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yourmomsawh0r3 · 16 days

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storm chasers

pairing: tyler owen’s x f! reader

warnings: NSFW, 18+

theme: enemies to lovers

During a particularly intense storm chase, Y/N's equipment malfunctions, putting her in a dangerous position. Despite their rivalry, Tyler spots her struggling and makes a splitsecond decision to help. He navigates his stormchasing vehicle through treacherous conditions to reach her.

"What are you doing here, Owens?" Y/N shouts over the howling wind, a mix of surprise and relief in her voice. "I thought you'd be halfway to Kansas by now, chasing your precious tornado!"

Tyler's jaw clenches as he helps her into his vehicle. "Even I'm not heartless enough to leave a colleague in danger," he retorts, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Besides, someone needs to show you how real storm chasing is done."

As they speed away from the approaching tornado, the tension between them crackles like the lightning illuminating the sky. Y/N finds herself studying Tyler's determined profile, seeing him in a new light for the first time.

Y/N crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing as she watches Tyler navigate through the storm. "I didn't ask for your help, Owens," she says, her voice sharp but with a hint of vulnerability. "I had it under control."

Tyler scoffs, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Right, because standing in the path of an EF3 tornado is the epitome of 'under control.' Face it, princess, you needed me."

Y/N's cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "Don't call me princess," she snaps. "And I don't need anyone, especially not some adrenaline junkie with a God complex."

Despite the tension, Tyler can't help but admire Y/N's spirit. Her fiery attitude matches the storm raging outside, and he finds it oddly captivating.

"You know," Tyler says, a smirk playing on his lips, "for someone who claims to hate me, you sure spend a lot of time thinking about me."

Y/N rolls her eyes dramatically. "Don't flatter yourself, Owens. The only thing I think about is how to prove I'm better than you at storm chasing."

As they continue their banter, the storm intensifies around them. Tyler's expert driving keeps them safe, but the close calls have them both on edge. In a particularly heartstopping moment, Y/N instinctively grabs Tyler's arm, her fingers digging into his skin.

Their eyes meet for a brief second, electricity crackling between them that has nothing to do with the lightning outside. Y/N quickly pulls her hand away, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"I... um, thanks," she mumbles, looking anywhere but at Tyler. "For coming to get me, I mean. Even if I didn't need it."

Tyler's expression softens slightly. "Anytime, Y/N. We storm chasers have to stick together, right?"

As the tension in the vehicle shifts from hostility to something more complex, Y/N finds herself reevaluating her feelings towards her rival.

Y/N shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting between Tyler and the raging storm outside. The silence between them grows heavy, filled with unspoken tension. Finally, she breaks it with a sigh.

"Look, Owens," she begins, her voice softer than before, "I... I may have misjudged you. A little."

Tyler's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Is that your way of saying thank you?"

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there's no real heat behind it. "Don't push it. I'm trying to be nice here."

"Well, it's a start," Tyler chuckles, his eyes briefly meeting hers before returning to the road. "You're not so bad yourself, when you're not trying to outdo me at every turn."

Y/N feels a blush creeping up her neck. "I don't try to outdo you," she mutters, then adds with a smirk, "I just naturally excel."

Tyler laughs, a genuine sound that makes Y/N's heart skip a beat. "There's the sass I know and lo— uh, tolerate."

The almostslip hangs in the air between them, neither willing to acknowledge it. Y/N clears her throat, desperately searching for a change of subject.

"So, uh, where exactly are we headed?" she asks, peering out at the stormravaged landscape.

Tyler's grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly. "There's a motel about 20 miles ahead. We'll hole up there until this storm passes."

Y/N nods, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach at the thought of being alone with Tyler in a motel room. She tells herself it's just the adrenaline from their close call with the tornado.

As they continue driving, the silence becomes more comfortable. Y/N finds herself sneaking glances at Tyler, seeing him in a new light. The determined set of his jaw, the confident way he handles the vehicle through the treacherous conditions, it's all suddenly very... attractive.

As the tension in the vehicle eases slightly, Y/N decides to make herself more comfortable. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she slowly lifts her feet, clad in wellworn cowboy boots, and props them up on Tyler's pristine dashboard.

Tyler's eyes widen in disbelief. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" he exclaims, his voice a mix of annoyance and surprise.

Y/N smirks, wiggling her bootclad feet. "Getting comfortable. Got a problem with that, Owens?"

Tyler's jaw clenches as he tries to focus on the road. "Knock it off, Y/N. This isn't your beatup truck. I just had this vehicle detailed last week."

"Aww, is the big bad storm chaser afraid of a little mud?" Y/N teases, but there's a hint of fondness in her voice that wasn't there before.

Tyler reaches over with one hand, trying to swat her feet off the dashboard while keeping his eyes on the treacherous road. "I'm serious, Y/N. Feet. Off. Now."

Their playful struggle continues for a moment, the air between them charged with a new kind of energy. Y/N finds herself enjoying this lighter side of their usual banter, and Tyler can't help but appreciate her playful defiance.

As the storm chaser vehicle comes to a complete stop, Y/N's eyes light up with excitement. Without warning, she flings open the door and leaps out, camera in hand.

"Y/N! What the hell are you doing?" Tyler shouts, his voice barely audible over the roaring wind.

But Y/N is already sprinting towards the storm, her hair whipping wildly around her face. She raises her camera, desperate to capture the perfect shot of the swirling vortex.

Tyler curses under his breath and jumps out after her. "Are you insane? Get back here!" he yells, but Y/N ignores him, lost in her pursuit of the perfect storm footage.

In a burst of speed, Tyler reaches her. Without hesitation, he throws her over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp from Y/N.

"Put me down, Owens!" she protests, but Tyler's grip is firm as he carries her to a nearby sturdy post.

Setting her down, he quickly ties a safety rope around both of them, securing them to the post. Y/N struggles against him, but Tyler's face is a mask of anger and concern.

"What part of 'dangerous storm' don't you understand?" he growls, his face inches from hers. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

Y/N glares at Tyler, her chest heaving with adrenaline and frustration. "I had it under control! This is the shot of a lifetime, Owens. You of all people should understand that!"

Tyler's grip on her arms tightens, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else – fear? "No shot is worth your life, Y/N," he says, his voice low and intense. "Do you have any idea what it would do to m— to the storm chasing community if something happened to you?"

The wind howls around them, tugging at their clothes and hair. Y/N's anger begins to fade as she realizes the genuine concern in Tyler's voice. She looks up at him, really seeing him for the first time. His jaw is clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek, and his eyes... they're filled with an emotion she's never seen before.

"I... I'm sorry," Y/N says softly, her voice nearly lost in the storm. "I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't," Tyler cuts her off, but his tone has softened slightly. "You never do when it comes to chasing the perfect storm. It's what makes you brilliant, and also incredibly frustrating."

Y/N can't help but smile at that. "Sounds like someone I know," she teases, nudging him gently.

Tyler's lips quirk up in a reluctant smile. "Yeah, well, maybe we're more alike than we thought."

As they stand there, tied to the post with the storm raging around them, something shifts between Y/N and Tyler. The rivalry that has defined their relationship for so long seems to melt away, replaced by a new understanding – and perhaps something more.

As the storm continues to rage around them, Tyler's eyes soften, his gaze lingering on Y/N's face. The wind whips her hair wildly, and he finds himself reaching out to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through both of them.

"Y/N," he says, his voice barely audible over the howling wind, "I... I can't lose you. Not to a storm, not to anything."

Y/N's breath catches in her throat, her eyes widening at the intensity in Tyler's voice. She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, a deafening crack of thunder startles them both.

Tyler instinctively pulls Y/N closer, his arms wrapping protectively around her. In that moment, pressed against his chest, Y/N realizes that the rivalry between them has been masking something far more powerful.

The ride home is tense, filled with an awkward silence as Y/N and Tyler sit in their soaking wet clothes. The only sounds are the squelch of their damp attire and the occasional rumble of distant thunder. When they finally arrive at Y/N's house, Tyler pulls up to the curb and cuts the engine.

"Goodnight," he says curtly, not meeting her eyes.

Y/N stares at him incredulously. "That's it? Goodnight? Tyler, what was all that about back there?"

Tyler's jaw clenches as he grips the steering wheel tightly. "I don't want to talk about it," he mutters, his voice low and strained.

Frustrated and confused, Y/N gets out of the car, slamming the door behind her. She starts walking towards her house, her wet boots squelching with each step. Tyler watches her go, conflict evident on his face.

Suddenly, as if pulled by an invisible force, Tyler jumps out of the car and rushes after her. He catches up just as she reaches her front door.

"Y/N, wait!" he calls out.

She turns, surprise etched on her features. Before she can say anything, Tyler closes the distance between them. His hands cup her face, fingers tangling in her damp hair, and he crashes his lips against hers in a passionate kiss.

Y/N freezes for a moment, shocked by Tyler's sudden action. Then, as if a dam has broken, she melts into the kiss, her hands gripping his soaked shirt. The rain continues to fall around them, but neither seems to notice.

When they finally break apart, both breathless, Tyler rests his forehead against Y/N's. His eyes, usually filled with competitive fire, now shine with vulnerability and warmth.

"That's what it was about," he whispers, his voice husky. "I've been fighting this for so long, Y/N. Fighting us. But I can't anymore. Not after today."

Y/N's heart races, her mind reeling from the intensity of the moment. She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, a loud crack of thunder makes them both jump.

The sudden thunder reminds them of their rainsoaked state. Y/N shivers slightly, her wet clothes clinging to her skin. Tyler notices and gently cups her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

"We should get inside," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're freezing."

Y/N nods, fumbling with her keys as she unlocks the door. As they step inside, the tension between them crackles like the lightning outside. Y/N turns to face Tyler, her heart pounding.

"Tyler, I..." she starts, but words fail her. Instead, she reaches out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there.

Tyler catches her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. "I know," he says softly. "We've wasted so much time, haven't we?"

Their eyes lock, years of rivalry and unspoken attraction culminating in this moment. Without another word, Y/N pulls Tyler close, their lips meeting in another passionate kiss. As the storm rages outside, they lose themselves in each other, finally giving in to the feelings they've denied for so long.

Tyler's hands roam Y/N's body, his fingers tracing the curves hidden beneath her damp clothes. Y/N gasps as he presses her against the wall, his lips trailing hot kisses down her neck.

"God, Y/N," Tyler groans, his voice husky with desire. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this?"

Y/N's response is cut off by a moan as Tyler's hand slips under her shirt, his calloused fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. She tugs at his wet tshirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

"Off," she demands breathlessly. "Take it off, Tyler."

Tyler obliges, pulling back just long enough to yank his shirt over his head. Y/N's eyes rake over his toned chest, her hands exploring the muscles she's admired from afar for so long.

Their lips crash together again, the kiss deep and hungry. Y/N's legs wrap around Tyler's waist as he lifts her, carrying her towards the bedroom. They stumble slightly, laughing against each other's lips, the tension of years finally breaking.

As they fall onto the bed, clothes are shed hastily, hands exploring newly exposed skin. The storm outside fades into background noise, drowned out by their gasps and moans.

Tyler hovers over Y/N, his eyes dark with desire. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Y/N pulls him closer, her nails raking down his back. "I've never been more sure of anything," she breathes.

Tyler's eyes light up with a mischievous glint. He reaches for his bag, pulling out an old Polaroid camera. "You know," he says, his voice low and seductive, "I've always wanted to capture you in a different kind of storm."

Y/N raises an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and excitement dancing in her eyes. "Oh? And what kind of storm would that be, Owens?"

Tyler's gaze travels appreciatively over Y/N's body. "The kind that involves you, some lacy lingerie, and this camera. What do you say, storm chaser? Up for a different kind of thrill?"

The tension in the room shifts, electric with anticipation. Y/N bites her lip, considering the offer. The idea of Tyler capturing her most intimate moments sends a shiver down her spine.

Y/N's lips curve into a seductive smile as she sits up, the sheets falling away to reveal her bare shoulders. "Well, well, Owens. I didn't take you for the artistic type," she purrs, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "But if you think you can handle it, I'm game."

Tyler's breath catches as Y/N saunters towards her dresser, her hips swaying enticingly. She rummages through a drawer, pulling out a delicate, lacy black lingerie set. "How's this for your little photoshoot?" she asks, dangling the garments from her finger.

"Perfect," Tyler manages, his voice husky with anticipation. He watches, mesmerized, as Y/N slips into the lingerie, the sheer fabric clinging to her curves.

Y/N strikes a pose, one hand on her hip, the other running through her tousled hair. "Ready when you are, storm chaser," she teases.

Tyler raises the camera, his hands slightly shaky with excitement. "Show me what you've got, Y/N," he says, a grin spreading across his face.

The room fills with the soft whirring and clicking of the Polaroid camera as Tyler captures Y/N's alluring poses. Each flash illuminates her curves, accentuated by the delicate lace lingerie. Y/N's confidence grows with each shot, her poses becoming bolder and more seductive.

"Damn, Y/N," Tyler breathes, lowering the camera for a moment. His eyes roam appreciatively over her body. "You're even more stunning than I imagined."

Y/N smirks, sauntering towards him. "Oh? So you've imagined this before, have you?" she teases, her fingers trailing down his chest.

Tyler swallows hard, his voice husky as he admits, "More times than I care to count."

As the Polaroids develop, Tyler carefully selects the most captivating one. With a mischievous grin, he slips it into his wallet. "Something to remember this night by," he murmurs, pulling Y/N close for a passionate kiss.

Y/N breaks the kiss, her eyes sparkling with a mix of desire and playfulness. She gently pushes Tyler onto the bed, straddling him as she reaches for the Polaroid camera. "My turn," she purrs, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscular chest.

Tyler's breath hitches, his hands settling on Y/N's hips. "What did you have in mind?" he asks, voice rough with anticipation.

Y/N grins mischievously, raising the camera. "Let's just say I want my own little memento of the great Tyler Owens," she teases, snapping a photo of his flushed face and tousled hair.

The air between them crackles with tension as Y/N continues to capture intimate moments, the roles now reversed. Tyler finds himself both nervous and thrilled under her intense gaze.

As Y/N lowers the camera, her eyes lock with Tyler's. The playful atmosphere shifts, charged with an electric intensity. She sets the camera aside, her hands splaying across Tyler's chest.

