#cotton mouth disgusts me personally | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

planet-dusk · 1 year ago

Note

Catching lix fucking one of his plushies 🥺

🏷️ lee felix x fem!reader. cw ; sub!felix, perv!felix, mommy kink, masturbating with a plushie, getting caught, cumplay, oral (f), degradation, praise, name calling: slut, pet names: lixie, baby ( 2k w. )

minors dni. for mature audiences only !

felix couldn't help it. he really, really couldn't — there was nothing in the world that'd stop him from getting hard at the mere thought of you, let alone the scent of you.

he buried his nose deeper into the soft fabric of his togepi and took another whiff. he could picture you on top of him, slowly travelling down, taking his cock into your mouth. you'd know exactly what to do. you always know.

the massive plushie had been a gift from you. you'd won it at the summer carnival and had promptly handed it to him. you're the best trainer i know, you'd winked before you were dragged away by changbin to get more cotton candy. the sight of changbin's strong arms wrapped around your waist was burned into felix' memory.

it should've been me. he cuddled his togepi even closer, the irony not lost on him. i should be the one kneeling at her feet each night.

felix had harbored a crush on you ever since chan came up with the brilliant idea to convert their spare room into another bedroom to save on their monthly bills. another housemate to split the rent with had sounded great to felix, until he'd met the person he was going to be sharing a roof with.

"y/n, fuck," felix gasped, palming himself over his shorts. his cock ached and was starting to leak precum already. he always got so hard thinking about you.

the perfume he'd stolen (borrowed, he corrected himself) from the bathroom filled his nose. it was all too easy to close his eyes and pretend it was you in his arms. your hands traveling into his boxers and squeezing his cock. your fingers gliding along his shaft slowly, teasing...

but even with your scent surrounding him the nagging voice at the back of his head kept reminding him you weren't really there. no matter how hard he squeezed his cock, he couldn't get it right. felix let out a frustrated noise and kicked his shorts and boxers off, swinging his leg over the yellow plushie. he moaned when the pressure on his balls made him jerk upwards, rutting his cock into the soft fabric. the friction it provided was delicious, a little rough against his flushed tip, a jab of dull pain shooting pleasure up his spine.

"yes, yes, ahh fuck, y/n, mommy," he whined, holding the plush down with both hands to settle into a rhythm. he was already too far gone to feel embarrassed now, sticky precum darkening the fabric while he rutted against it like a dog in heat. images of you flashed in front of him, your pretty mouth, your plush thighs...

"'mmgonna - ahffuck, y/n, i'm cumming, please, please." his blond hair fell in front of his eyes and his thighs were shaking from exertion, "please let me cum, mommy - ah!"

his entire body trembled violently, ropes of hot cum defiling both his plushie and the sheets underneath. it took him a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving, finally squeezing out the last drops of cum with a shaky hand.

"what the hell, felix."

your voice rang through the air and it felt like a bucket of ice cold water got dumped over his head. felix scrambled to cover himself, pressed the togepi against his body in a feeble attempt to hide his twitching cock, grimacing when he felt his own warm cum stick to his skin.

"y/n - i'm so sorry, this isn't, it isn't what it looks like - i'm..."

he was rambling, and he knew it, mortified and waiting for your shocked expression to turn into disgust.

but it never did. instead, your gaze drifted from the plushie to his face and back down, a slow grin spreading over your pretty features.

"do it again."

"w-what?"

"i said, do it again."

you stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind you, sitting down at the foot end of his bed.

"are you still hard?"

felix felt his entire face grow hot, from the tip of his nose to his ears. "yes, but —"

"i saw everything, felix. i heard everything."

he looked down and saw a pink flush spreading to his chest, contrasting with the yellow plushie still pressed tightly against his front.

you came closer and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "and it was the hottest thing i've ever seen," you whispered, catching his wide-eyed stare. "so i'm telling you to do it again. or do you need some help from mommy?"

felix' eyes fluttered shut. mommy. as if in a dream, he moved slowly, floaty and fuzzy and almost unable to believe whether this was real or just a figment of his imagination. he straddled the plushie again, all too aware of the heavy weight of your gaze on him.

"just like that, lixie," you cooed. "heard you moaning my name when i came home, found you in here rutting against your plushies like a pathetic slut —"

felix whined and rolled his hips in search for more friction.

"you like that? like it when i call you a slut?" he nodded and you moved to kneel next to him, watching him closely. "how long have you wanted this?"

"since the first time i saw you," he admitted, ducking his head down to avoid your gaze.

"and you've been doing this while you could've been riding my thigh instead? what a shame."

felix groaned. the thoughts you were putting inside his head made his cock twitch against the plushie. he realized how crazy he must be looking, nearly cumming again to the thought of you, like a needy pervert who can't keep it together.

"look at me, felix." you waited until he met your dark gaze, "here's what you're going to do: you're going to make yourself cum again, and i'm going to watch you, and if you're lucky i'll let you watch me."

felix' swallowed hard. getting to watch you get off was a privilege he'd never thought he'd be granted. involuntary, his movements sped up, his eyes falling shut again and pants and moans in the shape of your name tumbling from his lips.

he reached his peak fast, chanting your name over and over just like before. you watched him quietly with sharp eyes, how his hot seed covered the plushie in long spurts. it was even more than last time, so thick and glossy the fabric couldn't soak it all up. it stayed there as an vivid remainder of his shame.

"get off." you motioned for him to move, pulling your own pants and underwear down, and felix noticed the strings of arousal sticking to your panties. his softening cock twitched when he tucked it between his thighs and tried to cover it with his small hands, kneeling on the bed and waiting for your next move.

you straddled the plushie and felix gasped at the sight of your leaking pussy coming into contact with his cum. you rolled your hips experimentally, nose scrunching when the friction rubbed your clit just right.

"feels nice," you hummed, "and you made such a mess lixie, i can feel it."

felix blushed again, but you continued, "such a waste... you could've cummed inside my pussy yourself. now mommy needs to do all the work."

you dipped a finger in the remaining cum, showing it to him before lifting your hips and thrusting it deep inside your cunt. you moaned and started rolling your hips again, grinding down on your the heel of your palm.

felix watched in awe, unsure of where to look; at your face scrunched up in pleasure, at the hand between your thighs, the muscles straining to keep moving...

suddenly, you rolled over onto your back and let your legs fall open. even from his position at the end of the bed felix could smell your arousal, so close and inviting yet so far away. you were so wet your juices covered the insides of your thighs, your slippery fingers barely able to stay on your clit.

felix thought you'd forgotten about him, so he kept quiet, hands still covering his now throbbing cock. his legs were starting to ache from the kneeling position he was in but he didn't dare to move.

"lix, come," it was the first time he'd heard you sound anything else but poised, a desperate note lingering in the air, "come here."

he crawled closer to you, giddy excitement filling his chest. would you let him touch you? would you really let him?

"you've been so good, watching me," you murmured, "watching mommy make her pussy all nice and wet. but mommy needs your help."

felix beamed at you. he'd do anything you ask him to.

"will you let mommy use you to get off, baby?"

"anything you need, mom—," he said, heat spreading to his ears again.

"you can say it, lixie. do you want to make mommy feel good? be a good boy for mommy?"

felix let his head drop against your knee and groaned. he felt like he'd vibrate out of his skin if he didn't get to touch you soon. "please, mommy, use me."

"stick your tongue out."

his whole body shuddered, then stayed frozen for a second, too caught up in the dawning realization: he wouldn't just get to touch you, he'd get to taste you. a low moan started deep in his chest and he let his tongue loll out of his mouth, waiting for your instructions.

"look at you, such a perfect, eager boy for mommy." you smiled at him and he felt a pleasant heat spread through his body. then your hand came up to tangle in his blond locks and he forgot the world around him.

all felix could taste and smell was you, his face pressed into your cunt and kept there by your strong grip on the back of his head. you rolled your hips from his chin to his nose while he stiffened his tongue so you could use him just the way you liked. his hands fisted the sheets and he groaned into your pussy, feeling his own cock grow so painfully hard he thought he'd combust. he pushed all thoughts of his own pleasure away and focused on the way you rode his face; how he was forced to lap up every delicious gush of arousal; the sounds you made; the whispers of his name inbetween moans.

all he wanted to do is please you, his mommy, make you cum over and over again on his tongue. his fingers. his cock, if you'd ever let him. mortified, felix realized he could cum just from this. he whimpered when you tugged on his hair harshly and he started fucking his tongue into your hole, feeling it flutter while his nose rubbed your clit. he knew you were close and doubled down on his efforts, determined to give you the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life.

he felt it before he heard you, the shake of your legs followed by a chant of his name which sounded like music to his ears. you rode out your high with his face still pressed into your cunt, his tongue now lapping lazily at your clit to help you come down until you gently pushed his head away.

felix hovered over you and you caught his sated smile, his chin still covered with your release. you laughed and shook your head. "what the hell, felix," you repeated your earlier words, and tugged him down next to you. "we're doing that again."

#answered #anonymous #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #felix smut #felix x reader #sub!idol #sub!skz #;skz blurbs

3K notes · View notes

chxrryhansen · 11 months ago

Note

rafe with a gun kink??

-💋

you never disappoint with these asks bae!!🫶🏻 sorry i turned this so dark also kinda poetic?…

DARK CONTENT WARNING!!

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

you yelped as your shoulder banged against the door frame, rafe shoved you into the bedroom, slamming the door closed.

his jealousy had hit, once again. some guy flirting with you his party had gotten him all riled up, as if the stranger didn’t know you belonged to rafe, everybody on the island did. you hadn’t even flirted back, of course you wouldn’t of, you simply told the man you were taken and that you were sorry…but rafe’s insecurity got the better of him, just as it always did. his need and want for validation from you towering over his sanity.

“r-rafe stop! you’re hurting me!” He shushed you by covering your mouth with his hand.

“shut the fuck up. apologising to the fuckin’ asshole. ‘i’m sorry i have a boyfriend’ what the fuck are you sorry for you slut, sorry you can’t fuck the guy? no chance.” he murmured, his mental state slipping as he pulled your pink mini skirt up against your hips, exposing your white cotton panties making you cry out.

you wished he could hear himself right now, he sounded insane. suddenly he reached behind you, grabbing something out of his drawer. your eyes widened in fear, the realisation of what the item was hitting you like a train.

rafe laughed at your expression “don’t look so scared baby, tell you what, you be fuckin’ quiet n’ stay still, and daddy won’t blow your brains out for being a dirty cheatin’ whore. how does that sound, hmm?”

the tears began to leave your waterline, droplets of salt pouring down your flustered cheeks as you sobbed. he had never gone this far before, i mean sure he’s threatened you plenty of times but never to this extent.

instead of taking your panties off like a normal person, rafe got down on his knees, tearing them off with his teeth. the cold air hitting your cunt left you breathless, yet the warm air from his breath filled your lungs once again. rafe slid a finger inbetween your slit, gathering your wetness and pulling back to show you his soaked digits.

“fuck, baby. who knew you were such a slut”

his laugh was dangerous.

“kidding, i knew. i fuckin’ knew you’d love this shit, cause’ your just such nasty little whore aren’t cha’. disgusting slut.” you whimpered at his cruel words, yet you couldn’t deny the sap leaking from your cunt. like honey oozing from bark. without even slipping a finger inside your pussy to stretch you out, rafe lifted the gun, pressing it against your entrance.

“your gonna’ be a good girl, and your gonna’ take daddys gun inside your pretty pussy like a cheap fuckin’ whore. if that’s how you wanna’ act thats how im gonna’ treat you.”

without warning he pushed the gun into your pussy, your cunt gripping it like a vice. you screamed as he penetrated you, the weapon hitting your cervix with his first movement as he rammed it into your hole.

“shh shh shh, it’s okay, sweet girl. let it all out.” he whispered, his tone still volatile.

there was no doubt the man from earlier could hear you, and everyone else downstairs. rafe made sure of it.

