.

Still. He’s rock solid and right there, throbbing against your tummy.

You slip your hand around him and squeeze, massaging his tip with your thumb.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He feigns offense. “Baby, we don’t have time,” he says, eyes on his cock as you guide him south.

“Shut up,” you breathe, “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Ain’t saying no to that,” he replies, and his hips meet yours.

You groan in harmony, wrapping closer together. Joel finds a quick pace, body snapping into yours, holding you strong and steady in his arms.

“Jesus,” he pants, “Three times last night wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

“F-feels like it wasn’t enough for you, either.”

He laughs. “Forever wouldn’t be long enough in this little cunt, sweet girl. She’s too good to me. Loves her daddy, don’t she?”

You follow his gaze down, where his thick cock drags between your legs. Soaked with you, slick and shining with each thrust of his hips. Deeper and deeper, touching a part of you only he’s ever been able to reach. Pulling noises from your throat only he has ever been able to pull.

Joel rolls his forehead against yours and lifts your eyes to his, a messy kiss to your lips. “Like it when you watch,” he whispers. “You see how pretty she looks?”

“Mhm,” you hook an arm around his neck, “Feel so pretty, Daddy.”

“My beautiful girl.” His lips close around yours again, tongue hot and heady in your mouth. His pace stammers when you moan against him. He curses, hips jolting.

He’s close. All too close.

He won’t come before you. Not before he’s drawn another from your body, felt every pulse of your pussy around him. Not before he’s watched you fall apart; felt you collapse into his arms with it.

He slips out, kissing your temple to shush your petulant whine. “’s okay,” he folds your legs to your chest, “I gotcha. I’m here.”

Over his shoulder, the sun lights your reflection in the shower glass. His toned back, the swells of muscle across his shoulder. Hiding the shape of you from the morning – his moaning mess of a girl, gripping onto him and screaming into his chest.

She sobs his name and you taste it on your tongue. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Each one louder than the last, each one sorer.

The window is cracked open. Anyone might be walking under it.

And you like it, don’t you?

The chance that someone might hear. Might know exactly what Joel’s in here doing to you. Ruining you for anyone else, like he’s done a million times over.

It’s as though he lulls you into it. Like waves, starting in the pit of your belly and rolling outward. Heavier and deeper and sweeter, until your orgasm crashes over you in bursts of warmth.

Your arm tightens around Joel’s neck, brows knitting when you reach your peak. You keep your eyes locked on his, and he mirrors your expression.

“Oh, good girl, honey,” he rasps, pausing when his own high overcomes him. He twitches, little bursts of heat in your cunt before flooding the entire thing. He holds your hips flush against his until his cock stills and breath fills his lungs.

He pulls you against his chest and sits you back on the counter. If there’s one thing better than being fucked by him, it’s the comedown. The aftercare. The kissing, the fixing you back into shape.

Your pussy flutters around him. Your ear against his chest, you feel your heart beating in time with his.

Joel cups your head and dots kisses down to your shoulder. He makes to pull out, and you fuss.

“Stay,” you whimper, tugging on his arm.

He smiles. “Oh, baby, wish I could,” he squeezes your waist, “but I heard Tommy knockin’ on the door five minutes ago.”

He strolls back into the bedroom, massaging a knot out of his shoulder.

You sit, stunned, leaking all over the counter, before rushing through at his heels. “Asshole!” you hiss.

He chuckles as he pulls a hoodie over his head. “Couldn’t leave my lady unsatisfied, could I?”

You throw yourself into a pair of his pajama bottoms. “I think she’d have been fine with it, given your fucking brother is right outside.”

He swings the door wide open. You curl around one of his arms.

Tommy leans against the opposite wall, picking at his nails. He straightens, scratches his beard, and smacks his lips.

“Told you you’d sleep in, brother.”

Joel’s chin lifts. He nods, amused. “You did tell me that, yeah.”

You want to slap him for how cocky he definitely feels. His little brother is none the wiser.

The denim-donned Miller steps over the threshold and reaches for you, a bristly kiss to your cheek. “Mornin’, sweetheart. How you feelin’?”

“Good,” you lie.

“Nervous,” Joel corrects, cocking an eyebrow.

Tommy laughs. “Talk to Maria. She’ll calm you right down. She felt the exact same on our day.”

Their day. Almost ten years ago, back when you and Joel were strangers – and he and Tommy were as good as.

Credit to him, he put up with the pestering from both sides – that is, you and his mom – for six months, at the start of your relationship. Slowly – painfully slowly – he began to entertain the conversation. Never gonna happens turned into if it ever did happens.

He learned to unlock his jaw, to make eye contact with his mom when she talked about Tommy. He asked questions he hadn’t asked in years. He learned where he and his wife lived, what they named their son.

He learned that they’d had a spring wedding. He learned that Tommy’s best man was his drinking buddy. He fell quiet, and his mom knew to change the subject. On the drive home, he held your hand a little tighter than usual.

Six months which, in the end, felt less like convincing him – and more reassuring him. Yes, Tommy might ignore all of his calls. Maybe Maria might answer, and tell him in a hushed voice that now’s not really a great time, Joel.

Maybe his brother might pick up the phone himself, tell him to go straight to hell.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t hardly recognize his big brother’s voice, at first. There was a pause a few breaths too long right after Joel reintroduced himself – long enough that you thought you might’ve kicked him all the way back to square one. And then –

Well, shit, brother. How the hell have you been?

You spent your first anniversary in Jackson. You took Joel’s mom up there every year after. The brothers fit back together like they’d never been apart, like they’d never forgotten the shape of each other’s hug, the cut of the other’s good humor.

Tommy took you in like you’d been part of Joel even before either of them knew your name.

Your fiancé pulls you into a hug. He kisses your head and asks his brother to grab the elevator.

Tommy salutes as he turns down the hallway. “See you later, little sis.”

Joel holds your face and taps your nose. His lips twist in half a smile, half frown. “You gonna be okay?”

“Sure,” you sniffle. The sting of tears brims your waterline already and you blink them away. You’re hiding from him.

“I’m right downstairs if you need me,” he says, spotting you clear as day. “Just call.”

“Not supposed to see you before the ceremony.”

“Yeah,” Joel winces, “don’t think we’re supposed to have sex, either, but we broke that rule a long time ago, pretty girl.”

His hands are so big around yours. So steady, pulse loud only from your morning tryst – if at all. He plays with your fingers, straightens the ring on your third.

A sharp bell sounds. Tommy whistles for his brother. Your chest aches.

“Few more hours,” Joel says. “Few more hours and then we got the rest of forever, just you ‘n me.”

He wanders down to the elevator, turning inside. He leans against the back wall and crosses his arms. His eyes meet yours, lips curl in that trademark smirk of his, and the doors close.

The stairs are cold and breezy. The manor doors have been wide open all morning, guests filtering through, allowing the cool to cluster in each corner of the house.

It’s been a busy morning. Par for the course, so you hear. No bride gets through her wedding prep unscathed.

You’ve spent four ass-numbing hours dutifully planted in your chair, your nephew in your arms as something of a comfort blanket, eating fresh fruit and drinking cold champagne and promising not to touch your makeup after the artist is done with it.

Maria uses the light from the window opposite the top of the stairs to finish buttoning your dress. She balances on the second step, peering up at your trembling figure.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” she says.

“In the blink of an eye?” You scoff, but she nods.

“I’m serious. You won’t even feel it, and it’ll be over. You’ll be lying in bed tonight telling Joel, Maria was right.”

You clasp your fingers around your bouquet. “I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“He could stand to hear it more often.”

You giggle.

A pair of warm hands sweeps down your shoulders, turning you by the elbows. Her dress is a deep olive, spilling over her arms in waves of shining satin.

“Mom,” you breathe, leaning into her.

She smiles, pinching your cheek. “This is it,” she says simply, like it is as simple as tying your shoelaces. “Deep breaths.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of…” Your eyes scan the summery wallpaper behind her. It offers no answers. “…What if we’re not ready?”

She glowers. “Oh, yeah. Good point. I’m sure the man who flew you to Paris after two weeks is not ready to marry you. We should send everybody home.”

“It’s just a big deal,” you continue, “Lots of people downstairs.”

“No, there’s not. There’s not,” she cuts your protest, voice sharp, “There’s only one person in that room, and it’s him. And you’ve done scarier than this, right?”

Your head wobbles in weakened agreement.

She links her arm through yours. “I remember,” she leads you downstairs, “a little girl with shaking knees, boarding a bus to camp for the summer. I remember her teary face, her tiny hand waving goodbye from the back window. Ain’t this just the same?”

Your bridesmaids slip past, hoisting their silky dresses above their ankles as they tackle the winding staircase.

“Alright, well,” you sniff, “I was eleven when I went to camp, so. Significant difference.”

“I disagree,” she says. “It’s a scary thing to do when you’re eleven, and maybe getting married is a scary thing to do when you’re thirty. But you got on that bus because you wanted to, and you’re doing this because you want it, too. It’s simple, sweetheart.”

She pauses a step below. Her hands drop from yours. Her eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spoil her makeup.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “we mistake fear for excitement. Butterflies can feel an awful lot like nerves. Sometimes, something scary can take a similar shape to something wonderful. And you never know the difference until you step on that bus.”

She takes another step down and you reach for her hands – the same way you reached for them at the school gates, twenty years ago.

“Mom –” you squeak, twisting your fingers around hers.

She kisses your knuckles. “You are going to live the happiest life with him, I just know it. You’re going to take such good care of each other.”

She skips off around the bend in the stairs, shawl flurrying. At the bottom, she crosses paths with someone, squeezes their sleeve with affection.

He sways into view slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to spook. Hands in his pockets, suit sleek and smart. Beard trimmed as close as you’d allow, hair fixed as neat as he’d allow.

He cleans up good. He always has. If it weren’t for the handrail, you might faint into his arms.

When he speaks, his voice is light, warm, soft on your skin. Wraps around you and draws you in, safe and sound. Calls you home.

“There’s my girl.”

And you walk to him.

“Hi,” you say, voice soft, heels clicking.

Joel watches every step. His eyes loop up and down your figure, scanning from the swishing hem of your dress to the twinkle in your eyes. He’s somewhere between the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face, and shattering into tears.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighs as you twirl into his arms, “You are so beautiful.”

You straighten the flower in his pocket. “You’re pretty beautiful, too.”

You fall together, bodies magnetized. Joel’s chin lifts and your lips connect in a tender kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands travelling north along the figure-hugging material of your dress.