"You know," she murmurs, leaning in close, "I never thought I'd say this, but you're not half bad, Owens."

Tyler's lips quirk into a smirk, his hands sliding up Y/N's thighs. "Just not half bad? I'm hurt, princess."

Y/N's eyes narrow at the nickname, but there's no real heat behind it. "Don't push your luck," she warns, but her voice is breathy, betraying her arousal.

Tyler suddenly flips them over, pinning Y/N to the bed. His eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of her beneath him, still clad in the lacy lingerie.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he growls, his lips ghosting along her jaw.

Y/N arches into him, her fingers tangling in his hair. "The feeling's mutual," she gasps, pulling him down for a searing kiss.

Tyler's lips trail down Y/N's neck, leaving a path of fiery kisses. His hands roam her body, fingertips tracing the delicate lace of her lingerie. Y/N arches into his touch, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Tyler," she moans, her nails raking down his back. The sound of his name on her lips sends a shiver through him.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they meet hers. "God, Y/N," he breathes, "you're incredible."

Y/N smirks, her confidence growing. She hooks a leg around his waist, pulling him closer. "Show me just how incredible you think I am," she challenges, her voice husky with want.

Tyler grins, accepting her challenge with enthusiasm. His hands slide under the lacy fabric, eager to explore every inch of her.

Y/N's breath hitches as Tyler's skilled hands explore her body, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure wherever he caresses. She arches into him, craving more contact.

"Tyler," she gasps, her voice breathy with desire. "Don't tease me."

A wicked grin spreads across Tyler's face as he looks up at her, his eyes dark with lust. "But teasing is half the fun, princess," he murmurs, his fingers tracing tantalizingly slow patterns on her skin.

Y/N's eyes narrow at the nickname, a mix of arousal and annoyance flashing in her gaze. "I told you not to call me that," she growls, suddenly flipping their positions so she's straddling him.

Tyler's eyes widen in surprise, then darken with appreciation as he takes in the sight of Y/N above him, her hair tousled and cheeks flushed. "Feisty," he comments, his hands coming to rest on her hips. "I like it."

Y/N leans down, her lips barely brushing against his as she whispers, "You haven't seen anything yet, Owens."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Y/N begins to rock her hips slowly against Tyler's, eliciting a low groan from him. Her fingers trace the contours of his chest, nails lightly scraping against his skin.

"You think you can handle me, Owens?" she purrs, her voice husky with desire.

Tyler's hands grip her waist tighter, his eyes locked on hers. "Bring it on, storm chaser," he challenges, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N leans down, her lips ghosting along his jaw. "Remember," she whispers, her breath hot against his ear, "I always get what I want."

As the tension between them builds, the storm outside seems to fade away, leaving only the electricity crackling between their bodies.

Y/N's movements become more passionate as she rides Tyler, her body undulating in a sensual rhythm. Her lips find his neck, trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along his skin. Tyler groans, his hands gripping her hips tighter as the sensation sends shivers down his spine.

"God, Y/N," he gasps, tilting his head to give her better access.

Y/N smirks against his skin, her tongue darting out to taste him. She peppers kisses all over his neck and jawline, occasionally nipping gently. The combination of her movements and her lips on his skin drives Tyler wild.

His arousal intensifies, and he suddenly flips them over, pinning Y/N beneath him. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks down at her.

"You're driving me crazy," he growls, before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

The air around them is thick with the scent of desire a heady mix of Y/N's light floral perfume and Tyler's musky cologne with notes of amber. As Tyler's lips trail down Y/N's neck, he breathes in her intoxicating scent, a mix of rain from their earlier adventure and something uniquely her.

Y/N arches into Tyler, her skin tingling wherever he touches. His hands roam her body, exploring every curve and dip. When his lips finally meet hers again, the taste is intoxicating a hint of sweetness mixed with the saltiness of sweat.

"You taste amazing," Tyler murmurs against her lips, his voice husky with desire.

Y/N responds by deepening the kiss, her tongue dancing with his as she savors his taste a mix of mint and something distinctly masculine. Her hands explore his broad shoulders and muscular back, feeling the strength beneath his skin.

As their passion builds, every touch, every taste, every scent becomes more intense. The room fills with the sounds of their pleasure, punctuated by the occasional rumble of distant thunder.

Tyler's hands glide down Y/N's sides, tracing the curve of her waist and hips. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Y/N's breath catches as his fingers dance along the lace edge of her lingerie.

"Tyler," she gasps, her voice thick with desire. Her nails dig into his shoulders, urging him closer.

He responds by pressing his hips against hers, the friction eliciting a moan from both of them. The scent of their arousal mingles in the air, heightening their senses.

Y/N's lips find Tyler's neck again, leaving a trail of hot, openmouthed kisses. She breathes in his scent a intoxicating mix of amber, cologne, and the earthy smell of rain still clinging to his skin.

"God, Y/N," Tyler growls, his voice low and husky. "You're driving me wild."

Y/N's fingers tangle in Tyler's hair, pulling him closer as she arches into him. The lace of her lingerie creates a tantalizing friction against their heated skin. Tyler's hand slides down to her thigh, hitching her leg up around his waist.

"Tyler," Y/N moans, her voice breathy with desire. "I need you. Now."

Tyler's eyes lock with hers, dark with passion. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice husky and strained with restraint.

Y/N responds by pulling him into a searing kiss, her body pressing urgently against his. The last vestiges of their rivalry melt away, replaced by an allconsuming need for each other.

As they finally join, the storm outside seems to crescendo, mirroring the intensity of their passion. The room fills with the sounds of their pleasure, punctuated by whispered endearments and gasps of ecstasy.

Their bodies move together in a passionate rhythm, the intensity building with each passing moment. Y/N's nails rake down Tyler's back as she loses herself in the sensation. Tyler buries his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent.

"God, Y/N," he groans, his voice muffled against her skin. "You feel amazing."

Y/N can only respond with a breathy moan, her mind clouded with pleasure. The storm outside seems to fade away, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing and the creaking of the bed.

As they approach their peak, Tyler lifts his head to look into Y/N's eyes. The connection between them is electric, filled with a mixture of lust and something deeper, something neither of them is ready to name yet.

"Tyler," Y/N gasps, her body trembling on the edge of release. "I'm so close..."

Tyler's movements become more urgent, driven by Y/N's breathless plea. He captures her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as he pushes her closer to the edge. Y/N's body arches beneath him, her legs tightening around his waist.

"Let go, Y/N," Tyler whispers against her ear, his voice rough with desire. "I've got you."

With a cry of ecstasy, Y/N tumbles over the edge, her body shuddering with waves of pleasure. The intensity of her release triggers Tyler's own, and he groans deeply as he follows her into bliss.

As they come down from their high, Tyler collapses beside Y/N, pulling her close. Their bodies are slick with sweat, hearts racing in tandem. For a moment, they lie in silence, basking in the afterglow.

Y/N turns her head to look at Tyler, a mix of satisfaction and wonder in her eyes. "That was..." she trails off, unable to find the right words.

Tyler grins, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Yeah," he agrees, "it was."

The room falls into a comfortable silence, broken only by their gradually steadying breaths. Y/N's fingers trace lazy patterns on Tyler's chest, her mind still hazy from their passionate encounter. Tyler's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her closer.

"You know," Y/N murmurs, her voice still slightly breathless, "I never thought I'd end up here with you, of all people."

Tyler chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Life's full of surprises, isn't it?" he replies, his fingers playing with a strand of her hair. "Especially in our line of work."

Y/N props herself up on an elbow, looking down at Tyler with a mixture of curiosity and lingering desire. "Speaking of work," she says, a mischievous glint in her eye, "what do you say we make the most of this storm?"

Tyler's eyebrow quirks up, a slow grin spreading across his face. "What did you have in mind, storm chaser?"

Tyler's expression softens as he gazes at Y/N, his hand gently cupping her cheek. "You know," he begins, his voice low and tender, "I've got a confession to make."

Y/N tilts her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Oh? What's that, Owens?"

Tyler takes a deep breath, his thumb brushing softly over her cheekbone. "I've been in love with you since we were kids," he admits, his voice filled with emotion. "I love the way you furrow your eyebrows and pace when you're confused. I love how you bite your lip when you're anxious. Even those days when your hair is all crazy especially those days."

Y/N's eyes widen, her lips parting in surprise. Tyler continues, his words tumbling out faster now. "I know we're on different teams, but baby, I notice everything about you. I fucking love you, Y/N. I always have."

The room falls silent as Y/N processes his words, her heart racing. After what feels like an eternity, a smile breaks across her face, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Tyler," she whispers, "I love you too. I think I always have."

Tyler pulls her close, capturing her lips in a kiss that's both tender and passionate. As they break apart, both breathless and grinning, the storm outside begins to calm, mirroring the peace that's settled between them. Their rivalry has transformed into something beautiful, something neither of them expected but both now cherish.

#tyler owen x f! reader #tyler owen’s x you #tyler owen x fem reader #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owen’s #tyler owen x reader #tyler owens x reader #tyler owen #tyler owens #glen powell x reader #glen powell #twisterfanfiction #twisters

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cera-writes · 1 month

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Like Nothing Matters

A/N: It's finally done!! I've been dying to write this one. This is based on the song 'Nothing Matters by The Last Dinner Party' Pairing: Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x F!Reader Tags: jealousy, one sided pining, angst, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, nsfw themes Summary: Reader has been pining for Remy's attention for as long as she can remember. But his attention has always been for Rogue. He's been using reader for sex, something he could never have with Rogue. Reader is tired of being used so she gives Remy an ultimatum.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the city as Remy LeBeau leaned against the sleek, cherry-red convertible. His eyes were fixed on Rogue and Magneto, who stood a few feet away, their bodies close in a way that spoke of more than just mentor and student. Remy's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Remy," you called softly, stepping up beside him. You followed his gaze, your heart sinking at the sight that always seemed to pain him. "You know you can't—"

"Gambit know what he can't have," he snapped, cutting you off. His voice was sharp, but there was a raw vulnerability beneath the surface. "But dat don' mean he can't want it."

I have my sentence now

At last I know just how you felt

You swallowed hard, your own feelings for Remy bubbling to the surface like acid. You'd been in love with him for so long, watching him pine after Rogue while you were right here, longing for him to see you. "Maybe we should go," you suggested, hoping to distract him from the scene before him.

Remy didn't respond immediately. He took a deep breath, his eyes closing briefly before he nodded. "Yeah, let's get outta here."

He led you to the convertible, sliding into the driver's seat with a practiced ease. You settled into the passenger seat, the soft leather cool against your skin. The engine roared to life, the sound echoing through the quiet street as Remy peeled away from the curb.

The city lights blurred into streaks of color as they sped through the streets, the wind whipping through your hair. You glanced at Remy, his profile illuminated by the passing lights, his expression unreadable. You reached out, your hand resting on his knee, a silent offer of comfort.

Remy glanced at you, his eyes dark and intense in the dim light. "Ya really wanna do dis?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. "Do what?"

"Dis," he said, his hand covering yours, squeezing gently. "Us. Right now. Here."

I dig my fingers in, expecting more than just the skin

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind racing. You knew what this could mean, what it could lead to. But you also knew the risk, the potential heartbreak. "Are you sure?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Remy didn't answer. Instead, he pulled the car over to the side of the road, the tires screeching slightly as they came to a halt. He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "Remy need dis," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "He need... something."

You nodded, understanding more than he might realize. "Okay," you breathed, your resolve strengthening. "Let's do this."

Remy leaned in, his lips brushing against yours gently at first, then deepening the kiss with a desperate urgency. You responded, your hands finding his face, pulling him closer. The world around you faded away, the only reality the two of you, locked in this stolen moment.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch both familiar and thrilling. You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss intensified. The car seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with desire. This was the sum of your relationship with Remy. It all boiled down to sex. You were a means to an end, nothing more.

'Cause we're a lot alike

In favor, like a motorbike

A sailor and a nightingale

Dancing in convertibles

"You can hold me," you murmured against his lips, your voice shaky with emotion. "Like he held her."

Remy froze for a moment, the words piercing through the haze of lust. He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "And whatta 'bout you, chere?" he asked, his voice raw. "What do ya want?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I guess I'll just keep fucking you like nothing matters," you confessed, the truth spilling out before you could stop it.

Remy's eyes darkened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He didn't speak, his silence heavy between you. Instead, he kissed you again, his hands moving with a newfound intensity, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn't get close enough.

You let a soft moan escape your lips at his sudden urgency, wrapping your hands around his neck as your fingers entangled in his hair. The car rocked gently, the sounds of the city muted outside as you lost yourself in each other. Each touch, each kiss, felt like a secret shared, a betrayal of sorts, yet it was a connection you both craved. It was reckless, wild, and utterly consuming.

As the moments stretched into what felt like hours, you clung to Remy, your body melding with his, your hearts beating in sync despite the chaos of your emotions. You knew this couldn't last, that it was a temporary escape from the realities of your lives. But in this moment, with Remy, it felt like everything else ceased to exist.

"Remy," you whispered, your voice hoarse with passion. "Please..."

He kissed you fiercely, his response a mix of desperation and tenderness. You arched against him, your body aching for more, for completion. The world outside the car faded away, the only reality the two of you, intertwined in this stolen moment. The windows were fogged up past the point of no return as you gripped onto the seat, your breaths mingling in the confined space.

The night grew deeper, the city quieter as you explored each other, each movement fueled by a hunger that seemed insatiable. It was raw, primal, a dance of bodies and souls that defied logic and reason.

As the final moments approached, you clung to Remy, your breaths mingling in the dimly lit space. Your bodies moved together, a symphony of pleasure and pain, of longing and release. It was brutal and beautiful, a testament to the complexity of human desires.

"Remy!" you gasped, your voice breaking as the climax washed over you.

He buried his face in your neck, his body shuddering with the force of his release. You held him tightly, your fingers digging into his back, feeling the weight of the moment settle heavily between you.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the ragged breathing, the thud of your hearts trying to find a steady rhythm. You stayed locked in each other's arms, the aftermath of passion leaving you both vulnerable and exposed.

Eventually, Remy lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. There was a depth to his gaze, a mixture of regret and wonder. "Dat was..." he began, his voice husky.