#💋 anon #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron prompt #dark rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

yurinaa-world · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do Jiaoqui, Moze and Jing yuan with a very loyal reader?

Please...

“𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓶𝓮”

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Jiaoqiu, Moze, & Jing yuan x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader that's very loyal

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, Mentions of injury and blood (moze), & Spelling mistakes

💫𝒥𝒾𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓊 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔"

He feels so at ease whenever he’s with you, you make him feel so safe and unworried about anyone taking you away from him, yet you throw those ideas of cheating or having someone on the side into the bin.

Forgive him for being insecure. He’s always been a loser in life (his words), rejected when he poured his heart out to someone else for the first time. You want him, you wish to love him.

He’ll freeze up when he sees you with another man getting touchy with you, it feels like a stab wound even though your lover that thought in the back of his head tells him otherwise.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Like a little pest in your ear, you couldn’t help beginning to get annoyed when some creep started bothering you when you were busy trying to find Jiaoqiu, just so annoying.

“Come on, talk to me,” he persuades, creepily touching your shoulders with a firm grip before you rip from his grasp. “I have a husband.” You gritted your teeth at the man in utter annoyance and audacity. You were looking at your shoulder in disgust and muttering insults from your lips from where the creep touched to add salt to the wound.

“I don’t see him anywhere?”

“I’m right here. Sorry, I left you.” A gentle voice rang in your ears as his hand went to your shoulder; rubbing it to make the feeling go away. “Who might you be?” He could see the way your eyes look up when you turn around.

“It’s no one, come on!” You chirp, grabbing his hand from your shoulder, and intertwining your hand with his.

He feels rest at ease that second you take in his hand, before muttering under your breath.

“Just a creep, don't worry about it.”

💫𝑀𝑜𝓏𝑒 “𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔”

At least he has someone like you, opening your arms to him with such love even if he’s showed up injured and covered in complete muck from the outside, you still smile at him.

He shouldn’t come to you, he doesn’t want to come to you when he’s like this, you're the last person he wants to see him like this, and it’s evident with how quiet he is—more than usual when he’s with you.

Silently staring at you while gently cleaning his arm with a little ball of cotton, soaked in disinfectant, asking if it hurts too much or if he needs you to stop. He doesn’t want you to leave, just let him wrap his arms around you, and not let you go.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Tell me if it hurts.”

You softly mutter under your breath while you clean up the blood dripping from his wrist with a cotton ball. He keeps his mouth shut while watching all of your movements—not to nitpick but watch your gentleness against his rough skin.

From cleaning to wrapping the bandages around the wound all while making sure he was comfortable. Watching you care so deeply for when he came to you—selfishly—wanting your help, a weird feeling pooled into his stomach.

He’s a greedy and selfish man, even now, grabbing hold of your hand, and dragging you against him when you try to put away the medicine kit. “Is there something wrong moze?” Your worried expression rushes over your face, it's like there are stars in your eyes while staring up at him.

He could feel his breath hitch, and his heart beat faster. His face pressing into your neck, even going as far as to wrap his injured arm around your waist and bring you closer.

“It’s nothing.”

💫𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈"

He can see the way you look at him, such a gaze of love for him. Lucky him, if you were to look at anyone else like that, their knees would go weak and fall to their knees for you. He’s also close to the edge from falling on his knees.

A slight grin on his face while you take his hand, pressing it to your cheek, and leaning into his touch. Not wanting to let go of him for even a second. So greedy.

Your eyes only set on him, only ever him, which is obvious with the obsessed look on your face, laying the prints of your lips all over his hand, going as far as to kiss the knuckles of his hands.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, no?”

Your hand on top of his palm, keeping him still, and pressed against your cheek while you lean into this slightly forced touch, yet it’s not like he’s refusing, he enjoys when you want what you want without care. It’s quite adorable.

“I can say the same about you.” You cooed, moving till your lips pressed against his palm. Spread gentle kisses on each part of his palm, one to the lines in the base of his palm, before moving to the tips of his finger.

Gazing at his eyes while you peck his pinky finger, which he couldn’t let go of, the sight just made his mouth water and developed the urge to press his lips on yours.

He couldn’t hold himself to your gaze anymore, he couldn’t resist but to give in to you. His hand grabs a hold of your cheek—stopping you from kissing anymore before he pulls you into a kiss, just a small peck to get him started.

“Well, why not indulge in things once in a while.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: you've waited for this one and it's here! @imonlyreadingithink

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #star rail x reader #hsr jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu x you #hsr moze #moze x reader #moze hsr #moze x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail

380 notes · View notes

konigsblog · 4 months ago

Text

OCTOBER 13TH — PERVERT!GAZ. How can he not take advantage of you like this, under the influence and giggling blissfully? He'll take care of you, Dove.

2024 KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. (DAY 13)

(DUB-CON, INTOXICATION)

Your Captain had assigned Gaz to be your trainer. You were fresh in the military, a completely new line of work for you. You were inexperienced and naive, too trusting of your Sergeant to notice how sinful and depraved he truly was behind the façade of an authoritative, calm, and gentle man.

After a successful mission, you found yourself drunkenly clinging to Kyle, giggling blissfully as he attempted to hold you upright, dragging you into his barracks with a large gloved hand cupped over your mouth to silence your laughter and hilarity, gently dragging you into his bedsheets with a thick finger pressed over your lips, reassuring you that you'd be safe with him.

He was sly, unsuspecting, convincing you with his playful and flirtatious remarks to follow him, an arm wrapped tightly around your figure. You didn't question his strange, odd, pushy behaviour. Not once. Too intoxicated and light-headed to defend yourself from his grimey, gross touch as he attempted to grope you. Gaz's hands wandered your form while you mumbled out incoherent and unclear words, struggling to string a sentence together through the wetness in your cotton underwear. He pushed and prodded at your tight and slick hole once having you all alone, isolated and exactly where he wanted you, a greedy and selfish grin curling the sides of his lips. “Relax, Dove. Don't you trust me? C’mon...”

You struggled to stay conscious through the intense effects, only occasionally awakening through the agony and disgust forcing you awake. You squirmed helplessly through intoxication, babbling out confused and bamboozled pleas for him to stop with his selfish, cruel assault as he worked his way deeper within you. His touch was grubby, his soft lips wandering your form.

With such an enjoyable personality and a quiet, but hardworking attitude, nobody would believe you. You'd be painted as a liar, determined to ruin and tear down his reputation.

#orla speaks #cod x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz modern warfare #gaz cod #gaz #gaz call of duty #gaz smut #gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader

319 notes · View notes

filmtv2022 · 3 months ago

Text

Your Fate Is My Own

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Reader

Synopsis: The reader finds herself trapped in the shadow of her brothers, Geta & Caracalla. When General Marcus Acacius returns to Rome at the behest of the emperors, she is forced to face the very person she thought she'd lost forever.

Warnings: Kiss(es) + some swearing + period-appropriate expectations of women.

A/N: So to be fucking for real... I have no idea if this story complies with the plot of the movie or what actually happened in history. I have some working knowledge of Roman history, but I wasn't too pressed about getting things "right" for this story. If that bothers you... just move on. I wanted to focus on an interesting relationship backstory between the reader and Marcus. If you guys like this and/or I feel like it, there is the possibility I'd write more for these two (probably after watching the movie here in a couple of weeks.) As always, all mistakes are my own, forgive me!

Also... just to clarify... the reader may be a bit younger than Marcus, but she is meant to be read as far closer in age to him than to her brothers (older sister). Writing for large age gaps is something I'm NOT comfortable with and did NOT incorporate in this story.

-----------------------------------------------------

Echoed voices traversed the cavernous halls of the palace, greeting you long before the men to whom they belonged reached the marble and gold gilded room you inhabited. Perhaps it would have been prudent to stand, to adjust the layers of your flowing cotton dress, or even to consider in any way your appearance ahead of such a meeting with your illustrious guest, but no part of you could find it within yourself to care. Not when more pressing matters weighed heavily on your mind.

Wood groaned under the brutish touch of the emperors’ posse. The guards that constantly flanked them entered the room first, posting themselves near the windows and door, their faces stoic or bored, more likely the latter considering the vapid tirade of shit flowing from Geta's mouth. The wine was bitter against your tongue, burning the delicate skin of your throat with each sip. A haze had settled over your limbs, leaving them heavy and your tongue loose.

Your brother’s diatribe continued unchecked even as his guest’s attention waned. The General’s armor-clad chest practically gleamed in the flowing torchlight. The world seemed to move and sway around the trio, their power and might on display, but there was a difference to be sure. Geta’s slight frame held no weight, and yet every ear turned to him, every hand either sought to please him or to protect him. Caracalla was somehow even less imposing, his attention to Geta so fervent it bordered on the obscene. The same could not be said for the General. His mere presence in the space filled it to the breaking point. Energy, passion, and intelligence poured off of him, setting those around on edge, wondering about his next step. His attention was rightly divided between the twittering men beside him, the guards stationed around him, and strikingly, the addition of your presence before him.

The soft swish of your dress as you stood was lost in the chaos of the moment, but your words were not. They were out of your mouth before their implication could be considered, something you’d likely pay dearly for later.

“Marcus Acacius.” The room stopped, and footfalls drew silent as every eye fell on you, now standing beside the head of the table. “How lovely to see you! " Thinly veiled disgust and temperament sharpened each word.

“It’s General, dear sister. Address him properly or I fear I must ask you to leave.” Geta’s voice grated at your nerves but now was not the time.

“Do not pretend any of you wish for my company, but I shall do my best to acquiesce to the niceties you desire.” A sly smile turned the corner of your lips as you addressed the statuesque figure beside Geta. “General Marcus Acacius, how are you finding the Rome you’ve so diligently protected? I’m sure my brothers have spared no expense in treating you to our finest. One can only hope it's been enough to cover up the stinking pile of shit that festers in the heart of this city.”

“Sister!” Geta snapped, spittle flying from his lips as he scolded.

“Brother.” You paid him only momentary attention, just long enough to freeze his protests before turning back to the General. “You’ve yet to answer to me, General? Don’t tell me the great warrior's afraid to speak his mind.”

Hesitant, he searched for the words he hoped wouldn’t further inflame the situation, and fell short, “It has been adequate.”

“Adequate.” You couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that tumbled from your lips, “Just adequate? You mean to tell me that the blood sport of the arena doesn’t hold the same allure as it once did? But I mean how could it after all those years spent traipsing about in carnage? Burning and bloodying foreign lands all for a scrap of glory. I'm sure nothing can compare to that.”

Caracalla grumbled, but his words were stilled by Marcus’ subdued response, “You disagree with the expansion of Rome?”

“What I do or do not agree with is of little importance.” Reaching for the decanter of wine, you sloshed more into the empty crystal glass that sat perched before you.

“But you do? Disagree that is?” He held your gaze, searching for something in your eyes while divulging nothing of his own feelings.

“Those are your words, not mine.” Clearing the edge of the table, wine in hand, you stepped closer to your brothers and their esteemed guest. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I believe it is time for me to retire for the evening.” With only your eyes, you met Marcus', the soft brown of his seemed to glow, “General.”

“My lady.”

With no further words of departure, you left the room stunned to silence. There would most certainly be hell to pay for the way that conversation had gone, but that was indeed a problem for later.

----------------------------------------------------

The inky blackness of the night sky and shadowed land blended seamlessly into the horizon. Free from the burden of the public eye, you luxuriated in the gentle breeze that wafted through the open balcony door. Below the soft murmur of voices had given way to the occasional clatter of armor as the guards settled into their usual spots, for no matter your differences Geta would be damned if you were left unprotected. Sadly, and to his lack of understanding, the guards he’d so carefully chosen had a deep penchant for showing up to their watch three sheets to the wind.

