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The Fall of Fair City - Chapter 16
"You waist time hiding and planning for when its best to still some cheese. In reality you should take this time to plan revenge against those who slander your name. Let the people of this city no why you are a true threat to their daily lives." Steven's harsh words echoed within Two Brains tormented mind. 'This is doesn't make any sense.' Two Brains thought with confusion. Arguments between his good and evil side were never this violent. Even then, it was always his evil side pushing down his good one in the end. Now this time the tables were turned. Two Brains could feel his good self oppressing him. He wish he could mentally fight back without this stupid headache in the way!. Out of the corner of his eyes, Two Brains could see the mouse brain glowing out of control, but he still couldn't feel the mouse's presence. How was Steven keeping his and Squeaky's minds separate? "Why do you even care about my status and choices I should make as a villain? I thought you hated when I did bad stuff and ruined our old good name?" Steven's glare caused Two Brains to feel a shiver throughout his body. "What I hate is how your making yourself weak and vulnerable to your enemies. It's pathetic!" Steven spat. "Would you just shut up now and crawl back to whatever part of our mind you were cowering in before." Two Brains growled. He had enough of Steven's words. "Hmph. You just want me to go away and stop having to face the reality of what a pathetic person you have become." Steven scoffed, but then, a dark and very familiar malicious grin formed on his face. "If I were in charge, then this inconvenience with the broadcast would go away just like that." Steven stated in a sly tone, snapping his fingers for emphasis. That did it for Two Brains. Ignoring the emotional and physical pain he was feeling, the mad scientist straightened himself up and glares in outrage at his counterpart. "Okay first, you have no right to question what I choose to do or not do as a villain. Second, YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO HAVE CONTROL OF THIS BODY EVER AGAIN! I'M IN CHARGE NOW BUB!" Two Brains yelled out. Although taken a bit back from the volume of that yell, Steven seemed to be unfazed by Two Brains' outbursts. "We'll see about that Two Brains." Steven said with a smirk. Two Brains snorted in pure rage. "OKAY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL OF A SUDDEN. JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO ME LIKE..." "Dad, is everything okay?" Dr. Two Brains enraged expression morphed into a one of shock as he quickly spun around to the source of the voice that startled him. "Hey kiddo. How's your day been?" Two Brains asked, trying to calm down and recover from his emotional torment from earlier. His daughter Becky had returned along with Bob and apparently in the middle of his heated battle with his other half. Becky looked at her dad with intense worry and concern. "You sounded like you were yelling at someone just now." Becky strongly implied, showing she didn't by her dad's attempt at acting like nothing traumatic just happened. "Oh that well" Two Brains hesitated, trying to come up with a passable lie for his emotional outburst towards his "good" side who he just noticed out of the corner of his eye, vanished from the mirror. 'At least he remembered to not let Becky get involved in are arguments.' Two Brains thought with sarcasm. An idea soon popped into his head. "Oh yeah. A rat snuck into the lair trying to steal some of my cheese. I was trying to chase it off and the rat gave me some attitude. That's what the yelling was about. Everything's fine now sweetheart." Two Brains lied, placing his hands on his hips with fake enthusiasm and pride at his "explanation". Both Becky and Bob looked dubiously concerned at Two Brains for a bit, but they seemed to buy the excuse for now as Becky began to switch topics. "Well Bob and I looked into you being framed for the destruction of the storage unit and we discovered some things." Becky stated concisely, though there was a slight hint of apprehension in her voice. @melodythebunny @dualnaturedscientist
#wordgirl#wordgirl au#dr two brains#steven boxleitner#becky boxleitner au#bob/captain huggy face#the fall of fair city#angst#tw: mental abuse#tw: mental breakdown#tw: mental torment#Steven not letting up in his verbal abuse towards two brains#dark battle for control of mind and body#temporarily#😈
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18+ mdni; gn!reader
every once in a while, suguru lets you have all the power.
down on his knees, he stares up at you with dark eyes; there's a grin plastered onto his face, the very same one that got him into this situation in the first place, and nothing that you're doing is making it go away.
(every once in a while, he lets you think you have all the power.)
his hands are behind his back with the material of his own tie digging into the sensitive skin of his wrists but he doesn't mind the pain. he loves it. the first few buttons of his dress shirt are undone and a few blooming bruises peek from under the garment. the contrast between his skin and the splotches of color are tantalizing, it's making your mouth water and your teeth itch – the need to add more to the canvas that sits before you is clouding your mind and he knows it.
despite being the one that's tied up, suguru continues to push your buttons.
he's insufferable. he's rude. he's fucking annoying.
he's gorgeous. he's beautfiul. he's fucking exceptional.
you want to hurt him. you want to kiss him.
and he knows.
his cheek burns a bright pink shade while the inside of your hand prickles with the most delicious kind of pain. strands of hair have fallen from behind his ears and are now keeping you from having his eyes on you and that won't do. slowly reaching out, you tuck it back where it came from, your fingers brush against his skin and you feel the warmth exuding from him. you press your tingling palm against his cheek and watch how he leans into your touch; the corners of his lips tug even further and he morphs into the wolf that he really is – his sharp teeth glint from behind the grin as his eyes narrow in on you. there's a comment, a sly tease, ready to fall from his tongue, you can see it so clearly—
a second slap echoes through your shared home.
the words dissolve in his mouth as he hums at you instead. his head is now turned away from you by an inch, the impact of your hand strong enough to actually do some damage. suguru bites down onto his lip while slowly cracking open his eyes, his gaze even darker now. he licks his lips and you catch sight of the little steel piercing that hides in mouth.
trying to win the silent battle of dominance, you tilt your chin up high but when you see suguru pressing his thighs together, you almost crumble entirely. he's so hard that even just the mere thought of his cock makes your mouth salivate.
you think about big of a mess he must be making under all the layers, you think about how full his balls are. you think about all the things he might do to you the second you untie him.
"don't tell me that was your worst, sweetheart... "
his voice is like something crafted perfectly just to make you weak in the knees, there's no resisting it. it's like honey, sweet and sticky, and—
a third slap.
you can't let him do this to you. this is your fucking moment.
his cheek burns brighter than ever, the ache under his skin shooting waves of pleasure all over his body and all he's willing to give you is another hum. it comes from somewhere deep within, desperately crawling out from inside him as if he couldn't contain it anymore. but it feels so good. it's so fucking good and he hates to admit it; he hates how he has no control over his body – his thighs press together all on their own, his brain focused on relieving the pain between his legs at any cost.
when suguru's head falls forward and he lets out a raspy laugh, you freeze. you can hear your own heart beat in your ears and you can feel the blood pumping in your veins.
and when he cranes his neck to peer at you from under his brow, you feel like you're going to faint. he's going to eat you, he's going to devour you. he's going to ruin you.
#SKDFJFESHFHWEFHSEGWEJHFEHWFGEH#idk what else to say i'm sorry..#sugu#wtf mickey can write#suguru x reader#suguru smut#suguru drabble#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#geto suguru drabble#jjk geto#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk drabble#jujutsu kaisen
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Inside Out (Logan Howlett x f!reader)
A/N: Oh my god I'm back again. This is another soft!Logan fic. I couldn't hold myself back from writing this one. The next fic I have planned is going to be devious and diabolical, I promise, but for now, here's another angsty, soft and smutty Logan one shot. Couldn't stop listening to "Inside Out" by Duster while writing this one. I think it fits. Hope you guys enjoy :)
Summary: After a tense battle, you and Logan have it out (in more ways than one).
Warnings: SMUT! 18+ Minors DNI! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, PIV (unprotected...wrap it up, this is fiction!), Allusions to PTSD/mental health, Frenemies to Lovers, Fem!reader, AFAB!reader, Mutant!reader, Telepathic!reader (with heightened senses/visions), cannon typical violence/allusions to death, non-sexual intimacy becomes sexual intimacy (not sure if that warrants a warning), angry!Logan, reader has hair (length/texture/color not described!) major angst, probably grammatical errors, I think that's everything.
Word Count: 4477 wow
You and Logan are surrounded. You can hear the other members of the team nearby in the forest, screaming, grunting, fighting. Guns going off, ricocheting against trees. And now, there is a circle of government-sanctioned mutant hunters pointing their machine guns and rifles directly at the two of you.
Your heart beats out of your chest. How the fuck are you going to get out of this? It seems impossible. Sure, you and Logan can regenerate, but not nearly fast enough. You’re outnumbered 2 to at least 40, and more to come. Maybe this is the end. Maybe there’s no going home this time.
But then, an idea crosses your mind. Briefly. A flash. A shot in the dark. But it’s there. And if you’re strong enough, it might just work.
You wince as another presence weaves itself through the fabric of your thoughts. No, Charles shouts in your mind. It’s too dangerous.
You shake him off, forcing up your mental shields. Logan recognizes that look on your face. He can tell you’re up to something. He has always been able to read you like a book.
“Don’t you dare put yourself in danger,” he mutters under his breath so only you can hear him. “We are all walking out of here, and you’re no exception.”
You close your eyes. “When I tell you to get down, you get down.”
“Absolutely not!” His nostrils flare. The government agents cock their guns.
“Lo, get down.”
“Fuck no!”
You can feel it coming—feel their fingers bracing their triggers. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling. Everything is silent for a moment. You can hear everything. Nothing. There’s a squirrel running up a tree just a few feet away. A cold breeze sweeps through your legs. Peace.
It never lasts long, does it?
“NOW!”
BANG! The shots ring out, echoing against the branches, the sound shaking the trees.
With half your focus, you shove Logan to the ground, and with the other, you stop each and every bullet pointed in your direction. You stop the agents too, freezing them in their places. Dense, heavy sweat builds upon your brow. You’re trembling, your hands stretched out towards Logan and the agents, but you’re still in control. You can hold on a bit longer.
You swallow harshly, forcing the bullets to rain down to the ground. With the twist of your hand, you remove the magazines from each of the guns and unload them, the ammunition falling to the ground, too. With the agents still under your control, you bend their wrists just enough so that they sprain; just enough so that they can’t fight back.
And then comes that sudden, familiar shift in your body and in your mind. You’re weakening, losing control, struggling to breathe. You growl in agony, your head ready burst from the pressure of hanging on too long—but you have to finish this. You have to save your friends.
You have to save Logan.
With one final push of your hand, you send the government agents flying deep into the forest, screaming in pain at the sheer force it takes. You fall to your knees, down on the ground next to Logan. You try to catch your breath, your chest heaving rapidly. You cough, choking on your own breath and saliva as the taste of metal burns at the back of your throat. You swallow it all down. One more second of that, or a few more agents to fend off, and you might not have made it. You might have died trying.
You regain some of your energy after a few moments on the ground. It’s not until you try to stand that you notice Logan’s hand on your back. He tries to help you up, but you shake him off.
“I’m fine,” you protest, dusting off your uniform.
“Fine?” Fuck. He’s angry. “You call that fine? You almost died!”
You turn to face him. He wants anger? Oh, you can show him what anger fucking looks like. “We would be dead if I didn’t do that! I did what I had to do!”
He prowls toward you. His claws are still out. “Are you fucking crazy?” He’s backing you into a tree now. “Tell me, what the fuck was that? What did you think you were doing?” He retracts his claws as he pins his hands into the tree, right next to your head. The bark scratches into the rips in your uniform.
You condescendingly poke his chest with your pointer figure. If he’s going to treat you like a child, you’re going to do the same to him. “Saving your ass, that’s what!” You shout back.
“This is not the time or place for you two to have it out.” Scott’s grating voice fills your ears. He is the last person’s opinion you’d like to hear right now.
You and Logan snap your heads to face him. “Shut the fuck up, Scott!” You spit in unison. He throws his hands up and backs away.
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Logan practically growls.
You shake your head, your nostrils flaring. “I was protecting you!” You shout. “And I did! It worked!”
The rest of the team starts to board the jet, but Logan shows no sign of budging. Storm crosses her arms as she stands in front of the ramp. “Logan, let’s go.”
He doesn’t move an inch, still caging you in. “I’ve got the bike. I’ll take her with me.”
“My bike!” Scott calls from just inside the ship. Logan shoots him a death stare. Even you roll your eyes at the comment.
“Logan,” Charles chides from next to Storm, his voice a warning.
You tilt your head past Logan to see Charles. “It’s fine. I’ll go with him. We’ll meet you guys at the mansion.”
Charles nods. You swear you can see a faint smirk spread across his face, but he’s turning around and wheeling himself up the ramp before you can truly make out his expression.
The ramp shuts behind him, and the jet powers up to leave. “So how are we settling this, hm?” You ask, cockily. Logan works his jaw, staring down at you with a fury you’re not quite sure you’ve seen before. “What would you like to do, bub?” You smirk. “What, you gonna tell me we’re supposed to be a team or something? Thought that wasn’t your style.” You know you’re being harsh, using his own words against him, ripping into him, but you don’t care. The jet takes off, but neither you nor Logan pay it any mind.
His tongue swipes his bottom lip, and you can’t help but watch. You try to ignore how much you like the sight of it. Of him.
“Never,” he seethes, not wavering an inch. “Never do anything like that again.”
“Why?” Is all you ask, knowing full well you’re poking the bear. “It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done.”
He ignores you and presses on. “I swear to God, if anything ever happens to you, I will punch a fucking hole in the goddamn universe so big that…” He trails off, his eyes searching your face. There’s a shift in his expression. “So fucking big that…” But he still doesn’t finish the sentence. His eyes are glossed over, like he’s holding back tears.
You’re suddenly embarrassed. You can’t keep his stare, his eyes locked on you. You look down at the leaf-covered ground, and you realize just how dirty you are. Blood on your hands, under your nails, caked into your skin. You’re finally understanding the gravity of the moment—of what could have been if your plan didn’t work.
“It was the only way,” you pause, feeling tears sting behind your sinuses, burning as they reach your eyes. “Only way I saw it ending without you d-dying.” You have to choke the words out. “C-couldn’t lose you,” you mutter, hoping he can’t hear you.
“And what?” He says, not backing down. “You think you’re the only one with something to lose?”
“N-no,” you stutter softly. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just—”
“I’d rather die than live in a world without you.” He says finally. He pushes himself off the tree and away from you. He turns, walking towards wherever he parked the bike.
You look at his back in disbelief. “W-what?” “You fucking heard me,” he shouts, not bothering to stop and wait for you or to elaborate further. You push your back off the tree and follow him through the forest.
“Slow down!” You call out, still not quite fully recovered from using your powers. But he keeps pressing forward. “Logan!” You call again. “Please, I—” You stumble a bit, almost falling over, but you catch yourself just in time. You reach out to a tree for support, gripping a low branch tightly in your hand. You suck in deep, shaky breaths as you let your eyes fall closed.
Logan shouts your name in the near distance, his voice filled with panic. His footsteps crunch the leaves of the forest floor. You can tell he’s sprinting with every twig that cracks beneath his boots. “Fuck, are you okay?” He’s next to you now, his arms enveloping you, reaching around your waist to offer you support.
You can feel your tears bubbling to the surface, threatening to burst. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, opening your eyes to look up at him. “I just didn’t see any other way.”
“I know.” His voice is gentler now, calmer. He helps you straighten up, taking a tentative step and watching as you take one too. He walks slowly, making sure not to rush you, keeping an eye on your every move. “I’m sorry too,” he says. “What you do…you just scare me sometimes.”
You hope he doesn’t see the tear that slips out the corner of your eye and down your cheek. “I scare myself. I still can’t control my powers. I know I’m a monster.” You can see the bike in the distance, so you take another step, but Logan stops. “I just feel so inside out sometimes, like I can’t be comfortable in my own head never mind my own skin.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” His voice is steady now, firm. His grip around your waist tightens, keeping you in place. “You’re not a monster. You’re beautiful—” He cuts himself off. “What you can do, is beautiful.”
“Then what is it that scares you?” You need to know.
“You’re just so selfless. What you did back there…” He pauses. “You knew you could die. I saw it in the way you were standing. The way you looked at me. It was reckless.”
He searches your face, your eyes, your lips for an answer. “You’re no better,” you huff out. Logan smirks, guiding you towards the bike yet again. “It’s just what you do when you care about someone.”
“I know.” His lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “I know,” he repeats.
He helps you onto the back of the bike, holding your hips as you straddle the seat. His hands linger longer than they should. He squeezes softly before letting go and walking to the front. He straddles the bike himself, grabbing the key from his jacket pocket and turning it into the ignition. The bike springs to life.
“Hang on, alright?” He calls out over the roar of the engine. You nod against his back, slipping your arms under his jacket and around his waist. He kicks the stand up, and the bike rumbles underneath you as he presses on the gas. You tighten your hold on him as the bike jolts forward.
You rest your head on his back, letting yourself fold over him completely. He’s warm and solid underneath you. You shut your eyes, too tired to watch the tires speed across the black pavement. Aside from the engine, the tires against the street below, and the wind, there’s no sound. No one around. It’s just you and Logan. Alone.
You feel him breathe in deeply. “Don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t make it.” You can feel the words reverberate in his back. “I mean it.”
“But I did,” you say, lifting your head so that you can speak against his ear. “I’m right here.” He hums in affirmation, and you rest your head on his back again. You hesitantly reach your hands under his shirt this time, arms wrapping around him as tight as possible. You know this is pushing the boundaries of your “friendship,” but he doesn’t stop you—doesn’t push you away. He just hums again. “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, and shut your eyes.
“Good.”
The ride back to the mansion isn’t terribly long, and you wish it could’ve been longer. Logan drives the bike into the garage, taking the keys out of the ignition and kicking out the stand. You lift your head, and before you can even think of getting up on your own, Logan is wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you off the seat.
You let him hold you there for a moment. You try to tell yourself that this is just a hug between friends, that this whole situation is what happens when you care about someone too much. But it’s hard to lie to yourself when you feel so impossibly strongly about someone.
He drops his arms from your body and silently takes your hand in his. He guides you to the door that leads to the mansion, keeping you close.
It’s dark once you step inside. Everyone must have gone to bed. It likely took you and Logan five times as long as the jet to get back to the mansion. Quiet fills the halls. There’s not a stir, not a creak, not a step. You can sense that everyone is asleep, or at least in their rooms.
“Lo?” You whisper. He squeezes your hand. A surge of confidence racks through you. “Can you stay with me?” You’re not quite sure what you mean by that—what you expect him to do if he stays. All you’re certain of is that you don’t want him to leave.
He nods, leading you up the stairs. “Won’t go anywhere, sweetheart.” He guides you down the hall towards his room. “Let’s get cleaned up, okay?”
He opens the door and guides you in, shutting it carefully behind him. He lets go of your hand, the sudden emptiness making your palm feel cold. How do people become so important, so quickly? How can someone letting go of your hand hurt so bad when they’re still just a few feet away? You’re not sure, but you know this feeling is dangerous.
He’s rummaging through his drawers for a few seconds before he pulls out a t-shirt and places it on the dresser in front of him. He grabs another set of clothes, closes the drawer, and carries them over to you. He extends the shirt out to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. That’s what he is right now: soft. You’re not used to this side of him.
You take the shirt from him, smiling back. “You should shower. You can use mine.” His head tilts towards the bathroom on the other side of his room. You nod and pad over, opening the door, turning on the lights, and closing the door behind you.