"Intense," you finished for him, your own voice tinged with uncertainty.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. Intense."

You shifted slightly, adjusting your clothes as you tried to gather your thoughts. He helped you fix the strap on your tank top. The air in the car felt charged, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. You wanted to ask him what this meant, where it left you both. But the words stuck in your throat, too afraid of the answers.

Remy cleared his throat, his gaze shifting towards the window. "We should probably head back," he said, his voice strained.

You nodded, even though part of you wanted to protest, to demand more from him. But you knew better than to push. Not yet, at least. "Yeah, okay," you agreed, your tone resigned.

We've got the highway tight

The moon is bursting with headlights

One more and we're away

Love tender in your Chevrolet

He started the car, the engine roaring back to life as he pulled back onto the road. The city lights blurred once more, the world outside a kaleidoscope of colors. You watched it all pass by, your mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions.

As the car wound its way through the streets, you stole glances at Remy, trying to read his mood. He seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You wondered if he was thinking of Rogue, or if, perhaps, for the first time, he was considering the possibility of something more with you.

The thought both thrilled and terrified you. You wanted him to see you, to acknowledge the depth of your feelings. But you also feared the rejection, the potential heartbreak. It was a delicate balance, one you struggled to maintain as the miles ticked by.

Finally, the car slowed, turning into the driveway of your residence. Remy parked the vehicle, the engine idling quietly as he stared straight ahead. You waited, unsure of what to say, what to do.

"Thanks for... tonight," he said eventually, his voice low. "It meant a lot, mon ami."

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. "Yeah. Anytime."

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "Can I see ya again? Properly?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and hopeful. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Um... yeah. I'd like that," you answered honestly, your voice trembling slightly.

Remy smiled, a genuine warmth lighting up his features. "Good. 'Cause Remy think he might need ya."

You returned his smile, relief flooding through you. "Then I'll be here," you promised, your voice strong.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss. It was brief, tender, a promise of more to come. Then he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours. "Until next time, cher," he murmured, his voice soft.

You nodded, your heart full as you watched him exit the car. The door shut quietly, the sound echoing through the stillness. You remained seated, your mind a whirl of thoughts and feelings.

As the car engine purred to life once more, you knew that whatever happened next, you were in it together. For better or worse, you had claimed your place in Remy's life, and he in yours. It was a beginning, a fragile hope amidst the chaos of your worlds.

The car pulled away from the curb, the headlights slicing through the darkness. You watched it disappear down the street, your heart swelling with a mix of anticipation and fear. But as the taillights faded into the distance, you knew one thing for certain: you were ready for whatever came next.

It was Saturday finally.

The sun had barely begun to dip below the horizon when Remy LeBeau, clad in his signature leather jacket and a mischievous grin, revved the engine of his black motorbike outside your house. You heard the deep rumble from inside, a sound that always sent a shiver down your spine—in more ways than one. Today was different, though. Today, he wasn't just here for a casual fling; he had something else on his mind.

You stepped out onto the porch, dressed in a simple yet elegant black dress that hugged your curves just right. Remy's eyes lingered on you a moment longer than usual, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he offered you a helmet with a flourish. "Ready to ride, chere?" he asked, his voice smooth as velvet.

Nodding, you straddled the bike behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist instinctively. The familiar warmth of his body against yours should have been comforting, but there was an edge to it today, a tension that hadn't been there before. As he pulled away from the curb, the wind whipping through your hair, you couldn't help but wonder what tonight held in store.

The city lights blurred past as Remy weaved through traffic, his skill on the bike as impressive as ever. You clung tighter, your body pressed against his back, feeling the subtle shifts of muscle as he maneuvered. It was during these moments, when the world outside faded into a blur of motion, that you felt most connected to him—or at least, you had thought so until now.

After what felt like an eternity but was really just a few thrilling minutes, Remy slowed the bike to a stop in front of an old, ornate theater you hadn't noticed before. The marquee glowed with the words "Love Unmasked," a play that seemed oddly fitting given the circumstances.

Remy helped you off the bike, his hands lingering on your hips longer than necessary. "Thought we could start with a bit of culture," he said, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his usually confident tone.

Inside, the theater was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old wood and anticipation. Remy led you to your seats, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. The proximity sent a thrill through you, but it was tempered by the realization that this wasn't just another date. Something had changed, and you weren't sure you were ready for whatever it was.

As the lights dimmed and the curtain rose, you tried to focus on the stage, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Remy. His leg brushed against yours occasionally, a silent invitation or perhaps a plea for understanding. The play, a tale of hidden identities and forbidden love, seemed to mirror your own situation eerily.

Halfway through the performance, Remy leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Chere, dere's somethin' Gambit need to tell you," he murmured, his voice low and urgent.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "What is it, Remy?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering around the nearly empty theater before meeting yours again. "Remy... Remy think he been a fool," he admitted, his expression raw with emotion. "He thought he was jus' usin' you, but... he can't deny it anymore. Chere, I'm in love with you."

The confession hung heavy in the air between you, a mix of shock and relief washing over you. You had sensed something shifting, but hearing it aloud was both terrifying and exhilarating. "Remy..." you began, unsure of what to say.

Before you could respond, he continued, his voice tinged with desperation. "Remy know he don't deserve you, not after how he treated you, but he can't go on like this. Not knowin' if ya feel the same."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, feeling the calluses from years of card-playing and thievery. "Remy, I..."

But the rest of your response was cut off by the sudden burst of applause as the actors took their bows. The spell was broken, the moment lost in the noise of the crowd. Remy looked away, frustration and regret etched across his features. "We should go," he said quietly, standing up and offering you his hand.

Outside, the night had grown cooler, the air crisp with the promise of autumn. Remy helped you back onto the bike, his movements mechanical, distant. As he started the engine, the roar seemed louder than before, a stark contrast to the quietude of his demeanor.

The ride back was silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts. The weight of Remy's confession lingered, a heavy burden neither of you knew how to bear. When he finally stopped in front of your house, he turned off the engine and faced you, his eyes searching yours for some sign of what to do next.

"Tonight... it meant a lot to Remy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He jus' need to know... d'you feel de same?"

You swallowed hard, the truth bubbling up inside you, desperate to be set free. "Remy..."

And we're a lot alike

In favor, like a motorbike

A sailor and a nightingale

Dancing in convertibles

You leaned in, your lips meeting Remy's in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes more than words ever could. The intensity of the moment seemed to shatter the silence that had enveloped you both. As you pulled him inside, the door to your place closed behind you with a soft thud, sealing the night and its revelations within.

Remy's hands found your waist, then moved upward, his grip firm as he pressed you against the wall. His kisses were sloppy yet hungry, each one a desperate claim on the emotions swirling between you. You felt the heat of his breath on your neck, the scratch of his stubble adding an edge to the tenderness.

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

With a hand on Remy's chest, you gently pushed back, creating space between you. He looked at you with concern. "You wan' me to stop, chere?"

"Remy," you whispered, looking into his eyes, "are you sure this is what you want? There are no more lingering feelings for Rogue on your part?"

His expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his features before he steadied himself. "Chere," he said, his voice resolute, "Gambit is leavin' all dat in de past now. You... you're his future."

The sincerity in his words washed over you, a wave of relief and acceptance. You nodded, understanding the weight of his confession and the promise it held. Without another word, you drew him close again, your lips finding his once more, this time with a shared certainty that echoed through every touch, every kiss.

The night unfolded around you, each moment a step into the unknown, guided by the fragile thread of newfound love.

As you led Remy upstairs, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. The soft glow from a nearby lamp cast long shadows along the walls, adding an intimate ambiance to the space. You could feel Remy's eyes on you, his gaze intense and unwavering as he followed close behind.

Entering your bedroom, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. Remy stepped closer, his hands gently cupping your cheeks as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss deepened, fueled by the emotions that had been simmering between you both.

"Chere," he murmured against your lips, "Gambit wants to show you how much y'mean to him."

You nodded, your breath mingling with his as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Remy's hands trailed down your back, his touch electric as he slowly began to undress you. Slowly unzipping your dress revealed more of your skin to his appreciative gaze, his eyes darkening with desire.

As you stood before him, bare and vulnerable, Remy's hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve with a tenderness that spoke of his deep affection. You gasped as his fingers found sensitive spots, your head falling back as pleasure coursed through you.

Remy lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed where he laid you down gently. He hovered above you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he lowered himself, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you again, this time with an urgency that left no doubt about his intentions.

The room filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and the rustle of sheets as Remy made love to you with a passion that was both fierce and tender. His movements were deliberate, each thrust a declaration of his feelings, each caress a promise of his devotion. It was almost like this was your real first time together, like you were seeing each other in a new light finally, without the veil of pretending.

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. The world narrowed down to just the two of you, the intensity of the moment consuming all else. Remy's voice, hoarse with emotion, whispered endearments in your ear, his Cajun accent thickening with each word.

"Je t'aime, chere," he breathed, his words a balm to your soul. "Remy loves you more than anythin'."

As the climax approached, the energy between you both reached a crescendo. With a final, powerful thrust, Remy shattered the headboard, the wood splintering loudly in your bedroom. You cried out, your voice merging with his as release washed over you both.

For a long while, you lay tangled together, the aftermath of passion leaving you breathless and sated. Remy propped himself up on his elbows, a mix of guilt and amusement playing across his features as he surveyed the damage.

"Damn... guess Gambit got a bit carried away," he admitted sheepishly, his hand stroking your hair tenderly. "But don't worry, chere, he'll buy ya a new one. A better one."

You laughed, the sound rich and warm, as you pulled him down for another kiss. "I think this one will do for now," you replied, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "But maybe we should test the new one first, make sure it's sturdy enough."

Remy grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Challenge accepted, chere," he said, rolling onto his side to face you. "But right now, Gambit just wants to hold you. Feel you next to him."

You nestled closer, your head resting on his shoulder as you watched the shadows dance on the ceiling. The night outside grew deeper, but inside, the room was filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature. As sleep began to claim you, you felt Remy's hand tighten around yours, a silent promise of his presence and protection.

The next day dawned bright and clear, the sun casting a golden glow over the city as Remy and you stepped out into the morning light. The air was crisp, carrying with it the promise of change, much like the shift in your relationship with Remy.

He ushered you on the back of his bike. Remy seemed pensive, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a seriousness that spoke volumes about his internal struggle.

As you approached the Xavier Institute, the place where Rogue and Magneto had their shared quarters, Remy paused, his hand tightening around yours as you both hopped off his bike. "Chere, Remy need to do dis," he said, his voice low but resolute.

Even when the cold comes crashing through

I'm putting all my bets on you

I hope they never understand us

Nodding, you squeezed his hand in support. "I'm right here with you," you assured him, offering a small, encouraging smile.

Together, you entered the building, the atmosphere inside charged with the energy of the mutants who called this place home. Remy led you through the corridors, his steps purposeful as he navigated towards Rogue's room.

When you arrived at her door, Remy took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He knocked, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hall. After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Rogue, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you both.

"Remy? What's going on?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Remy stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Rogue, we need to talk," he said, his tone serious.

Rogue glanced at you, then back at Remy, her brow furrowing. "Sure, come in," she replied, stepping aside to let you both enter.

Inside, the room was cozy, filled with personal items that spoke of Rogue's personality. Remy sat down on the edge of her bed, while you remained standing near the door, giving them space but ready to offer support if needed.

"What's this about, Remy?" Rogue asked, her gaze shifting between the two of you.

Remy hesitated, his hands clenching slightly before he spoke. "Rogue, we can't keep doin' dis. Pretending dat what we had is enough when it ain't."

Rogue's face paled, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you saying, Remy?"

"I'm saying that I'm moving on," Remy admitted, his voice firm despite the pain etched across his features. "Gambit care about you, Rogue, but not in de way he should. Not in the way that makes me happy. Gambit can't keep holding onto to de thought dat we could be somethin' one day. I'm sorry, chere."

Rogue's gaze flicked to you, her expression hardening. "And is this because of her?" she demanded, pointing at you, a look of hurt flashing across her features.

Remy shook his head, his voice steady. "No, it's not jus' cause of her. It's cause of Gambit. Cause he finally realized dat he deserve more, and so does she."

Rogue stood up, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "So, what? You're just going to throw away everything we had for some new fling? I mean... can't say I hardly blame you. I know Magneto and I-"

Remy shushed her, standing as well, his eyes meeting hers directly. "It's not a fling, Rogue. It's real, and it's what Remy need. What we both need."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Rogue processed Remy's words. Finally, she nodded, her voice thick with emotion. "Fine. If that's what you want, then go."

Remy's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he turned to you, offering his hand. You took it without hesitation, your heart heavy but determined.

I put my heart inside your palms

My home in your arms

Now we know nothing matters

Nothing matters

As you walked out of the room, leaving Rogue behind, you felt a mix of relief and sadness. Remy's hand was warm in yours, a tangible symbol of the new path you were walking together.

Outside, the sun had reached its zenith, bathing the world in light. Remy stopped suddenly, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours. "You okay wit' dis?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.

You smiled, though it wobbled slightly at the edges. "I'm okay with us, Remy. With whatever comes next, although, please don't feel like you two can't remain friends on my behalf."

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, letting his warmth seep into your bones.

As you stood there, lost in the moment, Remy's hand drifted down to your ass, his fingers gently squeezing. You gasped softly, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

"Let's go somewhere else," he murmured against your ear, his voice husky with desire. "Somewhere we can be alone."

Nodding, you pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wrapping your arms around his middle, you both rode away from the Xavier Institute, leaving behind the ghosts of the past as you stepped into the unknown future, ready to face it together, side by side.

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me, like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters, ooh

#xmen #x men 97 #cera writes #remy lebeau #gambit #gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader

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animeyanderelover · 5 months

Note

Could you write “Close your eyes so it’ll hurt less. for Satoru Gojoı with non-sorcerer reader.

It can be nsfw or punishment scenario <3

thanks in advance!

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, overprotective behavior, manipulation, clinginess, isolation, abduction, paranoia, Satoru breaks s/o's wrist

Words: 3.1 k

Prompt 192

'Beauty is deceiving. It hides who the true monster is.'