You couldn't be sure of the hour, but it had been quite some time since you’d made your exit. Greeting the General with words of derision hadn't been the anticipated outcome and still, you felt no qualms about it. For the General was astute in his assumption, you did disagree with the expansion of Roman territory. For Rome was long past the point of needing more and the conquest had become one merely for the purpose of appearances. How better to convince the world of your prowess than to eliminate the threat of opposition? Ply them with entertainment, blind with enthusiastic and unbridled patriotism, and pray to the gods no one noticed the foundation crumbling beneath them. That was the plan, tenuous and strained though it was.

Laying back upon the pillows, their silk coverings ran cool against your wine-flushed skin. The weight of your frame pressed into the bed below, forming to your curves and hugging you tightly. It was glorious and yet it was a comfort you knew too many hardworking and loyal Romans would never experience. The safety of a warm room and a bed for rest, without a care or thought as to where their next meal would come from. It seemed unfair that you, of all people, should have so much when so many did more with far less. But that was never to be your lot, fighting for Rome, for the poor farmer, for those who were the backbone of society. No, there'd never be a place for you to do that. Instead, you found yourself resigned to a life behind closed doors, seen and not heard when in public, and entirely ignored in private.

A quiet knock sounded across the room, snapping your eyes open and pricking at your nerves. The ever-present danger that lurked within the inner circle left you cautious, but when a second knock met your ears it removed the choice of inaction. The marble was chilled beneath your bare feet, sending a silent shiver down your spine. At the door, you pressed your ear to the wood, listening for any sign of distress beyond. Hearing nothing, you cracked the barrier and took in your surroundings.

No longer dressed in his formal attire, General Marcus Acacius stood no less formidable than before, and yet the lines beside his eyes told of the bone-deep exhaustion that weighed him down like a heavy trading ship caught in a violent storm.

“General Acacius. If you are looking for my brothers they are not here. And at this hour it is likely that are… otherwise engaged.”

“It is not them I seek.” His demeanor remained that of a battle-trained soldier, calm and collected.

“I see.” Turning away, you stepped back into the room leaving the door open behind you while closing those that marked the balcony. Marcus took that as an invitation to enter the space, closing the door behind him, and stopping just beyond it. With your back still to him, you continued to speak, “Then how may I be of assistance? For we've already established I have not the eyes nor the ears of the Emperors. And as unfortunate as it may be, the senate has their heads so far up their own asses I fear the only thing they can see is the putrid brown of the Tiber during a flood.”

“Drop the act.” Marcus struggled against his instinct and remained glued to his spot.

“There is no act, Marcus.” You snapped back to face him, your jaw clenched with every word. “There is only a role which must be fulfilled. And as thankful as I am to the gods for only time parting us and not death, I'm afraid you no longer have a part to play in my story.”

“Don't do this.” His voice was even, unfazed despite the swell of emotion that barreled toward the surface.

“Do what? Speak the truth?” Your stomach flipped, sending bile burning in your throat. The General’s brows knitted together, sharing barely a fragment of his pain, but it was enough for you to see the war he waged inside.

“Push me away.” And with that, his steadfastness broke. Quick and powerful steps brought him to you, his broad hands falling to your waist and cheek, tipping your face to his and pleading for you to listen.

“I am not the one who left, remember that.” The bridge of your nose burned and wetness pooled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the stunning vision of the man before you. “I am not the one who has stayed away all these years.”

“There was no choice! They told me to go and I went. If I’d refused… they would’ve-”

“Killed you, I know, and I fault you not for it. And yet that changes nothing of what I've said. ” Your forehead dropped to the center of his chest as his sure fingers threaded through your hair, cupping the back of your head. Reaching for him, your fists twisted in the front of his tunic. The maroon fabric was soft to the touch, but it was the heady scent of him that filled your senses forcing the tears from your eyes. “I cannot be your Marcus, not in the way that is desired. We cannot do this, fall back into each other’s arms, and pretend as if nothing has changed. You are here to appease the Emperors and I am… I am nothing more than a pawn to be owned and then put into play at the right time.”

With every ounce of gentleness he could muster, Marcus lifted your face to his. The timber of his whisper traveled gracefully to your broken heart, “No matter what they desire, you are no one’s property for they cannot steal the wonder that is your loving heart and tenacious mind. Rome would be a far better place if people such as yourself were given the space and power to make it so.”

His calloused thumb brushed tender arcs along the high point of your cheek. Trapped in his gaze, your voice quivered, “And Rome is better with you as her General. Never forget the kindness in your heart, Marcus. That desire to protect those in need. They’ve tried to twist you into something brutish and lowly, but they do not know the goodness that runs deep within you. May the gods never let them steal it.”

The silence that fell between you was heavy with desire, and unspoken need, for words were not enough. Knowing this and throwing all caution to the wind, Marcus brought his lips to yours. The embrace was slow and passionate. Drinking in the taste of you, his lungs hitched at the feeling of your hands on his body moving along the broad expanse of his chest. You toyed delicately with his tunic, memorizing the feel of him beneath the thin fabric that separated you. A deep grumble reverberated in his chest, sending shivers down your spine. Only the distant sounds of heavy footfalls broke the pair of you apart.

With chest heaving, Marcus rested his brow against yours. The warmth of his breath drifted over your face, comforting you in the wash of emotions that battered in the wake of your shared embrace. Sensing the moment waning, you spoke the truth you’d feared to share but knew could mean the difference between life and death. “Hear me Marcus, do not trust them. Move with them only so far as is necessary. You are nothing more to them than a means to an end, listen not to their praises and promises. Your fate rests squarely in the hands of men who care little whether you live or die.”

The General swallowed hard, catching his breath before he replied, “I hear you. And I promise you, from my lips to the gods, I will fight to stay by your side if you’ll have me. I am yours for as long as fate will allow. No more running. No more putting glory above all else. I made the mistake of leaving you behind, and there is no future in which I intend to make that mistake over again.”

“Your fate is my own. If you burn, I burn with you.” Once again you found each other, your lips working in perfect synchronization. For now only the power of the gods could stop the pair of you. Together you’d face the tempest and weather the storm for the hope of a brighter tomorrow stood just beyond its shadows.

#gladiator 2 #gladiator II #gladiator ll #pedro pascal #gladiator fanfiction #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x female reader

156 notes · View notes

gaiussleechtank · 1 year ago

Text

It was one of those nights: the peaceful ones where both King and Court Warlock could shed their titles and just exist as two friends sharing cups of wine beside a fire. Both were silent as they nursed their drinks and basked in the dim lighting the fire provided Arthur’s dark chambers.

Merlin was lying across the floor on top of countless pillows and blankets, parallel to the hearth of the fireplace. His feet were bare as he had kicked off his boots hours earlier and the cords of his tunic were pulled extremely loose. Merlin’s legs were crossed one over the other as one hand played with a lock of his own hair as the other blindly traced the engravings of his goblet.

Arthur was sat his chair above Merlin, facing the fire and looking down at the peaceful man. He was glad that Merlin’s eyes were closed because it allowed the King to openly stare. For someone who was regarded to be so aware of everything all of the time - Merlin has not once ever cottoned on to Arthur’s gaze on him. In a way, it was reassuring that Arthur didn’t have to fear being caught by the very man he was observing. But it another way it was far too frustrating: Arthur nearly wanted to be caught and then in turn be forced to admit his reasons for staring.

For the Goddess’ sake, how could Arthur not look anywhere but Merlin with the man lying so enchantingly in front of him, doused in the golden light of the flames?

How could he lay his eyes elsewhere when nothing and no one else brought him nearly as much happiness and fulfilment in his heart than Merlin?

How could he when Merlin was everything that he loved?

The nearly empty goblet rested on his lap with his hands encircling the rim, it would be stupid to say it.

“Merlin?” Arthur broke their silence.

Merlin hummed in response, he didn’t move nor open his eye, but the tone of his voice easily told Arthur that he was listening.

“I’m in love with you.” Oh, fuck.

The body in front of him stilled. Merlin’s hand retracted from his hair as he slowly sat up. Arthur couldn’t tell you when the Warlock’s eyes had opened but he could give you a thousand words at least on what it felt like to be under their unending gaze. Merlin didn’t look away from Arthur as he got to his feet and came to stand in front of his King.

Merlin might not have ever been aware of when Arthur’s eyes were on him - but Arthur was far too aware of Merlin’s piercing stare. The King averted his eyes and stared down at the lingering mouthful of wine in his cup, listening to Merlin’s few footsteps.

A hand slid underneath Arthur’s jaw and half cupped the side of his face: hesitantly, Arthur let himself be guided to look up at Merlin. Had it been anyone else, this would have been so dangerous - to willing put his heart and mind at risk by giving someone else so much control over him would have been a death wish if it were anyone else.

Yet this was Merlin, the one person in his life that he would faithfully trust the world with to the ends of time.

It was sad eyes that Arthur saw. Not angry. Not disgusted. Not hurt, or even happy. Sad, sad, eyes that Arthur would nearly say were brokenhearted.

Merlin sighed with a pained and defeated expression. “Not again.”

“What?” Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat.

Merlin smiled with a soft pain, his thumb stroked over Arthur cheek as he said, “You don’t love me, Arthur.”

“I- I do.” Arthur stammered, he hadn’t anticipated out right refusal, denial and disbelief as an outcome. “I do love you, Merlin.”

Merlin swallows and seemed to choke back tears.

“No, Arthur, you don’t.” He repeated. “This is a love enchantment, this has happened before. You aren’t in love with me.”

The words were far too rehearsed, Merlin’s expression too knowing and understanding. Arthur felt like a petulant child being gently corrected on the truth. Had this really happened before? Had Arthur been enchanted to be in love with Merlin before?

“Merlin, I know my feelings, please believe me.” Arthur begged in futile.

“I don’t think you realise how badly I want to, but I can’t.”

Arthur’s eyes widened at Merlin’s confession - even though the feelings were reciprocated, Arthur was still being rejected - but he saw it. He saw all of the held back and restrained love Merlin held in his eyes for Arthur. He finally was bearing witness to Merlin’s affection, only because the Warlock was allowing him to.

“Is it really so unbelievable that I love you that you are convinced my mind is under the control of a spell of potion?”

“I know you love me - in the way friends love one another, brothers even.” Merlin stressed, his words clearly hurting himself. “But you don’t love me the way I want you to, you never have and you never will.”

“You do want me to love you like this?” Arthur countered.

Merlin closed his eyes and shakily let out a sob, his hands ran from Arthur’s jaw and face, around the King’s neck and weakly grasped at the back of Arthur’s head. He pressed his face into Arthur’s hair, Arthur pulled Merlin in closer and strung his arms around the Warlock’s waist and back: he could feel Merlin weep.

“You won’t remember this conversation, you never have, so why not?” Merlin muttered with a bitterness that surprised the King. “I have loved you for years, Arthur, what I feel for you goes beyond the devotion of prophecy and bond of friendship. I’ve always known that you will never feel the same.”

How his heart ached on the verge of breaking: Merlin loved him. He was in love with Arthur. He felt the same as Arthur but clearly awful past experiences that Arthur cannot remember are preventing him from acting on the truth.

Arthur tried to speak but was cut off before he could even utter a syllable.

“No, Arthur, please stop.” Merlin said, slipping out of Arthur embrace. He looked so guilty.

Merlin believed Arthur not to be in control of his mind and actions, he believed Arthur to be susceptible to anything. Though Merlin was nowhere near the kind of person to take advantage of someone under the influence of something mind altering. Even though this ‘supposed potion or enchantment’ was giving him what the Warlock wanted, Merlin still held back and refused.

Even such a simple embrace, the kind of embrace that was becoming more commonly between them as the years progressed seemed to wreck so much regret through the man - Arthur wanted to shake him and scream at how wrong Merlin was: that he could and was consenting to any any hold or touch Merlin could or would give him.

Arthur stood up and met Merlin far too closely. Their faces were mere inches apart, dangerously so. The King saw how badly Merlin wanted to give in, he could see the arguments and thought process that Merlin was going through.

His hand hovered over the side of Merlin’s face as leaned in closer.

“Don’t.”

He froze.