You keep moving, undressing and turning the water on. It doesn’t take long for the water to heat up, the steam fogging every inch and surface of the room. You step inside the shower, letting the water run down your body. Your eyes fall closed while your mind searches for some kind of peace. You try to recall what Charles often told you: Calm your mind. But it isn’t working this time. Your mind is racing.
You envision Logan’s angry, fearful face; his concern and panic. Charles’s call that it would be too dangerous echoes and reverberates. You see yourself dead on the ground, Logan holding your lifeless body in his arms. Even worse, you find yourself imagining that it didn’t work at all—that you couldn’t save the team, never mind yourself. This time it’s Logan’s body you see, on the ground, dead. Just like that, your whole world can slip out of your hands and turn to nothing.
Choked sobs escape your throat as you let yourself fall to your knees. There’s a piercing, splitting pain somewhere deep inside your head. These visions, these feelings, this pain—it’s physical and mental. And it’s too much. It’s not the first time you’ve had visions like these after a fight or a mission, but it is the worst episode yet.
There’s a knock on the door, followed by Logan calling your name. You try to answer, but your voice is caught in your throat. Logan knocks harder, but you still can’t speak. “I’m coming in!” The door swings open and his eyes widen as he sees your crumpled form on the shower floor, face stained red with tears.
He shoves the shower door open, practically cracking the glass in the process. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how naked you are, but it’s clear Logan isn’t. His gaze is trained on your face. “I-it happens, sometimes,” you stutter, reassuring him that this is normal. “A-after missions.”
Logan’s shoulders relax, his eyes softening with understanding. “I know what you mean.” His hands come up to your arms, rubbing gently. “Let me help you.” He gestures with his head toward the shower. You nod and watch as Logan takes his shirt off. He stands to take off his jeans, and you look away, taking the moment to force yourself to stand. You hear him step into the shower and slide the door shut behind him.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, swallowing harshly.
Logan stands behind you, less than a foot away. The shower is just big enough for the two of you. “Nothing to be sorry for. Just let me take care of you.”
“Okay,” you whisper. You hear him shuffle a bit, squeeze a bottle, and shuffle a bit more.
“Can I touch you?” He asks.
“Y-yeah,” you answer. You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating. But before you can think about it too much, his hands come up to your wet hair. He massages shampoo into your scalp, his fingertips scrubbing ever so gently. You feel your shoulders settle—your body relax. No one has ever done anything like this for you before.
You watch as the dirt trickles down your body to the drain. After a few moments of massaging, Logan nudges you forward a bit, and you take the hint to step under the water fully. You close your eyes as he scrubs the shampoo from your hair.
When he’s done, he removes his hands from your hair and slides them down to your neck, and then to your shoulders. You step away from the water, almost bumping into his chest in the process.
“’M’sorry,” you mumble.
“No more apologizing, darlin’.” His hands come off your shoulders. You feel lost without the contact. You listen as the bottle pops open again, and Logan quickly scrubs the shampoo into his own hair. You instinctively step forward to let him rinse, and he does.
You take a deep breath, trying to concentrate and calm down now that his hands aren’t on you. But it doesn’t last long. He opens another bottle, pouring more liquid into his hands.
He rests his hands on your shoulders again. You can feel the body wash run down your arms. “Can I…” Logan trails off, his hands firm, unmoving until you give the word.
“Mhm,” you hum. His hands start to work the soap into your arms, up to your neck, your collarbone, stopping just above your chest. “Logan,” you murmur, letting yourself lean into him. You feel his heart beating against your back. His breath fans over your shoulder.
You can tell he’s losing his composure, the way he slouches around you, inviting you in. This isn’t something friends do. You two aren’t friends. This is something more.
And he knows.
“There’s no coming back from this,” he whispers, his lips at your temple. “If we do this.”
You push back further into him. “Who says I’d want to go back?”
Your back is suddenly met with the cold shower wall, your chest flush with Logan’s. His lips press into yours, swallowing your moans as his hands come up to your breasts, pinching your nipples lightly. He moves down your body quickly, leaving a trail of kisses down your jawline, your neck, the center of your chest, your stomach, stopping just above your clit.
“Relax,” he soothes, his thumbs brushing your hips. He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands before pressing a kiss to your clit. You shudder at the feeling, whispering his name and throwing your head back.
He licks a long stripe up your cunt, landing on your clit, taking it into his mouth and sucking roughly. He laps at you hungrily, like a man starved. One of his hands resting on your hip comes down in between your thighs, experimentally sliding through your folds, teasing your entrance.
It feels so good, but you want him—need him—closer. He inserts two fingers, gently pumping in and out, flicking your clit with his tongue at the same time.
“Logan,” you whine. You look down at him, his head buried in your cunt. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and filled with lust. You’re already close. But it’s not enough “Need you, now. Want you here.”
“I’m here,” he mumbles against your core. You’re shaking, melting underneath him.
“N-need you,” you beg again. “Please.”
He sucks on your clit one last time before removing his fingers from your cunt and standing up to meet you.
His hands rest on either side of your head. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. “Are you sure you want this?” His voice wavers just a bit, a slight tremble shaking the usual steadiness of his words. He looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes—his jaw working, as if he’s searching for a sign that you’ve changed your mind—that you don’t want him anymore.
But you’ll always want him. You always have.
“Y-yes,” You stutter. He wraps one hand around the back of your neck and uses the other to hoist one of your legs around his waist. His hard cock rubs against your stomach as he moves to line up with your entrance.
“Wanted you this whole time, pretty girl.” He thrusts into you, sinking down to the hilt. He stays there for a moment, pulling you into him, his free hand grabbing your ass and picking you up so that both legs wrap around his waist.
He uses the wall as leverage, fucking you into the tiles at your back. Once he’s sure you’re stable against him, his hand leaves your ass and comes in between your bodies, searching for your clit. He begins to stroke, drawing perfect circles there, while his cock hits that sweet spot inside you.
It’s perfect, everything about this moment is perfect. It all feels so good. You moan his name, his hips rutting into you over and over again.
“Doing so good for me,” he husks, biting the skin just under your jaw, licking the spot where your pulse point is, peppering kisses there. You wonder if he does it because it’s a reminder that you’re still here, still alive, still breathing. “Taking me so well, sweetheart.”
His words work to coax you off the edge, each swipe of his fingers and thrust of his cock bringing you closer to your orgasm. “L-Logan,” you stutter, his name—him—the only thing in your normally noisy mind. This is what peace is. This is the calm you’ve been searching for your whole life: it’s him.
You can feel his pace growing faster, his cock pushing deeper, stretching you out as he plunges into you. “You feel so fucking good,” he groans, kissing your pulse point again. “So fucking beautiful.”
Your walls flutter around him, your clit becoming overstimulated and sensitive as he flicks roughly. You’re so close. “Lo—” but you can’t find the words.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” he mumbles, his forehead pressing to yours. “Want you to look at me when you come. Can you do that for me?”
You moan a yes as he buries his cock deep inside you, before pulling out and pumping back in again.
You can feel your eyes growing heavy, but you keep them open, watching Logan as he pulls your orgasm from you. “That’s it. I’ve got you.” His words, the bass of his voice, him, it all sends you over the edge. He works you through it, still circling your clit, his pace growing sloppier as he chases his own orgasm.
You wrap your legs tighter around his waist. He knows what you want. “Inside,” you whisper.
“Oh f-fuck,” he moans, coming inside you, filling you up.
His thrusts begin to slow, his hand leaving that space between your bodies. You feel like air, weightless, drunk off the way he makes you feel. He carefully slips out of you, but he doesn’t put you back down on the ground. He simply readjusts, picking you up in his arms and carrying you out of the shower.
He sets you down on the bathmat and crosses the tiled floor to the towel rack, where two towels conveniently hang. He wraps one towel around his waist as he strides over to you. He starts to dry you off, rubbing you gently, kissing each spot he dries as he goes. He’s worshipping you, taking care of you. No one has ever taken care of you like this.
Once he’s finished, he wraps you up in the towel, and picks you up again. He carries you back into his room, resting you gently on the already turned-down bed. He crawls in after you, discarding his towel in the process. You toss your towel to the side, too. You nestle in under the covers, and Logan does the same.
He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. You can feel that peace again, that calm from before, when he was buried inside of you. It was him. It was always him. Your mind is quiet, no longer all loud and inside out.
“I’ve got you,” Logan whispers, his legs tangling with yours.
You bury your face into his chest. “Don’t let go.” But you know you don’t need to ask.
His mind is already made up.
“Never will.”
#Logan Howlett x reader#James Logan Howlett x Reader#Wolverine x reader#Logan Howlett x you#Logan Howlett smut#Logan Howlett x reader smut#Wolverine smut#Wolverine x reader smut#James Logan Howlett smut#James Logan Howlett x reader smut#Wolverine x you#James Logan Howlett x you#James Logan Howlett x you smut#Logan Howlett x you smut#Wolverine x you smut#logan howlett imagine
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Ride me? || Miguel O'hara
Pairing: Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) x F!reader
Tags: Overstimulation, rough sex, choking, squirting, vaginal fingering, big dick Miguel, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), fang kink if you squint.
Words: 1.8k
Summary: Just when you thought he's exhausted enough from chasing Miles Morales and had given you the chance to actually ride him, Miguel has other plans.
This man evokes something so feral in me that I forgot I was suffering through the worst writer's block. He got me giggling and twirling my hair yesterday at the cinema wtf. I used my very limited Mexican Spanish knowledge from watching streamers flirting in a block game for this.
cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || guapito - handsome
Miguel isn't the type to let someone control the pace, even if he did, his hands grounded on your waist would soon guide your hips into a rhythm he prefers, hard and fast.
You've been hearing the ruckus down the spider webs, something about another version rebelling against the usual stories of every Spider-Man in the multiverse to save his dad. Knowing that your husband sits at the top as their leader, you expected him to disappear for a long period of time.
Not that you mind of course, he's had plenty of times he charges in to handle an anomaly himself.
You do have to give some kudos to the kid for trying to change reality though. After Miguel's story, nobody in the headquarters, even you, dared to defy the fates laid upon every Spider-Man.
It's been three days since he left and honestly, you didn't expect him to arrive yet. A person deterring from the fates of every Spider-Man would be hard to handle, you couldn't even imagine how difficult it'd be.
So when the doors to your apartment flew open and came to him, practically drooping from exhaustion, you were surprised.
He came earlier than expected.
"How'd the chase go?"
"I don't want to talk about it. Come here."
Drying your hands off on the towel hanging from the wall counter, you made your way to the man laid spread and heaving on the couch. His head tipped back with his usually neatly gelled hair now haggard and messy, he looked up when he sensed your presence and immediately pulled you onto his lap.
You laughed. "Don't fall asleep here, I don't want to carry your heavy ass."
His lips tugged into a weak smile, his pointy canines briefly appearing.
"Spider-Man is supposed to help the weak, are you really ignoring a civilian in need?"
You didn't get what he meant until he pulled your hips closer, dragging your core over the tent on his pants.
You hit his arm. "Go to sleep, you must've been really tired after chasing that kid around."
"Then ride me."
You paused before narrowing your eyes at him. He's baiting you with the very thing you've wanted to do since the beginning. But the dark cloud of lust in his eyes somehow convinced you of his genuineness.
His talons dug onto your flesh, hard enough to take control of your hips to grind on top of his dick sensually while keeping eye contact with yours. You couldn't ignore the pleasure and jolts of heat electrifying and burning your nerve endings alight at every drag of your heat over his.
"I want to feel you baby, I miss you so much."
Miguel pushes you down on his hardness and you moan, the feeling of his girth finding home between your legs shot electric pleasure down your spine.
"You are a convincing man."
"And you love it."
You lunged for a kiss and instantly, one of his hands threaded itself onto the back of your head, locking you in place as your lips danced against each other in a fierce battle. The raw hunger after being starved for a week now surfacing and consuming you both, mind and body.
His other hand guided your hips up and down his clothed dick, his deep groans and growl lit fireworks in you, igniting your determination to coax more of them out of his lips.
"Get rid of the pants or I'll rip it off of you."
"Rip it then."
He didn't need to hear you twice.
In one quick motion, he tore your sweatpants into two before doing the same thing to your panties and throwing them somewhere in the room. He groaned as his head fell onto the crook of your neck, hands crawling up to cup your breasts before your top and bra suffered the same fate as your other clothing.
"The pants, only the pants! I loved that bra!"
"I'll buy you something better, from another universe even." He responded, almost breathless as your scent invaded every speck of his senses. Miguel groaned. "Fuck, I miss this scent of yours baby."
"I don't care, get rid of the suit."
His attire dissolved into thin air and retracted back to god-knows-where, revealing his ruffled shirt and grey sweatpants that did nothing but proclaim his clear desire for you.
"Let me prep you real good, huh?"
Retracting his talons, two of his fingers delved into your heat, immediately drenching itself with your arousal and he groaned.
"So wet for me, mi amor."
"Only for you, guapito."
Two of his digits rolled your clit sensually and with the dexterity of an experienced man, urging more of your arousal to coat his fingers further. Once he was satisfied with the amount of fluid now dripping into his pants, he wandered lower and lower until he plunged his index in, curling it up so deliciously you moaned and grinded your hips onto the slow plunge of his hand.
His eyes watched your heat like a ravenous man holding back, the feral look on his face only pulled you closer to the edge.
And it's only a finger in.
"So tight, mi vida. You treat me so well."
He added two fingers in and you screamed, his pace now rapidly gaining speed. Your eyes rolled back as your hips thrashed and clumsily followed his thrusts, there was nothing else that mattered more than coming for your darling in that moment.
Miguel groaned, watching your face twist into the most sinful display of pleasure he has ever seen. The pride and smugness from knowing it was all because of him made him smile.
Only he could see you in such a state and no one else.
You clenched around his digits, tempting him to finally take the dive. Although his fingers coaxed pleasure out of you with no problem, you missed the feeling of his dick carving your insides, stretching you thin and reminding your cunt who it belongs to.
But Miguel ignored the bait and instead hastened up while curling up to push on your g-spot. You almost blacked out from the euphoria he feeds you, a coil in your stomach tightened and you moaned.
"I'm cl-close… Fuck!"
"Give it to me baby, I want it all."
It didn't last long until the coil exploded and your arousal squirts out of your cunt to drench Miguel's shirt, whose gaze turned a shade darker at the scene when you peered down to meet his gaze.
A tense atmosphere rose from his mere gaze and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your heartbeat jumped through the roofs as you stared back at his dark eyes, he triggered your spidey sense.
And for some sick reason, it only ignited the simmering arousal in the pits of your abdomen.
"Fuck the ride, you're not getting up until I say so, cariño."
You barely sensed him flipping you both, with you now seated and spread on the sofa while he stood in front of you, hastily removing his remaining clothing as if it angered him.
It didn't take long until his hand cautiously wrapped around your neck and his other, pinning your hips as he plunged himself deep into your cunt. You screamed as he pushed more of him, inch by inch. He stretched you out to the point of no return, the burn of his cock carving you open once more made you light-headed.
And he loves nothing more but seeing the cock-drunk look on your face.
Miguel grinned, his fangs protruding so attractively. "God, I love how fucked you look for me, cariño. Give me more."
He pulls and plunged himself back in, shooting hot white pleasure in your body. Miguel didn't wait long before his usual hard and rough pace started. The hand around your throat tightened and your mind turned woozy from the lack of oxygen, his thrust taking your breath away only evoking the feeling of nirvana within you.
He drove in you hard and quick enough you can distantly hear the couch legs wincing as it gets pushed back with every plunge of his dick.
"Fuck…!"
"That's right darling, I'm fucking my sweet cariño open and wide for me."
The electric shocks the head of his cock briefly grazing the head of your uterus sent your legs flailing on his sides. Growing bothered by them, he halts to rest them on his wide shoulders and wraps his arm around your thigh before entering somehow deeper into you.
Your hands found his meaty thigh and dug itself onto it and it encouraged him to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge and you swore you could see the pearly gates of the heavens.
"I'm co-coming…! Miguel!"
"Give it to me baby, you know how much I love seeing you convulse so helplessly around me."
The hand on your throat left to find purchase on your clit, rubbing you as fast his cock plunges into you.
With a scream, you came.
Your legs trembled violently on his shoulder as more of your arousal spurts out of your heat, white hot pleasure burned and stirred every nerve ending awake as your eyes rolled back.
But this doesn't seem to be enough for Miguel who only took a break to see your thighs convulse before continuing his thrusts.
You hit his thighs as he kickstarted another orgasm now bubbling in the pit of your stomach but he paid no heed.
Not that you minded of course, if anything, it only pleases the sick bastard in your head, wishing to be used and fucked so well by your husband like it's your sole purpose.
"I'm so close, baby. Can you give me another one? Surely you can, right?"
His fingers rubbed your clit to the point of pain yet it somehow enhanced the pleasure growing larger in your chest and you screamed. Miguel bent down to rest his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, in the clouded state you were in, you could make out the sharp points of his canines pushing down your skin.
The threat of his bite shot jolts down to your heavily beaten cunt, once again tightening its coil. The frequent groans and low growls escaping his lips alone told you he's near to climax.
And with that, he's dragging you down with him.
"Please please please, give it to me…!"
"Yes, cariño. Anything, Anything for you."
With a couple of thrust, scorching hot explodes inside of you and Miguel slows down, almost into a halt as he rides down his high. The face of pure unadulterated ecstasy painting his face, along with his fingers, you came with another shout.
When he's calmer, he lets his sweaty body fall into your arms before reaching around to do the same.
As your breathing returns to normal and the fog in your head clears, Miguel places a gentle kiss on your temple and cheeks.
"I love you so much, cariño."
"I love you more, guapito."
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara imagine#spider-man: into the spiderverse fics#spider man: across the spider verse fics#spider-man fics#spider-man smut#miguel o'hara x reader one shot#miguel o'hara one shot
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(SPOILERS FOR ACT THREE)
HOLDING ON TO HER
Sevika x f!reader
Synopsis: It had been a few days after the fight that commenced between Noxus and Viktor’s creations, and only a few days after everyone had experienced the Arcane. Sevika was still traumatized from the experience, and desperately needed comfort. Specifically your comfort.
Sevika could feel the weight of the world bearing down on her. The words she told herself every day, the ones she used to push through the chaos of life, weren’t working anymore. Her mind was a battlefield, a storm of memories that she couldn’t fight off—memories of that moment when the arcane had taken over, when she had lost control of her own body, and when she felt her very soul pulled in every direction by something greater than herself.
The recent battle had left scars on her mind, ones that she couldn’t shake no matter how much time passed. The way her limbs had moved of their own accord, the feeling of her body betraying her, as if she were nothing more than a vessel for something dark and otherworldly. It made her sick to her stomach. Her thoughts were constantly tangled with those memories. She couldn’t stop replaying the way the arcane had twisted her body, forced her to fight against her will, made her want to fight against her own nature. But it hadn’t just been the physical invasion. The worst part was the helplessness—the suffocating sensation of being trapped in her own skin, of not being able to escape the dark, searing touch that had commanded her every move.