You couldn't quite recall when and where you had stumbled upon this phrase, if it had been spoken by someone or if you had read it in a book. Most likely because you had never given this analysis much thought when you had received it for the first time. In hindsight, you should have probably given those two sentences much more thought. Perhaps, but only perhaps, then you wouldn't have fallen so easily prey to a man whose powers and appearance resembled old folklore of ancient and powerful gods.

Satoru indeed, as you had learned the longer you had been with him, thought of himself as someone blessed and special. If anyone else would have said those words to you, you would have thought of them as delusional. Yet when Gojo Satoru said those words, they were no mere gloating fantasies. Instead those words were reality, a reality you had been exposed to ever since you had gotten involved with him.

A reality that frightened you and one that you still couldn't comprehend. Worst of all seemed to be that Satoru refused to expose his world to you. You had only pieces of the puzzle, an unfinished picture of the whole situation that left you with a strange mixture of fear and agitation.

"Even if I were to tell you, you wouldn't be able to do anything. I would only scare you unnecessarily."

Partially he had spoken the truth and you knew that. You wouldn't be able to do anything against whatever it was that his world held in store for you. Yet Satoru was mislead in his assumption that keeping the truth from you would spare you from unnecessary stress. It only amplified it as the fear of not knowing had become a familiar chain that restricted your mind. You had started viewing your surroundings with more caution and wariness, unaware what it was you had to look out for but on edge nevertheless. A feeling of constant alert had overcome you whenever you were conscious, one that had cost you.

No longer felt you able to relax or take joy in the simple things. What you didn't know was constantly on your mind, the nagging fear a festering tumor that spread inside your mind the more time you were forced to spend with him.

His constant presence did not do anything to soothe your growing anxiousness. On the contrary, it fueled those feelings inside of your chest only more. It was unclear to you whether he was oblivious to this fact or if he chose to ignore it and if you had to be truthful, you did not know which was worse.

There was only one thing he often felt the urgent need to remind you of.

That he was the good guy.

---

Your hold on the book tightened, your heart clenching in rapidly growing frustration as you tried your best to blend Satoru's presence out of your mind and focus.

"Don't ignore me, (y/n)!" He whined and his voice, one you used to perceive as a pleasant and delightful sound, made you cringe the same way the sound of nails against a chalkboard would have done. It was borderline agonising and you just wanted it to stop. Your jaw clenched, your head pounding as the anger piled on yet you tried to push everything down as you didn't want to lose your composure and, accompanying your composure, the grasp of control over your own emotions.

When you felt soft lips traveling down from your temple to your neck, you shut the book loudly before you stood abruptly up. Your fists were balled to fists as the pounding in your head seemed to intensify. You felt the urge to scream, to cry or to let your feelings vent out in any other way but you knew that you couldn't do that in front of him. Your feet stomped away from the scene in an attempt to get away from him. When you noticed that he stood up and followed you, you had to bite your tongue in your best attempt to not yell at him.

"Am I not even allowed to go to the bathroom alone?" You growled at him before locking the door to the only room where you could have at least a few minutes for yourself. You scowled at the hurt pout he gave you before his face disappeared from your sight. In the very same moment you locked the door, separating you from Satoru, it felt like someone had unlocked your ability to breathe properly again. The air tasted fresher and your chest felt lighter now that you were away from his smothering presence.

You drew water from the tap and splashed the cold liquid against your face in an attempt to soothe the burning pounding that had tormented you for the entire day already. You took those moments to let the silence and appreciated loneliness sink in, your face still buried in your head as you made no attempt to remove it from them.

As much as you would have wanted to stay like this for a while longer, you knew that you only had so much time before Satoru would grow impatient. You'd rather destroy this moment of peace due to your own will rather than to be thrown out of this tranquility by his own actions.

You turned the tap off and dried your face with the towel before you unlocked the door and turned the knob, expecting to hear his voice immediately calling for you or to even see him standing there.

Instead you heard his hushed voice from the living room and although you couldn't clearly hear all of his words, it sounded like he was talking to someone. For a split second you debated whether or not to use this chance to return to the bathroom or go somewhere else. On the other hand you knew too well that he would demand for you as soon as he was finished with this conversation so instead you opted to just head back to the living room as well.

When you peaked inside through the opened door, you could see that he was having a phone call with someone. Brilliant blue eyes darted up as soon as they saw you and a smile graced his lips for a few moments. You could clearly hear how his voice turned to a mere murmur as he suddenly turned his back on you and you knew instantly that the call must have been related to his job which is why he didn't want you to hear what he was hearing. You felt your curiosity urging you to step closer, so close that you would understand everything no matter how silent he might try to talk.

From previous experiences you knew that if you were to try that though, he would end the call instantly and merely tell the other person on the line to text him all the information before hanging up. So you just stood there and waited, feeling the frustration bubble up inside of you again.

As soon as he had ended the call, he turned around to you. A silly pout was on his face as he walked over to you before a dramatic sigh escaped him.

"Seems like I have to head out for a while. Something just came up."

Obviously he was clearly unhappy, you on the other mind felt like your soul was rejuvenating with the mere thought of having a few hours to yourself. Like everything else though, you also were smart enough to not gloat about those news so you gave him a curtly nod as your only response.

Large hands cradled your face as blue eyes looked at you.

"I'll be back as soon as possible. Just wait for me in the meantime, 'kay?"

You didn't return the kiss when you felt warm lips meeting your own but you also knew that with his grip on your face, you couldn't pull away so you just endured the feeling as your body visibly tensed up. Only when you pulled away did you dare to unclench your jaw again, your lips slightly parted as you looked into those otherwordly eyes.

"Maybe I'll buy you something nice if I find something." He continued to speak as he pressed quick kisses against your face as if quickly tanking some affection before he had to leave.

"Would you like something specific."

You merely shook your head.

"Just surprise me."

Really, you couldn't have cared less.

---

Satoru had returned far too quickly for your own taste. On the other hand he might as well have been gone for weeks and you would still bemourn his absence as too short.

With him he had brought bags full with clothes he had bought for you, in high moods as he had asked you to wear some of them so he could see if they would look as good on you as he had hoped them to be when he had wasted his money on them.

In an attempt to delay this event and prevent him from getting handsy, you had insisted on cutting off all the price tags first as you had assured him that you would like to keep everything that he had brought.

So now here you were, searching for the price tags on every piece of clothing before cutting it off with scissors. It was a lot of work but less because it took much physical exertion and more because of the sheer amount the white-haired man had bought.

Really, you could have enjoyed this task though as it was rather nice to do something.

So why couldn't he have just sat back and remained silent instead of touching you and talking to you? You just wanted some time for yourself.

You knew that he was trying to get you to talk to him by annoying you with questions and touches as he simply longed to hear your voice and to force you to interact with him. This was precisely what you didn't want and so you had to silently chant a mandra to calm your nerves as you hung up all the clothes in the wardrobe. You were surprised that you even had any space left considering that you had so many clothes already.

It was tedious to ignore him but you were normally somehow able to pull through with it. However, on this evening Satoru seemed to have finally enough of your dismissive attitude which was why he exactly spoke something that he knew would get your attention.

"I met your friends whilst I was shopping."

You froze, unable to control your reaction as you heard his words. A strange flood of emotions came over you and you caught yourself swallowing audibly as you tried to maintain some sort of control. You had already failed though and you knew that Satoru would try to use it to his advantage.

You wanted to ask him more but you knew that you couldn't as it was exactly what he wanted you to do so with slightly shaky hands you tried to focus on the task at hand.

Obviously he wouldn't drop the subject that easily though.

You felt his warm breath fawning the side of your face as he leaned closer to you, his eyes taking in the way you had pursed your lips and how you had furrowed your eyebrows as you weren't able to hide your feelings. You were missing your friends and family after all and the bastard knew it.

His own feelings rose up as he saw your face but not because he felt pity for you. Instead he felt his jealousy stirring slowly awake as he saw how affected you appeared by merely hearing him mentioning one of your friends. He envied the feelings you reserved only for them without giving him anything at all.

Why was that?

"Satoru..."

Your voice resembled more of a guttural growl when one of his hands grabbed your shoulders, clearly feeling how tensed your muscles were as you slowly cut off more price tags from pieces of clothing, your mind barely held together as you were trying in a last effort to hold back.

His name was spoken as a warning from your side as he knew that you were at your limit and that only from hearing from him about one of your friends. If he would have been a better man, he would have acknowledged how petty and low he was acting right now. However, Gojo Satoru wasn't a good man as jealousy started getting a hold of him.

"They all seemed to have quite a good time without you. It didn't really look like they were bemourning your disappearance. Perhaps you are the only one in the belief that they are missing you as much as you miss them."

You paused for seconds that seemed to stretch more than they should have before you put the shirt you had held in your hand down. Your head turned around as your own eyes met his blue ones. You didn't say anything at first, there wasn't even a trace of anger on your face as if you couldn't believe his words.

Then your pupils started quivering though and he saw how your gaze suddenly got poisoned with anger you had kept buried deep inside of you for the last few weeks.

You acted before you could even think as the one hand that had previously held the scissors suddenly flew towards him, fully committed to stab at least one of those cured blue eyes so that his gaze could never torment you again.

Only that the scissor never reached his eye. No matter what you tried, you couldn't move your hand any further, the sharp edge of the scissor only lingering close to his blue orbs.

It was that inability that caused you to snap out of your spiraling anger as you realised what you had just tried to do. You instantly withdrew your hand, visible shock on your face from your unexpected outburst. You felt your blood pumping through your veins and felt shame and frustration heating up your entire face as you had just lost your temper completely.

You ran your other hand through your hair as you took some shaky breaths to regain your control. When you finally managed to look up again, an apology lingering on your tongue for your reckless action that could have seriously wounded him, you found the words quickly dying down before they could even leave your mouth.

Normally already quite intense blue eyes were staring through you and your soul with a new weight to them that had you breaking out in cold sweat as you felt a cold sensation going down your spine.

You felt no relief when briefly his eyes darted down to look at your other hand which was still clutching the scissors on your palm, although you quickly dropped the object when you noticed his stare.

You flinched when one of his palms wrapped around your wrist and lifted your hand up. At first his touch was soft but within only a few seconds he tightened his hold until it felt like he was squeezing your bones.

You let out a short hiss when you felt the pain as you started squirming uncomfortably, trying to get him to let go of your wrist.

"You were about to stab me."

You shuddered when you heard the icy tone that seemingly matched his hardened and cold stare that he gave you right now, vastly different from what you were used.

You wanted to defend yourself. He had taunted you first and he had been the one who had brought you into such a situation were you would lose your self-control in the first place as you hadn't consciously intended to potentially hurt him seriously.

Yet he didn't let you utter even a single word as he pulled you closer to his body, his other hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look right into those glowing eyes.

"You wouldn't hurt me, right? You care about me after all, even if you don't want to show it."

There was something in his tone that gave you the chills. It wasn't anger or anything similar to that emotion though. It was a tremble, a barely audible tremble of an emotion akin to denial that made him look dangerously much like he was about to break down in front of you. Whatever you had just done, it seemed to have triggered something dangerous inside of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just lost control of myself for a moment."

You swallowed as you uttered those words quickly, your honest tone only slightly tarnished by the pain you felt as he was still squeezing your wrist. You found your own breath stopping as you looked at his face, praying for whatever had possessed him to stop.

"I knew. You wouldn't want to harm me. It's alright, darling. I forgive you."

You felt no relief when he cooed those words at you as he pulled you closer, giving you a kiss on your forehead. Instead you foud your stomach churning as you felt the stress rising inside of you, warning you that something was about to happen.

"Close your eyes so it'll hurt less."

You knew what he had done when you heard the sound yet you didn't instantly feel the pain. Instead your widened eyes stared into his own blue ones with a mixture of shock and betrayal.

You stumbled back in shock, cradling your broken wrist against your chest as the pulsing and cutting pain finally began to settle in. Tears instantly started to gather in your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks and choked sobs started leaving your lips as you slid down to the ground.

"I know. I know. It must hurt quite a bit."

His voice was sweet and soothing as his arms embraced you, one of his hands wiping away your tears as you continued staring at him with unbridled shock and terror as you felt soft touches on your face from the same hand that had just moments ago broken your wrist as if it was a mere twig.

The fear grew and grew until you felt unable to look into his eyes again, turning your eyes elsewhere as your lips started to wobble.

He had never hurt you before. Perhaps that's why you had felt so entitled to ignore him as he had been only ever acted like a clingy and whiny man around you.

Clearly you had been wrong though.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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fear-is-truth · 4 months

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𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓 | 𝕵𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝕻𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍 x f!reader | mdni

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: suggestive themes. knifeplay. implied drugging. english is not my first language sorry

• note: first time writing for James… hope it’s not too bad

⟢ for my sister in sin @coentinim

. 𝜗℘

As you slowly come to, the world feels disorienting, like shards of memories trying to piece themselves back together.

Your throat is parched, the lingering taste of alcohol mixing with the remnants of sleep, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

Panic begins to rise. At first, you think it’s dark out, the pitch-black void pressing in on you from all sides. But then you notice the texture of fabric against your eyelids—your eyelashes flutter against the cloth of a blindfold.

What the fuck?

You try to move, but your arms refuse to budge. The tight bindings around your wrists intensify the sense of helplessness, and you realize you’re bound in a sitting position on a couch, the coarse rope digging into your skin.

“You’ve awakened, my dear,” a male voice intoned with a touch of amusement.

“Have a good sleep?”

That accent. It sounds.. off. As if it belongs to an old timey black and white film. You struggle to speak but the words catch in your throat.

“All in good time, my dear,” the voice replies, smooth as a frozen pond in winter.

“-All in good time, no need to rush.”

Fingertips graze your cheekbone, caressing the apple of your cheek. A coldness sends a shiver down your spine and you flinch away instinctively, shrinking into the back of the couch. The hand withdrew.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

you manage to croak, the words are dry and brittle like dead beetles tumbling out of your mouth.

“Ah, you don’t remember? Tsk. How about we take a little stroll down memory lane, my dear?”

the unseen stranger suggests, in a coaxing tone. You feel his hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Memories flicker back in snippets—checking in, the grandiose lobby with its opulent decor, the unnaturally lack of occupants. The carpet was a rich burgundy, that you remembered. There was a grey-haired, frumpy-looking old woman at the reception desk, her comically large glasses perched on her nose…

But beyond that, the rest are hazy, slipping through your grasp like sand. The hand that had been so gentle moments before now snake to your jaw, then to your neck, its fingers exerting pressure against your jugular.