“Good choice,” he mumbles into your mouth.

“Mhm,” you reply, a joyful lilt to it. “Knew it was a winner.”

You stand for a moment, swaying together. Your arms crossed around his neck, his snug around your waist. Breathing one another in, steadying each other. Souls finding the other again.

Some last-minute guests scurry through the doors over his shoulder. Their footsteps echo through the hall as they find their seats. Joel holds you all the tighter.

“You ready for this?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. More than I’ve ever been, my whole life.”

“We can still call it off,” he smirks, “Take off on the honeymoon, never talk to any of these assholes again.”

He laughs when you do, relief blooming on his face.

“No, Joel,” you say. Your voice feels clearer, stronger with your body against his. “I love you. I love you so much, and I…I wanna get on the bus.”

His brows pinch. He tilts his head, scoops your jaw. “You…Wh–? What, baby?”

You nod to yourself, staring at his tie. “I wanna get on the bus,” you repeat, voice barely there.

He blinks down at you. His thumb strokes your cheek. He makes to reply – some dumbfounded quip, probably – when a voice splits you apart.

“Psst! You two!”

Your mom ducks her head out into the entrance hall. She clicks her fingers. “They need you up front, Miller.”

He nods and turns back to you, bending to look you in the eye. “Catch your breath,” he says. “Just a little while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you decide. “I’m ready.”

“Alright. Then let’s get on this goddamned bus, whatever the hell that means.”

The celebration is alive with a string melody, the tinkling of glasses, and bursts of sweet laughter.

Your cheeks ache from all the smiling. Your throat is dry from all the talking. And you don’t care. You could do this for the rest of your life, if Joel would let you.

Turns out getting married is pretty fun – once you’ve done it, that is. When all that’s left is to swing between tables, chat until you run out of breath, dance until your feet hurt. Eat until you feel sick, drink until your head dizzies, weep in the bathroom with your friends then reapply your makeup and repeat.

It’s a year-long effort with only a day’s payout – but as far as days go, it’s not half bad.

In the same grand hall you said I do in three hours ago – soaring windows with drapes strung to the heavens, pale flowers arranged on every table, chandeliers glistening overhead – you search for the one missing piece.

“Have you seen my husband?”

Drew scoffs as he approaches your spinning figure. Beer in one hand, his daughter in the other. He shakes his head, laughing.

“You ain’t used to saying that yet, are you?”

“Nope,” you pinch his daughter’s hands, “and I hope I never am.”

She squeals with laughter, kicking her legs under swirls of chiffon. She throws herself out of her father’s arms into yours and you catch her, perching her on your hip.

“Good for you, kid,” Drew says. “You deserve it. You both do.”

You smile and peer down at the toddler tugging on your diamond necklace. “Your uncle Joel bought me this,” you babble in her ear. “If it breaks, you’re one sorry individual.”

She giggles all the louder.

“Last I saw him,” Drew tilts his bottle towards the patio doors, “he was out on the terrace.”

Your eyes flit to the twinkling, dusky sky. “Alone?”

He shrugs. “Guess so.”

You pass his daughter back, fixing the bow on her dress. “I’ll find him. Thanks, Drew.”

The breeze breathes between the doors as you walk over. It’s a chilled night, but the fresh air is a welcome breather from the busy dancefloor.

Veiled by the sheer curtains, his figure relaxes against the balcony, staring out at the rolling lawn. He exhales a thick, scattered cloud of white to the sky. His head turns at the sound of your heels on the patio.

“Nice view, huh?”

Joel hums. His voice is clotted with tobacco. “Sure is, Mrs. Miller. Fine choice of venue.”

“Teamwork,” you reply, and pat your fingers against his palm in a weak high five. You cross your wrists over his shoulder and stare out at the mountains in the distance. “Out here all by yourself?”

“Just needed a moment. Take it all in.” He tilts the cigar in his hand. “Make use of my wedding gift from my best man.”

There’s a blanket of chill slowly settling over the valley. It hugs a little too tight around your bare arms. You shiver, nestling closer to Joel, and he straightens.

“Here, baby,” he says, shrugging his jacket off. He drapes it over your shoulders and rubs them warm. He plucks the cigar from its ashtray, offering it silently.

You scoff. “I’m not gonna like it.”

“I know,” Joel replies, “but we’re celebrating.”

The stick is heavier than you expected, dry and hard between your fingers. The cap is sliced, dampened by Joel’s lips.

He watches your mouth, smiling when you inhale. “Not too much,” he clasps your wrist lightly, “Only a little.”

It’s rancid, if you’re honest. Clogs your lungs with what feels like unbreathable heat, a sickly-sweet flavor that crinkles your nose. The smoke punches from your lungs in a broken cough. And once they’re clear – you lift the cigar for more.

“Alright,” Joel says, taking it back after a couple more puffs. “That’s enough, Kennedy. Like it?”

“Not bad,” you croak, stealing a swig of his champagne. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

“No, ma’am.”

You lean into him, elbows on the railing, following his outstretched hand as he points out each mountain peak.

He talks about the years he and Tommy spent camping, the long fishing trips with his dad. Regales in excruciating detail the time he pitched his tent right by a cluster of poison ivy, and woke up covered in bloody, blotchy blisters.

He talks about all of it easier than he has in years. As though the dust has settled over the memories, the good and the bad, and all that’s left is to look. No more shifting things around in his mind, trying to find where it all fits. Everything is exactly where it needs to be.

After a while, he kisses your head. “Hey,” he says. “Congratulations.”

You lift your head. “You, too…?”

“You got married today.”

“Did I? Shit, I didn’t mean to.”

He flicks his eyebrows. “That something you saw yourself doing, five years ago?”

No. Not at all. But then my boss held my waist to his in a dive bar, and – you know the rest.

“Hm,” you flatten your lips, “No, but then – you’re not something I saw myself doing, five years ago.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Stay classy, pretty girl.”

You giggle. “I’d do anything, long as it’s with you. Mess around on the first date, fly to Paris on the second. Meet your mom, like, three weeks in.”

“You are not countin’ that lunch with James from accounting as our first date,” he protests. “That shitshow was not our first date.”

“You paid for my meal and you fucked me in the bathroom. Date.”

“No,” he points a telling finger in your direction, “No. If we have kids one day, they’re going to ask. We gotta get our story straight. Our first date was Paris. I took you to Paris.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” You bunch your shoulders, snuggling deeper into his jacket. “Deep down, you know the truth.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

He searches the skyline, plucking up courage when the last of the setting sun catches his eye. “Well,” he sounds nervous, “I thought I could give you your gift.”

You fiddle with your necklace. “I thought you already did.”

Joel shakes his head. He takes your wrists and lifts your hands. “Close your eyes.”

“If you drop a living thing into my hands, Miller,” you screw your eyes shut, “Divorce.”

“Uhuh,” he mutters.

He holds your hands in one of his. There’s the ruffling of linen, a faint jingling, a roaring cheer from inside.

There’s the cold kiss of metal in the cushion of your palm – tiny, featherlight – followed by a coiling, and something jagged.

You hold in a laugh, breathing nervously. “I’m scared,” you whisper, and Joel kisses the hinge of your wrist.

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I trust you.”

“Then, open.”

Your eyes flutter, and there he is. Still standing before you, still smiling. Still holding your hands. He nods down, and you look.

In your palms lies a small brass key. On the end of the chain, a single silver maple leaf tag. It winks back at you, moonlight reflected in its grooves.

You lift the key. It’s worn by time, metal nicked and imperfect. Brass a little tarnished. The leaf sways in your clutch.

“Maple?” you ask, and Joel nods. Your eyes begin to well.

“I know we’re happy in the city,” he says, “and I know it’s just some little paint-chipped house. It’s probably still got school reports ‘n shitty comics up in the attic. I just – God, I can’t shake it, baby.”

You look up at him, a question in your teary gaze.

“A little birdie once taught me,” he steps closer, “that it’s okay to lose things. To let ‘em go. I didn’t believe her at the time. I was scared. Scared to lose her, scared she might find something better. I reckon she was pretty scared, too, but – even when I thought I lost her, she came back.

“She said this thing about making new memories. Better memories. And I just can’t shake it.”

The words catch on your tongue on their way out. You’re only just now realizing how different life was before. Before him, before this. How empty and cold it felt, how little you noticed before the sun peered through the clouds and said something in a drawl laced with love and humor.

How quickly you ran into its warm, open arms.

Joel goes on. “The guys are making a real good job of it. They said there’s plenty potential, and you know it has that huge yard. Now, if you don’t want it, say the word and it’s gone. Out of our hands. But,” his voice breaks, “if you do, then – it’s yours, darlin’. It’s been yours since the moment you walked through the door.”

And, well – hasn’t everything?

The job was yours the very second you tiptoed into his office. He told you so himself. The job, the desk, the free trip to Europe. You walked into his life and flipped everything on its head, without even knowing it.

You worked for him for three years before anything ever happened. Three whole years of elbow nudges and fleeting glances and one too many questions about whoever the other was dating. Joel figures he loved you all that time. You figure you loved him, too.

You changed everything for him. From that first glance, the first meeting of your hands, nothing was ever the same. All of it, from the spare cabinet in his bathroom to the third finger on his left hand – it was all just waiting for you to make it your own.

Hasn’t Joel’s heart belonged to you since you first laid eyes on each other?

You turn the key between your fingers. The answer rolls along the tip of your tongue. The longer you stay quiet, the more nervous you know he’s feeling.

Your eyes meet his – and you smile.

“I want a porch swing.”

Joel chuckles. “Done.”

“And we host Thanksgiving every year.”

“Every year?” He almost grimaces.

You’re staring each other down. It’s as much a game as it is a genuine request, like most of what you do. Just as much teasing as sincere.

You nod. “Every. Year.”

“Okay,” he relents. “Anything else?”

Your eyes drift off behind him. Inside one of the windows, Drew and Rachel twirl their little girl in time with a familiar guitar melody. She throws her head back in a fit of laughter and they pick her up, spinning her around.

Joel glances over his shoulder. He breathes a laugh. “I’ll give you that tonight if you really want it.”

You lean into his chest and kiss his jaw. “I just want you.”

“You got me,” he says. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

The rest of the band kicks in. The raspy lead singer, the perky drum beat. The dancefloor fills some, hands thrown to the ceiling, glasses spilling over.

You bite down on a smile, eyes flitting to Joel’s.

He twists his shoe into the patio, nudging into your side. He extends his arm and you link yours through, following his lead inside. “Good song,” he mutters.