And now, she was here. Alone in their shared apartment in Zaun, the light from the flickering street lamps casting long shadows across the room. The smell of iron, old grease, and gunpowder that clung to her skin was still there, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, her body ached from the fight, but it was her mind that was the true battlefront. She hadn’t even been able to fully comprehend what happened when those things—Viktor’s disgusting creations—had touched her, her mind still fragmented from the sheer chaos.
Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, as though she could hold all the parts of her that were broken into one piece. Every breath was a reminder of the weight she carried inside, a weight that had only grown heavier since the fight that commenced only a few days ago.
“Sevika?” A soft voice broke through the fog in her mind.
You stood in the doorway, your figure framed by the dim glow of the hallway light. Your eyes were soft with concern, and Sevika could see the way you moved cautiously toward her, not wanting to disturb her but knowing that she needed you. She felt a pang in her chest at the sight of you. You had always been a source of comfort for her, even before everything with Viktor. But now, in this moment of darkness, she felt undeserving of your kindness, your warmth.
You knelt down in front of her, gently taking her hands into your own. The touch was grounding, a lifeline thrown to her in a sea of uncertainty. You didn’t speak at first. You didn’t need to. The silence was heavy, but in it, you offered her the thing she needed most—presence. Your unwavering presence.
“I’m sorry,” Sevika whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking as she squeezed your hands tightly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t get rid of it. The memories. The way it felt to not be in control. The way they… they touched me, forced me to be something I’m not.”
You shook your head, your thumbs gently brushing the backs of her hands. “You don’t have to apologize, Sevika. What happened wasn’t your fault.”
She closed her eyes, trying to push the images away, but they flooded back in an instant. The way her body had been jerked and twisted by forces beyond her understanding. The gnawing feeling that she wasn’t her own person anymore, that she wasn’t Sevika—that she was just an extension of the arcane, a puppet on invisible strings. And when they had tried to make her feel normal, to want to be free, it had felt like a mockery.
“I don’t want to feel like this,” Sevika choked out, her voice barely audible. “I hate it. I hate feeling weak. I’ve never felt weaker in my life. They… they made me want things I can’t have, things I’m not supposed to have. I didn’t even know how to fight it, and even with them gone, they still feel like they are there.”
You leaned forward, your forehead gently pressing against hers, and for a moment, everything in the room felt still. The pain in her chest didn’t disappear, but your warmth was a soothing balm. You didn’t say anything for a long time, just holding her in the silence, letting her feel you there.
She needed you, more than she ever had before, but she didn’t know how to ask for it.
“I know,” you whispered softly, your fingers now caressing her cheek with the gentleness only you could offer. “I know, Sev. I’ve been there. I felt it too… I know what it’s like when the arcane takes control. When it feels like you’re losing yourself. But you’re not weak. Not to me. You’re the strongest person I know.”
Her breath hitched at your words, and she could feel the pressure in her chest lift ever so slightly. She wanted to argue, to tell you that you didn’t understand, that she didn’t deserve to be held, to be comforted. But something in the way you looked at her—something in the warmth of your hands on her skin—stopped her.
Your thumb brushed over the tear that had fallen down her cheek, your gaze never wavering from hers. “You’re not alone, Sevika. I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”
She felt herself break, the dam she had carefully built over the years cracking open. The weight of everything—the trauma, the guilt, the terror—came flooding out in hot, silent tears. You didn’t let go of her hands, didn’t pull away. You stayed with her as she cried, your embrace comforting and steadfast.
As the sobs began to wrack her body, you wrapped your arms around her tightly, pressing her face into the crook of your neck. “It’s okay to feel like this, Sevika. It’s okay to need someone, especially now. You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.”
The way your arms enveloped her, the way you kissed her forehead softly, telling her that she was safe with you, slowly started to ease the storm inside her heart.
“I was so scared, Y/N,” Sevika whispered, her voice muffled against your skin. “I was so scared of what they were trying to make. Of what they made me feel. I don’t know how to fix myself after all of that.”
You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, wiping away the last remnants of her tears. “You’re not broken, Sev. You’re healing. And we’ll heal together. One step at a time.”
And with that promise, she believed you. For the first time in what felt like forever, Sevika let herself lean into the love and safety you offered her. The trauma of the arcane wouldn’t disappear overnight, but she knew, deep down, that with you by her side, she didn’t have to face it alone.
You kissed her gently, a soft press of your lips to hers that spoke more than words ever could. It was a promise, a reassurance, that no matter what darkness she faced, she’d never have to fight it alone.
Sevika finally let herself rest in your arms, the world outside no longer so cold. She was safe here. With you.
#sevika x you#sevika x reader#sevika fanfic#Sevika#Sevika arcane#arcane season 2#arcane season two spoilers#arcane fanfic#fanfic#lesbian fanfic#fluffy fanfic#lesbian#fluffy#angst fanfic#angst#arcane
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Letters to You
Summary: Simon has been writing letters to you for months, but he’s never had the courage to send them. One day, while cleaning up after a mission, you accidentally find a few of these unsent letters tucked in his gear, and it’s through his written words that you finally see how deeply he cares for you. Word Count: 2.6 k
The safe house is quiet when you and Simon step inside, both of you covered in dirt and sweat from the mission. The adrenaline that kept you going for hours is finally fading, leaving behind a heavy exhaustion that weighs on your body. You glance over at Simon, who moves quietly, his mask still on even though you’re technically safe now.
He doesn’t say anything—he never does after missions. His eyes are focused, movements controlled, as if he’s still on the battlefield. You drop your gear by the door, glancing at him again, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment, but he just keeps to himself. That distance between you, the one you’ve noticed growing lately, feels wider now. It’s strange because you’ve always been close as teammates, but lately… it’s like something’s shifted.
Simon’s been more protective of you, always positioning himself between you and danger, his hand lingering on your shoulder a little longer than usual. But he never talks about it, never says what’s going through his mind. It leaves you confused, wondering where you stand with him. You want to ask, but the way he pulls back into himself, walls going up the moment the mission ends, makes it impossible.
You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you start to clean up. Simon is already in the corner, checking his weapons, focused on his task as if nothing else exists. The tension between you lingers, unspoken, thickening the air. You want to break through it, but you don’t know how. Not with him. Not when he’s like this.
For now, you just try to shake off the weight of the day, but the distance between you and Simon feels heavier than anything else.
You move toward the small bathroom, splashing cold water on your face in an attempt to wash away the grime of the mission. It doesn’t help much. You glance at yourself in the mirror, wondering if he sees the same thing you do—the exhaustion, the tension, the uncertainty about him that’s been gnawing at you for days.
When you step back into the main room, Simon is still in the corner, his head tilted down as he meticulously cleans his knife. The mask stays on, a barrier between you and any chance of a real conversation. You hate that damn thing sometimes. It feels like he’s hiding behind it, using it to keep everyone—including you—at a distance.
You drop onto the couch, the cushions sinking under your weight. For a few minutes, you sit there in silence. You try not to stare at him, but it’s hard not to. He’s been like this for so long now. But in the middle of battle, you felt it—the way he hovered a little closer to you, how his hand brushed yours when pulling you out of danger, how he was always just there.
It’s messing with your head. You’re teammates, sure, but it’s more than that now, isn’t it? You just wish you knew what it meant to him. What you mean to him.
Finally, you can’t take the silence anymore.
“Simon,” you say, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. You clear your throat and try again, “Are we ever gonna talk about it?”
He freezes, his hand stopping mid-motion, the knife still in his grip. For a long moment, he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even move, like he’s debating whether or not to even acknowledge what you said. Then, slowly, he sets the knife down and leans back against the wall, his arms folding across his chest. His eyes, dark and unreadable behind the mask, finally meet yours.
“Talk about what?” he asks, his voice low, almost dangerous.
You exhale, frustrated but determined to push through. “You know what. The way you’ve been acting lately. You’re… different. Always keeping me close during missions. And then after…” You wave a hand toward him, gesturing to the space between you. “You shut down. Like nothing ever happened. Like I’m just another soldier to you.”
His gaze sharpens, and for a split second, you think you see something flicker behind his eyes—something raw, something real—but it’s gone as quickly as it came. He tilts his head slightly, his voice colder when he finally speaks. “You’re not just another soldier.”
You feel a flicker of hope at his words, so you push on. “Then why can’t you just tell me what’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”
He looks away, his jaw clenched tight under the mask. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, strained. “It’s better this way.”
“Better for who?” you challenge, sitting up straighter. “Because it’s sure as hell not better for me.”
The air feels heavier now, every word between you like a stone being added to the weight on your chest. Simon doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, and you can see him retreating, pulling back into that familiar shell. But you’re not ready to let him do that. Not this time.
“Simon,” you say softly, “you don’t have to keep everything bottled up. Not with me.”
For a moment, it feels like he might actually open up, that the wall between you might finally come down. But instead, he rises from his seat, towering over you as he stands.
“I don’t have a choice,” he mutters, the words sounding more like a confession than a statement.
Before you can respond, he turns on his heel and heads for the door, leaving you there with more questions than answers. The door closes behind him with a soft click, and the room falls into silence once more.
You take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. Determined to keep busy, you turn your attention to organizing the gear and supplies scattered around the safe house. It’s a way to distract yourself from the emotions coursing through you after that conversation.
As you move through the small space, you check the bags and weapons, ensuring everything is in order. You reach for one of Simon’s duffel bags, and start sorting through its contents. You pull out a few pieces of tactical gear, a flashlight, and some extra ammunition.
Then, as you reach deeper into the bag, your fingers brush against something unexpected—something that feels like paper. Curiosity piqued, you pull out a stack of papers, their edges worn and slightly crumpled.
Frowning, you set the other gear aside and unfold one of the papers. The letter is addressed to you, your name written in Simon’s familiar scrawl, and suddenly, everything else fades into the background.
Dear Y/N,
I know this probably isn’t the best way to say it, but I’ve been trying to find the right words. You mean more to me than I can say. There are many moments when I can’t help but think of you, of how you always seem to know what to say to lift my spirits. Your laugh, your determination—it all keeps me going.
Shock floods through you. This isn’t just a letter; it’s a glimpse into Simon’s heart, the parts of him he never shows. You swallow hard, scanning the rest of the letter, the words spilling out like an emotional floodgate.
I’ve been trying to protect you, but I think I’m the one who needs protecting—from my own fears. I’m scared of what I feel and what it means for us. I hope one day I can tell you all of this in person.
You can hardly breathe as you continue to read, your heart racing with each line. It’s like Simon is laying bare his soul, his struggles, and his affection for you in a way he can’t seem to do face to face. You unfold another letter, then another, each one revealing more of Simon’s feelings, his fears, and the way he sees you as more than just a teammate.
As the reality sinks in, you feel a mix of shock and warmth. He’s been writing these for months. Each letter is a testament to the bond you share, to the love he’s been too scared to express.
You unfold more letters, your heart racing with each new revelation.
In one letter, he writes about the way you make him feel safe, how your presence acts as a shield against the chaos of their world. “When you’re near, it’s like the weight of everything else falls away,” he writes. “I don’t have to be the soldier, the protector. I can just be Simon, and that’s enough.”
Tears prick at your eyes as you realize the depth of his longing for normalcy in the midst of your turbulent lives. His words paint a picture of vulnerability you never expected from him. You can almost hear his voice, filled with emotion, spilling out the thoughts he never dared to share aloud.
Another letter reveals how your laugh is the only thing that makes the dark days bearable. “It cuts through the shadows like a ray of light,” he admits, and you can’t help but smile through your tears, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. It’s a reminder of the connection you’ve always shared, but you never knew just how much it meant to him.
He goes on to confess how he watches over you, protective yet fearful. “I’m scared of getting too close,” he writes. “But the thought of losing you is even worse. It keeps me awake at night, wondering if I’m doing the right thing by keeping you at arm’s length.”
As you read, the contrast between the Simon you know—the stoic, reserved soldier—and the Simon in these letters is clear.
You never knew he felt so deeply about you. The way he talks about your shared experiences, the way he highlights the little moments you thought were insignificant, makes your heart swell. You’ve always felt a bond with Simon, but this? This is something entirely different.
As you read the last letter, you find yourself smiling through the tears that have begun to spill over. “I don’t know how to tell you this face to face,” he writes. “But I’m ready to try. I just hope you’ll be there to catch me when I fall.”
The realization hits you like a tidal wave—Simon is not just your teammate. He’s a man capable of deep love, and he needs you as much as you need him.
You hold the final letter in your hands, feeling the weight of it—both literally and emotionally. The date at the top is recent, just a few days ago.
As you unfold the letter, your heart pounds in your chest. “I’ve fallen for you,” it begins, and the simple admission sends a rush of warmth through your veins. But then, as you read further, the words become more filled with fear. “I don’t know how to tell you this. I’m scared of ruining everything we have.”
Each line pulls you deeper into his turmoil, the truth of his feelings laid bare. He writes about how he feels unworthy of you, how he’s haunted by the thought that he might not be good enough. “You deserve someone who can give you everything, someone who isn’t broken like me.”
Tears spring to your eyes as the weight of his insecurities crashes over you. You never realized the extent of Simon’s struggle, the silent battles he’s fought in his mind while maintaining his sharp exterior. The realization that he’s been carrying this burden alone, fearful of sharing it with you, breaks your heart.
He continues, pouring out his soul on the page. “I want more than just being your friend,” he writes. “But every time I think about taking that step, I freeze. What if I mess everything up? What if you don’t feel the same?”
Your chest feels tight with emotion, and you can hardly breathe as you take in the gravity of what he’s saying.
“I can’t help but want you. But I don’t want to ruin what we already have. You’re everything to me.”
You wish you could take away his fears, to show him that you see him—not just the soldier but the man who longs for connection, for love, and for something real.
You’re so absorbed in rereading that you don’t hear him come in. The door creaks softly, but your focus is solely on the words. “What are you doing?” he suddenly says, breaking the stillness of the room.
You jump, startled, and quickly look up to find Simon standing in the doorway, a mixture of surprise and concern etched on his face. “Simon!” you exclaim, your heart racing. “You scared me!”
He steps further into the room, his eyes darting to the letters in your hands. “I thought I told you to stay away from my stuff,” he says, though there’s no real heat behind his words.
“Why didn’t you give these to me?” you shoot back, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “You idiot! You’ve been hiding your feelings for so long, and you could’ve just told me!”
Simon’s expression shifts, and you can see the surprise showing in his eyes. “I didn’t know how,” he admits quietly, running a hand through his hair.
“I want to be with you, Simon,” you say, your voice steady. “You didn’t have to keep this from me. I’ve felt something more between us for a while now.”
His breath catches, and for a moment, you can see the tension in his shoulders relax, relief flooding his features. You stand up, your heart racing, and without thinking, you step forward and pull him into a hug.
He tenses for a brief moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly as if you might slip away. “I’m such an idiot,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and filled with warmth. “I didn’t want to mess things up.”
“Neither did I,” you whisper back. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.
As you pull back slightly, he tilts your chin up, his gaze softening as he studies your face. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making your heart race even faster. “But I was scared.”
“I was scared too,” you admit, your breath hitching as he leans in closer. His thumb brushes against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Let me show you how I feel,” he murmurs, and before you can respond, he lowers his lips to yours, kissing you gently. It’s soft at first, but then he deepens the kiss, pouring all the emotions he’s been holding back into that one, sweet moment.
He pulls away slightly, resting his forehead against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I’m so glad I found you,” he whispers, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
You smile back, your heart full as you realize that this is just the beginning, and as he kisses you again, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Finally, as you pull away, you glance down at the letters still cradled in your hands. “I’m keeping these,” you declare, holding them close to your chest.
Simon chuckles softly, the sound warm in the air between you. “Good. I was hoping you would.” He leans down and kisses the top of your head, his breath tickling your hair. “And I’ll write a thousand more, love,” he promises, a playful glint in his eyes. “This time, I’ll actually give them to you.”
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finally got to finish this fic. isn't he so cute?? i would frame those letters honestly.
@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving
#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x female oc#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley
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Little bird - joel miller x female reader
summary: joel is a merciless hunter for sport, seeking many anew victim when he comes across you. who changes everything.
word count: 3.8k
content warning: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE CONSUMING. joel is basically a psycho? he kills for sport, control freak, stalking, murder, dubcon, age gap, power dynamic, manipulation, gaslighting, forceful face fucking, reader spews on Joel’s cock, blood play, forced proximity, m orgasm, fingering, m and f oral receiving, f orgasm, pet names such as; little bird, birdie, princess, daddy.
Joel had adapted to the outbreak effortlessly, without thought, like a bird jumping from its nest, like instinct. It is in his nature alike to theirs, to adapt through the conditions to ensure survival for their species without second thought for consequence. Even after what had happened to his daughter.
The instance of her unnecessary death had sent Joel spiral into this mindset, serial killing and torture. Not even out of necessity, supplies, he just found a sense of control in the act.
He is constantly covered in blood, his hands, neck and clothes all had stains on them. But he found comfort in the act of squeezing his large hands around someone’s frail neck, seeing the light fade from their eyes.
Paired travellers were his preference. The men always tried to be heroes, and Joel found it amusing that they always thought they’d beat him in battle, underestimating Joel's pent up rage and obsession for control. His strength is unmatched—survival skill and pure animalistic rage is channelled with each plea for mercy.
He’d seen many people around him change, good hearted folk who had clawed so far deep into the instinctual rage of strength and determination within themselves. Just so they had what it takes to survive this world.
But Joel—this darkness was raging inside of him before the outbreak, before any real need to access this side for survival had even come into play. With decades of experience, he had become skilled at stalking, especially. Observing.
Often he had thoughts about doing bad things to women and men that he acted out on. He couldn’t find a goddamn ounce of sympathy within himself as he hunted people, stalking his next victims through every state and terrain.
It was sport for Joel, a comfort as he realises that everyone’s life is in his hands, that he gets to decide who lives and dies. That he remained victorious. Too brutal and savage for anyone to defeat.
Notoriously good at what he did, he had more blood on his hands than probably anyone, finding the stalking as exhilarating as the kill.
It had never been anything more than that, until now.
Until he had seen you, two days prior.
He had taken one glance at you, and his feet of their own accord, had started trailing you. Following from a distance as the memorises the size and depth of your footprints in the snow. Since then, he’d been listening in on the two of you bickering about how lost you were, namely you—terrified about where you were, and where you were going.
Walking through the thick snowfall of the mountains, carrying that overloaded bag that made your shoulders sag. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d see your face crumble in pain as you try to adjust the straps of the bag, or beg the young man you traveled with to put some items into his own bag to take some weight off your shoulders.
Watching every interaction between you and this man from the past two days, he could conclude that he was your boyfriend. He hated this boy, the way he walked ahead of you, made you keep first watch after a gruelling day of travelling.
You don’t argue or seem to mind which Joel concedes is a product of this being a constant for you.
He gathers that more than likely, you didn’t understand how you were being taken advantage of. That this boy didn’t care about you, not the way he did.
The thought infuriated him, sending a rush of heat through his body as he clutched onto the falling bark of a tree he had hidden behind, observing you through the forest, the only thing that separates you from him, is a small clearance of flat ground to your small, makeshift camp.
A natural formation of a cave like structure made of rock. All you had to keep you warm was a freying sleeping bag and the arms of the boy wrapped around you.
Joel thinks about all the ways he’d take care of you. Giving you his thick, insulated winter coat, lighting a fire for you in his cabin. Keeping watch the entire evening so you could rest your fragile body.