You feel something icy, pressing against your collarbone gently. For a minute, it doesn’t puncture the skin. It slides down, passing the valley between your breasts and to your belly, perfectly cutting your chemise in half.

The cold steel of a blade sends a new wave of fear. The whisper of fabric ripping is nearly silent, but in the heightened state of your senses, it sounds more like thunder. You can’t see, can’t move, and now, with the threat of an unseen blade, you can’t even breathe properly.

Your nipples were hard, partly because of the chilly air, and partly… no. It can’t be. You weren’t aroused. It must’ve been the chill.

“Shh, my dear,”

the voice soothes, and was it your paranoia? Or did you sense a smile in his tone?

“we wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself struggling, now would we?”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay still despite every instinct telling you to scream. The bindings on your wrists and ankles feel tighter than ever.

“Remember, I promised I’d help you recollect, his voice honeyed with sinister delight. As if it were a game. Which, to him, probably is.

“Let’s start with this charming hotel. Pray tell, do you happen to remember the name?”

“The Cortez?”

“Correct. After you checked in, you had a drink, didn’t you?” The voice continues. “A lovely glass of vermouth, just the way you like it. That’s when things started to get…interesting.”

“No,” you correct him suddenly, the memory snapping into place. “The bartender—Liz? she recommended absinthe. I tried that instead.”

The voice chuckles, delighted.

“Very good, darling,” he says, a hint of approval in his tone. “You are starting to remember.

You remember now—the taste of the drink, bitter yet oddly compelling, the way your vision had started to blur shortly after. You had felt dizzy, unsteady, and then... nothing. Until now.

Fuck, you’ve probably been roofied. This was some sort of sick, 1930’s roleplay.

“Why are you doing this?” you implore, summoning all the strength you can muster.

“What do you want from me?”

The blade withdraws, and you hear the sound of it being sheathed. The hand on your neck loosens its grip but doesn’t release you. Instead, it pulls you forward ever so slightly, until you can feel his breath brushing against your ear. A chill creeps into the air, as if the temperature has dropped ten degrees—surely his breath can’t be so cold that it sends goosebumps blooming across your skin.

“Why?” he echoes, almost amused.

“Because, my dear, I find you... fascinating.”

Ad if that explains everything. He lets go of your neck and begins pacing, the sound of his footsteps a metronome of dread. The blindfold is suddenly whipped off, and you blink against the harsh light.

As your eyes adjust, you see him—impeccably dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt and a perfectly tied bow tie. Dark hair is slicked back, and a neatly trimmed moustache sits above a pair of lips curled into a charming smile— the kind of smile the big bad wolf gives little red riding hood before he rips her throat out. All the better to eat you with, my dear.

“You’re my date to Devils Night, my dear.”

#𝓙𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ── .✦#ahs #evan peters #ahs hotel #james patrick march x reader #jpm x reader #american horror story #james patrick march #jpm #ahs season 5

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starryficsfinishwen · 11 months

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✧!。◟[kinktober 2023] ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ — PGR & GI x reader [week 3]

baptize in your thighs until it hurts

a.n. - waow I'm on my break, what a surprise. I'm super super sorry for the delay. I got busy again after midterms week, and also other real life stuff. meanwhile I'm writing this down while in the bathroom LOL

pairings - forsaken + cerberus [watanabe, noan, noctis, murray] & anemo bois [kazuha, venti] x fem!reader

kinktober masterlist

warnings - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. NSFW THEMES: breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, bimbofication, dacryphilia, lingerie, body worship. cervix fucking?? size kink includes tummy bulging heuheue. also includes exhibitionism (bar; noctis, venti). "just the tip, but whoops" (noctis). some soft sex (kazuha, venti). cunnilingus (venti). fingering (noan, kazuha)

special mention - banners by @/rookthornesartistry, @/cafekitsune

! — Watanabe: Epitaph [ breeding kink ]

[a.n. - have y'all SEEN this man's awakening portrait? I'm creaming.]

Your lover doesn't take “no” for an answer.

“Nngh, w-wait, Wata-ah,” your whines are muffled into the sheets, “s-slow down, please!”

You've long been accustomed to Watanabe's absence— one of the cons for being an ally of Forsaken and especially being their leader's lover. You'd spend days, even weeks and months, find yourself without him. However, you've been an angel to the faction, always helping around whenever one needs help. Things do get different by the time your lover, your Watanabe, comes home—

“That's it, fuck,” mumbled Watanabe, “doin' fucking well,”

He becomes a different person; burying into your cunt as deep as possible, fucking you into oblivion.

Unfortunately, your pleas fall on deaf ears; Watanabe's gloveless fingers trail down from the nape of your exposed neck, to the base of your spine, where your hands are currently tied, holding it down with only a fraction of his strength. His other hand grips hard on your hips, one that you were sure would leave bruises in the morning. You gasp as the sensation, tickling and teasing, overwhelm you.

“I missed you,” he groans, a hard thrust to your pussy, your walls clinging onto his large dick mercilessly. “Ah, ha, I see that this pussy missed me, too.”

“Wa-Watanabe,” you whined further, squirming as he bullies your pussy, “t-too much, s'too big...!”

“But you're taking it so well,” he hums as he leaned onto the arch of your back, one hand now fiddling with your breast, and the other now trailing to your face, “you've always taken it so, so well, darling. That's my girl, mmh?”

Your cries intensified as his free hand finds your mouth, fingers shoved in, and you automatically sucked it, “fuck, yes, that's it...fuck, good, good girl.”

You feel your walls spasm uncontrollably as Watanabe fucks you harshly, certain that his dick snugly rams into your cervix, the drag of his shaft achingly alpng your walls made you feel so full after months of his absence. You cried out, mouth drooling over his fingers, and Watanabe laughs.

“I fucked you so many times now, but you're still so tight; god, you're driving me insane.”

Your brain fogs up at his praise, drowning in the endless waves of pleasure. Without a warning, his cock still deeply inside of you, he flips you over— and you find yourself staring at his green eye.

“Mm, my darling's already fucked out, mmh?” The hand on your mouth now trails to your jaw, and you feel yourself ache as he looks at you so tenderly despite his rough thrusts, “Did you miss me that much?”

“Y-yes,” you mewled, feeling his other hand effortlessly bring your legs over his shoulder, feeling his dick bury itself deeper in you, “W-Watanabe...yo-you're going to break me-”

“Can't help it,” his other hand now frees your tied hands, “not when you looked so good with those children.”

Although your brain is a messy mush, you faintly recall the event earlier— the kids who were at Watanabe's legs, laughing and cheering for their grand hero's welcome. You remember calling them back to you to not distract Watanabe, how you laughed alongside them, and how you carefully took care of them in the main team's absence.

“W-wha-”

“You'd look so good, fuck,” his hand now grips the other side of your hip, the other on your slightly bulging belly and holding it down, somehow aware that his big dick was rearranging your insides, “if I could fill your belly up with kids, mmh? I think you'd look so good carrying our child.”

A part of you wants to point out that you can't, but god— the way his cock was splitting you in half, drilling into that one spot that's making you see so many stars, you forget and instead latch onto his broad shoulders, nails sinking into them.

“Watanabe,” you moaned, your back arching to meet his fast thrusts, “fill me up, please, fill me up so good,”

His body pressed into you, his lips nibbling onto the expanse of your neck, leaving hickies wherever he could reach, while fucking you without a fail.

“Wanna make you a daddy,” you dawdled out, cockdrunk as his dick pulsed inside of you— “fuck and fill me up, Watanabe.”

And oh, it felt so good, too good, when his grunts in your ear makes you shiver all over— the tall tale sign of him coming soon.

“God, fuck,” his fingers reached to rub your throbbing clit, your orgasm cresting over your foggy mind, “cum for me, [Y/N], let me fill you up with my cum.”

You cried out your lover's name as your high comes unexpectedly, with Watanabe unraveling alongside you— his cum filling your empty womb, overfilling you more maybe so as something wet and sticky coats your inner thighs, and him fucking you through your orgasms. Although tired, you whined as you pulled Watanabe back in your bare chest, pouting as he attempted to pull out.

“D-don't,” you whispered, lethargy pulling you to sleep, “don't wanna let your cum out...”

“I missed you, too,” Watanabe chuckles, “but you already know that...”

You pouted, feigning obliviousness, “no. But I do believe in miracles.”

You clench around him, his still-hard dick, and he looks away, his hair covering half of his face. “[Y/N]...”

“Fuck me until I can't walk, Watanabe. Who knows, you just might get me pregnant.”

! — Noctis: Indominus [ size kink ]

Sometimes, you think your boyfriend is a little dumb.

Sure, causing a ruckus and nearly getting you (and Cerberus) in trouble nearly costs half of your mortal life— you're quite surprised you haven't ascended to heaven yet. Although that happens, you still love your boyfriend to bits; knowing that he's just a little dumb boy who needs a little guidance.

Or so you thought.

“N-Noctis!” a moan slips out of your covered mouth, as you felt his cockhead tease the entrance of your slip, “w-what if someone sees us-!”

“So they would,” he groans in your ear, breath tickling you from your neck, down to your wet cunt, “god, I will die if I can't fuck this pussy.”

“Noctis...!” Although you want to reprimand him for being less careful, you can't help but succumb to the way he shallowly thrusts into you. “I-I thought you said-”

“Mmh, just the tip, hngh,” he assures you, leaving little kisses all over your jaw, “I-I promise, it won't take long.”

You dumb ass as a boyfriend is nothing but trouble. You sigh, already feeling full just from his cockhead, “o-okay...just please, make it quick...”

“thank god,” he whines into your ear, hips uncontrollably rutting into you, “i-it won't take long.”

But your boyfriend is kind, loving even— seeing the way your lips curl into crescents, teeth biting into them as you suppress your moans, your closed eyes, pussy gripping onto him like a vice— it almost feels like he's close to drowning. Drowning to the point that he ruts into you like he's running, holding you down further.

You notice this quickly, eyes wide open as he sinks you further into his long and thick cock, tears forming in the corner of your eyes,

“W-wait...!” you cried out, feeling the delicious stretch of your cunt just to accommodate his length, “Noctis, y-you promised!”

Although it's been so many times since you've engaged in such acts, your pussy still struggles to take in everything in Noctis; sometimes, only half of his dick is inside of you. But now-

“shit,” he growled loudly, caging you further as he drills you into the walls, your cries only turning him on as he sees his cock finally nearing to be buried deep inside of you, “such a greedy little pussy.”

Your cunt throbs as a response as you felt him split you open. “Ah, hah, Noctis, p-please...”

“Look at this,” his hands run through the bulge in your stomach, where his cock snugly rests, “I knew you could take it. You're a champ, babe.”

You whined— overwhelmed as he starts to fuck you, the first time that his dick immediately reaches the sweet spots inside of you. Maybe he's not the one who's dumb, but you. It's harder to hold back your moans now, no— not when your boyfriend is now chasing the high alongside you, the pleasure burning your mind.

“Fuck that; don't cover your mouth, baby. Let the whole bar hear how you're only for me, yeah?”

! — Noan: Arca [ praise kink ]

Noan is the prettiest construct you've ever seen in your whole life.

Soft black hair, innocent and careful lime green irises, smooth yet refined jaw— he's basically the whole package. Not only that, you're lucky to have him as your lover.

A lover who's hellbent on getting your praises.

“Good boy,” you cooed, fingers threading through Noan's hair, moans spewing out of your lips as you felt his own fingers toying inside if you, “you're doing good for me.”

Picture this: a lazy Sunday morning, and you're both watching some cheesy telenovela to pass some time before you go back to work tomorrow. At some point, while the casts are busy arguing over trivial issues, clothes have long been forgotten, and your boy is under you, looking confusingly pretty as he plays with your cunt.

You straddle him by the hips, leaning back, pride swelling in your chest as you notice Noan is trying so many things with you. His usual smiling expression is flushed pink, as he looks at you with such interest and curiosity.

“Noan, no,” you whispered, a hand on his cheek, “you're doing so, so good, nngh, I love it when you do this.”

A poor boy, just experimenting with everything new. It could be overwhelming, seeing as he never had any experience, but you think this is the perfect time to try— especially now that you're both horny.

“Fuck,” you cursed as you felt his fingers curls around the spot you've waited, “r-right there, Noan, shit, you're so good...”

Noan wouldn't admit it, but it's true- he's getting too turned on. Just the way you've looked above him, your moans and calling out to him, and just how warm and wet the inside felt. He unconsciously licks his lips as he looked up at you, already feeling so lightheaded just from looking at you.

“[Y/N],” he maintains the pace as he sees you rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, a waterfall of moans crying out his name, “you look so...”

Without a warning, you unravel in Noan's fingers, something wet and sticky coming out of your pussy. Noan keeps his fingers going, even after you came, coaxing whatever liquid was still left inside of you.

That was your first orgasm in front of the boy, somehow, it made the boy's chest throb— was he really that good? To make someone- his lover- come so good like that?

Reality pulls him back, when he felt your fingers wrap itself around his shaft, a lewd and unapologetic moan coming out of his lips. You stared back at him, a small smile on your lips.

“Did you like that, Noan?” You purred, standing a bit so you could slot yourself in between his shaft, making the both of you moan, “you made me cum with your fingers; you're doing so well.”

His dick throbs at the phrase, “i-it's my first time...”

You start to grind on his shaft, eyes rolling back at how long it would be inside of you. “Mm, I'm enjoying it, I really do confess...”

It sparked his interest. Noan shifts a bit, so the prominent vein in his dick perfectly grinds with your trembling clit, “what is, [Y/N]?”

“I think about this situation a lot.” Your grinding becomes rougher, causing the both of you to moan out loud, “god, the thought of you fucking me is so unreal; but here we are.”

He groans as he felt your hands back at his hair, pulling him close as you grinded more on his leaking cockhead now, “that you must look so pretty when you're under me...”

You stood up slightly, one hand now aligning his aching dick closer to your warm hole, “seems like I won't be imagining that now, hm?”

Moaning out his name, you bottomed out in one thrust. Noan gasps in surprise, as he felt your walls tremble with his cock inside of you.