“Hm,” you agree. “Little before my time.”

[zeroxxlhero]

Beast • Vi

Warnings: 18+ characters, werewolf! Vi, hunter! reader, blow jobs, bondage, teasing, rough fucking, talks of drugging, questionable consent, past established relationship, lingering feelings, slight possessive tendencies, descriptions of Vi having a happy trail, use of the nickname ‘puppy’ ‘baby’ ‘sweet bit,’ mentions of vampire!Caitlyn, power play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal sex

Pairings: Vi x You

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Your job was to hunt monsters—vampires, werewolves, the undead, and anything else that wasn't considered to be human. So what happens when you've got Piltover's most infamous werewolf in your grasp and she can't control herself despite the past that was shared between the two of you?

Vi’s consciousness returned slowly, reluctantly, dragging her up from a heavy, drugged slumber. The first thing she registered was the taste—a metallic tang of blood mixed with the acrid bitterness of drugs. She gagged, her dry tongue scraping against the roof of her mouth as her body stiffened. Her head throbbed a dull, relentless ache that paired cruelly with the chill sinking into her bones.

When she finally cracked her eyes open, the dim light seared into her vision. It flickered weakly overhead, illuminating the damp, cracked concrete of the room around her. It took her a moment to register the tension in her limbs, the cold bite of steel digging into her wrists and ankles. She was suspended against the wall, arms stretched above her head and feet barely brushing the ground. She shifted, testing the bonds, and the rattle of heavy chains echoed in the silence.

Her strength surged instinctively, muscles coiling and pulling, but the cuffs didn’t budge. A sickening realization hit her as her power faltered—it wasn’t just the physical restraints. Whatever alloy these chains were made of, it was suppressing her abilities. The familiar heat of her werewolf strength, the heightened senses, the fire that fueled her—everything felt muted, like a dimly lit flame about to sputter out.

Panic and fury rose in equal measure, but a new sensation cut through the haze. A scent. Sharp, familiar, and infuriating. Her instincts sharpened, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a low growl rumbled in her chest. Her head snapped to the source, her glowing eyes narrowing as she took in the figure seated a few feet away.

There you were, lounging comfortably in a chair, legs crossed, one hand resting lazily on the armrest. The smirk on your face was maddening, a mixture of amusement and confidence that made Vi’s blood boil. You were watching her like she was an animal in a cage, the flickering light above casting shifting shadows across your features.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you said casually, your voice dripping with mockery. “Did you sleep well?”

Vi bared her teeth, the growl in her chest deepening. “You,” she spat, her voice hoarse but laced with venom. “What the hell did you do to me?”

You chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly in your chair. “Me? Oh, Vi, don’t give me so much credit. You did most of the work yourself.” Your tone was infuriatingly nonchalant like this was just another casual encounter. “You should thank me. It’s been so long since you let the wolf out. I just… helped things along.”

Her jaw tightened, her glowing eyes boring into you as she tugged at the chains again. The metal bit into her wrists, drawing a thin line of blood, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stand the smug look on your face, the way you seemed to enjoy every second of her struggle.

“I’m going to kill you,” she snarled, her voice vibrating with rage.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “Is that so?” you mused, tilting your head as if considering her words. “You seem a little… tied up at the moment.”

The taunt ignited her fury, her muscles straining as she pulled harder against the chains. But the cuffs held firm, their enchanted weight draining her energy with every movement.

“You’re a coward,” she hissed, her teeth bared. “Can’t beat me face-to-face, so you resort to this?”

Your smirk widened, your gaze sweeping over her like she was a piece of art. “Coward? No, Vi. I’d call it… resourceful. You haven’t been yourself lately. Too much time pretending to be human. You’ve forgotten what you are.”

Vi’s growl turned into a snarl, the sound echoing in the confined space. She wanted to tear your throat out, to rip you apart with her claws. And yet, beneath the boiling rage, something else simmered. The heat in her veins wasn’t just anger—it was sharper, hotter, and far more dangerous.

You stood, the movement slow and deliberate, your boots clicking softly against the floor as you approached her. She tensed, her glowing eyes locked on you as every fiber of her being screamed to attack. But the damn chains held her back, leaving her helpless as you stopped just inches away.

“Did you enjoy your little snack?” you asked, your voice low and teasing as your fingers brushed her jaw. She jerked her head away, but the chains didn’t give her much room to move. Your grin widened at her defiance, and your hand trailed downward, your fingers ghosting over the hard ridges of her abdomen visible through her white tank top.

“You’ve kept yourself in good shape,” you murmured, your tone almost reverent as your hand lingered for just a second too long. “I’ve missed this… missed you.”

Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, heat flaring under your touch. She hated it, hated the way her muscles tightened, the way her breath hitched. Her rational mind screamed to lunge for your throat, to end this, but another part of her—the wolf, primal and raw—felt something else entirely. The lines between hatred and something darker blurred, twisting her fury into something volatile.

“Get your hands off me,” she growled, her voice low and dangerous, but there was a tremor beneath it. She hated herself for it, hated the way her body betrayed her.

You leaned in, your breath warm against her ear as you whispered, “Or what? You’ll tear me apart? Do it, Vi. You’re close enough.”

Her teeth clenched, her jaw tight as she fought the conflicting emotions raging inside her. She could do it. She could end this right now. But she didn’t. Something inside her stopped her, held her back, and infuriated her even more.

You pulled back slightly, your smirk never faltering as you met her glowing eyes. “That’s what I thought,” you said softly, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “You can hate me all you want, Vi, but we both know it’s never that simple.”

With that, you stepped back, leaving her seething and breathless. The heat in her veins burned hotter, her hatred for you tangled with something she couldn’t name. And as you turned and walked back to your chair, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the stillness, she realized this was far from over.

Vi’s breath was ragged, her chest rising and falling as she glared at you, her glowing eyes burning with barely contained fury. She struggled against the chains again, the sharp clink of metal filling the room, but it was no use. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“What are you going to do with me?” she snarled, her voice low but shaking with anger.

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest as your smirk shifted into something colder, more calculated. “Oh, right,” you began, your voice almost casual, but the undertone of malice was unmistakable. “I’m turning you over to Piltover. They’ve been very interested in getting their hands on you. Seems there’s quite the bounty on your head.”

Vi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and a string of curses left her lips. “Those bastards are still after me?” she growled, her voice dripping with venom. She tugged at the chains again, her muscles straining uselessly against the unyielding metal.

You scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. “Still after you?” you repeated, a mocking lilt to your tone. “You killed three enforcers, Vi. Piltover doesn’t just ‘forget’ about things like that. They want you locked up—like the true beast you are. And once they’ve got you in their cages, they’ll make sure to treat you like the dog you’ve always been.”

The words hit her like a slap, and she felt her anger boil over into something hotter, sharper. Her glowing eyes burned brighter as her lip curled in a snarl. “Watch your damn mouth,” she growled, her voice low and dangerous. “I didn’t kill those enforcers for no reason.”

“Oh?” you said, raising an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. “Any noble reason you had for tearing them apart?”

Her teeth clenched, her jaw tightening as the memories surfaced unbidden. The blood. The chaos. The lives she’d tried to protect, only to end up being painted as a monster. “It wasn’t that simple,” she hissed, her voice thick with frustration. “You don’t know the whole story—”

“Don’t care,” you cut her off abruptly, waving a hand as if brushing her words aside. “Whatever happened between you and Piltover? That’s your mess to clean up, not mine. Save your excuses for them. I’m just the middleman here.”

Her hands curled into fists, the chains rattling faintly as she strained against them once more. “You’re a damn coward,” she snapped. “Selling me out to them like this. Is this what you’ve become? A lapdog for Piltover?”

You laughed, low and sharp, the sound grating against her ears. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about loyalty. It’s about business. And you?” You gestured toward her with a flick of your wrist. “You’re a very lucrative business opportunity.”

Her growl deepened, reverberating through the room. “You’re scum,” she spat, her voice vibrating with barely-contained rage.

“And you’re staying right here,” you retorted coolly, your tone suddenly devoid of humor. “Chained up, where you belong, until I hand you over to them. Whatever happens after that? Well, that’s between you and Piltover.”

She glared at you, her glowing eyes blazing with defiance. Her body screamed to lash out, to fight, to destroy the chains and rip you apart. But she was trapped, helpless, and for now, all she could do was seethe. “You’re making a mistake,” she growled. “They’ll screw you over just like they screw everyone else.”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug, unconcerned. “But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

You leaned back in your chair again, your smirk returning as you watched her, the tension in the room thick and heavy. “So get comfortable. You’re not going anywhere.”

Vi’s chest heaved, her breaths coming faster and more ragged. A faint sheen of sweat began to form along her brow, trailing down her temples and dampening the fabric of her white tank top. The scent of blood and drugs still lingered in her mouth, but it wasn’t what consumed her senses now—it was you. That damn scent of yours, so sharp, so familiar, was seeping into her nose, drowning her in memories she didn’t want to recall.

Her beastly instincts stirred, clawing their way to the surface. She clenched her jaw tightly, willing herself to focus on anything else, but her body was betraying her in the worst possible way. The heat pooling in her chest, spreading lower with every second you remained in her line of sight, her cock reacting at the sight of your presence—only fueled her frustration. She strained against the chains again, desperate for some kind of outlet, her glowing eyes flickering wildly between fury and something darker.

You, of course, noticed. How could you not? The subtle shifts in her breathing, the flush rising to her cheeks, the tension radiating off her body like a storm waiting to break, and the fucking bulge in those jeans that hugged her strong thighs and calves—it was all too deliciously obvious. You leaned forward in your chair, resting your chin lazily on your hand as your lips curled into a wicked smirk.

“Oh, what’s this?” you purred, your tone dripping with mock concern. “You’re looking a little… flushed. Is something wrong?”

“Shut up,” she snarled, her voice hoarse and cracking with barely-restrained anger. Her head whipped toward you, her glowing eyes blazing, but the sight of your infuriating grin only made her heart pound harder.

You chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing as you tilted your head, studying her like a predator watching its prey. “Oh, come on now, puppy,” you said, your voice a cruel mix of taunt and amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re getting all worked up because of me.”

Her reaction was immediate. The chains rattled violently as she threw her weight against them, her teeth bared in a feral snarl. “Don’t call me that!” she snapped, her voice rising to a furious roar that echoed in the room.

But her outburst only made your grin widen. You stood slowly, your movements deliberate as you crossed the short distance between you and her. The tension in her body grew sharper, her breath hitching as you stepped close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off you.