The more he thinks, the more he fuels his own obsession. He wonders what your skin feels like under his own sinful ones, wonders what your cries would sound like, if you’d give into him or run.
For the first time in years, he doesn’t want to kill, he doesn’t plan on wrapping his thick hands around your neck to crush your oesophagus. He doesn’t think about reaching for his sharpened hunting blade and driving it to the hilt into the soft, warm flesh of your neck.
No, you were different. So pretty, so mistreated. He had to take care of you. Bring you into his warm hands like an injured bird in need of delicate care.
You’re exhausted beyond belief. The old boots you wear are barely holding together, even with the duct tape you’d wrapped around the collapsing soul, and even that was wearing off the front of the shoe.
You know you can’t risk sliding them off for a moment to dig your fingers into your heels to relieve the ache, in fear of infected, or people.
It’s not ideal to stop here, in the middle of the snowfall, freezing your asses off. You’re so lost, and afraid.
There’s a sense of bitterness rising inside of you as you watch your boyfriend sleep, you love him, with each beat of your heart… but you needed to sleep too. If only.
Hours pass of you staring into the clearance of trees and snow, of nothing. Not a bird, not a wisp of wind. The lack of anything happening only fuelled the burning in your dried eyes, lulling them to close, just for a moment.
You don’t know that you’d fallen asleep, standing upright against the tree you were keeping watch from until you’re awoken by a blood curdling scream.
Shaking you out of your slumber, you turn to see your boyfriend is gone from the makeshift camp.
A sense of dread buries itself deep into your skin.
“No.. fuck.. no! Jacob!” You cry out, ignoring the ache in your feet as you run back the way you heard the scream. Holding your handgun in front of you cautiously, there’s another scream.
But it sounds like it’s encircling you. Surrounding you from every direction.
“Jacob!” You scream back, tears welling your eyes.
This was your fault.
A spec of blood catches your eye, like a trail of a clue leading you to a horrific mystery. But you follow, urging yourself to run as you come to see your boyfriends body tied to a lonesome tree in front of a small nearby cabin.
“Jacob… Jacob it’s me,” your voice cracks, tossing your gun down onto the snow as you reach for the tightly knotted ropes that had him restrained against the tree. Jacob’s voice is muffled by a rope fastened into his mouth, keeping his head upright against the tree.
Despite his desperate attempts to warn you of the looming predator behind you.. it’s hopeless.
The blood has created a small pool around him, seeping into the snow. “I’m gonna help you okay? I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I’m gonna get you out of this.”
A sound behind you makes your fingers freeze in place around the rope, the familiar sound of the hammer of a gun being pulled back—ready to fire.
Frantically, you look to the ground and realise that your gun is no longer where you’d tossed it. The only evidence of it was a deep imprint in the snow.
A deep, southern voice carries strong through the short distance between you, sending a nauseating shiver down your spine. “Hands where I can see ‘em.”
You raise your hands above your head, kneeling on the ground, eyeing your boyfriend with tears in your eyes, mouthing to him with a tremble of your jutted bottom lip. “I’m so sorry.”
“Turn around.” The deep voice instructs.
Obeying, you turn your body towards your captor, on your knees with your hands still in a surrendering gesture. Eyes stuck on his shoes that were in much better condition than your own, practically new looking.
The cool metal of your own gun traces the shape of your chin, lifting your face upward to meet the gaze of an older man. His dark brown eyes shift as he takes in every feature of your face, committing every detail to memory.
You’re even prettier up close.
“Please don’t do this, I .. we don’t have anything to give. We’re starving as it is and our supplies are worn.” The plea goes ignored, but you’re desperate.
“I’ll do anything, just help Jacob, don’t let him die like this,” you beg, fat tears rolling down past your waterline.
So pretty when you cry. Those bright, big eyes begging him to help you. It’s exactly what he wanted.
“Oh? You’ll do anything will you?” Darkly, he chuckles. “Remember this promise, little bird.”
The man holds your gun in his hand and grabs at you, one hand grasping the back of your head and bringing it flush to his crotch, rubbing your soft face over the hard bludge of his cock.
A breathy moan escapes him at how you protest, the palms of your hands against his thighs attempt to push him away.
“Tss. Maybe you don’t care about your little boyfriend after all, do you?” He scolded you.
A dry sob slips past your cracked lips, seeming to give up against the harsh grip of the man. A twisted rumble from within his chest vibrates against your palms splayed on his jeans.
“Unbutton my jeans and take out my cock,” the older man sneers, in a means to humiliate you.
Your cold, trembling fingers work at the tight button, and it pops open with a sense of release as his stomach slightly overhangs the right fitting denim. The zipper is freezing—but you manage to keep your fingers pinched around the small zip enough to pull his jeans down to expose him.
More tears fall down your face as you fail to accept what was happening.
“Tell me you want this cock, little bird.”
At your silence, the man redirects the barrel of your gun to your boyfriend. “You think I won’t fucking shoot him again?”
With his booming, threatening promise of violence against Jacob, you utter nonsense.
“I want your cock,” voice cracked thickly as you force the words out.
The man growls in approval, bringing the gun back to you, tracing the barrel of the weapon against your lips in a tantalising threat.
“If you try anything, including biting.. I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out princess.” The utterance through gritted teeth sends your blood cold.
He had no intention of actually killing you, but the way you were trembling beneath him was a good sign you believed it.
“Now be a good girl and swallow your daddy’s thick cock,” he hums, forcing the thick, blunt tip through your parted lips.
It burns, how far his cock has stretched your lips wide open, the intrusion so far deep into your mouth makes you gag around him, but that doesn’t deter him at all. Pushing further into your mouth, down the back of your throat.
“Fuck little bird, knew your mouth would take me perfectly.”
Tears, snot and saliva all accumulate at the base of his cock, urging his hand to force you closer to him. Holding his cock down your throat, legs trembling beneath him at the feel of you struggling, gagging against him and the palms of your hands frantically trying to push him out of your mouth so that you could breathe.
He pulls halfway out of you, and with that a small amount of bile from your throat coats his cock. Your mouth was so perfect, warm and stretched out for him. Taking him so well. Nothing deters this man from taking exactly what he’d dreamt of you these past two days.
The constant reminder of the gun pressed against your temple was forcing you to endure this. It would save Jacob, it would ensure survival for the two of you.
It hurts, the way he’s fucking himself into your throat relentlessly. The pace is brutal and each growl makes your stomach feel sick.
The worst part is that your body is reacting to this, the slick between your legs is gathering and becoming incredibly uncomfortable.
“Gonna swallow my cum, birdie, fuck.. can feel my cock down your throat.” He can see the thickness down your throat too, swollen full of him. He cums with a strangled groan, the sight of his cock twitching down your throat sent him over the edge.
“Such a good girl, ain’cha?”
You’re completely fucked out. Eyes blown wide and red from the tears you shed. He pulls his cock out of your mouth to trace the outline of your plump lips.
“Please let us go now,” the hoarse request is met with a twisted cackle.
The man stuffs his hard cock into his jeans, the outline of it is impossible to ignore as you look up at him with a pleading gaze.
You had done everything he’d asked, and perfectly too.
Which is why he had to do this.
“Sorry, birdie. But I can’t let you go now.”
He brings your gun upward to Jacob and pulls the trigger. Five pounds of pressure against the trigger causes your boyfriend's head to fall limp against the tree, a gaping, bleeding hole in the middle of his forehead.
“No!” Your voice cracks as a guttural scream tears through the air.
No part of your body is listening as you will it to move, for your legs to carry you to stand and run, but they’re numb from being knelt on the icy ground so long.
The man shoves you onto the soft, snow. Your head is right beside your lifeless boyfriend’s body. “Jacob.. Jacob please,” you beseech, hoping that he’d somehow be able to save you.
Your arms are flailing against his chest as he crawls on top of you, the weak attempt gains a thick hand down the front of your cargo pants, and a hot growl against your lips.
“Maybe I don’t need to clip your wings after all, birdie, seems this pretty fucking pussy is already wet. Don’t pretend to fight me, princess. She wants this.” Without warning, one thick finger pushes inside of your weeping cunny, before pulling it out.
A protesting whine rolls off your tongue as he removes his finger, before you could stop yourself. He sucks your juices off the digit. And his eyes darken.
“Been thinkin’ bout how this sweet pussy would taste, knew it would be perfect.”
The older man sticks the same finger that had just been inside you, into one of Jacob’s stomach wounds, coating his finger in the warm, red blood.
He thrives off the mortified expression that causes your face to scrunch up, wiggling as he brings the bloody finger down to your lips, forcing it into your mouth.
But as he retreats his finger past your lips it’s now stained red, albeit clean. But you reject it, gagging against the metallic taste, spitting the blood onto the snow in a messy spatter, some of it sticking to your cheek and chin.
“You’re sick!” A crooked smile stretches the man’s lips at your accusation.
“No, no little bird. This is exactly what you need. A real man to protect you, so that this..” he gestures to your boyfriend. “Doesn’t happen to you, I’m sure you don’t want that, do you?”
The condescending tone is lost on you as the griping reality of fear ensnares you.
Your throat aches at your attempt to swallow the saliva in your throat, bobbing thickly. The small notion of you shaking your head appeases him greatly.
“I’ll take care of you. All I ask is that you don’t run, or I will clip your wings, understand me little bird?”
A second nod seals your fate.
“Believe me when I say you made the right choice, you were comin’ with me either way.”
Turns out that the small, wooden cabin belonged to this man. He had kept his large hand on the small of your back the entire time he showed you around. His homestead was fully furnished with food, supplies, furniture, even toilet paper.
“This is where you’ll sleep.” He opens a door, and there’s no windows, just a bed. Accompanied by a giant lock on the outside of the door.
He wouldn’t need to clip your wings, if he could cage you in.
“Sit down,” he orders, and you obey, still in shock as your brain tries to swallow the past hour of events whole, not allowing you to process it.
The wooden stool creaks, and he silently fills a bucket of warm water and sits across from you on a chair at the dining table.
Delicately scrunching a small cloth in his hands to wipe the dried blood off of your face, he leans in toward you, an almost soft expression plastered as he concentrates.
“If you’re good f’me we’ll give that friend of yours ‘o proper burial. Would you like that?”
The sweetness of his voice lured you in, to stare into his deep brown eyes, to take in the concerned shape of his pinched brows.
“I.. I would like that.”
He hums, you were learning quickly. Once he’s happy with your face being cleaned, he stands, picking up the aluminium bucket by the handle and pouring it down the sink. Clunking as he sets it back on the floor.
“Let’s go bury him then.” Before he changes his mind.
The snow was too thick for Joel to penetrate the soil with his shovel, so he had just cleared a foot of snow and tossed the young man into it, burying him under the frost, stacking a few rocks on top of the unmarked, unnamed grave.
He’s impressed and grateful you don’t run away though the process. That would implicate some serious issues and more importantly, require some kind of punishment.
Joel was willing to do anything to train you, to ensure that you never ran from him. In that regard, since you did stay, he felt he would reward you.
His bed is warm, the duvet is thick and the smell of him brings a sense of security to you for some reason, despite all that had happened.
“When you appease me, as you have today. I’ll reward you.” He coos, gently lying you down onto his soft bed, crawling between your legs, hastily shuffling your pants down your legs.
His face is directly between your thighs, and he parts them softly.
“I can smell how badly you need me, little bird.” He groans, pressing hot, open mouthed kissed to your inner thighs, slowly, agonisingly closer to your core.
He’s surprised when you impatiently nudge the back of his head closer to you. “That’s my girl.”
The curve of his nose rubs against your swollen clit, his tongue darting upward and into your pussy with a newfound passion.
He growls against you, the notion sends a vibration through you, and you let out a soft whimper. Thick hands ground themselves in your hips, dragging you downward in the bed so his face could delve deeper into your hole.
The wet muscle is skilled in it’s explorative ministrations, licking a long stripe from your core to your swollen clit.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get some attention too.” The promise he utters to your neglected clit is fufilled as he clamps his mouth around the bundle of nerves and sucks on you, the pressure causes a suction that feels electric.
Your fingers stiffen as they grasp onto his unruly curls. Coaxing him for more, more more more.
And he gives—the tip of his tongue skilfully, slowly working you closer and closer to the edge you’d never been brought to before.
Your thighs instinctively clamp shut around his head, keeping him buried there, not wanting him to stop.
“Please, please, please need more,” your unintelligible begging implores him to double down on his ministrations.
He can feel that you’re going to burst against him, slowly, and slowly he was winding the burning hot coil inside of you, the pressure was becoming unbearable as your thighs quake and tenable at his command.
Two of his thick fingers are swallowed by your constricting cunt, clamping down as you cry out at the intense sensation. His fingers expertly work you, pumping deep inside of you, calloused fingertips hitting the spongey flesh inside of your slick hole.
“Fucking.. need you..” you’re slurring your words, and he’s convinced that your hole would swallow him if you pushed him far enough between your legs. He could feel how greedily your pussy was swallowing his fingers. Desperate for release.
In an act of desperation, you begin to forcibly rut your pussy against his face as you raise your hips, tiring of his pace not being quiet enough to give you what you needed.
“Please.. please I want to cum.. gonna cum..”
At the increase of friction, and him allowing you to use his face your orgasm comes crashing over you. Your pussy constricts around his fingers as he works you at a slower pace through your climax.
A delicious string of babbling moans and praise roll past your lips.
Thighs jittering with a delicious tremble as they finally relax from their tight vice around his head.
“Thank you.. thank you..” the faint, inarticulate cry was all he needed for him to grin against your pussy.
You’re left heaving, and he’s mesmerised by the way your chest rises and falls at his performance. It’s something he has become enticed with—seeing you alive. Breathing.
It’s unusual for him, admiring the life within you when he was so used to taking it.
And now, as he pulls away from your pussy, lying beside you in his bed. Your body in his arms.. he knew he’d made the right choice to keep your life.
“You did so well f’me little bird.” The praise falls on your ringing ears, but all that’s returned is a vulnerable whine.
Not bothering to correct him after a moment of silence, you can’t help the words that feel petulant to ask. “Who are you?”
“Joel. And this—is your new home.” He croons into your tangled hair.
All for a moment, in the blissful ecstasy you forget how you ended up here.
#joel miller#pedro pascal#the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller x female reader#joel miller tlou#joel miller oral#joel miller dark#joel miller hunter#dark fic#dead dove do not eat#smut
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CARVE ME UP AND EAT ME
there was almost no information on the mysterious cult nestled into the mountainside near your hometown, with even less knowledge about its leader. curiosity sets you on your path to investigate, but something else manages to keep you.
pairing: vampire!suguru geto x f!reader
themes/content: dark content (dubcon). smut. cult leader suguru, blood drinking/feeding, like mind control-ish? idk i was making up vampire rules here, pet names (little lamb), fingering (reader receiving), p in v (missionary). 18+, MDNI (wk: 7.6k)
a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!! thanks for getting freaky with me this month, it's been such a blast and i love you all!!!! hope you get to dress up and have lots of yummy candy tonight :) mwah!!!!!
quintober masterlist | main masterlist
People rarely came back from the mountains.
When they did, they were…different. Months, even years having passed from their disappearance, and suddenly returning with no memory of it. As though their time away suddenly ceased to exist. They couldn’t recall what they had done, who they were with, anything that could help the townspeople pin down the mysterious group making their home in the depths of the woods.
Any efforts to catch the so-called cult were obviously futile - the town lost enough soldiers that the leaders decided it was pointless to send anymore sacrifices.
So, there was a sort of peace. Well, less peace, and more a silent war, a battle of contempt, one that left everyone on edge. Whenever someone went missing, the entire village stood on edge, waiting but never searching.
But you were trained well, oh so well.
“Never go out at night.” “Never stray from us.” “Never get lost.”
“Never go into the mountains.”
They praised you for your obedience, feeding it to you from dirtied palms, making you kneel before them to drink from it. It felt good to be good.
Obedience is strength.
Their orders pulled at the strings of your muscles, dictating your actions, your movements, your very thoughts. They pulled and pulled and pulled until you were stretched taut, desperately tightening you into a form they deemed desirable.
It was only a matter of time before the strings snapped.
The fight was blurry now, nothing more than screams and tears and broken expectations so sharp you worried you may cut yourself. Your feet hit the ground outside your parents’ home faster than you could breathe in the burning air, cold in your lungs.
You had always obeyed.
So now, perhaps you could enact your final act of disobedience. The one thing that had been taught to you so deeply until it buried itself under your skin.
The path up the mountain wasn’t nearly as dangerous as others made it seem. Truthfully, it was shockingly well-maintained, the occasional branch snapping under your feet but no other obstacles.
What could even be so bad about this place, anyways?
The people who returned were never injured, always fed and clean and cared for. They always came back in a fresh set of robes draped over their skin, no signs of markings or damage painted across their bodies.
The options weighed heavy on your tongue. Either you’d reach the cult’s temple, or you’d die trying.
Either way, you’d be acting on your own. You’d be independent, free. With an exhale, you blew the remaining obedience into dust, joining the stars sparkling overhead.
The moon seemed pleased with your choice, at least, guiding your path clearly through the woods. Whenever the ground below your feet disappeared, you knew you had misstepped, returning easily to the worn-in gravel placed along the way. Eventually, the trees became sparse, no longer guarding you from whatever lays ahead.
It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust before focusing on the building before you, a gentle glow illuminating the temple through its exterior screens. It was certainly different than you imagined, expecting high stone barriers walling off a great fortress, leaving you to wonder: could masses of soldiers truly not pierce the paper screens protecting this deadly palace?
Yet, you couldn’t help but feel welcomed; it was unimposing, the warm lights flickering inside a definite sign of life. How many people call this their home? How many people serve here?
The wooden steps leading to the entrance creak slightly below your weight, palm hesitantly resting on the sliding door. Doubt flashes across your mind, the pull of your family threatening to tug you back home - should you turn around, forget this silly stunt and return to the life you had known?
Before you can move, the screen slides open in your grasp.
“Do come in,” a soft voice calls from inside as light floods your vision.
Your weight makes you stumble forward as your feet move on their own, carrying you into the room. It’s nice inside, the smell of sage lingering in the air as you make your way to the center. Before you is a man, his green and gold robes hanging loosely from his shoulders, the bare skin covered only by inky locks cascading down his back. His position looks almost leisurely as he kneels, his eyes scanning your figure.
“Sit.”
And you do - your knees buckle as you lower yourself to the ground.
A devilish grin spreads across his lips as he follows your motions. For a moment, his gaze locks on yours, deep purple eyes staring back.
“Quite an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” he purrs.
Air rushes into your lungs through a gasp, but you can’t stop the muscles in your neck from nodding.
What the fuck is happening? Why can’t you control your body?
As fear begins to course through your nerves, the stranger in front of you lets out a breathy giggle. “Good, that’s very good,” he muses.
When he rises to stand, your heart drops as you realize just how deeply you may have fucked up. He’s tall, easily towering over you. The bottom of his robes graze the floor as he circles you quietly - no, silently.
The sound of his humming vibrates in the air - you want to look at him, monitor him for any malicious intent, but you can’t bring yourself to turn your head.