“You’re not in the right state of mind.” Merlin breathed out, more for his own sake than Arthur’s.

Arthur hand fell to his side but he didn’t move away.

“Please tell me how I can prove my honesty.” He asked.

Merlin looked down with resignation and then turned away to the doors.

“Come, Sire, follow me.” Merlin murmured as he left.

He hadn’t called Arthur ‘Sire’ in years, not even in heated arguments did Merlin enforce that distance between them. It spoke tales to Arthur on how hurt his best friend was. He dashed after Merlin, it wasn’t hard to follow the sound of weary footsteps.

They were heading for Merlin’s laboratory. Arthur caught up with broken hearted Warlock and joined their hands together - Merlin allowed it.

Met with the smell of dodgy potions, old books, strong herbs, ash and numerous other smells that Arthur had grown familiar with associating with Merlin’s experiments, Arthur saw and felt Merlin relax slightly. They were on his ground now, they followed his rules.

Arthur let go of Merlin’s hand and took his chair that he always sat in when observing Merlin work.

“You stare a lot.” Merlin said as he leafed through shelves of bottles - no doubt searching for a cure-all potion that he had concocted in earlier years.

“I always have, you’ve just never noticed.” Arthur replied honestly.

Merlin sighed for the thousandth time that hour and stood up straight and returned to Arthur, bottle in hand. It was a small vial with opaque pink liquid filling less than a third of the bottle. He stood on the other side of the work bench and handed over the vial of anti-serum.

Wordlessly and without hesitation Arthur uncorked the bottle and drank his mouthful. Setting down the bottle, he leaned closer to Merlin, head propped up by his elbow, hand under chin, staring at Merlin patiently.

The Warlock also leaned closer, gold creeping into his eyes without a single incantation as he analysed Arthur’s reaction to the potion. The world seemed to hold its breath as it waited for the two men to get onto the same page.

“Well, am I really under an enchantment?” Arthur asked after a very long pause.

Merlin’s mouth fell open as his brow and eyes once again creased into tears.

“No… You aren’t.” Merlin managed to say, covering his face as he cried.

Arthur stood up and joined Merlin on the other side of the workbench. He pulled the shocked and relieved and sobbing Warlock into another hug. Both holding onto each other equally tight.

“I love you, Merlin.” Arthur promised his Warlock firmly.

#it’s so late #should be asleep #merthur brainrot when i should be asleep #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #angst #fanfiction #merlin fanfic #merlin thoughts #court sorcerer merlin #king arthur

589 notes · View notes

fandoms--fluff · 4 months ago

Note

I was wondering if you could write more Salvatore teenage reader x Damon and Stefan Salvatore I love the other ones so much

Fun Day

Flufftober, October 2nd

Younger Salvatore sister reader x Damon Salvatore x Stefan Salvatore

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on Day, It'll be fun" You try persuading him. "Sorry, little munchkin, not happening" Damon tells you and starts walking down the hall.

You roll your eyes at the nickname and follow him. "Please? You'd only have to stay for an hour, tops!" You exclaim. He keeps walking. "Fine, I guess me and Stefan will only go" You say sadly, casting your head down.

Damon pauses and turns around, sighing.

"Fine. When are we going?" He crosses his arms. "Now" You smirk and grasp onto his hand. You lead him downstairs where Stefan's waiting by the door.

You roped Stefan into going with you easily. All you had to do was flash him he puppy dog eyes and hold one of his journals captive before he agreed.

"Got him to cave in?" He smirked. "Of course I did" You smile and keep dragging your oldest brother out to where his car is parked. Stefan follows, closing the big wooden door behind himself.

You climb into the back seat behind the drivers seat, a smile lighting up your face. Stefan sits in the passenger seat while Damon turns the keys in the ignition.

The Camaro roars to life, Damon driving to the requested location. After no longer than ten minutes, he parks the car at the side of the road and groans into the steering wheel.

"This is where you really want to spend your time, and waste mine in the time being" Damon looks in the rearview mirror back at you.

"Yes, now put on your happy, cheery face and let's go have fun." You tell him.

You guys walk up to the entrance of the town carnival. Lights are flashing and people laughing fill the air. "Oh come on you big grump, lets have fun. You too my, mopey. broody, younger older brother" You grab both their arms and drag them in.

You somehow manage to drag them onto the bumper cars ride and the ferris wheel. And now you're waling around with a massive bag of pink cotton candy.

"How do you like that stuff?" Damon says, a disgusted look taking over his face. Stefan chuckles seeing your offended facial expression.

"All it is is sugar" Damon tells you. "That's exactly why I love it" You rip off another piece and pop it in your mouth, letting it melt on your tongue.

Your eyes roam around the carnival before they land on the balloon dart game. "Ooh, that looks like fun" You clasp your hand onto Stefan's wrist and drag him over to the game booth.

"Y/n/n, you're clawing me" Stefan winces as he feels your nails dig into his skin. Damon chuckles at his little brother's expense as he follows you guys.

"You'll be fine" You tell him before getting the attention of the booth person. You get three darts for you and three darts for Stefan. "None for you cause you don't need anything sharp while being here around well the whole town" You explain to him before throwing your first dart.

"Oh, come on!" You exclaim. All your darts shot into the side of the wooden cubby where the balloon lies in. they're all lodged in there and the worker has a startled look on his face. "Sorry?" You don't really mean it if you're being honest.

"You'll do better next time" Stefan rubs his hand up and down your arm in comfort. "Oh please, says the dude who hit the actual balloons with all his darts" You glare up at him while walking away from the game.

"Why did you think that you'd be good at this?" Damon crosses his arms with a smirk on his face. "Oh shut up" You turn and smack him. "But you've gotta admit, you're having fun" You raise your eyebrows in a playful way.

"Just keep walking, Munchkin" Damon turns your head with his hand to look forward.

168 notes · View notes

morellywrong · 8 months ago

Text

Teddy Bear

Warnings: stalking (?), lovesick Ethan, gender neutral reader✨, obsession, unhealthy standards of love, Ghostface!Ethan ofc, really dark themes in this one like low-key non-con but not explicitly described, kidnapping, implied drugging

Request!

It's kind of short I'm sorry I panicked 😭👹

"Hey...how are you doing?" Ethan wraps his arms around you, relishing in the fact you find comfort in him.

Your hands grip at the cotton of his jumper, breathing his in scent you've come to find familiar and safe.

"I'm okay..." You mumble into his chest, sniffling softly.

A body had been found. The body of a boy who'd just asked you on a date the day before.

"I-I just...I don't get it...I saw him yesterday- who would wanna hurt him?" Ethan sighs against your scalp softly, bury his face against the top of your head.

"I don't know...someone with intent, for sure."

You nod, not thinking much of it as you pull back, about to wipe your own tears when one of his hands fly up, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"C'mon, let's go back to my place....I'll look after you." You agree. Of course you would. Who would blame you? A grieving person is a vulnerable person, no less.

You wake up blearily with unfamiliar clothes on your body, in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room.

When you sit up, your head protests, pounding with ache as you try to clear your spinning vision.

"Y/n...I didn't think you'd be awake yet..."

That voice. Which once held comfort, now holds a sinister, underlying intent.

"Ethan? Where...where am I?" He sits on the bed beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"You're with me, that's all that matters. I kept you safe, remember?" Your brows furrow, shaking your head softly. You don't remember. You don't even remember walking to his dorm.

Although this is definitely not his dorm.

It's a dingy old room. Maybe a basement? Or somewhere in a warehouse. Wherever it is, you're sure it's far away from anything else.

"You said you were scared. That the killer might've targeted you....you're safe here. He can't get you here." He whispers against your ear, before brushing his nose against your skin, almost like he's trying to ingrain the scent of you into his brain. Like an apex predator.

"...it's you." You mumble, staring blankly ahead of you. You don't have the energy to show much more emotion than numbness.

"Hm?"

"It's you. You're Ghostface..." You whisper, taking a shaky breath as you glance at him sluggishly.

He grins, sharp and ruggedly.

The smile was once comforting to you. When it was much more gentle, or seemed that way at least to you.

Now it holds secrets. Horrible, disgusting secrets.

"Look at you, smart little thing....so silly." He kisses your cheek before standing up.

"...are you hungry?" You look up at him, and it dawns upon you.

Images of the previous night briefly flash across your vision. Of him leering over you. Whispering in your ear. Putting words in your mouth as you couldn't speak for yourself. Touching you, claiming you as his own.

He grins down at you, placing his finger under your chin, watching your tired, helpless eyes meet his. It's like he knows you're beginning to remember.

"...welcome home, darling..."

#ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #horror smut #ghostface smut

180 notes · View notes

maethologies · 1 month ago

Note

you already knew this was coming LOL but i’d love to see healer!violet or a hockey au for the ask game if you’re down!!

healer au... hockey au... tough decision but have some healer!vi

a snippet from their first meeting:

He scratches his shoulder, inked in swirls and flames. “Your mother never taught you not to stare? It’s rude.“

So he’d noticed her staring at his mark. No use in denying it, then. She should have felt shame, maybe, but her curiosity was stronger. “I’m not a liar,“ she says, before asking something she’s been dying to ask: “Did it hurt?“

“That,“ he says, leaning into her space, “is none of your business, Healer.“ His voice is deep, tense; a warning. Violet has no doubt he could kill her at any time, and he wouldn’t feel bad about it, either.

She sighs, letting it go, and looks down at his wound. “Yeah, you’re gonna need stitches,“ she says. “Wait here– I’m going to find someone to do it.“

His hand finds her wrist again. “You can’t do it?“ He asks. His hair is a little longer than most riders; it falls over his forehead, over his raised brow.

Violet snatches her hand back. “I can,“ she says, gathering the bowl of now-pink water and the stained cotton, “but I’m not allowed—first years need a superior’s permission.“

The rider groans. “You’re a first year?“ He asks, incredulous. “A newbie. Fucking great.“

He sighs and leans back against the wall again, shaking his head.

“I’m at the top of my year,“ Violet says tersely. She spins around to look for Winifred, but she’s busy tending to someone whose arm is currently more blood than skin. She’ll have to ask someone lower in the chain of command, then.

“Top of first year,“ he says. Even with her back to him, Violet can practically see the way his mouth twists around the word first. It makes her blood boil.

“I am still a healer,“ she snaps at him. From the corner of her eye she sees Nick, one of the third-years in charge of supervising the rest of them. She gestures at him. “And I’m damned good at my job.“

“You’ve been here for less than three months,“ he points out dryly. “What do you know about doing a good job?“

a scene that takes place a few? weeks later?:

He hums. “You remember, don’t you?” Xaden takes the sandwich, and the shadows vanish, hiding away. “I said I’d keep you alive if you kept healing me. A deal, of sorts.”

Xaden’s lips twitch once more. Violet’s glad one of them finds humor in this; personally, she’d like not to be threatened with death anymore. She’d gone to the Healer’s Quadrant to avoid exactly this kind of situation, after all.

He offers her the sandwich. Violet eyes it with disgust. “I’m not eating that,” she says immediately, her lips curling. “And besides, I can’t heal you today.”

“Oh?” Xaden raises a brow at her. He tilts his head, considering her. “So eager to die, then, Sorrengail?”

His shadows shiver below him.

“No,” Violet says, though the words come out of her mouth a little too quickly, a little too urgently. “I just—I can’t. Not today. Go see someone else, or wait until tomorrow.”

Xaden’s eyes narrow at her. He rocks forward on his feet, bringing his head closer to hers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Violet huffs. “Go away, now.”

His expression sharpens, somehow; he’s more alert, the amusement wiped from his face, and his eyes flicker all over her body, taking her in, studying her to try and find whatever’s wrong with her.

“Tell me,” he says. His voice has become steel, sharp and commanding at once. Violet wonders if this is his Wingleader voice, if the stare he’s currently sending her is the one he uses on first year cadets.

It’s ridiculously effective. She’d opened her mouth to protest, to refuse him, but the look he sends her has Violet saying, “My joints. My hands. They’re—sometimes they hurt.”