“Puppy,” you repeated, your voice soft but dripping with condescension. You reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against her jaw. She jerked her head away, but the chains limited her movement, leaving her vulnerable to your touch.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, but her voice wavered, betraying the turmoil raging inside her.

You leaned in closer, your lips curving into a smirk as you whispered, “Why not? Afraid of what might happen if I do?”

Her breath hitched again, and she cursed under her breath, her glowing eyes locking onto yours with a mix of rage and something far more primal. Her body was at war with itself, the beast inside her clawing for control, driven wild by the maddening combination of your scent, your presence, and the infuriating smirk that made her want to rip you apart—and maybe something else entirely.

“Shut up,” she growled again, her voice shaking as much with frustration as with effort to suppress the wolf inside her.

But you weren’t going to let up. The way her body tensed, the way her glowing eyes flickered with barely-contained chaos—it was far too entertaining. “Oh, I see what’s happening,” you said, your tone low and teasing as you leaned in just a fraction closer. “The big bad wolf can’t decide if she wants to bite… or beg.”

Her snarl was immediate, her teeth snapping at the air between you as she strained against the chains again. “I’ll kill you,” she spat, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions.

But you didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as bat an eye. Instead, you laughed—a soft, almost pitying sound—as you leaned back, letting your gaze sweep over her once more. “Oh, Vi,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement. “You’re a mess. But don’t worry…” Your smirk deepened as you took a step back, leaving her panting and glaring at you. “I like my puppy messy.”

Her growl was guttural, feral, and filled with unrelenting fury, but no matter how much she fought, she couldn’t escape the chains—or the maddening effect you were having on her. And it didn’t make it any better when you were on your knees in front of her, unbuckling that hideous brown, leather belt that she liked to wear and slipping it off.

Vi huffed and snarled with a predatory tone, a deep rumble settling in her chest as she watched you pull her jeans down to her knees, her cock jumping out in an angry flush of red. It twitched and throbbed with every angry pulse that ran through it, two visible veins running up the sides. The base of her cock held a tuft of dark hair that trialed from her crotch up to the middle of her stomach, an opposite contrast against her pale skin. And it was so much of it.

She never shaved. She had no use for it because the hair would just grow right back in a day or two and besides, Vi with a happy trail was the best Vi.

You licked your lips in anticipation. "Don't you fucking dare," Vi snarled, but her hips betrayed her by nudging forward slightly as if encouraging you to go ahead.

“Aww, puppy, why didn’t you just say this is what you wanted? I might’ve indulged if you played nice the first time.”

Vi whipped her head away like she didn’t want to be a part of the situation, her ears and cheeks betraying her feelings about the entire ordeal. “Shut up.” She snarled. A grunt stops in the back of her throat when she felt your tongue run up the underside of her cock, before you planted a wet kiss on the tip, teasing it with the point of your tongue in teasing, sexy licks.

"Mmm, you can't hide how much you want this," you murmured, your hot breath ghosting over Vi's sensitive flesh. You flicked your tongue out to taste the leaking pre-cum from her tip, savoring the salty flavor.

Vi's chains rattled as she strained against her bonds, a low growl rumbling in her chest. "Fuck you," she spat, but her voice wavered with barely-contained need.

You smirked up at her, maintaining eye contact as you slowly dragged your tongue along the underside of her shaft again. Vi's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and arousal, her muscles tensing as she fought against her baser instincts. "Just give in," you cooed, swirling your tongue around the swollen head of her cock. "You know you want to."

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself before diving in. With a wet pop, you release Vi's cock from your mouth, firmly pumping it with your hand instead. You can see the frustration in her eyes at the loss of contact, and a sadistic part of you relishes the power you have over her. But you can't tease for long, not when the sight of Vi all tussled up and desperate is driving you wild.

Without warning, you take her again, your lips stretching obscenely around her girth as you push forward, swallowing her down as much as you can in one fluid motion. Vi's back arches off the wall, a strangled moan escaping her lips as you engulf her.

You hold yourself there for a moment, savoring the feeling of fullness in your throat, before pulling back slowly. You dive in with a punishing pace, your head bobbing up and down Vi's dick with gusto. You can feel every thick vein and ridge dragging against your tongue, the taste of her pre-cum coating your taste buds with each stroke. Your cheeks were hollow as you applied more suction, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from Vi's quivering form.

Her chains rattle and clank with the force of your movements, the sound of a debauched accompaniment to your lewd slurps and gags. Vi's hands ball into fists above her head, her muscles bulging and straining as she fights the urge to reach out and grab your hair, to control the pace of your assault. But the chains held her back, leaving her helpless to do anything but endure the blissful torment you're inflicting on her.

You can taste the telltale hint of Vi's impending release on your tongue, the subtle shift in her flavor signaling her growing arousal. But before she can crest that final peak, you pull off with a wet pop, her cock slipping from your mouth with ease.

Vi's angry growl echoes off the stone walls, her hips thrusting forward involuntarily to seek out your welcoming heat. But you deny her, settling for a few slow pumps of your fist along her cock instead. You can see the anguish in her eyes, the physical manifestation of Vi's need. She's so close, teetering on the razor's edge of ecstasy, yet you cruelly keep her there, suspended in limbo, unable to find completion.

"Oh Vi," you purr around her throbbing cock. "What would your little vampire girlfriend think? Is she on your mind right now, even as I'm giving attention to you like this?" You pause, pumping her dick slowly as you gaze up at her with hooded eyes.

"Tell me, what's she doing while we're playing over here, hmm? Probably chained up, helpless... just like you."

Vi struggles to form words, her chest heaving as her pupils blow wide with lust. Guttural moans spill from her lips as your skilled mouth continues its sensual assault, all thoughts of Caitlyn rapidly fleeing her pleasure-addled mind. She can only focus on your hot, wet tongue worshipping every sensitive inch of her engorged flesh, driving her higher and higher with each flick, suck, and lick.

You move closer, your lips brushing against Vi's sensitive flesh, your tongue darting out to lap at the weeping tip. Vi moans brokenly, her body shuddering as you tongue-fuck her tip, probing for more of her.

At the same time, your hand never falters in its movements, pumping her shaft with increasing speed. You twist your wrist on each upward stroke, applying just the right amount of pressure to the sensitive underside of Vi's cock to drive her wild. Your mouth is soon joined by your lips, sucking hard at the engorged head of her cock. You hum around her length, the vibrations adding a new dimension to her pleasure.

And just like that, Vi's resolve shatters, the final threads of her control snapping like overstretched rubber bands. With a hoarse shout, her back arches, tendons, and muscles straining against the chains as her climax barrels into her at full force. Thick, heavy ropes of her seed arc through the air, painting your heaving chest with cum.

You can feel the heat of her release, and see the raw, unbridled passion contorting her features as she rides out the crest of her pleasure. Vi's fingers dig deep into her palms, almost drawing blood as her hips spasm and twitch, wringing out every last drop of her climax. Your pussy throbs in time with Vi's orgasm, the sight of her coming undone at your hands stoking the flames of your desire to new heights.

You slowly pull away, a triumphant grin spreading across your face as you rise to your feet. Vi pants heavily, still trapped in the throes of her climax, her hips twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Without a word, you turn and hook a finger in the waistband of your pants, pulling them down to your ankles in a single fluid motion. Your dripping pussy is now fully exposed to Vi's heated gaze.

"Looks like you’re ready to go again," you purr, and with a coy glance over your shoulder, you line yourself up with Vi's cock. You bite your lip, keeping eye contact as you start to sink, impaling yourself. You can feel every ridge and vein dragging along your inner walls, the delicious friction quickly stoking the embers of your need into a raging inferno. By the time you're fully seated, your walls are fluttering and grasping at the thick cock stretching you open. You pause there, savoring the feeling of being so utterly filled. Then, with a throaty groan, you start to move, rolling your hips in a sensual rhythm as you chase your pleasure.

The chains clank and rattle with your movements, the sound of a debauched accompaniment to the lewd slapping of flesh on flesh. You lean forward, giving yourself the leverage to take Vi deeper. Your breasts sway with each bounce, your nipples pebbled and straining for attention.

"That's it, puppy. You’re doing so good," you encourage, reaching down to rub tight circles around your clit. Your fingers dance over the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core with each touch.

Vi can only watch with half-lidded eyes as you take your pleasure from her, her hips bucking up involuntarily to meet each of your downward thrusts. She tugs at the chains, desperate to touch you, to feel the soft skin and firm curves of your body beneath her fingers. But they hold steady, keeping her bound and helpless against the wall.

Her frustration manifested in a low growl that vibrated from deep within her chest, her canines glinting menacingly as she lunged at the restraints binding her. "Let me out," Vi rasped, her voice raw and gravelly, filled with an almost palpable urgency. "I need to feel you."

You glance back at her over your shoulder, a wicked grin playing at the corners of your mouth. "What's the matter, big bad wolf? Can't get free?" You punctuate your words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding yourself down on her dick until you can feel the head bump against the entrance to your womb.

"Fuck you," Vi snarls, her face contorting with a mixture of rage and lust. "Just sit still and let me fuck you already." She tries to rock her hips, to drive herself deeper, but the chains restrict her movements, leaving her unable to do much more than meet your thrusts with an awkward jerk.

You let out an exaggerated tsk, shaking your head slowly as if deeply wounded by her eagerness. A playful smirk dances on your lips as you lean slightly, your voice smooth and laced with feigned sweetness. “Patience, puppy,” you purr, each word dripping with mockery. “There’s no need to be so... impatient.” The air around you seems to crackle with a blend of amusement and teasing authority, making it clear that this little game is far from over.

To drive home your point, you slow your movements, rolling your hips in a maddeningly slow circle. Each rotation grinds your sensitive clit against Vi's pelvis, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core, but leaving her frustratingly unfulfilled.

"Beg for it," you demand, your tone leaving no room for argument. "Beg me to let you fuck me like the desperate dog you are."

Vi’s muscles quiver with the strain of her restraint, the tension evident in every sinewy fiber of her being. Her eyes blaze with wild, untamed fire, narrowed and fierce as they fixate on you. Behind her fierce gaze, you can almost perceive the primal beast lurking just beneath her skin, thrashing against the confines of her control, yearning to break free and unleash its raw power upon the world.

“P-Please," she chokes out, the word foreign on her tongue. "Please, let me fuck you." She strains against her bonds, her movements jerky and uncoordinated in her eagerness to be granted release.