When he’s completed his course around you, he returns to his seat on the floor. Perching himself on the balls of his feet, he leans forward. Cold fingers wrap around your face, pushing your cheeks together as he easily maneuvers you in his grasp. His eyes burn your skin as you realize:
He’s inspecting you.
With a pleased huff he releases your head, settling back across from you. That same smirk rests across his lips as he speaks. “Tell me, why did you come here, little lamb?”
The sound of your voice hits the air before you realize it’s yours. “I ran away.”
“Oh?” With a tilt of his head, his eyes crease. “Well then, I suppose you’ve found your new home. Welcome.”
Silently, he rises once more. This time, he extends a pale hand out to you. “I can show you to your room, if you’d like.”
At his words, the tendons within your body relax, more at ease. Finally under your own control, you raise a hesitant arm. Is this what you want?
Your palm rests lightly upon his.
He smiles.
“Good choice,” he whispers as you rise to your feet.
The temple’s grounds are beautiful, even in the dark. Flickering candlelight lines the stone paths as you walk through tended gardens, over wooden bridges and small streams. He guides you to a house near the back, tucked safely into the mountainside.
The paper slide shudders as it opens, revealing the outline of a bed covered in crisp white sheets.
“You can sleep here tonight. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call for me,” he informs you, each syllable floating through the night air.
With one swift motion he turns, returning down the path you came from.
“Wait!” you call - as the command settles, you sheepishly cross your hands. Dark hair falls over his shoulder as he turns to face you. “How…how will I find you?”
His eyes close as he laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll find you.” And with that, he disappears into the darkness.
–
The sun rises hesitantly here. It peeks its head through the translucent screens, barely illuminating your room enough to rouse you. When you finally wake, your thoughts swirl in confusion for a moment - where are you? what happened? - before you remember the previous night, the path beneath the watchful moon, the man who led you here.
Despite the unfamiliar environment, the warnings carved into your skin about the dangers of this place, you can’t bring yourself to feel afraid - after all, if he wanted to hurt you, he surely would have by now, right?
There’s an ache in your muscles as you stretch your arms overhead, bare feet resting upon the wooden floor, cool from the morning air. Idle hands begin searching the room as you open the hand-carved drawers, the scent of pine still lingering on them.
In the first, you find fresh sets of sheets. Below that, cleanly folded towels.
Moving to the next chest, your eyes widen as you scan its contents. Inside lie beautiful silks in every shade - your palms run over blues that mirror the sea, pinks the color of sunrise, greens brought from the forest floor. Each one feels more extravagant than the last, and as your awe clears, you suddenly feel ashamed to be holding them. They slip through your fingers as you shy away in embarrassment, your dirtied skin unworthy of touching them. They aren’t yours, after all - you’re nothing more than a guest here.
Turning to the closet nearby, you swing open the heavy doors, only to be met with even more luxury, this time robes hanging in neat rows.
You shouldn’t take them, but then again, the man did say anything you needed was yours…and you could use a new set of clothes after your travels last night…
Hesitantly, you pull one of the kimonos from the rack - in your hands, it catches the morning sun, small threads of gold reflecting across the room interwoven with the purple cloth. Sliding into it, you can’t help but notice the way it fits you perfectly, the length extending to just above your ankles, the sleeves resting gently along your wrists.
It feels foreign on your skin, surely you look like a fool, nothing more than a child trying on their parent’s work clothes. Glancing around the room, you search for a mirror to confirm your suspicions, but none seem to catch your eye. Oh well, you sigh, you’ll just have to face everyone looking like a stranger.
Stepping outside, a cool breeze brushes past your cheeks, your arms wrapping the robes tighter around your body as you fight off a shiver. It must be colder at this altitude, no longer afforded the protection of the very mountain you now reside on.
Small pebbles crunch beneath your feet as you make your way along the temple grounds. You try to retrace the path you took from the main house last night, but it quickly proves useless, your memory already foggy. Maybe it just looks different during the day?
Nevertheless, you don’t mind being lost here - the area is truly beautiful. Flowers fill the green spaces, ones you’d never seen before, shades of purple and red dotting the meadows. In the distance, tall trees poke against the horizon, leaves dancing in the wind.
As you wander, you pass identical buildings to the one you stayed in last night. Had you walked past all of these on your way there? Surely you would have remembered them, right?
This time, of course, the lights inside are off. There’s no use for them under the sun that’s now settling into the sky above. There are fewer clouds up here, you realize, perhaps another effect of the altitude.
By the time you find your way back to your new home (only able to identify it by the screen door left ajar), darkness has begun growing along the grounds, insects chirping their nighttime songs from nearby trees.
Sliding your shoes off, the smell of something tantalizing hits your senses.
You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until you’re suddenly faced with the most delicious looking meal sitting upon the table. Steam rises from the bowl of salty broth, and for a moment you overlook the fact that someone must have been here to deliver it as you hurriedly shuffle to sit down, scooping noodles into your mouth with the chopsticks resting nearby. Finally, the ache in your stomach eases as you slurp the remaining liquid, allowing it to practically dribble down your chin.
A long shadow is suddenly cast along your room from behind you.
“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying dinner.”
Your spine shoots straight up as you turn, wiping your face with the back of a suddenly clammy palm.
“Y-yes,” you stutter, attempting to hide the utter lack of manners in how you had ravenously consumed the meal.
The man from last night stands in your doorway, leaning against the frame as he crosses his arms. That same smirk spreads across his features.
“Thank you!” you suddenly blurt, aware of your impoliteness. “It was…very good. Thank you.”
Another light chuckle dances across the air. “Please, no need for formalities. I’m simply glad you are enjoying the food. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had to make something for someone other than myself.”
Questions lie along the tip of your tongue, but before they can escape, he turns with a wave. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Wait!” You internally curse yourself again for the interruption, but one question in particular was burning its way through your throat. “I realized I never learned your name…”
“Oh,” he smiles through thin lips. “My name is Suguru, but most call me Master Geto. You can choose whatever name you like.”
Warmth floods your face at the title, and further at his informality. “O-okay.”
With another small flick of his wrist, he continues the path away from your room. “Anyways, goodnight,” he calls into the darkness ahead.
“Goodnight, Master Geto,” you murmur to yourself.
–
Your second day is all too similar.
You wake.
You dress.
You wander.
You eat.
This time, Master Geto does not stop by your room at all. You’re beginning to wonder what he does all day - hell, you’re beginning to wonder what anyone here does all day, not having seen a single other person.
All that free time leaves you to fester on your thoughts.
When you were a child, you heard the rumors of this place. At first, it was a sort of commune, a community where disillusioned and lost souls could go to find purpose. But when they stopped coming back, the stories twisted into more sinister adaptations. It was a religious group, who worshiped their leader as a false god. Then, it was a sex cult, who offered their bodies to him as a form of salvation. After that, it was a political power who strove to overtake all of society and enact his rules as law.
Time after time, story after story, it was always him at the forefront: some mysterious man who cornered and compelled his followers to obey.
And yet, you find yourself doubting it. How could he lead if he was never present? More than that, who could he lead if there were no loyal servants here to be led?
It didn’t add up.
The townsfolk were known for fear mongering - perhaps it was nothing more than a way to avoid losing any more citizens, to prevent them, too, from joining the strange man in the mountains.
But then again, you can’t quite shake the power you felt radiating from him when you were in that room, the way he so easily manipulated your body (and your thoughts) with nothing more than his words.
The thoughts string together in your mind as you pace the temple grounds during your walks, the only routine grounding you to the passage of time.
Today the sun struggles to shine through the clouds, a general greyness cast upon everything. It’s been almost two weeks, and you’ve barely seen him at all. Occasionally he’ll stop by your room, but only hover in the doorway, never entering. His voice always seems so calm when he speaks to you, offering simple observations about your meals, as though he was slowly investigating your preferences (not that he needed to - you were grateful simply to be fed - but he persisted nonetheless).
Tonight, you return to find the entrance to your room closed, the candlelight from inside casting a welcoming glow. As you slide the shoji open, a familiar scent fills the space. Your mouth waters as your feet carry you forward on instinct.
With the first bite from the bowl, you nearly moan in pleasure at the taste.
“Is it good?”
This time, you don’t jump at his silent approach. Glancing over your shoulder, you smile through a full mouth. “It’s incredible.”
“Good,” he laughs softly, “I’m glad. I was worried it wouldn’t be as good as you remembered.”
“Master Geto,” you swallow, “this is delicious.” Through another bite, your voice lowers, “It’s just like the oyakodon my parents used to make.”
“I know.”
The statement catches you momentarily off-guard, questions catching in your throat making you nearly choke.
He senses the change immediately as your shoulders close off, confusion building behind your eyes. “I apologize if I overstepped,” he begins, uncrossing his arms and allowing them to hang loosely by his sides in the slightly oversized robes, “I remembered that dish being popular in town, so I thought it might bring some comfort.”
“Oh,” you hum, tentatively chewing another bite. It’s a reasonable explanation, you suppose, even if it leaves more uncertainty swirling in your lungs.
After a moment of silence, his presence in your doorway begins to feel…awkward.
Normally by this point he’d have left with a wave, fading into the darkness outside. But not tonight. Tonight, he stays, swaying slightly within the entrance.
As your gaze covers him, the traditional robes remind you - perhaps you were being even more rude than you expected. You still knew very little about him, but maybe he abided by more traditional laws, one that forbade a man from entering a woman’s sleeping quarters without her permission.
(You always thought those rules were a bit silly, but now was not the time for debate - now was the time to learn more about the man lingering outside.)
“Would you like to come in?” You place the question into the air as you swallow the final piece of your dinner.
His grin threatens to tear across his cheeks as he nods politely. “Of course.”
As he approaches the table inside, his presence suddenly feels overwhelming. Even though he’s not physically much larger than you, something about him suffocates the space, his soul spreading out until there’s no room left. It’s stifling.
But when he sits across from you, it gets sucked back into himself. You can breathe again.
“How is the temple?” he asks easily.
“It’s beautiful,” you muse, “but…where is everyone?”
“Everyone?” He cocks his head to the side. “Oh! You mean the others. They aren’t particularly active during the day - you know how hot it gets here.”
In an instant, it feels right - the memories of the brisk mornings become hazy in your mind, replaced with the sun beaming overhead. Maybe you even returned to your room with sweat glistening along your skin after a particularly long walk.
Suguru notices the way your vision clouds over as the experiences rewrite themselves. If you were more present, perhaps you’d be able to decode the emotion flashing across his face as his nose scrunches and eyebrows furrow.
He stands suddenly, pulling you from your internal trance.
“Well, I suppose I should be going now,” he hums, gliding seamlessly to the doorway once again. “Goodnight.”
Before you can breathe a question, he’s gone, the rattling screen door the only proof of his existence.
–
You think you’re going insane here.
When you fled, you wanted to find something exciting, a new experience, an act of defiance. You wanted something to fill the emptiness in your soul and make you into something else, someone stronger, someone braver, someone more than the obedient little girl you left behind.
But now, with every repeated step through the temple grounds, you feel yourself collapsing inwards. The support beams inside you aren’t strong enough, cracking under the weight of loneliness.
Why wasn’t anyone here?
Why wasn’t anyone helping you?
Even Master Geto’s presence became desired, in spite of the slight unease that brewed within your stomach when he was around. It was like an addiction, as though he knew just how to feed you enough of him to keep you coming back, to keep you starving.
Ironic, isn’t it? That here, in a place with all your needs met, with delicious meals and extravagant clothes and plush beds, you find yourself destitute. Hunger pangs shoot up your chest as you eat alone, the robes begin stifling each breath, too hot even as the days grow colder. Every night you become increasingly acquainted with the wooden beams drawn above your bed.
You’re empty.
On your thirty-first night, after hours laying alone in the dark, you wonder if perhaps the moon would have any advice for you. She’s always watched over you, maybe she could guide you.
Outside, the gravel shifts beneath your feet. The candles are lit once again, lining the paths throughout the grounds. You’ve never seen anyone light them, and yet every night, their flames continue to burn (not that you need them, of course - you’ve grown accustomed to this place, steps tracing it like palm lines).
So you trust your legs when they carry you forward. Until you’re once again at the entrance of the main temple, the same warmth flickering from inside.
The door slides open easily, the hesitation that used to live in your muscles now replaced with tired indignation. You no longer have to wait for Master Geto’s command to enter (even though you want it, you want it so badly, to be told what to do and where to go and how to act and what to think until you’re nothing but his little puppet because then at least you could be something).
A part of you expected him to be in his chambers given the late hour. But a more possessive part hopes he’d be here, waiting for you.
Your lungs breathe a sigh of relief as you feel his gaze. He smiles as you stand in the doorway.
“What’s my little lamb doing up so late?” he coos, beckoning you inside.
Rubbing your eyes, you take your seat on the floor next to him. “Couldn’t sleep.”
It’s been some time since you’ve been here, you realize - perhaps since the first night you arrived - but it feels comfortable, the scent of smoke lingering in the air. And Master Geto is here, too - that surely helps.
“I see. Tell me, would you like me to make you some tea?”
Your head nods on its own, perhaps an effect of your recent insomnia.
Silently, he rises, moving easily through the room to collect his arsenal. Armed with a maroon teapot and a single cup, he returns to where you rest in the center of the room. Dark liquid pours into the mug before he places it in front of you.
The first sip burns your tongue slightly, but you avoid wincing - you wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful. You wouldn’t want to push him away.
Deep eyes watch your every move, drinking you in. That quiet discomfort is back, but you shove it down with a forceful swallow. After all, if you seem distrustful, it may make him unhappy, or worse, leave you. After so long without him, you’re content to sit under his blanket of silence.
“How are you enjoying your time here?”
Your throat catches for a moment. Should you tell him it’s killing you, eating you alive and breaking you down? Should you tell him how much you’ve missed him? No - surely he’d think you strange, you barely know each other despite the time you’ve spent here.
“It’s been…comfortable.”
He tilts his head through a thoughtful hum. He allows the quiet to choke you for a moment before he continues. “And yet, you’re here at this hour. Tell me, why?”
Your lips are moving on your own, fighting against your better interest. “I’ve missed you, Master Geto.”
“Oh?” He seems pleased with your response, letting out that tantalizing little chuckle. “What is it about me you’ve missed?”
This time, you’re able to stifle your voice before it betrays you. Through another sip, you let the words simmer on your tongue before he speaks again-
“Tell me.”
“I missed being told what to do,” you blurt, nearly spilling the tea that had been resting behind your lips.
Thin lips tug into a smirk as he eyes you, and you can’t help but feel you’ve answered correctly, even if it was against your will.
That fear bubbles inside your chest once again, but this time it’s tainted with something else, something hot. Something you would be tempted to call desire.
Adjusting his weight, muscled legs sprawl before him. “Come here, little lamb,” he purrs.
So easily he pulls your strings. In an instant you’re crawling towards him, until you’ve settled upon his lap, head resting on his shoulder. Perhaps a month ago you would have been scared at how easily he maneuvers you to his will, but after countless days left with only your own thoughts to drive you, it’s a welcome reprieve. A body is a heavy thing to carry alone; there’s no harm in letting someone else borrow it for a moment.
Slender fingers card through your hair, melting you beneath his touch. Until all that’s left is a fluid form in the outline of your flesh; it makes it all the more easy to shape that way.
“You must be tired, poor thing,” Suguru hums into the crown of your head.
“Mmm,” you hum in response, eyelids fluttering closed.
“Go on then, sleep.”
And your vision melts into his darkness.
–
When you wake, everything feels stiff. The room, your body, the blankets cocooned around you. Stale air sits in your lungs as you rise from the bed.
It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, landing on wood floors and drawn shades. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust except you, the only living thing here.
Nothing moves except for your breathing, no sounds besides the mattress creaking as you stand. Your thighs are tense, aching with each step forward. At least your robe is comfortable, even if it’s not the one you remember falling asleep in.
That memory itself feels fuzzy - how long had you been here?
But the slippers on your feet are warm, and you don’t feel that gnawing ache inside your stomach anymore. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.
Sliding the bedroom door open, you wander into the hallway. At the end, flickering candlelight casts a glow across the familiar carpet, the same as in the main building. Oranges and greens blur in your vision as you make your way to it, and your heart picks up its pace as you walk, drawing you in.
It lurches when you see him.
Master Geto.
“You’re finally awake, my little lamb.” His voice is smooth like silk, softer than the sheets that had cradled you as you slept. “Come in.”
The room is beautiful, dark reds and browns lining every surface, especially the bed he lays upon. The material is cool on your skin, flushed from sleep.
“You slept for quite a while,” he hums, beginning to slowly run his fingers over your hair. “Do you feel better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Why thank me?”
“I think…I think it was because of you.” The sentence trails up at the end, leaving it a question. One he does not decide to answer.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Master Geto.”
His lips spread into a smile as he rises, silently moving to the teapot resting in the corner. With his back momentarily to you, it’s easier to remember all the questions you ought to ask - how long was I asleep for? where is everyone? why am I here?
But they’re too overwhelming, too big. You aren’t sure he’d answer them, anyways - you aren’t sure you’d want an answer. It’s easier to not ask.
“I’m not sure I should stay here anymore.”
His shoulders stiffen, just enough that the tea nearly spills over the edge of the cup. He sets it down on the table beside you.
“And why is that?”
“I just…” you trail off, holding the mug in your hands. It’s warm, making your palms itch. “I’m not sure there’s anything for me to do here.”
“You keep me company. Is that not enough?”
“It is, but I just…I guess I don’t feel like I’m doing a good job.” It’s easier to speak when you only have to face the steaming liquid held in your lap. “I feel lost without you. I don’t know what to do with my time. I mostly just wander around and hope I see you, or hope you give me something to do. I like that, but I’m not even doing anything. You’re never around during the day anyways, so then I end up festering with my thoughts and just feel worse. I’m losing my mind here.”
A slender finger traces up your neck, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at him. His eyes hold a dark ice behind them, the kind that would slice open ships and kill sailors in the middle of the night, the kind the sea only makes when it’s craving blood.
“You have a purpose here, little lamb, you just can’t see it.”
You can’t hold his gaze, so you allow it to fall to the pink and red of his lips. “Then tell me what it is! I want to do something, please Master Geto.” Nails leave crescent-shaped marks in your skin as you grip the teacup.
“I can’t tell you, not yet.”
“Either tell me, or I’m leaving.”
You aren’t sure where the words came from, but they shock you as they land. Perhaps some deep part of your soul, some part the moon uncovered on your walk to the temple, growing brighter under her protection.
Fire, then ice flares behind him. He forces his shoulders back, cooling his tone. “Why don’t you drink some tea and calm down a bit, then we can talk about this?”
“I don’t want your tea! I want to know what’s going on!”
“I said, drink.”
The muscles in your arms tighten to bring the cup to your mouth. Liquid is forced past your lips through a choke. It burns your throat.
Once it’s empty, you drop it, the mug clanging against the floor. Tears prick the corners of your eyes in pain, and Master Geto seems tense. Lowering himself to the ground, he gingerly picks up the cup, allowing his palm to graze yours as he rises. Silently, he glides to the corner of the room where steam rises from the still-full teapot.
With everything in you, you force your mouth to move. “How do you do that?” Your voice is hoarse.
“Do what?”
“That,” you stumble, trying to explain. “Make me…do things.”
Six seconds pass before he answers.