Xaden’s eyes drop to her hands. She has to fight the urge to put them behind her back, to hide them from him.

incomplete scene: a visit in the middle of the night!

“Violence?”

Xaden. Violet’s heart slowly comes back to its normal pace. Xaden, at her door, in the middle of the night.

She’s out of her bed and rushing towards his voice before she even has the time to think about her actions. It’s only when she yanks the door open that Violet remembers the short black nightgown she’s wearing.

Xaden’s eyes sweep over her and down her body, stopping at the sight of her hair, unbound and messy, at the hem of her nightgown; already Violet feels more alert, a wave of heat rising within her.

[...]

He pauses to look at her. “You were sleeping,” he says, surprise coloring his voice. His brow is furrowed. If Violet didn’t know any better, she’d think he looks pained at that fact.

“That’s how it works, usually,” Violet huffs. “People work or study during the day, and at night, they sleep.”

Xaden continues to stare at her. Something about him—Violet feels herself getting yanked out of sleep and into reality. Her focus sharpens, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“You usually stay up to study,” he points out. “And your Anatomy exam is in two days.”

Violet’s heart plummets and soars, all at once. “You remembered?”

It's his turn to huff. "Of course I did," he says, but he crosses his arms and looks away from her as he speaks.

#idk how much sense this is making but i hope you liked these!!!#personally i adore this wip #healer!vi au #my writing!

49 notes · View notes

wandagcre · 1 year ago

Text

my pumpkin | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sam Carpenter x AFAB ! reader)

Sam wants to try something new with you.

WARNING: smut, dark dom! ghostface! sam, dark sub!reader (they're both crazy), can be interpreted as intersex!sam or cumming strap-on sam, mentions of blood and murder, knife play, possessiveness, breeding kink, slight degradation & humiliation, aftercare +18 / men & minors dni.

Words: 5.5k | [ AO3 ]

In the middle of your night routine, you hear a thud somewhere in the apartment. Deciding to investigate, you left your glass of water in the kitchen. Like on autopilot, your feet already dragged you to approach towards the living room, and your gut was right: there was a tall figure that had caught your attention and a smile made its way to your lips with ease.

There stood Sam, in your unlit living room, her dark thick robe pooling by her combat boots and she was taking off the bloody Ghostface mask. Her hair was haphazardly tied up and she's left with her wifebeater tank top and dark sweatpants — bronze skin currently dripping with sweat. Sam had a blank expression on, maybe a hint of bloodlust glint that lingered on her face, which turned you on — imagining how it must've been so good to see her in the act, especially this one.

You spot a few bruises and cuts on her upper body. You already expected this, walking away for a second to retrieve the first-aid kit and mentally taking note to ice some of her bruises later.

Sam's hazel eyes lit up soon as she met yours, arms opening for a hug.

"Love. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?"

"You too, Sammy." You affectionately murmur and nestled deeper in the embrace and Sam tightens her grip in return. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

There you were with Sam in the small bathroom in your shared apartment. She sat quietly by the closed toilet, her arm brought up to you. Moments like this were your favorite, having to tend her cuts and bruises. There was something about Sam appearing as both vulnerable and vicious post-murder during the ungodly hours.

"Wanna tell me how it went?" You start as you wipe the remaining blood on her skin then you dab the cotton with alcohol feather light. The curiosity was eating you.

In return, Sam smiles at how your eyes twinkled as you asked, she pulls away slightly, her hold on you moving to your waist to pull you closer in between her legs. The faint smell of peaches and cigarettes immediately filled your senses.

She sighed, "He was all talk. Pissed me off a bit with that foul mouth he got running whenever he saw a woman..." Sam’s grip by your soft waist tightens at some thought, "It made me think of how rude and disgusting he must have been to you, princess. And that angers me so much."

"But you took care of it, I know you did good." you respond with much appreciation in your tone, as if the conversation that had transpired was casually about the weather. Your hands find their way on top of Sam’s hair, your thumb gently caressing through them.

The corner of Sam’s eyes crinkled. "Anything for my baby. He squirmed like a useless pig."

The cold room was filled with laughter. It was easy to say that the two of you were truly match made in heaven. The person in question was your boss, who thought he was being sly with his provocative comments and uncomfortable staring at you while at work. He was insufferable to say at least. Even the last interaction you had with him was you trying to play along with one of his nauseous comments because God knows given your position, he’ll always have his way.

Sadly for him, he doesn’t even know it'll be his last day to live.

Because you didn't even have to tell Sam because she was there to witness, right outside your workplace to pick you up and his sleazy gestures unfolded in front of your waiting girlfriend. Your boss just had to outwardly say that ‘he can’t get enough of your good and shapely presence’ within Sam’s earshot.

Now? He's nothing but a fresh butchered meat fed to a bloodlust Loomis.

You left your girlfriend in the bathroom for some privacy. For a few minutes, you heard water running. To your surprise however, as you plop down to your shared bed, Sam was across you and there was a pensive look on her face as she leans by the door frame. Her hair remains to be haphazardly tied on, her hands a bit wet.

“I wanna try something on you, baby.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?”

“This.”

Sam retrieves a familiar dagger from her back – it was the one you managed to get your hands on and gave it to her as a birthday present. Back then, you didn’t know yet whether the Ghostface version of her had existed yet; but you did this anyway after she opened up about her previous encounters given by the reputation that precedes her, to provide her with some sort of an easy to carry and hide of a self-defence weapon. With her words and the dagger on her hand, you were confused to say at least.

“I need you to elaborate, Sam.” you ask, to which Sam bit her lip and sauntered towards you.

"I’m going to mark you with it. Nothing too deep and crazy, trust me. And you can also say no! I promise I won’t be mad. It’s only a thought, baby.”

“Alright.” You exhale, sitting with crossed legs, looking up to her and see Sam visibly becoming relaxed. “But can I ask why you want to do it? I genuinely just want to know your reason behind it. And how…exactly?”

Sam’s eyes softened as her eyes were pierced onto yours, "It’s basically just carving a small thing to your body. I… I want to mark you in a way that’s personal and close to who I am. Also, I want to remember us – this being my first kill for you.”

You understand now, pulling Sam by her thighs who still stood tall in front of you for a hug. The scent of peaches and cigarettes fill your nose once again, it was oddly addicting and comforting. It was distinctively very Sam.

"So, it's about owning me... in your terms?"

“Yes.” she whispered.

You decide to lighten up the mood, “And you’re sure this is your first kill for me? Not my old friend from my hometown?”

Sam frowned, almost not getting get your joke – but soon she heartily chuckles as the realization dawns upon her. There was another case you suspected, an old friend whom Sam felt very territorial over you when you told her that they confessed when you returned home. Suspiciously, they disappeared, but you find out a year later that they only travelled on a spontaneous trip.

“No. But... maybe I almost wanted to.”

You bite your bottom lip and Sam nudges you with her finger by your shoulder, motioning for you to make space for her in the bed. Now she joins you beneath the sheets, standing on her knees, looking down as she’s still towering over you.

“That’s hot.”

Sam shakes her head and closes the distance between you two, “Only you would say that…” She holds the dagger on her dominant hand, the sharp metal pointed away from you.

The cold night is coming to a close, barely feels like one, as the room starts to become heated. Especially with your girlfriend’s eyes unashamedly trailing over your body, like you were a delicious prey served as a five-star meal just for her.

“And that’s exactly why you love me.” You say with ease, lips now ghosting near hers, feeling her ragged breath increasing.

"Exactly, baby. No one compares.”

Sam tucked a stray hair behind your ear. Your face heats up at the gesture. You didn't feel any different around her, like any other day around her you remained to feel safe. Secured. Not even her retelling stories of her vivid killings can even change that. Perhaps, you were as sick as her, but you couldn’t give a single fuck about it.

With an exhale, you give her the green light.

"Okay baby. I trust you."

A wolfish grin appeared on her lips, changing so quickly like a mere switch. With that sight, a shot of arousal started to stir on your stomach.

"Remember your colors, baby. Say red and we’ll stop immediately. How do you feel right now?"

The dagger made its presence known as Sam dragged the pointed end on your bare right thigh with slight pressure startled you – not enough to draw blood – yet it was sharp and daunting, completely contradicting the gentleness in her tone.

"G-green," you stuttered out.

“Good girl.” Sam says and tilts your chin up using the dagger. “Now strip for me.”

Your breath hitches once again. The lust is heightened as you feel Sam’s piercing eyes on you, watching you wiggle off your skimpy shorts first, eyes following and so attentive to the growing damp spot on your underwear. Her dagger remained on your chin until it was time for you to strip out of her old loose shirt that you chose to wear earlier and Sam audibly groaned when she found out that you weren’t wearing any bra at all, she zones out in the sight. You feel her scoot on the sheets closer to you – to say that she was a big fan of your tits would be an understatement.

“Fucking irresistible,” Sam lets out a groan and starts to busy herself, already moved onto a different agenda – mouth and teeth getting involved as she marks and sucks all over your tits, your skin becoming thoroughly wet and littered with hickeys. For a few minutes she stayed on worshipping your upper body. While it turned you on, the ache in your cunt was also becoming an issue, making you squirm. “That’s already an appetizer and dessert for me, shit, you’re just so good…”

Now her thighs have your almost naked body trapped, Sam remains hovering above you as you laid down. You get a closer look of her taut muscles flexing through the wifebeater she wears as she moves, a few scars coming to light on her body. You realize that she’s about to take you while in her post-murder outfit, making you squirm your legs once again trying to find ease in your arousal. She’s still sweaty and sticky but you honestly can’t care any less. Not when you have her sculpted body ready to pounce on you at any moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to shower first?” You joke and her expression didn’t falter.

Sam only smirked. “We were going to change the sheets, anyway. I planned on having you either way for tonight.” Her hot breath was so close, tickling your exposed skin.

Your body felt warmer, opposed to her cold free hand that slightly startled you as she roughly palmed a cupful of your tits, giving it another good squeeze.

“Fuck…” you moan, her moves to affect you were rapidly increasing.

Sam teased again by her slow hands going for a sharp tug on your nipple. “We’re getting into it, princess.”

She lowered herself and finally met your lips for a kiss, the slow and softness of a start quickly dissipated as she grew hungry for more. Still kissing you, both hands trying to cup your face, occasionally darting her tongue on your mouth. Sam moved fast and rough, as though she was quenching her thirst and your lips were the only water left for her. You wouldn’t be surprised if your lips actually bruised. You were starting to feel breathless and lightheaded, trying to match her pace and she pulled away to tug on your bottom lip. She swiped it with her tongue for good measure. You don’t feel her close anymore and yet you still tried to chase her lips again, only to find out that she looked smug as soon as you opened your eyes.

“Just for me.” Sam murmurs to no one.

You dazedly acknowledge her, “Yes, only yours.”

“God, If you only know how you endlessly drive me mad...”

Sam had her palm pressed on the mattress, resting on the side of your head. You meet her halfway by having your elbows propped up, carrying your upper body’s weight. Yet, you don’t know how long it’ll last – not with Sam’s mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on your body; from your cheek, affectionate and soft, to your neck where her nose tickled you and mouth that met where your jugular vein rests – lingering to suck and bite. You don’t even try to conceal your moans to your girlfriend’s delight, the sounds loud enough to make her eager as ever. Your eyes roll on the back of your head, immediately lost to the sensation. With the tip of the knife pressed on your plush stomach all at once and scratching you lightly, though lifted quickly, it made your stomach twitch and you whimper.

You feel unbearably soaked, clearly wanting for more. Completely certain that you're damp enough for your Sam to smell your arousal. Your girlfriend smirks in confirmation and when she moves her hip low enough for yours to meet. When you pushed your core closer against your girlfriend's, Sam already has your ass cupped, squeezing your flesh, and it only made you grind hard enough to feel something hard —

Oh.

You feel her.