“Look at me, Noan,” you opened your mouth to warn him, one hand tilting his chin to reach your line of vision. “you'll be a good boy and fuck me like this, yeah?”

He groans, but thrusts up, as a response to your order, “y-yes...”

“Good boy,” you cooed once more, bouncing on his cock with a smile on your face as his expression contorts in pleasure, “let me be the one to teach you proper etiquette in fucking me.”

! — Murray: ?? [ bimbofication + dacryphilia ]

If he wasn't being a doting brother to Lee, then he's known to be one of the most calculative and cunning commandants— a well-known fact even that he is Cerberus' esteemed commandant. You wouldn't lie; Murray lived up to all his titles and responsibilities. He's the perfect man for any job you'd ask for: in politics, in the battlefield, and anything else in between.

As a foundation of his existence as an extraordinary individual, another comes into the picture: his pretty, little trophy girlfriend— you. A sweet, sweet little thing; always at his beck and call, always there to relieve him from his stress and sadness. In the eyes of those around you, you're always his support person, giving him hugs and kisses when he's looking down. You also bake pastries to give out around the hall, and occasionally to your lover's team, too. What a pretty, little, sweet thing you were—

Quite literally.

“Do you like the view?” Murray's sinister grin is etched on his face, your eyes nearly close to forming heart-shaped irises, the drag of his dick in between the crevices of your breasts, “you do, you little minx?”

Behind the tasteful eyes of the public, your Murray was not the sweet man they knew; vicious, manipulative, and—

“Yes, yes,” you dawdled out, a shudder across your body as you felt the vibrator slip in deeper inside of you, “that feels s-so good, m-master...”

Murray's favorite little plaything: you. Other than being his doting girlfriend, you were his plaything; dolled up to his preferences, always hungry for his cock.

“Mhm, it does,” Murray fucks between your breasts, his hand finding your jaw and slotting his thumb in between your open lips, “such a good girl for me.”

When he pulls away (you whine from the loss of his heat; he finds it endearing), he slowly pulls out your favorite pink vibrator out of your overstimulated pussy. You cry out, “w-wait, n-no...!”

“Mm? What's wrong?” He teases, mirth dripping from his tons, “do you prefer a poor old vibrator than my cock, dear?”

You whined once more, desperate to feel something fill up your awaiting walls, hole clenching around nothing.

“W-wanna feel you in me, m-master,” you sniffled, tears beginning to form like crystals in the corner of your eye, “I feel so empty, wan' your dick in me, master, please?”

And who was Murray to deny his pretty little plaything; you, sprawled out so beautifully in his bed, pussy aching and drenched in your arousal, little tears escaping your eyes? Murray growls as your tears begin to turn him on, crawling so that his shaft rubs your neglected pussy.

You've both been awfully stressed anyways. But god— he wishes he could keep teasing you until you break.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he moans your name when the tip of his cock catches your clit, “be good for me, hm? I'm going to start fucking you...”

Without a delay, he slips in his pussy into your wet, warm walls; the instrusion make the both of you cry out. Tears now spill out of your eyes, and Murray ruts into you, without even letting you adjust.

“God, still so tight for me,” he chuckles, watching you squirm as he fucks you harder, “my little girl, my little plaything.”

But you've long descended into heaven, your wordless babbles of "more, more" and "please, more", feeling the drag of his dick now filling you up more than ever.

When Murray feels your orgasm teetering closer, he only hastens the pace, hand over your drooling mouth, as you mindlessly drown in the pleasure he gives, “You'll take more, hm? How about you count the number of times I make you cum tonight; we'll start again if you lose count, okay, darling?”

! — Kazuha: Scarlet Leaves Pursue Wild Waves [ lingerie ]

Kazuha has always been away far too long.

Always traveling to where the winds would take him— you believe that it's really the reason why he has anemo as a vision; he can talk to the trees with only a whisper of the wind— and only comes back weeks or months later.

Although a ring is out of the picture, he once promised his love to you with the call of the wind as your witness. At first, it was stupid; but you loved him that you'd let him go, when the wind was as free as it could get.

To cope with his absence, you started to look for ways to surprise your lover when he comes back. At first, they were little trinkets you'd find by the market, into desserts and food that you can make. Quite recently though, after asking around the married ladies in Liyue harbor, they told you about a secret they'd do when they wait for their husbands at sea: wearing something that their husbands couldn't wait to see them in.

Lo and behold, an autumn-colored lace drapes around your body. Lingerie. Although it's awkward (you've never been entirely confident with your physique), you think that it might look different in your lover's eyes anyway. You prepare to put it away, waiting for the day Kazuha would come home.

Yet, that day seemed to be today.

“Are you trying that on for me, my love?”

You whirled around to meet Kazuha, who was leaning by the doorframe, a gentle smile on his lips. Quickly, you try to grab the nearest clothing to shield yourself from his knowing gaze, “K-Kazuha! You're home early!”

He says nothing, but walks lightly to you. You back away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you are left with Kazuha, bodies touching and his face inches away from you.

“I asked you a question, my dove,” he smiles, taking your hand to his lips, “are you trying this on for me?”

You try not to look at his face, guilt and embarrassment making your cheeks flush a deep shade of red, “I-I...was just trying them on...”

“My dove, my love,” he calls out, lips from your hand now trailing to your shoulder blades and to your jaw, a soft kiss there, “why are you so flustered?”

“U-um...”

Words die on your throat, as you felt his hands snake to your hips, guiding you onto the bed, his lips kissing and teeth nibbling on your skin. “You look...very beautiful in it. I know you've always been so beautiful, but in this...you look so...breathtaking.”

You softly moaned at his words and his ministrations, his kiss turning into a hickey in one side of your neck, “Kazuha, I...”

“So beautiful,” he laughs and his breath tickles your skin, your cunt throbbing when his other hand now rests at your inner thighs, massaging it down there, “my pretty dove is dressing up like a gift for me.”

His fingers deftly brush your clothed pussy, a small patch of wetness staining it. Putting light pressure onto where your clit was, Kazuha starts to rub you down there, making you squirm. But Kazuha doesn't mind; he leaves more hickies where his kisses left, his other hand now delicately massaging one mound of your breast.

“I-I wasn't sure if you'd like this...”

“Darling,” he purrs in your ear, making you shiver, “you are a gift to me; naked or not, I will always think that you are so beautiful.”

Pushing your lacey panties aside, Kazuha swiftly slips in a finger inside of you, making you gasp, but he quickly kisses you. His thumb caresses your clit while fingering your little cunt, your moans get swallowed in his kiss. The smell of Inazuman air, sakura trees, and ocean drives you insane— this was your lover, and he was back once more in your arms.

With a loud cry, you come undone in Kazuha's fingers, squirting after such an intense atmosphere. When you've calmed down, you notice a glint in Kazuha's eyes, and you knew that wasn't the end of it.

“I missed you, my dove. Why don't I show you how much I've missed you? Ah; don't take that off, I want to make love with you while you're wearing that.”

! — Venti/Barbatos: Windborne Bard [ body worship ]

Your god is kind; benevolent, unwavering, commited.

His aquamarine eyes glow so brightly than you've ever seen before. Even as he stands before you, a sinner so bare in the eyes of a god—your god— his lips are a sweet smile, and you've known these lips for a long time now.

“My angel,” your god is a lover, voice used for singing ballads and songs of tales, “so, you are here.”

In a cathedral. In Barbatos' throne, where his lyre laid at his feet. You throb at the very thought of sinning in his holy cathedral— stained glass shone by moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the man in front of you as he looked at you with such reverence, you forgot for a moment that you were going to do something so...unholy in this sacred place.

“This is your idea,” you huffed, already feeling conscious as you shuffle in your makeshift bed (your cape and clothes), feeling so shy in your god's presence, “are you sure I won't get sentenced to hell here?”

Venti laughs, settling in between your legs, “relax~ I double checked everything. You needn't worry, my muse.”

You've always known Venti had a penchant for doing so many reckless things— never would have thought that having sex in a cathedral— his cathedral— being one. Venti blows a strong wind to your exposed cunt, causing you to yelp.

“V-Venti!”

“Pretty,” he purred, fingers tracing the inside of your thigh, “my windblume, have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

“Countless times now,” you retorted, “including now.”

“Tsk, I ought to teach you better than that.” He smiles at you, the same aquamarine irises you've fallen in love with glowing brighter once more, “this offer is so tempting, you wouldn't have the heart to deny it.”

“I'd like to see you try, then, my bard.”

Your bard, your god, chuckles. Effortlessly, he hoists your legs up to his shoulder blades, your ankles over his shoulders. You watch as he keeps his gaze at you, sultry and honest, as he kisses the area above your feet.

“My windblume,” he breathed into your legs, trailing kisses without breaking eye contact, “my precious dove,”

He kisses and kisses— your legs, your knees, the back of your knees— and you think of it so endearing, even as arousal pools down there, and his kisses are still so gentle; his fingers would absentmindedly trail your thighs, and his gaze was far too intense, you had to look away.

“My muse, don't look away,” his spare hand finds your jaw, to make you look at him, as he goes down and kisses the inside of your thighs. “let me worship you, the same way you did to me.”

It tugs an unknown emotion in your heart, as you cannot look away; no, when he reverently kisses the inside of your thighs more, near your sopping wet core. It makes you cry out—“Venti,” but he nibbles that area more.

Your god spews words of worship and prayers in between them, your core that throbs at his words. You hold onto his hair, but he remains unfazed, only teasing you more.

“Barbatos,” you cried out, and Venti only smiles down there.

“Yes, call me that, my muse,” he holds onto your hips, as he licks a long stripe of your pussy, tasting you.

“Call your god,” he whispers in between your folds, now hellbent to fuck you with his tongue, “and I'll make you cum.”

Venti is relentless as he tastes you, face buried in between your legs. You moan and cry out his name, archons your witness; but tonight, your god forgets he is a god. Rather— he worships you, a sinner, as he makes you unravel in his touch.

“That's it, my muse,” he hums, coaxing the first orgasm of tonight, “let this cathedral know whose god you're worshipping while I fuck you hard like this.”

please like, reblog, comment if you likey! please don't copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission!

-ˋˏ starryficsfinishwen ˎˊ

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rattini · 5 months

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Honey Whiskey // x

The honey whiskey's kickin' Go down, go down I think I better go before I try something I might regret But if you wanna free your body tonight It's our secret, it's our secret

The Ghoul x F!Reader

Set years before the events of the Fallout TV show.

The unfortunate plaything of a drug lord with a bounty on his head, you’re dragged to a bar as his little pet. With nothing else to do but drink with them, you try to lose yourself in liquor, wondering how long this was going to be the theme of your life. Luckily for you, the bounty on the head of your captor has attracted the attention of a ghoul with nothing to lose. A man you noticed eyeing you and the men accompanying you from across the room for more than an hour, before letting loose his bullets into the heads of everyone but you. Hazy from alcohol, you ponder if you should return the favour, the only way that has worked for you so far.

You’re used to being a ‘pretty thing’ on the arm of a man trying to prove his power, it had been your primary mode of survival not long since you were evicted from your vault. Sneaking around the desolate wasteland with minimal water and just enough drugs to curb the pain of your current skin affliction got old fast. Your self-doubt had convinced you that surviving alone wasn’t an option. When a group of leering, greasy men cornered you one afternoon in the highest heat of the Mojave sun, your fight or flight response chose fawn. It was easy enough, you figured standards had dropped significantly out here these days, yours clearly had.

Right now, you were tethered to a sweating hog of a man with a severe lack of investment in personal hygiene, who had made himself more than acquainted with your inner thigh. He bragged endlessly about being untouchable, the most powerful fucker in these parts. Men and their need to showboat. Eyes were not on you at present, that you were aware of at least, so you allowed yourself to roll them in response to his gloating. Fortunately, as a perk of being his little toy, you were welcome to help yourself to the liquor decorating the bar where you sat.

Perched delicately on a stool, you had little choice but to sit properly, since you were donned in a less than savoury getup that didn’t really flatter you in the slightest. Either way, it crept uncomfortably far up your thigh, you were pretty sure your asscheeks were stuck to the cracked leather of the bar stool…but anything for easy access, right? That’s all that mattered for you now. You had made your bed, now you had to lie in it, on your back usually. For every grubby prod of his fingers, you sip a little harder at the old whiskey in your glass, a task in itself since your wrists were bound. You had just enough freedom to grip a glass and bring it to your mouth, but your ankles were also bound, so you weren’t going very far any time soon. Swallowing down the sting in your throat, you barely grimaced at the taste as the heat spread through your chest. It was rather pleasant really, or at least, the growing fuzziness in your limbs and face were.

Your boredom grows as the evening drones on, your eyes wander across the room. A dingy old bar, all but a few patrons scared off by your adoring captors. Except one. You’d noticed them from the corner of your eye near an hour ago, focus shifting away from them easily from the liquor. An unmoving figure draped across an old couch, head bowed low, crowned with a cowboy hat with legs lazily spread. You find yourself pondering them some more, intrigued by their mystery, coyness lost on you at this point as alcohol seeps into your bloodstream.

Just as your focus intensifies, you notice their head rise, the brim of their hat revealing a dark, masculine jaw. His body remained unmoving, but you can’t help but feel like his attention is fixated on you. Attempting to shake the feeling of being watched, you turned your own attention fleetingly back to your glass, which was near empty. Disappointed, you attempted to reach over the counter for the bottle of whiskey balancing on the edge of the bar. Unaware of the flesh you were flashing to do so, you park yourself again, fumbling the bottle with your barely free hand to pour yourself another glass and meeting your lips with it. Tilting your head back far enough for the liquid to escape down your throat, you glance once more at the man in the corner. His eyes, visible through dark sockets under the brim of his hat, are hooked on you more obviously this time. Feeling warm and brave, you meet his gaze, trying to decipher what kind of face is hiding beneath the shadows. Visible are his sclera, but his irises appear dark, along with the rest of his features. You didn’t mind his gawking, enjoying the dangerous entertainment it provided for you.