“Do you know what obedience means?”
You nod.
“Tell me, what does it mean to you?”
“It means to do as another person says, always.”
Glancing at you from over his shoulder, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Exactly.” He pours more liquid into your cup, a silent apology in his own misshapen way. “Some must be trained into obedience through leashes and chains, but others are born for it, their souls a softer shape, one that’s easier to mold.”
The mug is warm in your hands as your fingers wrap around the ceramic, accepting it from his grasp.
“Someone like you, for example, was made to obey. You feel it, don’t you? That emptiness when you aren’t being commanded?”
As you nod, something inside you aches, a hole where your autonomy should be. And here is Master Geto, so kindly offering to fill it.
“That makes it all the more effortless to follow someone, you see. I can sense it, the way your body practically begs me to control it.” He explains it easily with a wave of his hand, as though a few sentences could make you understand.
And yet, you do. It feels right to be led by him, molded by him, controlled by him. It’s the comfort you’ve felt, the warmth that clouds your thoughts whenever you’re near him.
“Is that…is that what I’m doing here?” A large hand reaches over to rub slow circles into your back through the robe - his robe, you now realize. “I’m here to follow orders and do whatever you say?”
“No, no, not at all.” A sound close to a laugh brushes through his throat at the thought. “You’re here for something else.”
You finish the second cup of tea - it’s easier to drink now that your throat has already been burned. “Please, tell me why. I promise not to leave, please, Master Geto.”
Dark eyes fall to the empty cup in your hands, then back to you. So powerless in his grasp, the smell of him lingering on your clothes, on your skin, on your breath. An impossible scent to lose, even if you were to run.
“Do you know what a vampire is?”
Confusion swirls in your mind at the question. “Yes? I’ve heard of them, of course. Creatures who live forever and drink blood to survive, right?”
“Exactly,” he smiles, voice smooth like the silk wrapping around your body. “There are other components too, of course. Other powers. The commands, for example. And you’ve heard of those coming back from my temple, yes? How they return with no recollection of their time here?”
“Yes.”
“They were ones who ran - who I allowed to run, of course. They didn’t please me, or they were too weak to keep my company. But as you can imagine, I couldn’t allow them to tell others of what they had seen here, regardless of how stupid some of them may have been. So, they may survive, but the memories must go. And that’s just a fraction of what I’m capable of.” His words rise and fall in pitch, the most visible sign of excitement you’ve ever seen in him, before it flattens again. “Many think vampires are dangerous, but they aren’t, not if they’re able to control themselves. It’s a matter of obedience, you see.”
“Obedience,” you whisper into the empty space.
“If one can stay in control of their desires, it’s barely any different than how a human lives.”
Your hands fiddle with the hem of the robe, teeth chewing on your lip. “Why are you telling me this, Master Geto?”
The finger on your chin trails up until his hand rests upon your cheek. When your eyes finally meet his, he smiles, a gesture you don’t return. Your heart beats loud, pulling you into him.
“You know why.”
And you feel it, in the depths of your stomach. The true weight of his horror, his power, settles like obsidian in your chest. A cough stifles from your mouth from the coal-black dust inside you.
His thumb runs over your lips, pressing down on the plump flesh. You should run, you should scream and beg for help and go back to your parents and pretend this never happened. You aren’t safe here, you shouldn’t stay a moment longer.
All your body can do is quicken your pulse, thrumming up your neck.
Your lips part. His thumb slides past them.
When he smiles, he seems pleased, and you feel warm like the tea spreading through your muscles with each breath. Flickering candlelight casts a shadow across his eyes, and they seem to glow with hunger.
“Are you scared?”
His skin tastes sweet as it settles on your tongue. You slowly shake your head, humming a soft, “No.”
A twitch of a smirk plays across his lips. He didn’t even have to compel you. They spread wider, allowing sharp, whitened fangs to poke through. Your eyes widen and pupils dilate as they dig into his lower lip, red blooming beneath the skin.
“You should be.” He’s leaning forward, until he’s so close you block the light from cascading across his face. In the shadows of your body, he looks monstrous, all flashes of black and white. “And yet, you stay. Tell me, why? What could you possibly hope to achieve?”
Air rushes through your lungs, and the words tumble out in a single breath. “I want to obey you, Master Geto.”
Tilting his head to the side, dark bangs obscure his eyes.
“Ah, I understand now. You really were made for this, weren’t you?”
Sliding his thumb from your mouth, he closes the distance between you. A long finger tilts your chin upwards, locking your gaze on him.
“You want to be good for me, don’t you?”
You nod. You can’t help it - you want to do anything he tells you; you will do anything he tells you.
“Good.” Pink lips brush against yours. His breath is cool as he whispers, “Then lay down.”
The sheets are chilled against your burning skin as your back rests upon them. It’s easier, now, the way you’ve accepted your muscles enacting his will. It feels right to let him pull your strings, letting him shape you into whatever pose he sees fit.
He doesn’t even need to command you to open your legs, large palms spreading your knees apart easily, allowing them to fall with the weight of his gravity. Your clothes are gone in an instant, laid bare before him, returned to your natural form before the god that granted it. It’s only natural.
Hot breath hits your core, cold eyes resting on your face. His thumb trails a path along your skin until it lands upon your clit, each slow circle another rotation around his orbit.
It’s almost too much, your body writhing under his touch, desperation making your hips rut uselessly into him. But he’s just…watching you.
“P-please,” you can’t help but whine, trying to grind into him for any additional ounce of friction. Master Geto simply continues his agonizingly slow pace.
Your gaze meets his for a moment, fire crackling beneath it as his lips tug into a sinister grin, a predator about to consume its prey.
Eat me, your body begs, I’m yours.
Oh, he knows.
His palm opens, sliding two fingers easily into your cunt. Just as he curls upwards, sharp teeth move from poking through his lip into the soft flesh of your inner thighs. For the violence crackling beneath his skin, he’s surprisingly gentle as his canines sink into you.
Because he doesn’t want it to hurt.
Not yet.
The prickling pain tingles your senses as he pulls your first orgasm from you, a faint moan humming in your throat.
When he rises from between your legs, red dribbles from his lips. He crackles with pride, completely unabashed; if anything, he’s proud.
Warmth blankets your body as he crawls on top of you, a wolf stalking a lamb. And you can’t bring yourself to run.
Muscled shoulders bare themselves under the flickering lights as he slowly sheds his robes, pale and morphing, too blurry to focus on. If you were more naive, you’d be tempted to call him an angel.
“You taste so sweet,” he purrs, his face now mere centimeters from yours.
When he kisses you, a mix of metal and cum tangles on your tongues, intoxicatingly you. Every ounce of his weight rests against you until you can’t pull in a breath anymore, your ribs unable to expand below him.
But like always, he grants you mercy.
He pulls back, just enough to let air rush in through your parted lips. Your skin burns where he places a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth.
Because now, you want it to hurt.
And oh, he knows.
That devilish smile curls upon his lips, no longer hiding the fangs behind it. Every beat of your heart makes you dizzy, your vision pulsing with each reverberating thrum. You wonder if he can feel it in your chest.
(He can.)
(He wants to claw it from your body and eat it.)
The remnants of blood lingering on his teeth are wiped away as his tongue swipes over them, an innocent white left in its wake. How perfect a sinner’s body can be.
He’s shifting his weight above you, but you barely notice, too enamored by him, too lost in his eyes, in his depravity. The moment your eyes flutter shut to protect your soul, he’s reaching out to you.
“Look at me, little lamb.”
And then, your gaze is locked on him.
And then, his cock is pressing into you.
Lips part, fire shoots up your spine, a cry dies in your throat. It’s burning and tearing and it’s death and everything is too hot and you’re staring into those eyes with flames behind them and you think you’d let him kill you if he asked.
Not that he needs to ask, of course.
Your back arches off the bed as your eyes nearly roll back into your head but they can’t - because it’s not what Master Geto commanded. Because you always do as he says.
Because you always obey.
Instead, tears prick at the corners and your entire body trembles and he’s staring down at you with pity.
“There, shh, that’s my girl,” he coos. He wipes away a tear with his thumb but he doesn’t stop, not until his pelvis is flush with yours and all you can feel is him inside you.
Ragged breaths rack your core, your walls clenching around him from his size alone.
“You’re being so obedient, so good,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. And the sun bursts through your chest.
A slack-jawed smile spreads across your features at his praise, cheeks warm and full of pride. You’ve done everything you were made for - you’ve made Master Geto happy. You’ve been good.
When he drags his hips from you, his tip catching and pulling and gouging any remaining shred of disloyalty from your consciousness, you know you’re his: your mind, your soul, your body. All his, in any way he wants it.
When he thrusts back into you, the emptiness inside you is filled with him.
Him.
Him. Him. Him. Him.
Master Geto.
All you have ever needed.
All you will ever need.
Master Geto.
Warmth blossoms in your chest as he fucks you into the silk sheets. You are his. You were always made to be his. There’s no pain in it, no uncertainty. It’s as things were always meant to be.
But there’s still something missing, something lingering in the droplet of red beading at the corner of his lips.
Eat me, your body pleads, I’m yours.
“Master Geto,” you whimper, “I…I want…”
As he gazes down at you, there’s a reverence behind it - not to you, no, but to your servitude.
“Yes, my little lamb,” he breathes through the sound of skin against skin. “Tell me what you want.”
“Bite me, Master Geto,” you cry, “please.”
And you feel him laugh, his breath hot against the skin of your neck. “Well, how could I deny my most devoted?”
First, it’s the searing pain of his fangs sinking into your skin. An instant later, it’s the burning pleasure of it.
A moan bubbles from your throat, allowing your head to fall back into his waiting palm, cradling you above the respite of feathered pillows. Because for now, he will hold you; you should be held by him.
Suguru is greedy as he drinks.
Grunts and groans echo from his chest, his body never stilling as he plunges in and out of you in pace with his tongue lapping at your pierced flesh. Just as his teeth pull away he strikes them into you again, and again, and again. Puncture wounds grow across your skin, blooming hues of maroon beneath them, stars decorating the sky, each one a burning supernova moments away from exploding.
They mark you for what you are: his.
“You taste,” he pants, “fucking devine.”
Nails claw at his back, your head lolled back into the sheets, limp beneath him. Of course, you’d move if he told you to - you’d die if he told you to.
Each racing heartbeat makes your vision pulse, head swimming as he drinks from you. Your body melts inside him, warm in his stomach.
The friction of his hips between your legs only grows, until it’s burning like the teeth in your neck. Red flames prick your skin, Suguru’s tongue chasing each one to put it out.
His grunts grow animalistic, a beast pulling muscles and tendons until it’s out of breath. Shoulders tense beneath your palms, and your stomach begins to tighten.
“Master Geto, I-”
“I know,” he growls into your neck. Arms tighten around your body, until they cage in your ribs, until you can’t breathe anything but him. “Cum for me, little lamb.”
Warmth floods your senses, numb save for his cock twitching. He bites down harder as his claim shoots into you, thick and hot.
For a moment, you wonder if he tore flesh from bone. When he removes his head from your collarbone, blood dripping down his chin in thick rivulets, it seems all the more possible.
Licking his lips, he groans at the sanguine flavor pouring down his throat, sweet like honey. When he kisses you, his tongue presses against yours until it lingers in the back of your mouth. Sweet like him.
Low eyes meet yours, a thumb stroking your cheek.
“Stay here, with me.”
And maybe, you will.
It’s easier like this, to be his.
It’s easier to obey.
#q writes#oneshot#suguru geto#geto suguru#suguru geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru x reader#geto x reader#jjk#jjk fanfiction#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jjk geto#geto smut#quintober2024#cw dubcon#cw blood
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Power over you
Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader
Warnings: NSFW / going down on her / cursing / explicit se&ual actions
Paul likes to be in charge
Words: 1k
_______________________
His touch leaves your skin burning.
Your heartbeat doubled when he grabbed you by the neck, forcing you to look him directly in the eyes. Such lovely eyes, yet so full of a dark desire. The same desire you feel in every fiber of your being.
„I’ve been imagining this the whole day. You are driving me insane, love.“ His thumb gently touching your lips to part them a little bit. Paul thinks about so many things those lips of yours could do and what he would do in return for you.
You give him a cheeky grin. „That was the plan, Atreides. See it as a challenge on how long you could hold yourself back.“ You let your hands explore his tense chest. Feel every muscle moving under his thin shirt, as you touch him. The power you have over him makes the desire even more intense. His eyes darkened as your fingertips reach the waistband of his pants and his breathing just got heavier. There is no doubt about how much Paul wants you right now. The thought of you doing some bad things were in his mind for hours, so much that he had trouble on focusing on the important meeting he had with Stillgar and some other Fremen … he don’t even remembered what it was about. Paul was only thinking of you, being willingly under his control. So that he could do whatever he desires to.
„Even if I wanted to hold myself back… I wouldn’t be able to“, his voice was not more than a breathy whisper. Paul caged you with his body against the wall. Your back fully pressed against hard stone, but you couldn’t care less. „I’m so fucking weak when it comes to you.“
He kissed you with a hunger that can not be satisfied. He would never get enough of this. Paul knew he would never get enough of you. His strong hands reached beneath your thighs, lifting you up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. A little moan escaped your mouth and it made him grin a winning smile. Paul knows exactly how much you wanted him. And it made him proud like nothing else could do.
You could feel his length through the fabric of his pants, making you even more impatient to feel him all over you … and deep inside. Your fingers clawing onto his back, probably leaving marks on it. Paul was kissing you until you run out of breath, then moving his lips to your throat, making it even harder for you to concentrate. He knows all your weak spots and how to use them against you.
His hands exploring your thighs and hips. Holding you with a strong grip so that you couldn’t escape him at any chance. Not that you wanted to. Your fingers running through his dark curls, pulling it gently. He growls. Paul is not the only one who knows how to use weak spots. Now he lost all hesitation that was left to this point. He tightens his grip around your hips, moving you from the wall to the next table. A surprised smile shows on your lips and he kissed it like he wanted to make it his own.
You impatiently pulling his shirt until he lets go of you for a split second so you could drag it over his head. His bare chest and the defined abs came to light and you lose no time to let your fingers explore every inch of his body. You can feel him shivering beneath your touch. Paul decides that it was his turn now. He loves watching you enjoying your power over him, but to see you loosing your mind because of him and what he would do is even more of a turn on for him.
He pulls the straps of your dress down, so that the useless fabric is now laying around your waist. His eyes wandering down your body, admiring every part of it. Even the scars from the many battles you fought. Some of them by his side.
„You are so fucking beautiful, my love.“
You wanted to say something, but suddenly his lips were on your collarbone and the ability to form words vanished from your brain with every kiss he places on your skin, making his way down to your weakest spot. His tongue begins to move and a sharp scream bursts out of your chest. You grab his hair to keep him right there. Nothing in the world could bring Paul to go somewhere else. He enjoyed this way to much. Feeling you loose control. Tasting how much you want him. One of his hands pressing on your lower belly to make the incredible feeling even more intense. Every part of his body was screaming for you, but he wanted to make sure that you get what you deserve first.
The moment Paul was using his fingers to help his tongue was the exact moment your world shattered into thousand pieces. You couldn’t hold your own body up, so you laid your head back and let the feeling of satisfaction take control over you. Your thighs shaking uncontrollably as Paul shoves you over the cliff.
He loved that. He would fucking kill somebody for the satisfaction of making you shake like that.
Slowly he comes back to his feet. Pulling your hips to the edge of the table. Your vision was a little blurry, but you could see that beautiful, dark smile he gave you. Paul placed a soft kiss on your lips, as he shoved himself deep inside you. Your fingernails scratching the skin of his back. Paul moans against your lips and begins to move his hips against yours. The rhythm started slowly but became faster with every thrust. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his arms holding you so very close to him and the both of you moving in perfect harmony.
As both of you reached the climax, out of breath and sweaty all you hear, was the wild beat of your own heart, pounding at the same rhythm as Pauls. He leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closed and lost in the moment.
„I love you, y/n“, Paul whispered.
You kiss him softly. „And i love you, Paul.“
_______________________
Thanks for reading! Comments, Likes & Reblogs are very welcome (but no stealing pls) <3
#dune movie#dune part one#dune part two#paul atredies x reader#paul atreides#paul atreides x you#desire#intimacy#paul muad'dib#paul atreides x reader#dune fanfic#dune images#paul atreides fanfic#smut#paul atreides smut
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★ — il capitano.
il capitano x florist! reader.
GENRE: smut.
WARNINGS: NSFW. capitano smut. masturbating. fantasizing.
SYPNOSIS: the fatui harbinger, il capitano, had been visiting the flower shop for months now. he never engaged in small talks with you, only scanning the selection of flowers in sight, and only coming by to buy bouquets of flowers. whenever you would hand him the arrangements, he would place a lot of mora on the table and would take his leave in urgency. you often found yourself wondering why never speaks, and why he always appeared to be in a hurry.
MINORS DNI ❕
CAPITANO was in haze. looking deep into those angel eyes was dangerous, especially when the said eyes were shining so brightly. it sent butterflies fluttering in the pit of his stomach, however, the captain couldn't find it within himself to look away. he didn't even want to. he felt as if his soul had been trapped in this angel's eyes forever, and that the angel was holding him captive with just a look.
“good morning, captain. you're here again!” you smiled, “which flower will you buy today? the usual? we have many lovely ones at our store.” your voice was like the music of angels, it was as melodic as the singing angels.
the first among the eleven fatui harbingers, a god amongst men, his name alone was enough to cause fear in everyone who heard it. so, why aren't you afraid of him? why aren't you shaking in fear? why don't you cower under his power? why are you staring at him with a soft smile that graced your face? what makes you believe that you can be safe around him? no one can truly be safe from the harbingers. he could easily squash you between his fingers, he knows how, but he wouldn't... why should he? he doesn't intended to hurt a girl like you, he has other things planned for you that would bring him joy. “... peonies, and lilies.” capitano spoke, voice low.
his eyes, dark and intense, tracked your every movement like a predator hunting its prey. each subtle shift of your form sent ripples through his composure, and he could feel his fist clenching tightly, the knuckles whitening as he battled against the rising tide of his desires. his control over his desires had always been difficult to come by. in the depths of his mind, the captain wonders how you'll scream his name out loud, how he will feel when he finally have his member inside of you. your body is meant for him, only his. the more he observed the way your casual clothes hugged your body, the more his thoughts wonders on how you will look without those, however, capitano pushed these these thoughts aside before they grow any bigger. now is not the time nor place for such thoughts.