But even as she begs, Vi knows you hold all the power here. You are the one in control, the one dictating the terms of this dance. And she hates it, hates the way her body reacts to your dominance, hates the way her cock twitches and throbs at your every command. But she also craves it, craves the way you make her feel, the way you push her to her limits and beyond.

"More," you encourage, your free hand moving to squeeze your nipple. "Tell me how badly you want to feel me tight and hot around your cock. Describe every dirty, depraved thing you want to do to me."

Vi's breath comes in harsh pants, each exhale hitching as she struggles to find the words. But you won't relent, won't give her the satisfaction of release until she bares her deepest, darkest desires. "I want to fuck you," she growls, her voice low and guttural. "Hard and fast, until you can't walk straight. I want to bend you over and pound into you until you scream. Until my name is the only thing you can remember."

Her hips twitch with each filthy promise, her cock pulsing inside your clenching heat. You can feel her getting closer, her body tensing as she teeters on the precipice of climax.

But still, you hold off, determined to draw out her pleasure, to make her beg and plead for every thrust. You slow your movements, each stroke languid and deliberate, designed to drive her out of her mind with lust. "Then what?" you taunt, your breath low enough to be a shell of a ghost. "What will you do once you have me at your mercy?"

Vi's tongue lolls out, her eyes hazy and unfocused as she struggles to concentrate. But your question breaks through the fog of desire, igniting a fresh wave of need. "I'll fuck you in every hole," she snarls, her words punctuated by the clank of the chains as she strains against them. "Until you're dripping with my cum. Until everyone knows my fucking name." Your pussy flutters at her promise, your core clenching around her as you imagine the scene she paints.

You grind your hips down hard, relishing in the feeling of Vi's thick dick stretching you wide. Each circle of your hips drags your sensitive clit against her pelvis, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. "Yes, that's it," you encourage, your voice high and breathy with pleasure. "Show them all what a good little fuck toy I am for you."

Vi's nostrils flare at your words, a low growl rumbling in her chest. You can almost picture it—you, bent over and presented like a bitch in heat, Vi's hips snapping as she takes you from behind, her teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder as she marks you for all to see.

The mental image is enough to send you careening towards the edge, your climax rushing up to meet you like a freight train. You fuck her hard and fast, your hips moving in a frenzied pace as you chase your release.

Just before you hit that sweet spot, before the stars explode behind your eyelids and your vision whites out from the force of your orgasm, you pull off abruptly. The sudden loss of Vi's cock leaves you empty, your pussy clenching around nothing but air. You can feel your juices trickling down your thighs, your core aching to be filled again.

But you deny yourself, instead reaching behind to give Vi a few rough pumps. The slick sound of her pre-cum coating your fingers fills the room, mixing with your labored breaths and Vi's pained grunts of overstimulation.

"Please," Vi begs, her voice raw and broken, "I need to cum. Need to be inside you again." Her eyes are wild, the beast within her rising to the surface, no longer content to be denied its prize.

You bite your lip, considering for a moment before giving a single, sharp nod. You turn back around, bracing yourself against the wall once more. Without a preamble, you sink onto Vi's dick, taking her to the hilt in one smooth motion. You don't give yourself time to adjust, instead starting to move immediately, your hips rising and falling in a rapid, steady rhythm. Each downward stroke grinds your clit against Vi's pelvis, the added stimulation quickly pushing you toward the brink. You can feel Vi's cock twitching and pulsing inside you, her release just as close.

You reach down, your fingers finding your swollen nub and rubbing in tight, fast circles. Your moans echo off the stone walls, mingling with Vi's growled curses and grunts of pleasure.

The feeling of Vi's cock twitching and throbbing, her sharp exhales and low moans, send you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as pleasure courses through your veins. Your walls clamp down around Vi's cock, milking her for all she's worth. With a hoarse shout, Vi slams into you one final time, her back arching off the wall as she hits her peak.

You can feel her coming inside you, her hot seed flooding your core. It's almost too much, the sensation of being so deeply filled, so thoroughly stuffed. You don't let up, your hips continuing their relentless pace even as you ride out the aftershocks of your climax.

And you're not about to let Vi rest, not when your lust has yet to be sated. You continue to fuck her, each roll of your hips wringing another choked moan or gasp from her slack lips. Even as her cock sputters inside you, you persevere, your greedy cunt clenching around the semi-hard dick in a desperate attempt to coax out another load. Your juices mingle with the mess of your last release, easing the way for your frantic movements.

You can feel every ridge and vein rubbing against your sensitive inner walls, each pass sending sparks of overstimulation shooting up your spine.

Vi's eyes are glazed, her tongue lolling out as she struggles to form coherent sentences. "Nuh- uhh- I ca-can't," she slurs, her words coming out in short, choppy bursts between panted breaths. You can see her pulse hammering in her neck and can hear the harsh sawing of her breath as she tries to regain control of her body.

But your relentless assault on her still-twitching dick makes it impossible. Each movement jolts a fresh wave of sensation through her nerve endings, each drag of your hips blooming heat in her wake. "P-please, you've- I've already..." She trails off, unable to finish the thought as another tremor wracks her frame.

Each stroke brings you closer to the edge, the dull ache of overstimulation blossoming into a supernova of pleasure. Without warning, you hit your peak, your walls clamping down around Vi's cock in a vise-like grip, again. Your orgasm crashes into you, the force of it making your vision go white. You have to force your legs to hold yourself up, gasping and shuddering as you ride out the aftershocks.

But Vi is too far gone to notice your own pleasure, her own climax rushing up to claim her.

With a strangled shout, Vi erupts inside you, her seed flooding your already-full pussy. The sensation of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely marked by her essence, sends you spiraling into another mind-numbing orgasm. Your cunt clenches around her spurting dick. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you both as you come undone by each other’s touch. You can feel Vi's thick ropes of cum sloshing inside you, her release spilling over to trickle down your trembling thighs.

The lewd sound of your combined fluids gush from your stuffed hole with each twitch of Vi's cock, the obscene noise mixing with your cries of ecstasy to fill the room. It's filthy, depraved, and utterly delicious.

As Vi slumps against the wall, her chest heaving and her limbs trembling from the force of her release, you pull off her dick with a wet pop. Her cock, still half-hard and slick with your combined juices, slaps against her belly as you move, the sound obscene in the heavy silence of the room but you don't give her time to catch her breath, immediately dropping to your knees in front of her.

You take Vi's spent flesh in your hand, giving it a few firm strokes before wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard. Despite her best efforts to push you away, Vi's hips twitch forward, seeking more of your warm, wet mouth.

"Ah- ungh- that's- fuck!" she gasps, her head falling against the stone as you take her deeper.

You ignore her pleading, your mouth sliding down her length to take her to the root. Your nose is buried in the coarse hatch of hair at the base of her cock, the musky scent of sex and sweat filling your nostrils. You can feel Vi's pulse hammering against your tongue, her veins hot and throbbing against the sensitive muscle.

With a low hum, you start to move, your head bobbing up and down her cock in a steady rhythm. Each pass of your lips wrings a fresh moan or gasp from Vi's parted lips, the sound spurring you on. You can taste the salt of her skin, the tang of her release on your tongue. It's intoxicating, and addicting, and you can't get enough.

You continue your assault on Vi's dick, your mouth never breaking suction as you pump her towards another release. Each flick of your tongue, each scrape of your teeth, sends her closer and closer to the brink.

"Please, please, ah, oh, god!" she chants, her words no longer coherent as the pleasure mounts. Her back arches, her nails digging into her palms as she tries to find purchase. But there is none, no escape from the overwhelming sensation of your lips wrapped around her. With a sound between a moan and a howl, Vi's head snaps back, her throat bared to the ceiling. Her release hits her like a freight train, her whole body going rigid as she comes.

You can feel her pulsing against your tongue, the hot spurts of her cum flooding your mouth. You swallow greedily, relishing the taste of her on your tongue.

But even as Vi spasms and twitches, you don't relent, your mouth continuing its sensual assault. Each suckle draws another strangled cry from her lips, her voice raw and hoarse from overuse.

You can feel her softening against your tongue, yet still, you persevere, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her exhausted body. It's only when Vi goes limp, her knees finally giving out beneath her, that you release her with a final, loving kiss to the tip.

You rise to your feet, stepping back to admire your work. Vi is slumped against the wall, her eyes glazed and unfocused, her chest heaving with each breath. Your legs feel like jelly, and your knees are weak from the intensity of your shared pleasure.

With a final, satisfied smirk, you turn and saunter away, leaving Vi to bask in the afterglow.

..

The world around Vi was hazy as she blinked herself awake, the edges of her vision blurred by exhaustion. Her muscles ached with every movement, and even after what felt like a long sleep, a bone-deep fatigue clung to her like a second skin. The soft fabric of a fresh tank top brushed against her skin, and she realized her filthy clothes were gone. She glanced down at the dark blue jeans and black socks that had replaced them. Someone had changed her while she was out cold, a realization that made her chest tighten with unease.

Her head turned slightly, scanning the room. No chains bound her wrists or ankles anymore, but the faint smell of iron—the memory of restraint—lingered. Another scent hit her nose, one she couldn’t ignore. You. It was subtle yet overwhelming, woven into the very air of the room. Her senses sharpened, and her instincts screamed to get up and find you.

Vi swung her legs over the side of the bed, every movement heavy and deliberate. She braced herself against the mattress, her breaths measured as she tried to push through the soreness. Her amber eyes darted around, searching for any sign of you. Her ears perked at the faint sound of running water, the steady rhythm of it muffled behind a door.

She was about to stand when the bathroom door creaked open. Steam curled out into the room like a misty shroud, and you emerged, dressed casually, your face damp. A toothbrush and toothpaste were in your hand, your other hand tugging a towel from your neck. Your skin glowed faintly with the freshness of a shower, and Vi’s nose twitched at the clean, soapy scent mingling with your natural musk.

Her breath hitched for a moment as a sudden memory—a wild, visceral flash—forced its way into her mind. She remembered you kneeling in front of her, sucking her cock, and fucking yourself against her until she was seeing the stars. The way you’d handled her yearning—her stamina, her size, her libido. It was overwhelming in its sense.

The wild, timeless encounter the two of you had shared flashed vividly in her mind—the way you moved, the way you handled her, the way you’d managed to put a werewolf like her down to rest. She hated admitting it, but there was a strange satisfaction in knowing that someone had finally given her a challenge. Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching as she tried to suppress the emotions bubbling up inside her.

“Still tired?” you asked casually, your voice cutting through her thoughts. You leaned against the doorframe, drying your hands with a towel. That smirk of yours—it was infuriating and smug as if you could read her every thought.