The walls of your cunt started to rapidly clench on nothing. Sam detaches her hips away from you after a little teaser and your fingers make their way to her hair, then caressing on Sam's nape and your girlfriend arches her neck, groaning in response. She moves lower, wanting to give you wet kisses placed on the soft rolls of your stomach which slightly tickled you in the process. You were about to protest, beyond needy, but it seems that Sam has already read your mind.

"Here it comes."

You take a deep breath and feel the sharp knife moving in ragged curves as Sam draws with it. She pushes it down a few millimeters more on your stomach. You groan in each line she makes, it stings a little as she continues marking.

"Wanna know what I marked, princess?" Sam regains your attention by tilting your chin up to look at her using the knife, you open your eyes, seeing the metal now painted with red specks of blood.

"Y-Yes.”

"It's the first letter of my name. So every time you take a look in the mirror naked, you'll always be reminded that you're nobody else's but mine."

"Oh fu- fuck, fuck!" you whimper, although now you feel turned on more than anything.

The knife resumes in contact with your freshly marked area again, Sam drags it as if she's tracing it for the second time on your skin. your eyes are screwed shut — you can't explain the sensation, walking in the line between pain and pleasure. It stings yet it's so addicting. You think that a huge chunk of it was maybe because it was Sam doing it with her honeyed voice and dark tunnel gaze onto you.

"You're doing so good, baby." She praises you, voice deeper than ever.

Sam crawls down lower onto you and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, curious of her next move. The spot now feels wet as you feel your girlfriend licking your fresh wound and you let out a strangled moan in response.

“Oh god!”

When you made eye contact with your girlfriend, her eyes were heavy lidded more than ever. It’s evident even in the room that’s barely lit, only the lamp on, and you see her wet lips tugged in a smirk. The color red is slightly evident from having to sucked off the trail of blood that trickled out of your fresh wound.

Sam meant it when she said that it'll leave a scar enough for you to see even right after this session. In theory, you should be terrified of how precise your girlfriend is with the weapon, but you aren't at all. You are thrilled in reality, as you know that Sam is using a special dagger to brand you, different amongst the one she uses to kill her victims; this one was shorter and unused, not actually meant to kill. For you and only you.

After all, who doesn't like being proved to be her princess and a special exception?

The aftermath of the knife's stinging hasn't left just yet. As you reel into the sensation, you feel the mattress dip and you see Sam adjusting.

“Sit up for me.” Sam orders and you quickly scramble into position, legs folded, facing your girlfriend. “Color?”

“Still green.” you whisper, eyes becoming watery. “Can you please touch me now?”

Sam doesn’t respond. Instead, there was the dagger, the side of it being dragged across your tits down to your pelvis. Your girlfriend had set your underwear aside. You close your eyes again to flutter out the teariness, then something plunges inside of your core. The object feels foreign against your spongy walls and it's coming in fast and intrusive. It makes you moan unadulteratedly loud, heat spreading all over your body. It was the most relief your cunt has received had felt this entire session; evident in the way your wetness seeped more, yet you’re becoming slightly embarrassed of the sloshing sounds that fills the room as the thing continues to move in and out of your flesh.

"I wish I had recorded this, princess. Look at you taking it all in..." Sam murmurs huskily and her words feel hot on your body.

“Record?”

Your girlfriend tilts her head, “Maybe next time,” She winks at you.

You’re a putty mess under her touch. Sam finds utmost joy seeing you unravelling into this form, unable to form coherent sentences as she has her way with you. You meet her entranced look – mouth quirked up and eyes more lust filled. As your eyes trail lower over Sam, you notice that your girlfriend’s dominant hand has the dagger’s flat base carefully held – the handle being plunged in and out of your pussy. The bed creaks more.

"Your pussy is so fucking greedy, taking my dagger so good... I can feel you pulsating in it. Maybe I'm gonna fuck you right after then cum inside of you, as a reward, huh?" she changes the angle of the dagger’s handle, pushing deeper and faster into you and you feel yourself leak even more, grasping on her hair.

"Oh yes! yes! A-anything you want, S-Sam!"

"Knew you'd agree. My princess who's a whiny slut for me," Sam continues her ministrations, hand remaining precise, and you feel her free arm snake around your soft waist, as if she's trapping you. "you're making a mess in the bed, honey. Are you not embarrassed?"

You feel a twinge of embarrassment, realizing you were lost on riding your girlfriend’s dagger alone while she was simply thrusting the dagger’s handle in and out of you, all with ease, looking like a desperate whore while dripping and making a mess on Sam’s hand at the same time as your pussy overflowed with wetness.

"N-No, because I love being a slut for you," you whisper truthfully, now growing desperate to chase orgasm. "I'm so so close,"

“For me only.” Sam growls in response, making her thrust it more forcefully as if she was actually stabbing.

You let out a throaty moan and your hands moving so frenzied to alleviate the release by clawing all over Sam's back – anywhere you can reach and balance upon. Sam deliciously grunts at the action.

Like a cold bucket poured down on your then burning body, Sam dislodged the handle completely from your desperately soaked cunt. Now you’re back to clenching onto nothing, the ache between your legs becoming a real challenge for you to hold yourself for much longer.

"No, no, no! Fuck, I was about to cum, Sam..." you complain, feeling sensitive, tears running on your cheeks.

Sam comforts you, cupping your cheeks and wiping the tears away with her thumb.

"Patience, baby." your girlfriend hushes you and you find her looking completely lost as you are, giving you comfort. She had her free hand sprawled on your lower stomach. "Suck this for me first. Then I'll let you do whatever, baby."

Sam then raises the knife that was glistening off your own wetness from earlier, making your cheeks heat up. Goodness, it’s coated ridiculously with a copious amount of wetness... which you're supposed to suck. Not that you were new to this – sucking something off for Sam – but the thought still makes you a tad shy.

You’re starting to think Sam enjoys humiliating you this much.

"All of it. C'mon, baby, get to work so we can finish you sooner."

It's affecting Sam so much based on her raspier voice now. You comply with her order, making sure to put on a show; your free hand gripping on her shoulder and lips now on the handle of the knife, sucking all of your wetness that once coated it. You made sure to look directly at Sam's heavy lidded eyes, who was now completely hazy and her mouth open to your delight. You wanted her to lose her mind as much as you did, making sure that your cheeks were hollowed and moaning along the action, even making your tongue twirl around it. Your girlfriend exhales loudly at the sight you presented her.

“Fuck. You’re teasing me back, princess?” Sam tilts her head, questioning you. She discards the dagger, object clanking, and now somewhere on the floor.

You were more than happy to see that it got onto her. “Just putting on a show for you…”

Sam has enough, having a taste of your arousal as she grabs you for a bruising kiss. She seems to savor it as her tongue gets involved, as though she’s eager to taste her favorite flavor. "My little slut. Still green?"

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?" Sam traces lightly the now marked letter S wound that resides on your lower stomach.

"No," Your girlfriend smiles at your response and you close your eyes. The ache between your legs makes itself known as you squirm over Sam’s touch. You bit your lower lip in frustration. "Want you inside of me now, please, Sammy."

“Okay. I’m going to make you choose,” She looks you straight in the eye, “Do you want to lay down or to ride me?”

A moan already escaped your throat, “W-what would you like?”

“Don’t answer me with a question, baby. I am asking you.” Her voice is deep and stern, waiting for you.

You look at her still completely dressed – unlike you, all bare for her. You start to feel a little conscious so you decide to immediately change that up.

“Want to undress you and ride you.”

You were more than ecstatic, seeing Sam nod in agreement – you absolutely waste no time in removing her wifebeater tank top, sweatpants, and boxers immediately, appreciating all of Sam’s muscular and sweaty glory. It doesn’t help that she’s got a few specks of blood still somewhere on her body, the eroticism of it all is not lost on you. Her tits were hypnotizing and to see it paired with her hard on, makes you lick your lips in anticipation. You start to understand more why your girlfriend loves body worshipping so much, because you feel just the same as her.

Sam was amused at your dazed expression, so lost that she has to snap you to reality by pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Ride me now, pretty girl.” She rasps out and you quickly get on Sam’s lap. Her length is pressed against your stomach, making your breath ragged and she isn’t even inside you yet.

You align yourself onto Sam, who glides her cock first into your wet folds. Your hands were on a deathly grip, squeezing over your girlfriend’s broad shoulder, and Sam is becoming more unrestrained with you. She huffs, snakes her arm by your waist then to your hips – continuing her motions until she is satisfied with how your wetness thoroughly coated her cock.

“Fuck, I’m going in now, baby…” Sam’s hazel eyes peer over you, searching for any sign of discomfort. She was only met with your lust filled eyes and opened mouth, easily one of her favorite sights when it comes to you. The tip teases your clit making you moan and finally, she pushes inside of you, making you both groan at the sensation. She's big and girthy, even if it’s only half of her cock that was fully in, and your walls were still adjusting to accommodate all of her. Sam understood this, hence her careful movements, afraid of hurting you by accident.

“Tell me whenever you’re ready, princess.”

You profusely nod your head in appreciation, “Y-yes, shit, give me a minute.”

As your walls were processing her length, Sam soaks in the feeling of being inside of you. It was so warm and comfortable; both of your single nerves felt like it was throbbing and clenching, and by God, the fucking clenching — you were gripping her cock in a way that felt delicious and so par with her possessiveness — the entirety of you, soul and body, are no one’s but hers. It was a feeling that Sam would never get tired of.

You’re now fully sinked into Sam’s entire length, eyes getting teary in pleasure.

“You can move now,”

Sam presses a kiss on your cheek and doesn’t waste a minute to move; Both weights being unminded given the position, the bed creaks louder than ever as you ride her. Your pussy is sopping, feeling soaked as a waterfall. In comparison to your throat, it feels dry with all the screaming you’ve done for Sam, already anticipating that you'll sound hoarse later. Maybe you won’t even have a voice to speak at all.

For a split second you think about the complaints you'd get the next day.

But being sunk deep in your girlfriend's cock, the thought vanishes quickly and you’re filled with so much desperation, hips rolling along with Sam's movements — so fucking close. The burning feeling of the cock against your walls soon dissipated, evident with the faster pace, the skin to skin slapping vibrates throughout the bedroom, your sheets are definitely mixed with wetness and stickiness.

One of Sam's hands was steadying you by holding on your soft and plush sides, the other kneading roughly on your tits. When you look at Sam, you see her eyes moving down and up in appreciation, drinking in your sight. you only moan louder as the sensations in tandem were driving you dripping and insane.

"Gonna fill you to the brim and paint your walls white," Sam’s promise vibrates delectably against your neck, the skin to skin slapping resonates louder than ever and she was pulling half and pushing in the whole of her cock in a rigorous motion. You feel helpless and reduced to a piece of dumb moanings.

"Look at you now, baby. fuck I’m gonna breed you. Not a single drop is going to drip out of this pretty pussy. I bet you'll like that, huh?"

"Y-yes, yes, yes!"

"With the sounds you're making alone, shit, ‘m gonna cum. You're driving me mad, baby,"

Sam’s fingertips were hard and rough in circle motions against your engorged clit. It was enough to drive you to be equally mad as her, you already know that you’ll be driven over the edge. She indeed filled you to the brim, your pussy welcoming all of her now. The knot in your lower stomach finally untangles – which was much deserved – you had cum hard with Sam’s relentless thrusts, and the relief immediately washed over your body. Now you're heaving on your girlfriend’s shoulder, trying to catch your breath, yet she hasn't stopped her actions still. With a few more thrusts and grunts, you feel your girlfriend finally shoot ropes of warm cum inside of you.

"Don't move just yet." Sam moans against your neck, but it's more of a command. you still feel your pussy pulsating like crazy from your high, thinking that Sam is only doing it to ride it out, squeezing all of the cum that both of you have to release. To your surprise, she only picked up the pace and started to thrust her cock onto your pussy once again.

"F-fuck, fuck, Sam! I'm still sensitive!" You try to slightly push her away by the shoulder.

Sam won't budge, knowing you'd say your safe word if it were the case.