Interrupted by the poking grip of stubby fingers above your knee, your eyes dart back at the raider, drug lord, scumbag whatever-he-was. He wasn’t looking at you, but his hands were wandering all the same. Gliding up the inside of your thigh, causing shudders to rise from the base of your spine. The encroaching tipsiness meant hiding your grimace was more of a challenge, and so you twisted your neck with a look of disgust you hoped no one would notice. But it didn’t go unnoticed. Lifting your eyes again, you notice the man is still looking at you, posture leaned forward, revealing his visage. A ghoul. Not awful on the eyes either. Hell, not that your current company was anything to compare to. He noticed your eyes widen and it cracks a smirk on his mottled skin, head cocking to the side. Unblinking, your cheeks flush hot for a second, your only choice to swallow hard and shake it off.

A sharp tug on the rope slowly cutting into your wrist yanks you from your drifting gaze. A waft of halitosis and liquor exposes his intoxication, which probably also meant his desire to have his way with you was near. Encroaching on your personal space, which didn’t really belong to you anymore anyway, he leans in with an open mouth, ready to take what he wants from your lips. The pungency of his breath almost knocks you off the stool, and when he notices you lean away from his kiss, he makes sure that you do end up on the floor. Crashing to your knees with an audible pop of your joints, you let out a cry that brings a wicked grin to his lips. Stifling a growl as you ride through the pain of your aching joints, you’re ordered to return to your feet. Knowing full well that you’re unable to get up, the raider boss drunkenly draws his shotgun to meet your forehead.

“Up, bitch.”

You shoot him a furious but desperate stare through furrowed brows, despite being in no position to argue with him. You attempt to return to your feet to no avail, through stifled groans of pain that radiate in your kneecaps. Growing more frustrated by your lack of movement, the raider disables his safety and your heart drops. A cold sweat beads rapidly against your back, this time bracing yourself for his inevitable itchy trigger finger.

A gunshot.

Followed by another.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, reflexes delayed by your assurance that at least one bullet was lodged in your flesh, but no pain followed. Your ears ring from the gunshots and you spring your eyes open to check yourself. The spattered blood of the man accompanying you covered your front, but it seems you were free of any further injury. Vision darting around the room, you attempt to collect your gall and figure out the situation. To your right, two more raiders, the lackeys, guns poised straight ahead of them. To your left, the ghoul on the couch, now standing with a revolver in each outstretched hand. The standoff is short-lived before the ghoul sinks a bullet into the forehead of each raider, splattering their grey matter across the dingey walls of the now abandoned tavern.

Silence fills the room, besides a few debris clattering to the floor and the thudding of your heartbeat pounding through your ringing ears. Your chest heaves as the panic sets in, you may have been spared, but that means very little in the wasteland. You come to the assumption that you’ll be next by association. Unable to return to your feet, your hands reach to cover your head as you hear the clicking of the ghoul’s spurs approach with each heavy step. As the footsteps cease, you dare peek at the boots that have appeared at your knees, following them up until you find the face of the man they belong to. Towering over you, his eyes darken to an almost predatory look. His gloved hand finds your bound wrists and he lifts you to your feet in one rough swoop, propping yourself on shaking legs as you stand uncomfortably close to him.

A knife emerges from its sheath to meet the soft skin of your neck, drawing up to linger on your bottom lip. You don’t take your eyes off him for a second, hoping the familiar deer-in-the-headlights tactic will prove useful once more. It was almost embarrassing how often it had saved your life out here. The ghoul keeps your gaze, unblinking, cocking his head to the side as if he were considering something. His stare bores into you, eyes oddly warm brown to match the heat radiating from under his duster. The blade slowly raises past your eyes, where he still firmly holds your aching wrists above your head. With a swift tug and low grunt from his throat, the rope bindings loosen and release the pressure from your joints, and you check your them for blood.

Feeling his eyes still on you, you scan back up to his face again, silence filling the entire room as your world still gently spins from the alcohol. The rope remaining tightly around your ankles begins to chafe, rubbing away the top layer of skin. A quick glance down to your feet and back up at him again, hinting. The smirk he flashed you from the other end of the room prior to the shootout creeps back on his lips and yellowed teeth peek through. He practically leans over you, encroaching on your space much like the raiders and those before him had done, but this was different. This time you liked it. The liquor buzz and tingling fear created quite a thrill, one that engulfed your entire skin with prickles and sank into the pit of your belly with a fluttering warmth.

Without uttering a word, he slowly descends. Close enough that you feel the heat of his breath as he meets your face and continues down your form to crouch in front of you, head now level with your navel. Time slows in the room, hazy with excitement, or was it your life flashing before you? Gripping the back of your knee, he slowly reaches down to slice at the bindings on your ankles with the other, almost as if he were savouring the moment, the brim of his hat tickling your lower belly as he tilts his head down. A familiar release, as you reposition your feet to stand more comfortably, skin itching from the rope. The grasp of your knee pit rises until his fingers digs into the meat of your hamstring. Your leg twitches as you imagine the sensation of his rough, ungloved hands wrapped around the underside of your ass cheek. His blade makes contact with your skin once more, cold and stinging on the inside of your calf. Your body stiffens and you hold your breath, before the knife begins to rise up the soft flesh of your leg, past your knees and settling mid-way up your thigh. A gasp escapes your lips as the cold metal tickles your sensitive skin and sends jolts into the heat of your underwear. You dare not move but your body betrays you with a soft tremble. He emits a low hum, humoured by your obvious attempt to hide your growing fear and excitement.

Nonchalantly, he returns to his feet, examining his blade before sheathing it again, the corners of his mouth still curled slightly. As his attention returns to you once more, he reaches over your diminutive form, the collar of his aged shirt almost brushing the tip of your nose. His aroma is powerful, perhaps not in scent, but certainly in the way it makes your belly rise and flutter and tingles creep into your throat. Old leather, Mojave dust, and a musk that was fairly pleasant, all things considered. He recedes with a glass in his hand, your glass, as he knocks back the remainder of your drink before tipping the glass to you with a nod and returning it to the bar.

Stepping around you he strolls over to the body of the man you had belonged to until now and makes quick work of looting his pockets and removing his head with efficiency. He examines the head with a scoff and glances back towards you, almost mocking your choice of company. Grabbing a fistful of hair, the head now dangles by the ghoul’s side as he steps off to leave the bar. As he reaches the fractured door frame, you dare to finally move. First your lips, a wobbly “Thank you.” escapes them, but you remain with your back to him. His gait halts and he twists to peer back at you, raising an eyebrow in surprise, but says nothing still. Perhaps pleasantly surprised by the rarity of manners, perhaps wondering how well those manners could serve him. He stands awaiting you, a dark figure almost filling the doorway. You wonder if he left already, but are met with his widening, lopsided grin. He tips his hat to you and slinks off beyond sight.

Intoxicating…intoxicated. You’re intoxicated. Your fight or flight response drags you back to your sobering reality. You had been spared by a bounty hunter, and a ghoul at that. Unfortunately for you though, the group of thugs providing some sort of protection were now splayed out on the rotting wooden floor, decorated by their own blood. You were alone, again. The reality of your situation sinks in as you fumble to collect the least bloody jacket from one of the bodies as an attempt to cover as much of your bare skin as possible. Your mind has other plans however, as the lingering image of his sultry eyes are fixed into the back of your eyelids, and you can’t help but wonder how those hollowed features would look if you were underneath him.

Fuck.

#this is the first thing like this i've ever posted in my 17 years of being on the internet LOL #fallout #fallout oc #fallout ghoul #fallout ghouls #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #the ghoul x f!reader #my writing

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alectoperdita · 2 months

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I woke up possessed by something this morning and banged out the last parts of some joukai smut from a chapter 3 of Duelist's Pride. Given that I haven't written chapter 2 or published anything else in a while, I'm just gonna dump it here.

And yes, this continues on the theme of more joukai CNC.

Under the cut due to explicit sexual content, purposefully porn-worthy dirty talk, dom/sub overtones, humiliation kink, comeplay, ass to mouth, and light dacryphilia (might be other stuff I've forgotten, sorry I haven't even proofread this thing)

---

"Your ass' got a nice bounce to it now. Must be 'cuz of the cream I've been pumping into ya."

A hard smack across his butt cheek made him clench fiercely.

"Whaddaya say, Kaiba? Should I keep creaming your ass pussy until you got a nice, round bubble butt?"

Slap. Pummel. Slap. Pummel. Each strike of hand and cock shot his scrambled nerves to hell. Kaiba merely whined, drool flowing over his lips and dripping down the window glass. Not that Jounouchi cared to hear his answer. He was always going to do whatever he wanted. The brute only cared about getting his dick wet inside Kaiba's increasingly spongy hole.

The next spank flipped a switch in Kaiba's head, blanking his thoughts. A switch that made his orgasm go on for seemingly forever as his ass suckled on Jounouchi's cock. His hanging erection jerked and jumped between his splayed legs, shooting semen like a pissing animal.

His stomach gave a funny lurch as heat bloomed inside him. For a maddening moment, he wondered if it was another orgasm right on the tail of his last.

"Fuck yeah, a whore like you can't resist cream pies," grunted Jounouchi in his ear. He was panting like a dog yet Kaiba couldn't muster the brain cells to mock him. "Take it. Feel it? I'm painting your insides white. You're never getting rid of me."

Jounouchi's load made him keen anew. Kaiba trembled. The heat scoured him. It seeped into his furthest nooks and crannies. No matter how deep he tried to reach and scrap it clean, a part of him would always be branded by Jounouchi's claim.

He hadn't realized he was pushing back onto Jounouchi's pulsing cock until a sudden hand on his jaw tilted his chin back. Their eyes, both dark and wild, locked. They mirrored each other's lust and desperation.

Jounouchi's nostrils flared, and he flattened Kaiba against the window again. His wet cock and hard nipples smeared against the glass. The painful drag on his sensitive parts tore another filthy moan from Kaiba.

Jounouchi humped him still. "You're mine, Kaiba." His voice was soft in contrast to the obscene sounds of Kaiba's used ass squelching. "And everyone can see it now too."

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the saliva and semen already staining the glass. Jounouchi had beaten him. Bested his will and broken him with the hammer strikes of his hard cock. Kaiba has lost himself completely to him, and he didn't even care anymore. Not about his pride or his reputation.

"Oh, baby, don't cry," Jounouchi cooed. A thumb wiped away a teardrop but more followed. "It just makes me wanna mess you up some more. Give you something to really cry about."

Against his will, his breath hitched at the hint of menace. His sobs intensified even as they got caught in his throat. His entire body was a livewire, and he couldn't stop shaking.

He couldn't take much more of this. Yet he might have to.

Maybe he deserved it. To have Jounouchi ruin him forever.

When Jounouchi withdrew from him, it felt like his ass was unplugged. There was the fain rustle of clothing as Jounouchi moved to the desk. Cool air rushed in to filled the space vacated by Jounouchi's cock. Gravity raked its fingers along his walls, dragging the cooling come to his entrance and turning it into an open bubbling fountain of depravity.

Kaiba didn't dare move. He barely breathed for fear of everything leaking out of him faster. Messier. The pool of wetness he was kneeling in continued to expand regardless.

A warm current of air heralded Jounouchi's return, settled right behind Kaiba again. Kaiba pre-emptively tensed even before thick fingers dipped into his gaping hole.

"God, you should see how pretty your ass is right now."

Three fingers curled and burrowed into him without mercy. He nearly hyperventilated when short, trimmed nails scraped across his tender walls. The stinging swiftly dulled as Jounouchi transitioned to massaging him. Pleasure sharpened in Kaiba's gut, much to his shame. The lazy thrusts of warm fingers and the slick sounds of himself being opened up again... Kaiba didn't know what to think. What to do.

Out of habit, he craned his head toward Jounouchi, seeking a familiar point of focus. But Jounouchi's attention wasn't on him. Both the camcorder and his gaze were aimed at Kaiba's ass. As if he was nothing more than his hole.

His breath hiccuped out of him. New tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

Finally, Jounouchi's dark gaze flicked up to his face. His fingers peeled out of Kaiba next, and the recording followed their journey up to Kaiba's mouth. The wet finger pads slid across his lower lip, painting a balm. Kaiba swallowed, knowing very well what came next.

Jounouchi could force his mouth open. He could grab Kaiba's jaw and squeezed, threatening to break or dislocate it until Kaiba capitulated. Or he could hook a finger into the seam between his lips and pry his mouth open.

But he went a far more devastating route.

"Open," he commanded. His eyes twinkled wickedly behind the camcorder lens.

Another switch flipped in Kaiba's broken brain. His jaw yawned as wide as he could, showing off his teeth and tongue and tonsils to the recording.

"Fuck, Seto," Jounouchi swore. A crack in his character forming for the first time. It made him act even rougher as he crammed his fingers into Kaiba's waiting mouth.

Kaiba didn't need another command. He closed his mouth and eyes and sucked, drowning in the unspeakable shame of pleasure in such a humiliating act. He ran his tongue over the length of each finger, not caring if it made him drool. He could taste it. He could taste them, their combined essences—salty and bitter.

A moan rumbled deep in the recesses of his chest. Jounouchi pushed deeper. Kaiba welcomed the gagging sensation.

"You like that?" muttered Jounouchi.

Kaiba's eyelids fluttered open, and the sight of a red-faced Jounouchi greeted him. The camcorder was still running. The little red recording light blinked, but the shine in Jounouchi's eyes had softened, taking on more awe.

"If you want, I can keep you nice and full every damn day for the rest of you life."

In lieu of a verbal response, because Kaiba's verbal facilities were very much offline, he drew his mouth back until his lips kissed Jounouchi's fingertips. A rush swept over him when Jounouchi sucked in a sharp exhale, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed in rapid succession. Contentment tugged at the corner of Kaiba's lips, and he lavished the tips with several kittenish licks before slurping the fingers back into his mouth. He toyed with the shaking fingers, nipping lightly and sucking, as Jounouchi played with his mouth.

He had no idea how long this went on. But eventually, Jounouchi pulled his pruney fingers out of Kaiba's aching mouth. Kaiba shivered and panted as their wet tips trailed over his tacky cheek, before petting his hair gently. Lost, he gazed up at Jounouchi and the camera.

Jounouchi stroked his head again, smiling. "You did good, Seto." He set aside the camcorder and extended both arms.

A shudder ran through him. Clumsily, he peeled himself away from the window and collapsed in his lover's waiting embrace. "Katsuya," he croaked and clung to the man's shirt.

"I'm here. It's okay. I love you, Seto."