Vi exhaled deeply, shaking off the weight of her grogginess. “So, what’s the deal?” she asked, her voice gruff. “Are Piltover’s officers coming to get me, or is this just some elaborate game you’re playing?”

You tilted your head slightly, that ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You’re sharper than you look,” you said, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “But I’ll tell you this much—your shoes are at the edge of the bed, and the door’s unlocked.” You motioned toward the far side of the room, where Vi’s well-worn brown loafers rested neatly side by side.

Vi frowned, her eyes narrowing as she tried to gauge your intentions. Your words were casual, almost dismissive, but the way you carried yourself—the glint in your eyes, the confidence in your posture—told her there was more to this than you let on. She was free to leave, but something about the way you’d said it made her hesitate.

“You’re serious?” she asked, her voice low but skeptical.

You shrugged nonchalantly, crossing your arms. “I’ve got no reason to keep you here if you don’t want to stay. Go ahead, Vi. The door’s right there.”

Vi stared at you, her instincts warring with her logic. Everything about this situation felt off, like a trap she couldn’t see. Yet, there was no denying the temptation of freedom. Still, your calm demeanor made her chest tighten with suspicion.

Her gaze lingered on you, and for a brief moment, the room was silent. She could still smell you in the air, a scent that clung to her senses and stirred something primal deep within her. It made her uneasy, but it also made her curious.

“I don’t buy it,” she declared, her voice steady as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, a defiant gesture that drew attention to her unwavering stance. A flicker of suspicion danced in her eyes as she leaned slightly forward, challenging you with her gaze. “What’s your angle? You expect me to believe you’ll just let me walk out of here after all of that?”

You took a deliberate step forward, your boots softly thudding against the ground as you closed the space between you. Vi stiffened at your approach, her body tensing like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. But before she could respond, you gently raised your hand, fingertips grazing her cheek, the warmth of your skin contrasting with the cool air around you. Leaning in, you felt the subtle charge of the moment, suspended in an intimate stillness that enveloped you both.

Before she had a chance to fully grasp the moment, your lips brushed against hers with a tenderness that sent a spark through her. It wasn’t a forceful kiss, nor was it a hurried peck. Instead, it unfolded like a delicate whisper—intentional, gentle, and infused with warmth. The kiss lingered, a sweet imprint that hung in the air, capturing the heartbeat of the moment, before you finally drew back, your hand falling softly to your side.

“I’ll see you around,” you murmured, your voice a smooth whisper that danced through the air, playful and teasing, as your eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

And just like that, you vanished from her sight. With each deliberate step, your presence seemed to float away, subtle yet impactful. As you glided past her, the air around you shifted, carrying an unspoken sense of resolve. The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, and with a final glance over your shoulder—your expression unreadable—you stepped through the door, leaving her enveloped in a silence that felt both heavy and unresolved.

Vi stood there, rooted to the spot, her body tense as her mind raced in turmoil. Her fingertips grazed her lips, still warm and tingling from the unexpected kiss, while her piercing gaze flicked anxiously toward the slightly ajar door. The realization of what had just unfolded began to wash over her, each wave of emotion crashing against the shores of her stunned consciousness.

It took her a moment to pull herself out of the haze that enveloped her. With a low, guttural growl escaping her lips, she pivoted back toward the bed, the heavy weight of exhaustion pulling at her limbs. She reached for her shoes, their worn leather cool against her fingertips, and slipped them on, feeling the familiar snugness encasing her feet. Though the soreness of her muscles throbbed like a distant echo, it wasn’t nearly enough to hold her back. She felt a fire flicker to life within her, propelling her forward despite the lingering fatigue.

She stepped out into the brisk, invigorating morning air, each breath forming a delicate plume of vapor that danced in the soft glow of dawn. The ground was blanketed in fresh snow, its surface crunching rhythmically under her sturdy shoes as she paused to glance back. A flicker of hope sparked within her, a silent wish that you would emerge from the warmth of the indoors to join her in this serene winter wonderland.

But maybe not this time.

But there was no doubt that she'd see you again.

[shybluebirdninja]

Fury

Summary: When Bucky's jealous of Steve, there's only one way to calm the storm— and it involves taking you hard and fast.

Pairings           : Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Note                 : rough sex, blowjob, jealousy

The tension was suffocating the second you walked back into the room. Bucky was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw clenched so tight you could almost hear the grinding. He didn’t even need to say anything. His eyes—stormy, dark, and fixed on you—were enough to tell you what kind of mood he was in.

You didn’t do anything wrong, at least not intentionally. Steve had been the one who came over, his usual friendly self, maybe standing a little too close, maybe cracking one too many jokes. But it wasn’t like you were encouraging him. Hell, you barely even noticed until you saw the way Bucky’s eyes tracked every single move Steve made around you, like a predator sizing up his prey. The moment Steve walked out of the room, Bucky’s whole demeanor shifted—dangerous, possessive.

And now, here you were, the air thick with the kind of jealousy that could either end in a fight or something way more explosive.

He finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “You looked real comfortable with Steve, huh?”

You froze. Bucky wasn’t one for idle jealousy—when he got possessive, it was something primal, something that burned hot and fast, a storm you either weathered or drowned in. And right now, you were treading water.

“It wasn’t like that,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. But you knew that wouldn’t fly. Not with him.

“Wasn’t it?” He pushed off the wall, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, each one sending a wave of heat through your body. “Looked like he couldn’t keep his fuckin’ eyes off you. And you? You just let it happen.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you shut it right down. His hand was on you in an instant, his metal fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.

“You think you can let Steve get that close to you and I wouldn’t do something about it?” His breath was hot against your skin, his voice thick with that dangerous edge. “You’re mine.”

You shivered at the possessiveness in his tone, feeling that familiar pull low in your belly, the one that always came when Bucky got like this—jealous, furious, and desperate to remind you just who you belonged to.

“Bucky—” you tried, but his grip tightened just enough to stop you.

“Shut up.” His words were sharp, demanding, and your knees felt weak. He spun you around so fast you barely had time to catch your breath before you were pressed against the nearest wall, his body pinning you there, hard and unrelenting. “I’m gonna fuckin’ show you what happens when you let another man get close.”

His hand slid down your back, over the curve of your ass, gripping it roughly before he yanked your jeans down in one swift move. You gasped, your palms flat against the cold wall as he kicked your legs apart with his foot. His hand came down on your bare skin, a sharp slap that sent a shockwave of pleasure and pain shooting through you.

“Fuckin’ Steve...” he muttered darkly, another slap making you bite back a moan. “Think he can look at you like that?” His breath was hot on your neck. “Hear that, baby? You’re gonna scream for me, so loud, I want him to hear you.”

Before you could process the thought, he was pushing your face down against the wall, his fingers finding your heat, rough and fast, teasing you until you were a mess of whimpers and gasps. “Already so wet, huh?” he growled, pressing himself against you from behind, letting you feel just how hard he was.

You pushed back against him, needing more, needing him to just take what he wanted already, but he wasn’t giving in that easy. He always liked to make you wait, drag it out, make you beg for it. And you were close—so close to begging. But he didn’t give you the chance.

“Fuck this,” he growled, and then he was inside you, hard and fast, filling you completely in one brutal thrust. You cried out, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but there was nothing but the cold, unyielding wall in front of you.

“Bucky!” His name tore from your throat, a mix of pleasure and pain as he fucked you, each thrust harder than the last. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you back against him with every rough movement, your body jerking forward from the force of it.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby. Let Steve hear you. Let him know who fucks you like this.” His voice was dark, gravelly, and full of possessive fury.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls. Bucky didn’t let up, didn’t slow down—he was relentless, driving into you with a raw, animalistic need. And fuck, you loved it. Loved the way he lost control when he got jealous, the way his hands gripped you so hard you were sure they’d leave bruises. Loved the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered.

You were close, so close, and Bucky knew it. He could always tell.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” His hand slipped down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles. “Gonna scream for me?”

You were already screaming, your body trembling, barely holding on as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. And when you finally fell, it was like a fucking explosion, your whole body shattering as you came hard around him, your cries echoing in the small space.

But Bucky wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, flipping you over onto your back, and before you could catch your breath, he was pushing you down to your knees.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. You did as you were told, your lips parting just in time as he pushed himself past them, rough and demanding. You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but he didn’t care. He was too far gone, too consumed by jealousy and lust.

He fucked your mouth with the same intensity he’d fucked you before, his hand gripping the back of your head, guiding your movements as you sucked him. You could feel him twitching, hear his breath coming out in harsh pants as he neared his release.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his hips jerking forward as he came, spilling himself down your throat. He held you there for a moment, making sure you swallowed every drop before finally letting go.

You collapsed against him, your legs weak, your body trembling, and Bucky pulled you up, his arms wrapping around you possessively.

“You’re mine,” he growled into your ear, his breath still ragged. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

[muletia]

Starscream would particularly be a pathetic mess when he experiences human pussy/dick for the first time. He sits on his high horse claiming that humans are nothing more than inferior beings who don’t deserve to be acknowledged, then poof, you show up and put him in his place by making him cry and beg for relief as you use him for your own pleasure.

By the end, Starscream is panting like a dog, his legs shaking uncontrollably while you sit beside him smoking a cigarette (picturing that certain meme lol) and praises him for being such a good mech for them. Starscream is obsessed and whipped for reader from then on.

DON’T TELL MEGATRON FOR HIS AND YOUR SAKE‼️

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

[tfp] obsessed!starscream x human!reader 18+ content / valveplug

summary: behind megatron's back, many things are happening, all of which share one common trait: starscream is the source. this time, the decepticon SIC decided to strike his master's most vulnerable point: you.

cw: valveplug, dom!top!reader, sub!bottom!starscream, starscream rides you, multiple orgasms, praise kink, overstimulation, cheating? (is it really cheating if you are not in an established relationship?) yandere themes, obsession, possessiveness, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation

word count: 1130

'angel' by massive attack was played on repeat while writing. i thought the title kind of fit the content

It was supposed to be just another ploy. A move to get under Megatron’s skin. To finally prove who was better, more cunning; who deserved to rule.

The plan was simple. Use you: make you fall in love, spark emotions, make you care for him more than any other bot on that ship. Spread rotten roots throughout your entire body to ignite a desire within you. Enter your primitive brain and leave a piece of himself there—a piece that, in theory, would take control of you. Make you dependent on him, abandon Megatron, humiliating him. And then seize the moment of shock, disposing of both you and him. Take the throne that belonged to him.