“we're very lucky that you're visiting our humble shop. here are your peonies, and lilies.”
as capitano placed the stack of coins upon the counter, he didn't spare a single glance at you, his urgency propelling him swiftly away from the moment away from you. upon reaching his office, he slammed the door shut with a resounding thud, locking the door behind, ad immediately sank into the embrace of his desk chair. he leaned his forehead against his palm once he placed his helmet at the table. your scent, mixed with a sweet and delicate perfume was still lingering on his nose. the sound of your laughter still echoes in his ears, the way you smiled at him, the sound of your voice, everything about you captivated his senses as his breath hitched with desire. he wanted you to be the one to quench his flames– his growing desire.
there was a painful erection underneath the pants that he wore. he needed to relieve the pressure, the ache that was building up inside of him, and it wasn't long before capitano's hands began to fumble with his belt and once he unzipped his pants, the impressive bulge that grew more beneath his underwear was revealed. he couldn't hold himself anymore. he had spent so much time working on getting his arousal under control, yet, there it was, begging to be taken care off. ah, you should be the one pleasuring him right now, not himself. the point of his dick— his tip, kicked his stomach when he recalled your sweet scent, the way your hands brushed on his when you handed the bouquet. his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. he couldn't even tell whether he wanted to cry or laugh at the same time. his cock pulsated, growing harder and harder with every passing moment he was left alone with his thoughts.
can you even handle him? will he even fit inside you? his body is huge, his length is immense. he was big. he knows you can take him, capitano's length is for you to take only. his cock was veiny, twitching and already dripping with pre-cum as it was waiting to be touched. the thought of wrapping your lips around his cock made his mouth fell, his chest moving up and down, and sweats appearing on his forehead. he had never felt so aroused before but at the same time his hands were clammy, shaking and itching to touch himself now. the sudden feelings of capitano's fingers in his dick caused him to let out a small groan, there was a mixture of excitement and arousal flowing in him right now and all he could think of was you.
capitano had his head rolled back with a slight groans escaping through his lips, it has been a long time since he felt this pleasure again as he wrapped his lengthy digits on his cock, moving up and down in such pace. “ah~” he breathed softly, the sight of him stroking himself had turned him into a horny animal. he gripped onto his cock tightly and increased his movements, moving his fingers faster while moaning louder than usual. “t-the things... you do to me... y/n..” capitano mumbled between moans, brows ceased in arousal as he continued to stroke his cock with his thick calloused fingers. in that moment, the captain longed for your hands to caress him, fantasizing your gentle fingertips running over his warm flesh. how divine it would be to give in to your warmth, and feel your soft touch engulfing him in a cocoon of comfort and intimacy. the mere thought of your hands wrapped around his length, ignited a longing desire within him. what a relief it would be, to trade the solitude of his own touch for the blissful sensation of your fingertips.
his eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy, each moan escaped his lips and grew louder, louder, louder. the captain's head fell heavily onto the polished table, his hands still clenching fiercely around his throbbing member, as if that grip could tether him to the world of sanity. no people should ever come close to making capitano cum so hard, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. the throbbing sensation that came with each hard and fast stroke, coupled with the increasing heat spreading throughout his whole body. “ah~ y/n... what did you do to me..?” the captain moaned aloud, his voice whiny from the intensity of his pleas. his face, once nonchalant, was now covered in shades of crimson. capitano’s mouth were open, moans and hot breath coming out. there were beads of sweat cascading down his forehead. his eyes rolled back in bliss at the overwhelming pleasure wrapped around him. he was utterly lost, unable to contain the soft whimpers and loud moans escaping his lips.
it didn't matter to capitano that the noise might alert others. his heart was beating like crazy, the feeling of being being inside you, your soft walls, made him lose all restraint on his self and he was whispering your name. capitano had never felt anything like it before. he knew you were the reason for his desire but the idea of telling you that, of showing you his love and passion, seemed too impossible and unreal. “m-my dear angel... forgive me for fantasizing about you...” his words sounded so weak. capitano closed his eyes in pure bliss. “let me make amends for my sins, my angel. please...” he begged, opening his eyes only a slit. the captain's fist were now full of cum as he stroked his shaft over and over again, his breath haggard and his chest heaving. he was going crazy and there was nothing he could do to stop it, nothing to distract him from the feeling coursing through his veins and setting him ablaze from the inside.
capitano could feel his climax approaching and his breathing became heavier and quicker. “...fuck..” he gasped, closing his eyes as he pushed against himself with his fist. “i will make you mine... y/n, my angel..” his legs trembled, his muscles twitched, his teeth were clenched. his eyes drifted shut as he surrendered his cock to the sensations of his own juices leaking down his member and fingers. he didn't know how long he had been doing this, but his body betrayed his exhaustion.
he stared at his swollen cock, and his own cum, watching the last few drops of cum dripping out of the top before it fell on his lap. what a waste. you should've been here to swallow all of it, to taste the most succulent thing that he had been saving for you, to taste every drop of it. he wanted to see your pretty mouth devouring the liquid substance of his own ejaculation.
#capitano#capitano genshin#il capitano#genshin impact#genshin#genshin smut#capitano smut#capitano x you#genshin capitano#capitano x reader
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Trust Issues
An anxious Astarion falls back into old patterns of behavior.
Warnings: vague mentions of Astarion's past but seriously the rest of it is just fluff, this boy deserves someone who treats him well
————————
He loves you. Of that much he’s certain now, despite the mental battle he waged to get to this point. And you love him. He believes it even though the voice in the back of his mind tells him that he could never be worthy of a creature like you, all goodness and light in direct contrast to his tortured darkness.
But old habits die hard. A minor disagreement earlier in the day (truly it was nothing, a mere gentle dissuasion away from his more violent tendencies) has him wound tight, worry clawing at his throat as you both retire to your tent for the evening. Surely now you’ll realize, now you’ll see the truth of him and you’ll run, leaving him behind like the monster he is.
He can feel his mindset shift, falling into old routines as he turns up the charm to seduce his way back into your good graces. He knows how to wield his body as a weapon, has used it countless times for his, and his master’s, benefit. If he makes you need him then you can’t leave him, and he intends to make you very needy tonight.
“You were magnificent today” he whispers into your ear, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.
You chuckle lightly and lean into him, closing your eyes as he begins gently kissing the sensitive hollow beneath your ear that has you arching further into his embrace.
“You flatter me,” you hum. “I’m still not sure why everyone has decided to act like I know what I’m doing. I never planned on being a leader.”
“And yet you do it so flawlessly,” Astarion purrs, gently kissing his way to your shoulder.
You twist in his hold, your breath catching as you see the look in his eyes that he’s praying you interpret as hunger and not helpless desperation.
He takes advantage of your distraction to pull you against him, lips claiming yours in a feverish dance that takes your breath away as you wind your hands into his hair, clinging to him as if he’s something worth having.
His hands shift suddenly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and lifting you as he lowers you both to your knees. His hands drift up, pulling your shirt from where it’s tucked into your pants and caressing his way across your stomach to your ribs, teasing the edge of your bra.
“I…” you take a sharp inhale, pulling yourself away from his searching mouth. “Astarion, stop.”
He freezes immediately, eyes instantly searching for an injury, for anything he may have done wrong
“Are you okay, my love? Did I hurt you?”
“Of course not, I just…” your fingers flit across his cheek, searching for answers to questions you’re afraid to ask. “You don’t seem like yourself. Are you alright?” He hesitates for a split second and your brow furrows, latching on to his lie before he can even tell it. “Tell me. Please?”
Your request is so earnest, so loving, that he has to pause for a moment to regain a hold of his emotions. If Cazador could see him now… the thought snaps him back to the present. He’s been a fool. You would never treat him like that, use him like that.
“… I’m sorry” he breathes. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I… I lost control today, and I was afraid that you… that you might not...”
“I told you it was nothing to worry about, love. You were just—”
“Just being myself,” he interjects, dropping his head. “Just being quick to judge, to assume the worst, to—”
“Stop that,” you frown, nudging his chin up to draw his eyes back to yours. “You know I couldn’t do this without you, any of it. What you thought of me when we met, that I was naive and overly trusting and gullible…” At that Astarion chuckles, you’ve really only proven his first impression right, though at least now he finds it endearing rather than frustrating. “You weren’t wrong. You don’t realize how much I rely on your judgment, how much I need your help to keep us all safe.”
His eyes close as he presses his forehead to yours.
“You’re too kind to me,” he whispers. “No one has ever… I don’t understand how you can just…” he sighs, shoulders sagging as the facade crumbles and his hands come to rest in yours, holding them as if he’s afraid he’ll get lost if he lets them go. “It was wrong of me to try to manipulate you like that,” he murmurs, releasing a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” You press a soft kiss to his cheek and duck your head, gently nuzzling your face into his neck. He feels you frown against him, a touch of cold alerting him to a teardrop falling onto his skin. “No, pet, please don’t cry, I—”
You lift your head suddenly, gaze piercing into him with an intensity he hadn’t expected.
“I need you to trust me, Astarion.”
His brow furrows in confusion.
“I do, my sweet,” he replies, letting out a wry chuckle before adding “despite the recent evidence to the contrary.”
Your gaze softens as you grin at him, brushing a stray curl off his forehead before bringing your hand to rest on his cheek.
“Then trust me to love you.Trust that you don’t need to earn that or convince me of anything more. I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.”
Astarion’s eyes drift closed as a weight he didn’t realize he was carrying slips off his shoulders. He leans forward and captures your lips with his, tender and unhurried as you relax against him.
“Have I told you recently how much I adore you, darling?” he asks, tilting his head to slowly kiss his way to your jaw.
“Hmm…” Your eyes twinkle as you pull an exaggerated thinking face. “I’m sure you have but it’s been such a long day, I just can’t seem to remember…”
“Cheeky little pup,” he chuckles, gently nipping at your neck. You giggle as you pull him back to your mouth, smiling against his lips.
“Maybe you should jog my memory?”
“Oh, believe me,” he smirks, “I plan to.”
#astarion#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x you#bg3#bg3 astarion
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do you think capitano has a bunch of scars? how would he react when you trace them? :3
synopsis. it turns capitano on when you trace the scars on his back as he fucks you ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ fem! reader
warnings. tw scars (on his back), size kink & size difference (he's very big n beefy, as we know <3)
grabbing a fistful of your ass, capitano groans against your wet cheek, his voice on the verge of breaking.
"my dear..." he huffs out breathlessly, "i have no control when I'm with you," before he finds you wincing at the rough texture of his skin buzzing within your walls, roaming freely and sliding his throbbing sensation over your soft insides.
you swallow down a cry as you took him, your legs burning as he stretches your cunt— his hunted, dark gaze always casted on yours, watching you with thrill in his eyes as he started to thrust into you a little deeper.
the harbinger was exploring the pure and surreal nature of your intimacy as your body weeps into his chest, your cheeks beginning to burn due to overstimulation and the aching stretch of his cock, "fuck— so… big," you hiccup, "aah, you're so warm," as he pounds his thick cock into you, completely overthrowing the natural strength of your body without even trying.
it wasn't really difficult for capitano to send chills down your body, or coax out each little, pathetic moan from your throat— in fact, he had to hold himself back in order to not hurt you with his enormous strength. each thrust he added would multiply in precision and intensity, making you shudder out a hefty rush of air through your chest, once, twice, as a pleasurable tear teases light-heartedly around your lashes.
air enters your lungs and you arch your back, letting him take control over you as your fingers trace along the bulging scars on his defined back— which some of them felt fresher than the others, not to mention that quite a few didn't heal properly and left behind swelling, bumps of skin.
the man was known to be the strongest, unable to be defeated yet encountering himself in his current setting, he finds himself utterly defeated by the pure trace of you— and your soft digits embracing the countless scars covering his back weakened his mind.
capitano cherishes them, his marks and blemishes were a part of him, in fact, they multiply from battle to battle, burning into his skin as he wears them with pride. the man looks at them like trophies to remind himself of his true, never ending victory, and his brutal strength making the cryo nation petrifying to the outside eye.
your hands were planted against his flexing back as he fills you to the brim. shortly after, you're resuming to take care of his scars, gently brushing across the alarming number of them and awaiting his pebbly whines, urging him on to inch his face closer so you could kiss him.
the tip of his cock drags through the slopes of your walls as your body clenches beneath his larger one. he's so big— a little freak in the sheets if he wants, but capitano was also soft at the same time, vulnerable and entirely differentiating from his outside self, like you're the only person he could be vulnerable with.
your legs trembled as they dangled against his shoulders, your hips twitching and beginning to burn from how hard he was rolling his hips into your sensitive hole.
careful and sultry thrusts of his shaft send numerous tremors surging right through you, racking through your brain as the sheer size of him numbs you out— as do your feathery touches, embraces and exploring of his damaged skin add depth to his means of experiencing true love.
©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#capitano x reader#capitano smut#capitano x you#genshin x you#genshin Impact x you#tw scars#tw size difference
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ensnared.
18+ notes: ensnared is finally back! coding is a blessing fr... ̤̮ summary: Homelander becomes dangerously obsessed with you, a new supe whose powers of possession challenge his control. Your intense attraction spirals into a lethal game of desire and even power. warnings: Homelander being homelander, sublander, morally grey! fem reader. word count: 1.5k
The Seven's headquarters were never quiet, even in the dead of the night. Homelander paced the halls, his footsteps echoing against the sterile floors. Tonight, though, his mind wasn't on the usual politics of Vought or his public image. Tonight, he was obsessed.
It started a few weeks ago when you had just joined The Seven. Vought had been vague about your origins, only mentioning that your powers were unique and invaluable. Stan Edgar had personally recommended you and it was easy to see why. Your abilities included mind control and a hypnotic form of seduction that even the strongest of wills struggled to resist.
Homelander prided himself on his control, but you tested him in ways he hadn't anticipated. He found himself drawn to you, his thoughts consumed by your every movement and the sultry tone of your voice.
Tonight, he couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. The way you moved through battle earlier, your body sleek and fluid like a snake hunting its prey. The others watched in awe, but Homelander felt something deeper—an uncontrollable desire that both excited and infuriated him.
He spotted you on the balcony of one of the observation rooms, alone and staring out over the city. The dim lights cast shadows that danced across your face, enhancing your already enchanting features. You didn't flinch when he entered, your senses attuned to his presence as if you had been expecting him.
"Mesmera," he greeted, his voice a controlled growl.
You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. "Homelander," you replied, your voice a soft purr.
He took a step closer, his gaze locked onto yours. "You're becoming quite the distraction."
A slow smile spread across your lips. "Is that a complaint or a compliment?"
"Both," he admitted, taking another step. He was close enough now to feel the warmth radiating from your body, to catch the faint scent of something intoxicating that clung to your skin. "What is it about you that makes it so hard to focus?"
You tilted your head, considering him for a moment. "Maybe it's the way you can't control me," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Or maybe it's because you see a reflection of your own darkness in me."
His jaw tightened. No one spoke to him like this, but you weren't like anyone else. "You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.
You leaned into his touch, your eyes never leaving his. "I think you like dangerous games."
For a moment, he was tempted to give in to the magnetic pull between you. But he knew that giving in meant losing control and that was something he couldn't afford yet. Not even for you.
"You might be right," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "But don't think for a second that you can tame me."
Your smile widened, revealing a hint of something predatory. "I wouldn't dream of it. I prefer to let the wild remain wild."
The tension between you was palpable, an electric charge that threatened to ignite at any moment. Homelander stepped back, his eyes still locked onto yours. "This isn't over," he said, a promise and a threat intertwined in his words.
You nodded, your smile never faltering. "I wouldn't want it to be."
As he turned to leave, he felt your eyes on him, a silent reminder of the dangerous game you were playing. A game that could tear you apart or bind you together in ways neither of you could foresee.
One thing was certain: in the end, you would both bear the scars of this deadly attraction.
In the days that followed, Homelander found it increasingly difficult to maintain his composure. Every meeting, every mission, every casual encounter with you chipped away at the carefully constructed facade he wore. Your presence was like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, making it hard to think straight. He hated the power you had over him, yet he craved it at the same time.
One evening, during a debriefing in the conference room, you caught his eye across the table. Your lips curled into a knowing smile, and he felt his pulse quicken. He forced himself to look away, focusing on the dull drone of A Train's report. But his thoughts were a storm, swirling with images of you, your voice, your touch.
After the meeting, he cornered you in the hallway. The space was narrow, the walls closing in on him as he stood inches from you. "We need to talk," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
"Is this about my performance?" you asked innocently, though your eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Don't play games with me," he snapped. "You know damn well what this is about."
You arched an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."
He clenched his fists, struggling to keep his temper in check. "You've been toying with me. Pushing my buttons. I don't appreciate being manipulated."
"Manipulated?" You laughed softly. "I'm not manipulating you, Homelander. Everything you're feeling is real."
"Real or not, it needs to stop," he growled. "I can't afford distractions."
"And yet, here you are," you murmured, stepping closer until your bodies were almost touching. "Chasing after the very distraction you claim to want to avoid."
His breath hitched as you placed a hand on his chest, your touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. "You're a walking contradiction, Homelander. You say one thing, but your actions tell a different story."
For a moment, he was paralyzed, torn between the desire to push you away and the urge to pull you closer. His mind screamed for control, but his body betrayed him, leaning into your touch.
"You think you can control everything," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. "But some things are beyond your control. Some things are meant to be wild and free."
With a growl of frustration, he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from his chest. "You're dangerous," he said, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and desire. "And not just to me. To the team. To Vought."
"Then maybe you should do something about it," you challenged, your eyes blazing with defiance.
He stared at you, his grip tightening on your wrist. The air between you crackled with tension, a battle of wills that neither of you was willing to lose. Slowly, he released your wrist, stepping back as if burned.
"This isn't over," he repeated, his voice a rough whisper. "I won't let you destroy everything I've built."
You smiled a hint of sadness in your eyes. "I'm not here to destroy, Homelander. I'm here to uncover the truth. About you. About me. About all of us."
As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing control, not just of you, but of himself. The line between attraction and obsession was becoming dangerously blurred, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold on without crossing it entirely.
The days turned into weeks, and the tension between you and Homelander only grew. Every encounter was charged with unspoken words and barely restrained desire. The other members of The Seven began to notice, casting curious glances your way, but no one dared to intervene.
One night, after a particularly gruelling mission, Homelander found himself standing outside your quarters. He didn't know how he had ended up there, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He raised his hand to knock, hesitated, and then lowered it again, feeling foolish.
Just as he turned to go, the door opened, and there you stood, silhouetted in the dim light. "Couldn't sleep?" you asked, your voice soft and inviting.
"Something like that," he admitted, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.
You stepped aside, allowing him to enter. The room was small and sparsely furnished, a stark contrast to the opulence of his own quarters. But it felt more real, more grounded. He watched as you moved to the window, your silhouette framed by the city lights.
"Why do you do it?" he asked suddenly. "Why do you push me like this?"
You turned to face him, your expression unreadable. "Because I see the real you, Homelander. The man behind the mask. And I think you need someone who isn't afraid to challenge you."
He took a step closer, the distance between you shrinking. "And what if I don't want to be challenged? What if I just want to forget, even for a moment?"
"Then you have to let go," you whispered, closing the gap between you. "You have to trust that not everything needs to be controlled."
With a trembling hand, he reached out, cupping your face gently. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. And in that moment, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to do it all alone.
As your lips met, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, tangled in a web of desire and defiance. It was a dangerous game, but for now, it was the only game that mattered.
#homelander x reader#homelander fic#homelander imagine#the boys x reader#the boys#the boys imagine#— lena writes 🔖
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SOLD!
Pairing - Tommy Shelby x fem!reader
Summary - You’re locked away in the Arrow House. Until your abductor returns to bear the good news.
Warnings - Noncon, dubcon, p in v, smacking, rough, virginity loss, breeding implications, mean tommy.
Word Count - 1.5k+
Despite the fire being lit across the room, your body shivered underneath the thick blankets on the king sized bed. The lamp stayed on most nights, you were too distressed to turn it off. It had been weeks – months even since you’ve been confined in this mansion, Arrow House.