Jounouchi and Kaiba faded away, and only Katsuya and Seto remained in their places.

#fic: Duelist's Pride #puppyshipping #violetshipping #joukai #yugioh #my wips #*runs away now*

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thedepartmentofdiscoveries · 3 months

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Hell themed cabaret in Paris..

Cabaret de L’Enfer was founded in 1892 at the foot of the hill of Montmartre, Paris.

The entrance was designed to be the gaping jaws of a Leviathan that devoured those that were damned to hell. As you entered the establishment, a doorman dressed as Satan would shout, "Enter and be damned!"

Once inside, customers would sit down at black tables, which were under a low ceiling that was plastered with snarling demons trying to claw at them.

After admiring the decor, you could flag down one of the waiters dressed as devils and order a drink or two with devilish names. For example, an order for "three black coffees spiked with cognac" was relayed to the bartender as "three seething bumpers of molten sins, with a dash of brimstone intensifier!"

Cabaret de L’Enfer was demolished in 1950 to make way for a Monoprix supermarket.

Photo by Robert Doisneau, 1952.

Inside the Cabaret - Cabaret de l'Enfer in Paris by Harry C. Ellis, date unknown.

#cabaret de l'enfer #paris france #paris #france #black and white photography #montmartre #hell #satan #lucifer #devils #cabaret #19th century #leviathan #brimstone #devilish #devil #1950s

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imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years

Text

Bibliophile (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer and Reader have sex in the library.

Request: Spencer and Reader get it on in the library - @dreatine A/N: Spencer uses the nickname Bambi for Reader 🥰 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Praise kink, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism mention, rough sex, BDSM undertones, established relationship, predator/prey themes Word Count: 1k

MASTERLIST

It’s five minutes past close and the library is nearly silent. To an untrained ear, it is vacant, housing only tales of adventure and mischief scribbled on time-stained paper. Every other light remains lit at half-capacity, reminding everyone on the street of the treasures carefully arranged meticulously by loving hands.

In the shadows, though, lurks a different type of devilment. The basest kind of devilry; that which is reserved for beasts, monsters, and men.

When you’d asked your boyfriend to stay late in the library with you, this hadn’t been what you were expecting. You weren’t complaining, though.

In fact, you weren’t saying anything at all.

Spencer’s hand covers your mouth as he pushes you against the bookshelf. Its contents rumble from the force of your hands but they remain in place.

So do you. Your legs stay tightly pressed together, same as your lips as you struggle not to make a sound.

Spencer is persistent in his pursuit to break your silent streak. His free hand gently glides over your stomach, feeling how the muscles tense with anticipation.

His breath is hot and humid against your jaw. It stokes the flames of your desire until you’re left practically gasping for the air between his fingers.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers through a smirk.

The gruff sound of his teasing only makes it worse. It’s further intensified when his hand lowers and grabs a fistful of your skirt.

“I’ve barely touched you, Bambi.”

But that’s about to change. He bunches up the fabric before sneaking his hand under it. From there, he encounters a much thinner cotton garment. He doesn’t move it aside just yet. He leaves it perfectly in place while his fingers gently follow the wetness soaking through.

“What’s got you so excited?” he hums.

You, you want to say. But his hand over your mouth doesn’t move. So, instead, you just whimper.

He chuckles.

“Exhibitionism can be exciting, can’t it?”

Spencer’s hand drops from your mouth.

“You can answer,” he offers.

But before you can, you hear the rustling of a belt buckle. His hand that had sneaked its way between your thighs stops in place. He applies pressure in the center that feels like too much and not nearly enough.

“Yes,” you whisper. You nearly choke on the word, and you wonder if it was an answer or exclamation.

It doesn’t matter to him. All that he hears is an indication of pleasure, an implicit permission to continue his mischief.

His hand holding your heat withdraws completely. Your hands relax against the edge of the bookshelf. For a brief moment, you can breathe unencumbered by the tension.

Just as your oxygen rushes through you, though, Spencer places a firm hand between your breasts. He revels in the rapid fluttering of your heart. He feels how its rhythm changes when his fingers stealthily pull your panties aside to allow him entry. He presses forward, with the head of his cock pushing past tight, pulsing muscles.

“Relax,” he coos.

You try. You want nothing more than for him to take you, but the anticipation is too much to bear. You’re convinced if you stop now, you’ll fall limp in his arms.

“Or don’t,” he chuckles. He presses harder against your chest to lift you. His teeth nip at your ear just before he growls, “I love it when you tremble.”

With that confession, his hips crash into yours. You cry out—just once. His hand is quick to cover your mouth before the next sob can escape.

But while he keeps you silent, Spencer is eager to share his thoughts in the form of groans. His throat rumbles each time that he enters you, and his breath grows more heated each time he withdraws.

He is utterly lost in you. There is nothing but the steady beating of his hips against yours, the slick sounds of sex as he quickens his pace. Each thrust grows in intensity. The bookcase shakes with you. It gently knocks against the wall no matter how much you try to absorb each motion.

You teeter on your tiptoes, gasping when his hand drops to your chest once more.

“Be quiet, Bambi,” he teases.

You bite back a moan, only for a squeak to escape when his nails rake over the exposed flesh of your cleavage.

“Someone might hear,” he chuckles.

There is no one around but the books, but the idea excites you all the same.

“Please,” you whisper. It’s basically the first thing you’ve said since he’s started.

“Please?” he returns, “Please what?”

“Don’t stop,” you beg.

He is pleased to hear it. Enough so that he rewards you with a quicker pace and rougher thrusts. Books jump forward to meet your fingers still holding onto the wood for dear life.

Spencer holds onto you, instead. Between the animalistic displays, there is a tenderness to his touch. At the heart of his passion, there is a yearning.

“Oh, I love you, Bambi,” he groaned softly with a particularly brutal thrust.

The contrast between the two actions caused your legs to close together once more. Every muscle in your body tenses with excitement for what you know will follow.

“Take it for me, pretty little thing,” he says through a smile.

Just as he gives you that final instruction, his hands grab your hips hard enough to bruise. With crushing force, he holds you down against him until there is nowhere else to go. At the same time, he pushes your chest hard against the books that are teetering on the edge—just like you.

Spencer keeps thrusting despite the lack of space between you. You are happily powerless; pliant and ready to stay there as long as necessary.

But just as the thought comes, so does he. He cries out with relief while his face is buried in the crook of your neck. You feel the passion reverberating through you, and you find yourself succumbing to your own pleasure.

Even when your knees buckle, he holds you up with his hands and his body. He abandons your hips in favor of embracing you. Of holding you while he fills you with a honeyed warmth.

Then, he grants you the reward you’d been waiting for.

“Good girl,” he whispers into your ear, “My very good girl.”

You look down at the few books that have tumbled to the ground, and you find a new appreciation for them.

After all, they had been a very good audience.

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sugurusslvt · 10 months

Text

Birthday Sex

s: you and your loving bf try something new for his birthday.

wc: 1.5k

pairing: fem!reader x gojo satoru

cw: 18+ SMUT and sexual themes. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT interact, unprotected sex, cum, oral (f! receiving), cunnilingus, clitoral play, pet names, bondage, blindfold, praising, degradation, daddy kink, slapping, creampie

a/n: wanted to do a lil pov switch up and i’m lovin it.

Satoru

I brushed her hair out her face, smiling down as I stared into her eyes, the light in them gleaming at me. “We should try something new for your birthday, Satoru.” she whispered before lightly pressing her lips to mine.

I groaned as she palmed my growing erection under my sweats. “And what’s that princess?” I smirked, pulling back from her lips. She smiled up at me before standing from the couch and lifting that oversized shirt over her head, my eyes engulfing her slender frame as she slowly stripped in front of me. Fuckin’ tease.

“You said you wanted to try some sort of BDSM right? Blindfolds and shit?” My jaw slacked as she stood in front of me, that white laced number subtly contrasting against her perfect skin.

I bit my lip, running my swollen pupils over her body. Long, strong, and sensual. I can already imagine the way her body would look tied together, her tits pushed together and legs held open for me.

“Yeah, you wanna go lay on the bed for me? I’ll be there soon.” I smiled eagerly, my tongue sweeping over my bottom lip. She smiled at me before winking and walking towards my room, the sway of her hips earning a groan from me. This girl’s gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.

You

“Toru-” “What did I tell you? My name is Daddy while we do this, angel.” A shudder ran through my body as he let his hand drift between my thighs. In a way I regretted even offering to try something else, my sight and ability to move being ripped from me was erotic yet so devastating. I desperately wanted to feel his body under my hands, see his expressions as he pleased me.

I mewled, attempting to buck my hips into his hand, the need to feel something other than his fingers growing in my core. “Daddy, please.. Need you so bad.” I could almost feel his smirk as he let out a huff, slapping my bare cunt. I gasped, the sting slowly dissipating as he slowly pushed a long finger into me. My jaw fell slack as he added another finger, slowly thrusting into me, teasing me.

“F-fuckin’ tease.” I moaned, relishing in the heightened feeling of his fingers inside me. Now I could understand why he wanted me like this so badly; every sense of mine was intensified now that my sight was gone. He chuckled lightly before pulling his fingers out of me and grabbing something. I freaked out a bit, suddenly noticing his presence was gone. I began panting, my chest heaving before something soft, ticklish almost, grazed my tits. Oh, fuck. Something about it was so sensual, drifting down my body in a linear motion before doing it again and again. I let out a moan, trying to buck my hips again, before being greeted with a harsh slap against my cunt again. I yelped and groaned.

“What did I say about trying to move, you greedy slut?” Satoru whispered in my ear, nipping at my neck harshly as he stood next to me. I heard the soft sounds of him stroking his length, a small smirk appearing on my face as I realized he was getting off to this. “You say I’m greedy but you’re the one getting off on me not being able to move. Pathetic.” I received a harsh tap on my face before my chin was gripped by one of his large hands.

“Watch your fucking tone with me.” I whimpered, the sting of the slap still burning the side of my face. I felt Satoru’s hand slide down my body to my cunt, feeling the slick and heat that pooled between my legs. He let out a sly chuckle before slapping my cunt again. “You’re one to talk about pathetic, sweetheart. This wet just from me toying with you and slapping you?” I could hear him bring his fingers to his mouth and moan, sucking the juices off of them. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

I feel him step away from my side and crawl between my legs, pressing light kisses between my thighs. I felt exposed, my legs being strapped and held by the rope he so expertly used to bind me to the bed. I shuddered as his mouth hovered over my cunt, squirming as his hands wrapped around my thighs. “Be a good girl and stay still baby, I’m so hungry. You wouldn’t wanna starve me, right?” He whimpered. I moaned as his tongue ran over me, prodding at my aching hole and sucking at my sore clit. Satoru groaned against me, the sound vibrating through my body and earning a wanton moan from me.

“God this cunt will never leave me unsatisfied.” I whimpered at his words, biting my lip as he slid two fingers into my aching pussy. “That’s it.. Good girl. I wonder if you’ll take my cock this well, hm?” I could feel him smirk against my thigh as he bit it. We both knew the answer was yes, countless times of him fucking me until practically the imprint of his cock was left. “Daddy please fuck me. I need you so badly.” He slapped my cunt as I moaned. “Again. Beg again.”

“Fuck- Please!” I moaned, feeling his smile against my pussy before he lifted himself up my body, pushing his sweats off and to the side. I felt the tip of his dick press against my entrance as he lined himself up with me, teasing my folds as he slapped the tip against my clit. I thought his teasing would never end before he finally slid into me. Satoru groaned loudly, as if the feeling of my cunt around him was enough to make him cum alone. I let my head fall back in pleasure, waves of white hot bliss fall over me. Shit.

“Did.. did you just cum, princess?” I felt his gaze on me, my blush rising from my neck to my ears. “I-I’m sorry. I was o-overstim-” He cut me off by gently slapping my face again, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Oh my love, are you really that much of a whore that the feeling of being so full is enough to make you cum alone?” His words made goosebumps spread over my body, an odd mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction filling my body. Satoru groaned as he saw my blushing expression, wrapping his hand around my throat gently as he began to slowly thrust inside me.

“Such a pathetic little girl, cumming all over Daddy’s cock before he’s even done anything.” I gasped, the thought of him referring to himself in third person turning me on for some odd reason. He gripped onto my hip with his other hand, trying to stabilize himself as he moved against me. “Fuck. ‘s not enough.” He groaned before speeding up his pace. The bed rocked with our bodies, the noises of it creaking mixing with our moans and the sound of my sloppy cunt and the sound of his balls slapping against it.

I heard him sigh before undoing the knot on my wrists, letting them loose as he ripped off my blindfold. “I need-Fuck- need those pretty eyes to cum, baby.” He gripped onto my chin as I wrapped my arms around him, clawing marks down his back. I let out a yelp as he pulled me up against him, our chests flushed together as he thrusted up mercilessly into my cunt.

“Fuckin’ say my name, pretty bitch. Need to hear it on your lips.” Satoru growled in my ear, bouncing me on his length. “Satoru-Satoru-Satoru, fuck!!” I screamed into his shoulder, clawing desperately on his back as I tried to steady myself. He laughed as he moaned, the erotic sound of him desperately trying to find his release. His groans turned into whimpers- a telltale sign that he was close. “God, baby, need you to cum on my cock. Need you to squeeze me. Can you do that for me? Yeah? Be a good girl for me baby.” I squeezed my eyes shut as he egged me on, practically begging for me to tighten around him. I moaned loudly, feeling the waves of pleasure crash over me once again.

My cunt wrapped around him tightly, nearly stopping him from removing himself yet again. Satoru harshly thrust into me, his rhythm gone from his need to finish. “Gonna cum in you. Fuck.” A sigh left his body, his hand holding my hips against him as he brushed his tip against my cervix and came, the hot and thick ropes of his cum coating the walls of my cunt.

He gently held me against him as we both sat there breathing heavily, brushing the hair from my face. “So beautiful.” Satoru pressed a light kiss on my forehead, whispering sweet praises to me as he gently rocked me back and forth. “Happy birthday, Daddy.” I giggled as he pressed kisses all over my face, a sweet smile taking over my features.

“So… Can you untie my legs now?”

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#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #18+ mdni #mdni #gojo x reader smut #gojou satoru x reader #happy birthday gojo

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