But somewhere along the way, he stumbled.

Starscream had to be cunning, and think two steps ahead if he wanted to survive another day as a Decepticon. Scheming was an art of survival, and he had become its master. Or so he thought. For there was someone even more calculating, someone who deceived even him. Someone who broke into his processor, conquered it mercilessly and claimed it entirely.

“Oh, how beautiful you are, how lovely,” he hears beneath him.

He feels soft, warm hands trailing across the armor on his chassis. Stroking, caressing—the action itself a form of praise. They are delicate, gentle, incomprehensible because no one had ever been gentle with him before. Subtlety was unattainable for someone like Starscream. Illusory. A luxury he had long stopped hoping for.

“You’re doing so well, darling.”

But you did it so easily, effortlessly. Without forcing, without intimidation. Praising him came naturally to you, as though you genuinely believed what you said. He knew he was magnificent, that he deserved more than he had. All the other bots, all the beings on that miserable planet couldn’t compare to him. But hearing it in real time made his ego feel real. He genuinely felt like he was the best.

Your hands wander higher. They leave his chassis, move to his shoulders, then to his neck. For a moment, he has the impression you’re about to choke him, the familiar, almost friendly sensation once again enveloping his neck. But you don’t hurt him. You don’t inflict pain. You just keep caressing him, sharing your warmth, even though he had long since begun to overheat.

His hips move quickly as he rises and falls over you, chasing pleasure. It’s lust. Hunger that only you can satisfy.

“More,” he moans. Half-lidded crimson optics look at you, and in their depths plays something far more dangerous than Megatron’s fury. “Say more. Compliment me, adore me. Love me.”

Finally, you reach his faceplate, forcing him to focus his gaze solely on you, and then you smile triumphantly. You’ve won, wrapping the very SIC of the Decepticons around your little finger. Now at your mercy, dependent on your whims and needs.

“You’re amazing, Star. So good, and just for me. You don’t even know what an honor this is for me.”

The pleasant tingling in his valve disrupts his focus. He wants to drink in your praise, to encode it deep into his processor and repeat it like a mantra when you are not at his disposal. But he’s so close to release… He feels his legs start to tremble, claws carving ravines into the berth.

He nuzzles his cheek deeper into your hand, seeking contact, reveling in the ecstasy you give him. Even while being passive, doing absolutely nothing but lying there and looking beautiful beneath him, you give him more than you could ever imagine. He does all the work, riding you, holding full control over when to stop and start, yet it’s you holding the leash. It’s your word that determines whether he’ll be granted the privilege of pleasure.

“You’re doing so wonderfully today, darling. Tell me, would you like to come? Would you like to be good for me?”

The tingling transforms into fire. His valve clamps around you, begging for release.

“Yes! Please!” he whines. “I want to be, hmm, the best… for you.”

“Then please, show me how much you adore me.”

He arches his back and sinks as deeply as he can. Pants heavily, legs still trembling. Optics remain open, locked onto you. Onto the human who managed to break him.

He leans low over you and kisses you, finalizing his overload. You can’t keep up with him as he ravages your mouth, constantly begging for more, for scraps of passion that temporarily soothe his frantic processor. One kiss lasts longer, almost romantic, but Starscream breaks it quickly, leaving five more hungry, greedy ones.

Finally, he leaves your lips and moves lower, to your neck. He hears you take a deep breath, and for a second, he feels guilty—until desire takes control again.

“Starscream,” you chide him gently. You saw right through him.

He wants to mark you, show everyone who you belong to, who you cheat on Megatron with. But he also wants to calm himself, to stop pretending in front of everyone that nothing connects you two, that you’re indifferent to him. To stop the madness tearing him apart after every separation, when both his body and spark craves you. Not just the feral interfacing but also the tenderness it carried.

Once more, he starts moving his hips, chasing another overload, though the remnants of the previous climax still cling to him. He’s already grown hungry again, longing for praise, which, as it turned out, was more satisfying than the desire to overthrow Megatron. His battered valve lazily takes you in, releases, and then swallows you whole again.

“Just a little mark,” he tries to bargain. He needs it. Needs to possess your body and soul the way you possessed his.

“No, I’m sorry,” you reply, stroking his cheek. “You know he’ll kill you if you do.”

He growls and pulls away because he knows you’re absolutely right. If your meetings were discovered, it wouldn’t just be him who’d pay. And he didn’t want to see you hurt. Not anymore.

He speeds up, forcing his processor to focus solely on you and the pleasure you provided him. He had to make the most of this meeting, to ravage himself until he had no strength left to move a digit. Not just so you’d care for him afterward and coo praise at him. The date of your next encounter was unknown, and he didn’t know if he would lose his sanity entirely and last scraps of self-control by then.

“What a good mech,” you murmur, drawing a moan from him. “Five overloads, and you still have the strength, huh?”

“There’ll be at least ten… ah! Or twe-twenty. But you—you’re not going anywhere.”

“As you wish, Star.”

He scratches with his claws so hard that sparks fly next to your head.

[yameoto]

caitlyn kiramman fucking you with her mask on

tw: dark!caitlyn, mask kink, sex in a bloodbath, cnc but its noncon, sex if it was self-flagellation, angst, caitlyn hates everyone including herself and takes it out on her exception (you).

when one is in the midst of fighting a war, and seized by two arms locking around their waist—the logical conclusion is; someone is trying to kill you, so the only logical response is; you try to kill them first.

of course you startle, teeth bared and ready to plow whoever the fuck this is, down—before a hand snaps up around your wrists, wrenching you into a the gallows of the city, the battlegrounds; and in the midst of the green smog. this all happens, in approximately 0.2 seconds. you’re not sure who the fuck is staring back at you through blood-splattered goggles, only that it’s a fucking enforcer. not a noxian. you stall, relaxing momentarily. they exhale through the vent, hot and humid and pluming around your face.

then, you’re shoved against the ground, thrown around like some glorified ragdoll. you’re pinned by a gloved hand, fisting the back of your hair and pushing your head into the sullied ground, two thighs straddling your back and crushing onto the back of your legs, as you lurch upwards with a snarl.

“fuck you, what the fuck? we’re on the same—“

metal-clad fingers cram themselves into your mouth, gagging you, as your chest is yanked up by the scruff and something hot and hard press up against the divot of your back. you thrash, then, and they hiss in annoyance, like you’re being petulant, smacking you roughly against the jaw.

“shut up.” it’s ordered harshly, fingers stuffing deeper as if they could jam your voicebox shut if they reached down far enough—their own voice mangled by the mask’s modulator, as it is.

your limbs lock, in shock, when their free hand snakes down around your waist to unflick your belt buckle, grasping your hem and yanking your pants just past your ass. almost too easy, too familiar, despite all your lashing. you inhale at the sharp sting of air that hits your bare cunt, flashing in the dingy back-alley as bodies are gutted like fish on the floor—on a cutting board that all of a sudden, seems miles away, as if you weren't just on it.

panic seizes. you bite down, hard, against the knuckle in your mouth. they go ramrod, but don’t drag their hand out. only pin you upwards, against their torso, by the arm in your mouth—your chest tightening.

“you fuckin—ah, fuck—! you fuckin bastard bitch—ngh—“

the second time you bite, it’s involuntary. they wrench their hand out, if only to shove your face into the floor as the unmistakable swell of their cock presses against your entrance.

“baby. i said shut. up.” they growl, and you rise up off the pavement and their cock splits you open, a battering-ram to a dam. baby. baby. even in the throes of fury, fear, and a blood-stricken haze—you know that tone of voice, anywhere.

“caitlyn.” the name rips from your throat, you’re quaking, the fight momentarily sweeps away in the shock, betrayal—and sickening crunch of relief as your knees buckle.

“i’m sorry.” her voice is scraped, harrowingly raw without the garbling of the mask. still, she keeps going. because you’re tight and wet and warm and hers, and she needs this. needs somewhere to put away the boiling black bubble of hatred that seizes her every waking moment. thinks you could drain her of her sorrows and her bitterness and anger and her cum, if you just keep crying out so prettily like that, grip rigid in your hair. your body strings, sharp and taut with pain, cunt throbbing and leaking onto the battleground—ass raised high in the air as she forces herself into your pussy, twisting a little as she pants above your back, shoulder blades quaking to support the weight. each thrust is punctuated by a strangled apology. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i just—"

“why the fuck are you—’

“i had the shot.” she gasps, hollowly, head arching back as her girth is wrangled by the tight, tight tight walls of your pussy—restrained and repellant and god, so hot. her cock spreads you thin. you hiss, panting against spattered pavement—though you’re no longer bucking her wildly, and she’s no longer shoving her fingers down your throat like she’s trying to choke you from the inside out.

“cait, cait—“ you don’t know what you’re saying. hands slippery with red, knees slicked with red, red red red, everywhere. bloodying your hands, leaking down your thighs.

caitlyn just shakes her head, breaths ragged and heaving. she grips you by the throat, as she only snaps into your slackening body, the ferocity drained out of you with each desperate pummel of caitlyn’s cock.

“i had the—fuck!” her grip tightens around your shoulder, and it’s a howl. tearing deep from her chest as her gun clatters to the side and both her hands clamp down on your hips to barrel you into the ground, you cry out, with each vicious rut of her hips as the two of you tremble, grinding your chin in the dirt.

the rhythmic is sloppy, staccato. caitlyn’s hand slips. grappling at nothing but viscera, still warm, and she slams down in a crumple against you—the full-weight of her body sending you both in a spiralling tangle amidst filth. you roll, groaning, pitched high, at the sharp spike of pain pulsing into your cunt as caitlyn shoves further into you. she topples. elbows bracing on either side of your head, barely able to keep herself up, arms quavering with each laboured breath.

caitlyn can’t see through the steam glassing her goggles and it's only when she grasps your jaw and your cheeks come away wet is that she realises it's not your tears, but her own. filling up the visors of her mask as she fucks you. chest shuddering, nails burying tenets into the earth and she sobs, once. pumps weakly, into you.

you wrench the sorry thing off her, and the gasmask gives away to a flash of red-rimmed eyes that you don't get to see for more than second before she's burrowing into your neck and biting into your shoulder, like she's ashamed to even look at you. caitlyn doesn't make a sound when she cums. creamy white, pushing out from your cunt with the shaky slant of caitlyn's cock—your folds, slick in a way that scares—and droplets of it bead down your thighs and mingle with the blood beneath the both of you, spoiled purity. you feel her tremble within you, caitlyn slumping into the hollow concave between your arms. you kiss, and everything hurts.

at least now, there is blood in both your mouths.