"Shh. I know you can do more, princess,”

Your eyes were screwed shut and your neck thrown back, lost and savoring the pleasure. You feel how Sam's completely using your body for her pleasure, as she pulls almost her entire length out, tip of her cock still in, only to sink all of her suddenly in a fast manner. Your pussy walls were clenching, afraid that you’ll actually grow another type of heartbeat, as the pressure flows deliciously into you. You seep more wetness in the process. With Sam’s unforgiving pace, you can’t even say that you didn’t like that, being responsible for such insane fueled lust, so you let her.

The cum inside of you from earlier was getting messy as it was starting to leak along with the damp of your wetness in the sheets. If Sam's goal was to actually break the bed, you fear that it'll come to fruition as your girlfriend only continues to move her cock in and out rougher and faster than ever.

"These fucking pretty tits… all for me," Sam says in stupor, licking her lips at your sweaty and red figure. She lets her thumb and forefinger roll and tug on your nipple, then meets your mouth open in pleasure to swallow all of your moans.

Your grip on her moves to her tangled hair, barely tied now, tightened and tugging on her scalp to her pleasure. Sam grunts as she meets your hips rolling, now messy and slowly becoming uncoordinated, and gives a final few thrusts. Soon again, a relief washes over you so soon and you feel so full and insanely warm — Sam had just cummed for the second time inside of you and you just released your high as well.

"I told you," Sam huffed out, lips smirking as she looked up at you. "That I was gonna fill you up like crazy. What do you say about me marking you more, with a heart beside my first name letter this time?"

The feeling of the dagger both it’s sharpness and how she plowed it inside of you flashed quickly and familiar, the sensation still fresh. Your pussy throbs at the thought.

"You're insatiable." Sam chuckles at your words, combing your sweaty mess of hair as you whine half-heartedly at the equally messy appearance of your girlfriend’s suggestion. "And so cheesy. Like, a heart? Seriously?"

Although Sam wasn't affected at the jab in the slightest. She raises an eyebrow instead.

She cups your ass closer to her pelvis, as if there remains to be a distance between the two of you. Your cunt couldn’t help it but pathetically clench around her.

"Says the one who won't get off my cock still." Sam cockily retorts at you as she feels you adjust.

"Touché."

You remain in that same position until Sam notices that you're startled as she brushed her thumb against the fresh S wound.

She exhales and affectionately pats your plush thigh, "Let's get up before another round, princess. We have to clean that mark up, just in case."

You tighten the grip of your thighs now wrapped around her sweaty lower back refusing to get up.

"Don't wanna. I'm comfy in here."

You make it a point by keeping yourself snug as she's still inside of you and you clench your walls once again on her cock. Every time you do the action, the mixed fluid inside of you gushes even more, making a squelching sound and you drip a little more not only at the sheets, but as well as Sam’s thighs. Sam moans at this, her neck arched as she reels onto the feeling.

"C'mon you little tease. Say, I'll lift you through it?"

You look at her eyes seriously, "you'll stay inside?"

"Yes, doofus."

From a distance, you hear the television.

Man, 48, was found dead and stabbed twenty-six times, suspect remains unconfirmed but suggests the Ghostface’s brutal pattern….

“I guess no work for me tomorrow…?”

“And more time for me to ruin you. It’s totally a win-win.”

Sam laughs heartily at your joke and you find yourself joining along with her. You pay no mind, letting your girlfriend scoop you with ease as you make your way towards the sink and she takes care of you. It was safe to say it wouldn't be the last time that they'll be playing with the knife.

(please practice safe-sex!)

#gg.writes #sam carpenter x reader #scream vi #wlw #lesbian #sam carpenter smut #ghostface #ghostface sam #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x fem reader #scream 6 #sam loomis #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter

932 notes · View notes

starphasedd · 2 years ago

Text

lessons

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

rating: 18+ (nsfw)

notes: who doesn't love a good bathroom counter fuck? 🫣 this one is short! But I hope everyone likes it. 💜

Ao3

Today was one of those days.

As a woman, you inherently had those days. The days where nothing seems to go right and you immediately subconsciously blame everything on yourself.

The days where your confidence drops to zero.

The days where you can't seem to do anything right.

And the most frustrating thing of all, is how you seem to always have those days when you're with Ghost.

Long story short--you fucked up today. And it directly affected your colleague. When everything was said and done, the chopper ride back to the base eerily silent. Not a peep from your friend.

And once you arrived, he disembarked without a word, large boots clumping heavily down the metal gangplank of the aircraft.

Ghost wasn't a particularly chatty person, but he always talked to you. Even if it were just a few encouraging words after a hard mission. He always made sure you knew he appreciated you. And after some of your intimate encounters in the past, you liked to think he saw you as more than a friend or colleague. But today, that couldn't seem further from the truth.

Nonetheless, you let it be.

You immediately went to your room and stripped all your dirty clothes. You were covered in dirt and blood--not your own blood, which made it more disgusting. If possible. Mud was smeared all over your face, and your greasy hair stuck to the side of your neck like you had some kind of hair treatment slick in it.

A deep groan escaped your mouth when you finally stepped under the warm stream of water. All the memories from the day slowly drained down the tub as you washed yourself clean.

When finished, feeling squeaky clean, you stepped out into the misty room. The mirror was fogged completely. The air smelled pleasantly of lavender and salon brand shampoo. When you stepped onto the rug, the fabric immediately started soaking up the water on your feet. You grabbed the towel hanging on the rack next to you and slowly began towling off.

Once you finished, you walked to the counter where you had placed a fresh pair of panties and your favorite oversized tee. You made no rush at pulling your panties up to sit tightly on your ass, and then you dropped the shirt over your wet hair, letting the fabric stick to your soft skin. The shirt was big--came down just to the bottom of your waist. It covered most of your ass, but some still peeked out underneath.

The cotton fabric began to stick to your naked breasts--perked nipples starting to show through. You paid this no mind as you began to brush the wet tangles from your hair.

Memories from your embarrassing behavior today began to invade your mind in the silence of this room as you brushed the tangles from your hair. You huff, closing your eyes to concentrate as the brush comes to a stop mid-way through this stroke.

"Stop it." You hush yourself.

"Beatin' yourself up?" A deep boisterous voice slams you back to reality.

You jump slightly and shoot around to where the voice came from. Your heart is about to pop out of your chest. It's then that you see Simon standing tall in the doorway of your private bathroom. He's stripped of his gear, only left in his jeans and his black hoodie. He's leaning against one side of the doorway, his large arms crossed over his chest as he examines you.

"Christ, Simon--" you say, exasperated. "--what are you doin'?"

He cocks his head to the other side.

"What are you doin'?" He asks in rebuttal.

You watch him for a few seconds before huffing and crossing your arms over your chest to mimic him.

"I'm taking a shower. What does it look like I'm doin'?" You fire back.

"Looks like you're havin' some kind of mental battle with yourself to me." He says softly. His deep baritone sends chills down your spine.

Your arms loosen as you lock eyes with him. A sigh eventually escapes your lips. You turn back around to avoid his gaze and face the mirror. You continue what you were doing before.

"M'fine. Just--" you sigh.

"You're beatin' yourself up over today." He answers for you.

You sigh again, leaning down and placing both hands on the counter as you drop your head. You don't need to say anything--he knows.

You feel a sudden warmth approach you from behind, and you feel his large hands start to snake around your waist. He palms you--his thumbs digging into your lower back to message you there.

"Shit happens." He says softly from behind you.

You sigh again.

"I know, but--" you say, groaning when he pushes down on your lower back, making you arch. "--I-I know better. It shouldn't have happened--"

"But it did." He says, one of his large hands beginning to trail up your spine to attach to the back of your neck. "Which sucks. But you owned up to it. And recognized you made a mistake. Shit happens."

He words soothe you--relax you. And it's then that you notice his clothed erection pressed to the inside of your thigh. He's pushing on your ass with his hips in a slow, almost unnoticeable thrusting motion. The hand on your hip starts to slip under your shirt to lift and make your ass visible to him.

You blush, and huff out a nervous laugh.

"You still want me after my fuck up today?"

This time, he thrusts into your ass hard. You can feel the arousal starting to pool in your underwear as the hand on your neck moves to grip your shoulder for leverage.

"Course I still want ya. Did good today." He groans out.

"Wha--what?" You ask, feeling his fingers slip under the band of your panties to pull them down.

He can't hold in a groan at the sweet sight of your dripping pussy once he gets your panties down. Fresh from a steamy shower. You can hear him start to fumble with the zipper on his jeans.

"Can the explanation wait, luv? Want this sweet pussy, now." He says, impatience heavy in his tone.

You moan when you feel the tip of his cock press into your tight entrance. And you bite your lip in anticipation--only for him to stop.

"Yes or no, luv?" He asks.

Fuck, you love when he asks nicely. He has every right to take what he wants at any given moment. He knows you'd never turn him down--but he always insists on asking first.

"Fuck--yes, Simon. Please..."

It's not often that Simon's so impatient for sex that he doesn't prepare you first. He's large, and he knows you often need something to help the adjustment. But today, his desires outweigh his patience. And you're ready for it.

You spent all day wondering if he was mad at you. It's very clear now that he's not. The breath is stolen from your lungs as he plunges in deep, all the way to the end. His hips make contact with your ass and the head of his cock breaches your cervix. You whimper loudly for him.

His hands anchor on your hips as he begins setting a brutal and needy pace. You can't help but fall to your elbows and drop your forehead to the counter as he ravages you from behind. His thick fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he fucks you in earnest.

Your toes curl and your knees buckle as the brutal pace he sets brings your orgasm awkwardly fast. The string in your lower belly is pulling tight as heat creeps its way into your lower back.

"Good girl." He encourages, heavy breaths and deep groans escaping his chest as he fucks you hard. "So good."

Your moans are getting caught in your throat as his heavy thrusts bare down on you. It's almost overwhelming.

"C'mon." He grits through his teeth, hips slapping hard against your ass as he fucks clear up into your cervix.

"Simon--" You whimper. He squeezes your hips in response.

"Thas it. C'mon." He encourages.

You start to tighten around him. When his hips stutter, his fingers dig in deeper, and he throws his head back--you all but cry like a child and cum hard around his cock. He stutters again, grunting when your walls start to pulse around him.

He grunts your name a few times, praising your sweet core, your kushy and comfortable ass, and your beautiful moans.

Of course, he wasn't far behind you. After only a few more thrusts, he's bearing down on your hips and filling you to the point of leakage. His seed starts to leak, trailing down your thighs until it pools on the floor at your feet.

He leans down over you, supporting his weight on the counters as he breaths heavily into your ear.

You shuffle a little, pressing your back up into his chest. A large hand comes around to press on your lower belly where his cock still sits.

"Feel me clear up in here, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck.

You whimper his name, fingers sliding over to touch that hand of his that rests on the counter next to you.

"Enough. Gonna get us caught." You laugh softly.

He grunts.

"You think that's gonna stop me?"

You sigh. "Nope."

He presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. "Smart girl."

He removes himself from you, but not completely leaving before he cleans you of his arousal.

As he's fixing his jeans, you turn to look at him.

"What did you mean? By 'did good'?"

He glances down at you for a few moments while he pulls his zipper up. Then a large hand comes up to gently caress your chin. He makes you look at him.

"I meant you did good." He says gently, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "It was an honest mistake. Not even the most honorable of men can admit they did wrong, but you did."

You watch him softly.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. We all make mistakes. Next time, you'll know better."

A soft smile crosses your cheeks as you nod softly in his palm.

You blush when he leans down and softly places a clothed kiss to your cheek through his mask.

"Now get dressed. Supper time soon."

"Yes sir." You say with a smile.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #smut

838 notes · View notes

blueberryarchive · 1 year ago

Text

(18+, non-con, smut, mentions of death)

Sigh, it seemed like you were a teenager again. All the time with this eternal and lethargic tiredness, the light nose wrinkled in disgust with everything and everyone, the shoulders hunched in search of angst. You had screamed a few minutes ago, to be left alone, that the damn constant questionnaire was driving you crazy. No, you didn't know if you wanted to wear the cotton dress or the suede one, or if the sunglasses were too big, you didn't care.