You lost track of counting the days, your mind slowly danced with the sensation of being stir-crazy. None of the domestic workers spoke to you unless necessary, all of the men kept their eyes low around you. For the men who wore peaked caps, their eyes stalked you, awaiting a sudden move on your behalf. The only company you were allowed was the son of the household, Charlie.
For the first time since being here, the door creaked open loudly. As your head shot up, you instinctively pulled the sheets up to your chin as your body curled into a ball. Finally he had returned, your abductor stood like a statue in the doorframe, his jacket already removed. If it wasn’t so dark on the other side of the room, you’d be able to see his demeaning smirk.
Whenever you saw Thomas Shelby, you only shared a couple of sentences together, he wanted to keep you in the dark of whatever sinister plans he had with you. He came and went, an addicted businessman he was, likewise to your father. After all, they both had empires to watch over, to rule and to use in battle. How were you so foolish to let the Peaky Blinder Devil’s eyes wander into your soul and drag you to his depths of Hell.
“Hi darling” his words spoke slowly, it was intimidating as he slowly approached you until he was standing right next to you. “Are you excited for tomorrow?” He tilted his head to you as his weight dipped into the bed, his shoes off now.
“What’s tomorrow?” your timid voice squeaked out, your eyes peeking out from the covers.
Tommy breathed out in contempt and laid next to you, he tugged the sheets down enough to see your gorgeous face.
“We’re finally getting married, my love” he smiled in a trance of love and obsession.
You choked out a sob and couldn’t help but to shake your head at the thought of marrying the ruthless Thomas Shelby. Being cursed by the Shelby name, you’ve heard the stories with their gruesome deaths.
Tommy cooled you and pulled down the covers to your knees, his body straddled your hips as he whispered soothing words into your ear to help calm you. “No, no… It’s okay, your father gave us his blessing. Our families will finally be united, unstoppable is the word he used” he smiled softly, almost innocently as he believed that would ease all of your stresses.
But when your head rapidly shook underneath him, his smile dropped. He planted his elbows next to your ears to warn you, but you stubbornly continued to deny the truth.
“Please no! I’m already engaged! I have a fiance Tommy! I- I need to talk to him!” You explained desperately.
As you tried to push your upper body up, he pushed you back down.
“I am your fiance!” Tommy roared, his hot breath gusted over your mouth, his fingers now twirled into your hair as he tugged your head back. “You’ll talk to no one without my permission” he growled into your ear.
“Please Tommy let me go!” You pleaded pathetically as tears continued to stream down your flustered cheeks.
You felt yourself start to hyperventilate underneath him, you couldn’t breathe or think anymore. Thomas Shelby was going to be the death of you. As your hands gripped onto his biceps for a reminder of reality, you tried to control your breathing, stop your crying, but you had been holding it all in for weeks. Everything has driven you insane.
“There, there… Let it all out little one… Let go off all of your stresses” Tommy coached as he stroked your damp cheek.
Your eyes darted to his and your teeth gritted together. Abruptly, you tried to fight him off of you. Foolish even to believe that you actually had a chance.
“No, get off of me!” You demanded harshly, Tommy’s expression didn’t flinch.
A forceful backhand to your left cheek silenced you momentarily, then as the realization settled in, you started to mewl again severely. Tommy tutted to you and rubbed your stinging flesh as you couldn’t stop crying, your heart pounding in your chest.
“That’s it… Let it all go… Can’t have you be all emotional for our big day eh?” Tommy grinned as he felt his cock twitch in his trousers. His dark eyes lingers over your body. “Fuuckkk… I don’t think I can wait another day” he mumbled to himself, gently pressing his hips into yours.
Your sobs stopped suddenly as you looked at him with wide eyes. After a deep exhale, he smiled at you before quickly taking off his shirt. You laid frozen underneath him momentarily.
“Please… Don’t do this, I-I’m a–” you blubbered out, completely lost for words as you watched him unbuckle his belt.
He fell back over you and roughly kissed your neck, his teeth nipped at your skin. You could smell the whisky and smoke on his body. Tommy’s rough, cold hands ran over your bare shoulders. For bedtime, you were only allowed to wear a silk dress gown, with nothing else underneath.
“It’ll be our little secret… No one will know except us eh?” He grinned by your ear as his hands worked to get his hard length out.
“Tommy please! Anything else!” You begged for mercy, your hands weakly pressed against his shoulders.
Tommy huffed at you as he stroked himself and you couldn’t help but to squeal as you felt him poke against your upper thigh, he felt thick and long.
“Must I teach you obedience? My dear wife-to-be” Tommy threatened with a firm slap to your side.
After you cried a little more you told him no and he nodded his head in approval. For his pleasure, he kissed you from your torso all the way up to your jaw as he slowly stroked himself. Whilst you laid stiff, your body trembled lightly as you watched him fearfully.
“Can I have a kiss, my dear?” He asked softly as he looked up to you.
All you could do was squeak out in compliance and he gently pressed his lips to yours. Quickly his tongue slipped into your mouth as his hands caressed your hips, his cock pumped against your inner thigh. Tommy moaned into your mouth and you whimpered into his.
One of his hands slipped up to your bare pussy and you yelped out. Quickly he hushed you before kissing you again as his fingers played with your folds before two gradually pushed themselves inside of you. Since your mouths were connected, it quietened your painful groans whilst your legs squirmed around. After he was able to fit a third digit into your tight hole, he pulled them all out and licked them clean.
“Let me show you how I’ll take care of you everyday” he gasped as he teased your entrance with his tip.
“Please I’ve never-!” You objected.
But he only shushed you and coached you to breathe as he roughly tried to push himself inside of you. You cried out in agony, your walls clenching in resistance as he continued on. Tommy muttered to himself about how tight you were and he rubbed your tits through your dress.
Eventually, his large member was buried deep inside of you, his hands intertwined with yours as he rested on you for a moment, both of you trying to steady your breath before the worst came into play. Tommy was whispering praises into your ear. You were so tight and warm for his cock. Lightly, you were cursing, blubbering and sniffling. Tommy gave you a soft peck on the lips to grab your attention.
“How do you feel?” He asked sternly.
“Full” you choked out, your face tear stained.
“That’s a good thing” he nodded, his hips ready to unlock just to lock again. “You ready?” Tommy raised an eyebrow to you.
“No” you sniffled, your lower lip trembling.
It went ignored as he started to slowly thrust his massive size inside of your tight canal. Your hands shot up to his back and you held onto him for dear life as his pace gradually picked up. Both of you were moaning in unison as he began to slip in and out of you more smoothly.
“Fuck… You’re going to look after my son. Then give me some more children. You’ll always keep the bed warm for me. Distress me whenever necessary. In return, I’ll give you whatever you want. Take you to whatever fucking country you want to go to” he explained his proposition calming despite how quick his hips were snapping into you.
“Tommy please” you gasped out.
“Yes, now scream how good of a wife you want to be for me” he moaned as his hands went to your hips and he thrusted more viciously into you.
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#smut#dark smut#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby#peaky blinders
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follow me | e. landry
content: filthy smut, oral (fem receiving), kinda obsessive and dark ethan
pairing: ethan landry x afab!reader
summary: after everyone fell asleep, you and ethan ventured off to have your own fun
note: i literally wrote one paragraph of this and then dropped it but my ethan obsession is back after months
it was chad’s idea to have a big sleepover after finals. everyone’s worries and stress draining away with some drinking, music, and movies. the night started out strong with everyone in pajamas playing drinking games and having awful dance battles. but as the third movie dragged on, the talking stopped with the movie plot slowly growing uninteresting. the absence of conversation hinted at the reason, everyone had fell asleep. bodies scattered across the living room with chad's thunderous snores filling it. but as you looked over ethan's eyes met yours, wide awake and fixed upon you.
“i guess we’re the only ones awake” you smiled softly, standing up off the loveseat you two were sharing.
you two weren’t close at all. only speaking to each other when the group hung out and shared glances in shared classes. but you couldn’t lie when you said you had a small crush on ethan. his tall frame towering over you whenever he asked for a favor. soft whiny voice that made your face get warm whenever you heard it. pretty brown eyes that were always focused on yours when you talked. the same ones that were now so innocently trained on you.
“uh…yeah”
he was distracted to say the least. your nipples straining against your white tank top and tiny pink shorts riding up your squishy thighs. you stretched spreading your arms wide causing the shirt to hike up your soft belly. ethan couldn’t help but shift in his seat at the sight, a boner growing in his loose sweatpants. imagining what it was like to bury his head between them. he tried to look away but frankly he didn’t want to. he loved how squishy and smooth your thighs looked in the dim room light.
“do you want to come to my room? i have the new spider-man.” you suggest. hands placed on your hip and thumb pointing to your bedroom in the shared apartment. ethan didn’t hesitate, nodding eagerly and stood up slightly stumbling over the bodies littered around the room, following closely behind you.
-
ethan’s focus was completely on the game eyebrow’s furrowed and tongue slipping out the corner of his mouth. you stared at him in awe practically squealing at how cute he looked. both of you practically cuddling on your bed watching the tv screen as he expertly clicked buttons on the controller. you were sitting on the bed beside him leg perched over his while you watched him play the game. everyone knew you were a touchy person so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to casually have limbs wrapped around your friends. plus even if it was a problem ethan didn’t say anything about it.
“can you help me?” he asked peering over at you, noticing you staring. his cheeks a blaring red.
“yes, of course!” he had a problem with one of the missions not understanding the combos. you placed your hand on top of his showing him exactly what the controls were. ethan couldn’t focus on a word you were saying as your tits were pressed tightly on his arm. his mind wondered to how cushiony and moldable they would be in his hands. imagining leaving pretty marks on them that you would have to cover up.
you smelled a lot like sweet vanilla and it was addicting. he was obsessed. but he didn’t want to seem like a weirdo and sniff you. even though that’s all he wanted to do at this very moment. the boner in his pants grew again even though it never fully went down. but he couldn’t escape this time. as grabbing a pillow or shifting around would bring too much unwanted attention.
“you got it?” you ask softly sending shivers down his spine. he couldn’t do anything but nod as he feared he would unintentionally moan.
his hair tickled your face as he nodded causing you to notice how close you really were. they looked so enticing to touch and before you could think you reached your hand out. but decided against it, not knowing if he’d be comfortable with it or not.
“you can…touch me” he answered eyes still on the tv.
you grinned in excitement as you reached up to touch his hair. once the fluffy locks hit your hand you were in awe. they were soft and surprisingly smelt like strawberries. you reached your hand deeper into his hair massaging his scalp. ethan leaned into your touch groaning softly at the contact.
“mmh does that feel good sweetheart?”
ethan moaned in response pausing and setting down the controller. he loved the feeling of your acrylics running through his hair and scratching his scalp. he always has had a crush on you. he was quite literally obsessed with you. in ways he refused to admit. but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t stolen a few of your panties when you weren’t home. or purposely sat beside you during hangouts so he could learn your password to see private photos.
he relished in the feeling for a moment but he felt as if he was going to burst through his boxers. he turned and peered down at you, doe eyes hooded with lust. you were already looking at him feeling the tension rising. afraid that this could go too far and he wouldn’t feel the same way you did. you pulled your hand back but before you could get too far he swiftly caught it with his. eyes flickering from your rosy lips to your sultry eyes.
“ethan-“
before you could finish he had your lips in a deep kiss throwing the controller to the other side of the bed. his lips were soft and worked eagerly against yours. he then pushed you flush under him quickly moving in between your legs pressing his hard on to your core. wanting the kiss to be deeper you slipped your tongue in his mouth. he didn’t catch on right away but soon his tongue worked skillfully against yours. you whined gently as one of his hands was placed behind your head pulling you closer and the other trailing up your shirt.
your hands moved from around his neck to the hem of his shirt pulling it up eagerly. he obliged tossing it not really caring about where it went. when he looked back down at you he almost groaned at the sight. your lips pouty and swollen from kissing him, nipples now fully hard and on display to him through the thin fabric. legs wrapped across his waist practically rutting against him.
“oh fuck me…” he groaned practically ripping your shirt from your body.
you giggled softly at his eagerness but that was quickly replaced by soft moans as ethan kneaded your breast between his hand. placing small open mouth kisses on your neck sucking and biting the skin. he wanted to leave an obvious mark on you knowing a few classmates had a crush on you. he soon kissed his way down to your soft mounds suckling on your nipples harshly. your hands flew to his hair tugging it causing ethan to shudder under your touch. soft whimpers sending vibrations through your spine.
he stopped for a bit sliding his hand into your shorts. eyes mischievous and lustful with his hair wild from you playing in it.
“can i taste you y/n” you nodded shyly. the brown haired boy causing fires to ignite from the bottom of your stomach and thighs slick with arousal.
“please”
with this ethan pulled your shorts down with ease leaving you completely naked as he still had pants on. his hands roamed across your sides to your thighs dragging them teasingly. it made you feel exposed, your head shifting away from his avoiding eye contact.
“you’re so pretty” he complimented getting situated between your legs. he held you close with his hands on your thighs pulling you eagerly towards his mouth salivating at the site. you shuffled uncomfortably at his staring getting slightly embarrassed. but that washed away as he licked a long stride up your slit. it was unexpected and caused you to let out a loud moan.
you quickly covered your mouth remembering everyone was still only a hallway away. ethan chuckled slightly followed by him attaching himself back to your core. sucking your sensitive bud harshly. whining as your back arched into his mouth.
“ethan i can’t be quiet, we should-“ he cut you off again by kitty licking your core. you bit your lip hard, eyes screwed shut and your hands flew to his hair. his eyes rolled to the back of his hand causing a soft moan to escape from him.
“let them hear you.” he ordered, eyes looking up at you through hooded eyelashes. you sat up a bit meeting his eyes. the way he looked so innocent yet filthy made the fire in your stomach grow.
you tried your best to keep your moans soft but the feeling of his finger entering your heat caused your moans to go up an octave. you unsuccessfully pleading for ethan to slow down his movements on your sensitive bud. but he didn’t, noticing your movements against his tongue. fingers gripping his curls harder than before. he was in love with the way you tasted not wanting to break away. the feeling of inside of you making his head go hazy imagining what it would feel like to be his shaft instead.
you couldn’t hold back anymore. using a pillow to stuff your face in as ethan thrusted into you with an ungodly pace. telling you how good you taste and sound. you whined and whimpered repeatedly as he refused to let you go. tongue working eagerly to make you come.
“e- i’m gonna mmh i can’t”
before you could say anything else your orgasm washed over you. thighs shaking around his head. eyes forced to the back of your head and loud moans muffled by the pillow.
ethan finally slowed down letting you ride your orgasm out on his tongue. he kissed your abused clit gently earning a soft whine from you before connecting his lips to yours. tongue moving inside your mouth so you could taste yourself. you could feel his hard on through his sweatpants as your hands scratched his back.
he began to slide them off but was interrupted by loud knocking on the door.
“can you guys shut up? it’s 3 am!” mindy yelled from behind the door.
pt.2?
#ethan landry#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x reader#ghostface#scream#dark!fic#dark!ethan landry#ethan landry ff#ethan landry fanfiction#ghostface ff#ethan kirsch#ethan kirsch x reader
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it’s our paradise and it’s our war zone…
Lando Norris x fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT!! not very detailed tho!!
a/n: guysss this is my first time writing like ever so I’m sorry if this is absolutely horrible but I think I did kinda good for my first time writing!! enjoy😏😏
The storm outside mirrored the chaos in the room. The rain battered the windows, but it was no match for the tension crackling between you and Lando. He stood a few feet away, his chest rising and falling, his green eyes dark with frustration.
"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. "You think I'm just playing games with you? That I don't give a damn about this?"
Your arms crossed, trying to match his intensity even though your heart was pounding. "I think you're so good at shutting me out that I can't tell if you care anymore!"
His jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I don't shut you out. I'm trying to protect you!"
"From what?" you fired back, your voice trembling. "From you? Because that's exactly what it feels like, Lando!"
He took a step closer, the heat radiating off him palpable. "You have no idea how much you drive me mad," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "How every time we fight, I want to pin you against the wall and remind you exactly who you belong to."
The air left your lungs at his words, your pulse quickening as he closed the distance between you.
"Say something," he demanded, his hands gripping your arms as he stared into your eyes. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you don't feel it too."
You swallowed hard, the fire in his gaze setting you alight. "I-"
But you didn't get the chance to finish. His lips were on yours before you could speak, the kiss searing and possessive. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him as if he couldn't stand the thought of you being even an inch away.
You whimpered against his mouth, your hands clutching his shirt as he backed you toward the wall. The kiss was a battle, each of you pouring your frustration, your anger, and your love into it.
"You think I don't care?" he growled against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. With one swift motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. "You're the only thing I care about."
"Lando," you gasped as his lips moved to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His teeth grazed your collarbone, his hands gripping you so tightly you knew you'd have marks tomorrow.
"Mine," he muttered, his voice low and rough. "Every inch of you. Mine."
You tugged at his hoodie, desperate to feel him, to get closer. He let you pull it off, tossing it to the floor before his hands returned to your body, sliding up under your shirt to push it over your head.
"You drive me crazy," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands roamed your bare skin. "But I'd rather lose my mind than lose you."
He carried you to the bed, laying you down with a controlled intensity that sent a shiver through you. His hands worked quickly, removing the rest of your clothing with a precision that left you breathless. His eyes darkened as they took in your bare body, his jaw tightening as if he was holding himself back.
"God, you're perfect," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "And you're mine."
"Then stop talking and show me," you challenged, your voice daring.
His lips curved into a wicked grin as he leaned down, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that left you dizzy. "Careful what you wish for," he whispered against your lips before trailing kisses down your body.
The heat between you burned hotter with every touch, every kiss, every word. Lando's hands were everywhere, gripping your thighs, your hips, your waist as his lips worshipped your skin. When his mouth moved lower, teasing and tasting, your body arched beneath him, his name spilling from your lips like a broken mantra.
"You're so impatient," he teased, his voice vibrating against you as his fingers tightened on your thighs.
"Lando," you gasped, your voice trembling.
"That's right," he growled, his tongue and lips drawing sounds from you that made his name the only thing you could say. "Say it again."
By the time he moved back up your body, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he hovered over you, you were already undone. His face was flushed, his curls wild, and his eyes burned with a need that matched your own.
"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a low growl as he positioned himself. His movements were slow, deliberate, teasing you until you could barely breathe.
"Stop holding back," you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders.
He let out a low laugh, leaning down to kiss you deeply as he gave you exactly what you wanted. The rhythm he set was unrelenting, each thrust deep and deliberate, sending shockwaves through your body.
His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, as his name fell from your lips again and again. "You feel so good," he muttered against your lips, his voice raw and unfiltered.
Your fingers dug into his back as the tension built between you, threatening to break you apart. When you finally shattered, the sound of your release sent him over the edge, his body tensing as he followed you.
He collapsed beside you, his arm draped over your waist as he pulled you close. His breath was warm against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered, "Don't you ever doubt how much I want you”
You turned to face him, your hand resting on his cheek as you smiled. "I never will again," you promised.
Because no matter how chaotic, messy, or intense it got, this was your paradise.
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