[natstulip]

Good girl ♡ ︎𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

I’ve never really written smut before so I hope it’s okay!🤍

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Imagine agreeing to let Wanda and Nat use you however and whenever they wish. No you’re not in a relationship, but you help to keep their own relationship interesting- as they like to say.

Both women had been out on a mission for a few weeks, with a lot of the team. You, not being an avenger, of course missed the company, the compound being fairly empty and so as a result really quiet. In fact, the team were due back yesterday from the mission, but fury let us know they’d been delayed so would likely get back soon.

——-

I was laying in bed, mindlessly scrolling on my phone as I watched whatever happened to be on the television. Although that didn’t take me long to get bored, it’s how I’d spent basically all my time since being left all alone. I pick up my phone deciding to listen some music, and I grab my headphones because come on, music is way better when it feels like it’s taking over your brain.

I’m dancing away and singing too, with my eyes closed getting really into it. I only stop when I feel a tap on my back. “AGHH” I can’t help the scream I let out, as I rip my headphones off and spin around with a fighting stance ready.

When I realise it’s in fact Wanda and Nat and they’re back from their mission, I feel my face burn in embarrassment. The massive smirk on Nat’s face speaks for itself, as she mumbles “I wasn’t expecting a welcome back show but I have to say I really enjoyed it.”

I blush a deep shade of red at her teasing, only giving a little smile of my own when I see Wanda smack Nat’s arm saying “Hey, leave her alone.”

Nat huffs “Why should I? Look at her cute red face.”

I’m avoiding all eye contact whatsoever right now, not wanting to make a fool of myself any more than I clearly already have.

Wanda chuckles in response to Nat’s words “She’s totally adorable, you’re right about that.”

I don’t even know what to do with myself when they’re practically talking about me as if I’m not standing right here.

Wanda interrupts my inner battle, “Come here baby, I want a hug.” I look up excited, I’ve really missed her touch, and I see her arms opened wide. I rush into her, making her laugh, as she wraps her arms tight around me. I nuzzle my face into her neck, always feeling more at ease from her comforting smell. She rubs my back and mumbles against my head “I’ve missed you so much my sweet girl.” I move my head so I can reach her face, giving her a quick peck on the lips, with a shy look on my face “I missed you lots mommy.”

I hear a cough behind us, “What about daddy, huh?” I’m spun around rather quickly, and Nat’s finger is under my chin. I murmur “I missed you too daddy, a lot.” She hums what seems to be an approval to my words, seemingly waiting for something. I’m not as bold with anything when it comes to Natasha. I’ll kiss Wanda sometimes by me initiating because she’s so comforting but Nat scares me a little. She stares at me until I cave, and hesitantly lean towards her, with a burning face, and kiss her lips quickly.

After an anxious pause, I get a “good girl” from her making me give a goofy smile, and I feel Wanda stroking my hair softly. “Our good good little girl, you going to let us take care of you tonight?” I look at her with wide eyes, causing them both to give each other a smile.

Natasha set herself down on the desk chair in my room, patting her lap while uttering “Sit baby.” I know better than to argue with her so I instantly walk over and make a move to straddle her lap. I don’t get very far because she places a hand on my chest and then does a ��spin motion’ with her finger, telling me to turn around. Even though I’m a little confused, I turn and face Wanda. I feel Nat grab my hips from behind and pull me to sit, facing away from her. She rests her head on my shoulder, and Wanda crouched down in front of us.

I feel her hands on my legs, and Nat start to kiss my neck, making me instantly feel hot and flustered. I feel like my body stiffens since it’s been so long since I let them have all control.

“Baby, hey, look at mommy.” I move my gaze slowly to Wanda. “We’re here now, you don’t have to let your thoughts take over.” Natasha interrupts her to say “We’ll fuck the thoughts out of you baby, until all you can think about is mommy and daddy, yeah?”

Before I even have time to think about responding, Nat has spread my legs open wide, keeping her legs locked with mine- so I can’t move. It takes my breath away, not expecting her to be so upfront about it, as usually Wanda starts off more gentle, “What daddy let me go..”

Wanda cups my face to direct my eyes to hers, “shhh shhh, you’re okay, let daddy do what she pleases.” She makes no move to let go of my face, and I hope she doesn’t because her comforting touch really helps me through everything.

When I feel more kisses on my neck, and a rougher hand move down my stomach, I let out a gasp and grip onto Wanda’s arm. “Mommy’s staying right here baby, daddy’s gonna make you feel good, hm?”

At the same time as Wanda pulls me in for a kiss, Nat’s hand moves into my shorts, making me gasp. She cups me for a moment, not moving her hand, seemingly waiting for me to start squirming. Eventually she slowly runs the tip of her finger over my folds, just teasingly stroking there for what feels like a very long time, making me shiver.

I feel the soft breath of a chuckle on my neck, “You’re so sensitive huh my baby? I wonder if you could cum from just daddy barely touching you, and mommy kissing those pretty lips. We’ll have to try it sometime, because right now.. we’re trying something new” She raises her eyebrows at Wanda, who swiftly grabs something I assume with her magic, and holds it behind her back.

She moves back to stand in front of me, kissing my forehead, as she hands whatever she grabbed to Nat. I can’t see Nat’s face but I can picture her smirk while Wanda gives her a kiss, before returning to her position earlier, cupping my cheeks.

“Look at mommy.” I listen and look up at her. “We haven’t done what we’re gonna do now before. I’m sure you’ll like it darling but remember call ‘red’ if it’s too much or you want to stop at any point, okay?” I give her a nod, “Okay mommy, I understand.” I watch a smile arise on her face as she strokes my cheek, “My good girl.”

I feel a rush of cold air as Nat pulls the front of my shorts and underwear open for a brief moment, as she shoves something in there, to rest against my clit. “What’s that daddy?” Just as I ask the question it starts vibrating against me, making me let out a breath. She whispers against my ear, “It’s a vibrator baby, it’s gonna make you feel all better while daddy holds you open; and because you’ve been our good little girl we’re going to let you cum as much as you want.”

The first time she pushed me over the edge was nice, with Wanda stroking my face and a pleasurable vibration against me. Though it didn’t take long to get uncomfortable, when Nat said they were going to let me cum as much as I want, she definitely meant as much as they want, never seeming to let me stop and breathe. Every time I reach that point she just ups the vibrations and makes me go again.

I’ve lost count by this point how many times she’s made me cum, resorting to wriggling and kicking my legs and trying to pry her off with my hands; but that was silly as they’re much stronger than me. Nat simply shut me down by grabbing hold of my thighs with her hands and legs now- keeping me pinned to her lap. “Please daddy.. dadddy ‘s too much please…”

She presses a kiss to my shoulder mumbling “Just one more baby, one more, and then we’re done.” With Wanda gently wiping my tears, I can’t help the loud moan I let out as I reach my last climax. My legs are uncontrollably shaking, as Nat carefully removes the vibrator.

Wanda makes a move to pick me up into her arms, “I’ve got you my sweet girl,” as Nat makes her way to the bathroom to get a towel to clean me up with.

I’m laying down, on top of Wanda, while Nat gently cleans me up, and after only a few minutes I’m falling asleep against her chest, with only mommy and daddy on my mind.

[earlgreydream]

Throne. || god!Loki x reader

this lovely anon message spoke to me, you know my favorite thing is being loki's little slut: all i can think of is i would love to be lokis little throne pet... i want him to threaten me everyday to freeze me like he did heimdall if i act up or defend thor - oh to be a loki boot licker

Loki wasn't paying attention. Great festivities were happening before him, celebrating the young prince, yet he couldn't bring himself to care.

He was far too busy entertaining himself with you, his little pet kneeling between his legs. You were at the base of his throne where you belonged, your hand gently palming the growing tent in his leather pants. Loki shifted his weight, leaning back to give you better access to an Adonis body.

"Come here," he reached down, wrapping a large hand around your bicep and hauling you upwards to straddle his lap.

You looked over your shoulder to see Thor approaching, the reason that Loki had moved you. He was extremely possessive, known to take the sight of anyone who dared to even look at you in way that angered him. Dark jealousy flashed across Loki's features and he grabbed your jaw to turn you back to him. He was well aware of his brother’s lust for you, a motivation to kill Thor if it weren’t for their father.

"Don't look at him."

"Yes, master," you conceded softly, parting your lips as his thumb ran across them.

Your fingertips trailed over the defined muscles of his chest, his skin smooth and hard under your touch. You gazed at Loki from beneath your lashes, silently asking for more. He was eager to indulge you both, simmering with annoyance at the interruption. Normally, he’d just let the festivities continue while you worshipped his cock. However, there was no way in all nine realms that Loki would allow his brother to enjoy your vulgar performance.

"Brother, it's a celebration! Won't you share your toys?" Thor shouted drunkenly, the stupid jovial smile infuriating Loki.

He stumbled onto the throne’s platform, an offense no one else would survive. While you trusted Loki, the rapid approach of Thor startled you. You leaned into Loki, close enough to hear the heavy breathing of the angry god.

Loki caught Thor's wrist when he reached out to touch you, fury burning in his gaze. The possessive god would never allow Thor — or anyone else to touch you. He had made it clear that you were to be as loyal — lest you wanted to suffer the same frozen fate as Heimdall. Threats weren’t necessary to maintain your devotion, and Loki knew this, knowing you would follow him into Hel.

"What do you think, pet? Will you service my brother?" Loki's head tilted to the side as he studied your expression.

"I only serve you, Loki," you shook your head.

Loki threw Thor back, the older god slamming against the golden walls of Asgard’s palace. The guests howled with laughter, quickly drawing all of the attention back to Thor. The two of you were quickly forgotten, the breath you held escaping in a relieved sigh.

“Very obedient,” Loki praised, sitting up to kiss you.

His mouth was warm against yours, tasting of whiskey and familiarity. Your fingers threaded into onyx tresses of his long hair, pulling yourself ever closer to him.

“You’re mine,” he hissed against your lips, earning a soft whine of agreement as you sat back.

“I will only ever be yours, master,” you promised, glowing under Loki’s approval.

He leaned back, slowly rubbing a hand up your thigh. The light from behind made you look ethereal, and his party was once again forgotten as he admired you. Loki gently stroked your cheek, his eyes softening as you leaned into the touch.

“Please,” you murmured softly, aching for him.

Normally, someone in your position would never express need out of turn, but Loki held a soft spot for you. It aroused him when you begged, and truth be told, though you were his pet, he was happy to spoil you.