You had screamed a few minutes ago, and now only the immense and regurgitating loneliness of your closet accompanied you. It was raining heavily outside, but the closed windows didn't let you hear its sweet fall. Everything was abhorrent: another phrase you would have said when you were fourteen.

You don't know what your husband saw in you the first time you met, but none of that mattered anymore. His opinion was about to be buried next to his disfigured, hand-stitched, suit-clad body. As if he were a rag doll.

The door opened after two firm knocks. There he was, the only person you could stand at the moment: Jeon Jungkook, your husband's servant.

"Were you looking for me, My Lady?" His voice, abrupt and strong as a brick, warmed your burning head. Turning thoughts into a nebulous collection.

You nodded.

"I can't manage to do the only thing that is asked of me in this house." Your frustrating laugh didn't contort Jungkook's face in grief. That's why you needed him, you were tired of the probing around you and the way they spoke softly as if you were going to break.

"It's not like it's easy on such a surreal day."

"I thought he would die in a bed like all the men in his family." Your gaze drifted to the geometric figures on the carpet. Jungkook closed the door behind him, working on looking for a black dress suitable for the situation. "I thought," you continued, "that like the other wives, I would be at his side before he closed his eyes, that his children would be able to see him and remember his last smile." You shook your head, biting your thumb. "You cannot blame yourself for the circumstances, My Lady." Jungkook pointed to the armoire behind you, where there were three options, all daring in some way or another, but it's not like you were someone above those options.

"Besides, it's not like, with all due respect, you and Mr. Bass were an ordinary couple."

"Indeed." You were a young woman, he was old and rich. Everyone talked, laughed, cried, joked, and threatened about it in his family.

You pointed your finger at the dress on the left.

"You'll need a corset for that," Jungkook murmured and turned around to look for the best option for that dress.

Hands are next to the mirror, your mouth slightly open as you feel your skin and bones tighten beneath the fabric. Behind you, Jungkook used his thin, fine fingers to adjust the corset a little more. He looked from time to time at your reflection in search of a reaction, of pain, but you endured the molding of your bones like a champ.

"You can tell me if it's too tight, My Lady." You shook your head and raised a hand, signaling for him to finish before you regretted choosing a type of dress that needed that kind of torture. When finished, he created a delicate bow.

The whole morning had been torture for you: the funeral arrangements, your parents' faces full of melancholy, having to console your husband's children, the sorrowful voices of your maids when they tried to serve you tea or find a way for you to eat. Like you were a girl, it was horrible. That's why Apolonia and Gretchen weren't in your exaggerated closet with you, but rather your deceased husband's servant. Jungkook was a young boy, considering the fact that everyone in that mansion was in their 50s or older, men and women who raised each Bass since they were old enough to properly hold a child.

Jungkook was young, like you, the two of you were barely six years apart. You had an obvious interest in men older than you, Jungkook was like a child the first night your husband brought him to introduce you three years ago. His eyes were always wide open, lips always a little parted, alert and helpful. He was adorable.

But the man behind you was physically stronger, his long hair was tied up in a low bun, and his way of speaking was more fluid and assertive. He always said the right thing, it made your nipples hurt, and your heart fluttered between his words.

"Would you like some kind of stocking for the dress?"

"No, I think I'll go with high boots."

"Very well, My Lady." While you were putting on the dress in front of the mirror, Jungkook didn't move from his spot, half of his body reflected next to you, hands behind his back and a little erratic with his gaze. "Everything okay, Jungkook?" The man lowered his face, a shameful laugh.

"I'm sorry, it's just that from here you can see the place where Mr. Bass died. I can't imagine how much he suffered-" he sealed his lips with red cheeks. "I'm sorry, My Lady. It's insensitive to talk about something so brutal in front of you."

"No, please." You tried to smile. "It's not like the police didn't give me the raw details the next morning, the photos are still tattooed on my retina."

The face was chewed beyond recognition, and parts of the eyebrow and forehead were torn to the bone. Evidence of dental markings on the zygomatic bone and mental foramen.

You read the reports with your breakfast while the police questioned you about your relationship with Mr. Bass, the dogs in the house, and your opinion of his friends, his servants, and coworkers.

"I found it very unusual that you did not go through the garden to our farmer's cottage that day."

"The sun was at its highest point, and I felt like I was fainting every time I got out of bed."

"I understand." It was the only thing he said, he laughed at your response and you frowned, your skin crawling from the new questioning of your person.

"How do you know I go every day?"

"The farmer and I are very good friends, after your visits in the afternoons the smell of vanilla remains on the furniture when I visit the farmer at night for dinner."

"And how do you know I didn't go that afternoon?" You turned around, neck held high, aristocratic arrogance within you searching for what Jungkook truly wanted to say.

"The smell was not even on the pages of the book laid out on Mr. Bell's table. Your favorite book."

Your eyelids fluttered softly, deadly. You smiled.

"Go get my gloves, the long suede ones." You said in the softest tone possible.

Jungkook obeyed, covering each finger in the soft fabric.

"I know what you did to Mr. Bass." The voice was barely a trickle as he finished putting on the gloves, his large hands caressing the suede on your arm as if massaging the information into you.

You didn't know what to say. You swallowed deeply before snatching your arm from his caress, he stood there without stopping looking at you. It made you nauseous.

"It's not my duty to tell you the morality of your choices, but we can say that I agree with your decision, My Lady." He gets close, trying to finish the buttons of the dress with steady hands. "Even though Mister Ron and Master Edward will suffer greatly from the loss of their dear father."

"They will be fine, they will go to therapy." You were quick to answer.

"Of course. Nothing you can't solve. Turn around."

You were the one to obey this time. You stay still, looking at his reflection, waiting for the police to come in when your tongue accidentally slips the fact that you were the one who left the door open of the three beautiful Rottweilers, that you were the one that pointed and gave the distinct whistle for the three dogs to attack your husband.

"But you must know, My Lady." He licked his lips, thinking very well what he was about to say. "I won't fill My Lord's position in any shape or form, that's out of the question." The air was filled with a deep smell of roses, lilies, and all types of flowers that were arranged in every corner of the closet, its pungent smell making you a little dizzy.

"But I hope you know that I'll be here, always." His hand trailed, wandering off to your snatched and whalebone-molded waist. "In one way or another."

"Is this a proposal, Mr. Jeon? If it is, I can assure you this is very inappropriate and vulgar."

He opens his doe eyes, and a gloved and pristine hand reaches his chest. "Oh, My Lady, I'm so sorry. A simple mistake."

Another step, closer. Closer than ever in the last three years. It felt like a big and broad wall was destroyed in front of your eyes. Everything felt a little smaller around you, his face was more detailed and you couldn't smell those damn roses anymore.

"This is not an indecorous offer, but more of a negotiation."

"Is this about money?"

He seemed offended by your question.

"This is about information, my dear."

You tremble, your husband used to call you that when he was in a good mood. Now it felt like a threat in the honeyed voice of your dearest butler. "It's about you having the ability to negotiate and give me a great price for my silence."

He lifted your chin and took the plum lipstick sitting in your cabinet. He opened his mouth slightly, and you mirrored his face. The thick paste settled in your quivering lips as he dragged along the stick. "Now I know it was Mr. Bass' skill being the one who does... did, business. But I know you didn't study the same career as him just so you can sit around with that kind of information. Just to end up being the one who changes the colors and textures of the curtains in the mansion every season, to make tea parties and charities."

"I'm glad with the life I was given." Your voice shakes, and your eyes cannot stop drinking every little piece of heaven that made his face.

"I don't know what shoes to put on." You tried to sound as normal as you could.

"I'll help you with that, My Lady." You took a sit on the leather couch while he opened your wardrobe, dozens of shoes for every occasion and others to create them. "And no, I know you abhor the life you were, not given, but placed upon you like a rock you must climb to the top over and over again." He took a Miu Miu black pair of stilettos, and he smiled while putting the heels on your feet. "Like a feminine, aristocratic Sysiphus"

"How dare you?" Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, and you stood up with a growing pain in your stomach. Now you think about not remembering the last time you properly ate, besides cigarettes and an occasional toast.

"I dare because I know, not only about your boycott but about how you feel about me."

"Oh, please." You laughed so hard you worried the servants outside might hear you. Your trembling hands trying to put on a subtle silver necklace. Taken back when the rough hand made you turn around, the other pressing hard on your cheeks to see him, your fragile body falling to the couch next to you.

"I've seen you looking, I've seen what you read and what you wrote in your journal; read every page of that day. That summer in the chateau by the lake. You couldn't stop thinking about me, finding me in the bathtub jerking off." He laughed erratically. "I read every little note you made about it: the length, the girth, your opinions on my crooked moans. A very thorough essay, I must add."

"If you keep talking I will yell and tell everyone that you tried to rape me." This was absolutely ridiculous. So ridiculous that both of you went completely silent.

You never thought you could say something like that, even less to Jungkook, who respected you more than anyone else in the Bass house. You were a pariah because of your age, because your husband found you on vacation, and when he got home he already signed all the papers to make you his Lady. Almost 28 years apart, but you loved him more than yourself...until you didn't. Until he started treating you like he treated every ex-wife, but he fucked up; and know the coffin must be a closed one because the lovely Nova took a bite at his cheek, leaving the teeth exposed with a wide smile, the eye came out of his socket; the cops never found it.

The stoic expression Jungkook ported broke, shattered into pieces by the force of his sudden laughter; leaving you awestruck by his decadent beauty and the raw force of his devilish smile.

His long legs started getting closer in elongated steps, your nails digging into the fleshy brown of the leather couch when he got so close to your ear that the warm mist coming out of his lips made you tremble.

"I dare you."

The outline of a scream was the only thing you could create before your butler's hand sealed every orifice, you couldn't breathe. You fell to the floor trying to crawl, his knee pressing into your lower back until your entire body was flat on the carpet.

"Sh, sh, sh. Don't make this any harder than it should be."

You heard the ripping of your underwear, the corset stabbing into your lungs, causing the edges of your vision to turn black.

"God, you're wet." He said it as a surprise, expecting you to be a tough catch.

You shook your head, gasping for air, your nails useless with the gloves. His index finger moved so that you could breathe, the air entering and leaving your pits with a cry.

The sting of his cock entering your pussy made you scream, your body felt trapped between Jungkook's weight and yet you tried like a caterpillar to get out of its confines. You denied and denied and more juice came out of your pussy with each crash, it was sinful.

"Open that little hole for me, I'm going to do what your husband couldn't do."

You opened your eyes when you felt the hot liquid run down your thighs and into your dress. You grabbed Jungkook's hand when the brush of the carpet against your clit betrayed you and your pussy started pumping his cum out. A spanking, you moaned, raising your ass in the air looking for more.

"We could have done this like civilized people, but you never understand." He whispered in your ear before turning you around. A soft kiss to your needy lips, the hand-painted on your skin. You closed your eyes, letting your back arch at the strange sensation of being kissed with so much love.

"What I do not understand?" You whispered, brittle.

"Now that you have killed your husband, you have destroyed the only wall that protected you, which means you are just one more object in this mansion full of monsters that all they want is to kill you." His explanation was expressed so lovingly, that the caress on your cheek made two tears fall to your temples. "And I'm going to take advantage of how little you will be now. Like a hole in a wall, just a fucking bother." Another kiss, wet lips molded in heaven, the dark stains from your lipstick leaving evidence.

His smile warmed your chest, it sounded divine. To belong.

ps: gotta be honest with you, chief. this fic is not it for me but i felt like i had to write something, even though words are difficult for me. if you have some constructive criticism, please go ahead. as always thanks for reading, bisou.

#jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook x oc #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook x y/n #bts au #bts x you #bts

263 notes · View notes