#dream escapes from prison | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thinkinonsense · 2 months ago

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DESIRE ୨୧

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: flirty, slightly nsfw

a/n: this was heavily inspired by that scene in the first suicide squad movie where they introduce harley quinn.

"we should all split up before someone finds us." storm tells her team mates as the break into the building.

inside were mutants of all kinds, being hidden and tested on. it was charles plan for the team to get as many as possible and bring them back to the mansion before they can cause any damage.

on the surface, it seemed simple enough. they have done this mission a million times. little did they know that an unspeakable danger awaited them in the basement of the old building.

everyone split up, storm went to the west wing while scott and jean went to the east. logan found his way downstairs, assuming that maybe he could find whoever was running the show here.

beyond the high security metal doors, he can hear the faint sound of an old record playing. the closer he got, the clearer it sounded. nancy sinatra? maybe? logan wasn't quite sure but he figured it was a trap so, he prepared himself for whatever was on the other side.

Way down along the stream

How sweet it will seem

Once more just to dream

In the moonlight

My honey, I know (I know) with the dawn

That you will be gone

But tonight

You belong to me

revealed on the other side is a large metal cage fit for a wild animal. inside was a girl swinging upside down from a line of tied material with her body in an obscene position.

"i've told you before, david..." your voice was angelic to logan's ears. light as a feather. "i don't like to be disturbed after 7."

"i'm not david, princess." logan said, stepping out of the shadows right as your eyes open.

logan's eyes scan over your scandalous appearance. tiny dirty white shorts and matching tight tank top, apparently whoever runs this prison doesn't allow bras either. you twirl down from near the top of the cage until your face to face with the man on the other side.

"who are you, then?" you ask, looking up at him as you hold onto the bars.

"i'm here to get you out of this cage." he says, unleashing his claws, ready to cut through the bars.

"hold it, baby." you purr, reaching out to touch his sharp claws. "don't you wanna play with me?"

"no, we need to leave."

"why should i leave with you? how do i know that you won't put me in another cage?"

even with a slightly dirty face, rings of lavender circles under your eyes, and dried blood on the corner of your bottom lip, logan still thought you were gorgeous. slightly intimidated by your fearlessness to reach out and touch his claws. he imagines that you had seen worse than this.

"tryin' to save you" he grunts.

"i wouldn't picture you as the prince charming type." you giggle, running your fingers up his hairy, veiny, strong arm over the black latex suit.

"i'm not."

logan glares down at you in a way that makes you want to jump his bones. what? it gets lonely being trapped in a cage all by yourself. plus it's not everyday that a handsome stranger wants to help you escape.

suddenly, you grab logan's palm, circling it as your eyes roll back to a dark green shade.

"tell me what you want to do with me." you demand.

this was the moment logan understood why you were held in a cage down in the basement. suddenly, logan's mind feels as if it's being bended and twisting, forcing every ounce of truth out of him.

"we are here to take the mutants to charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters." his voice sounded robotic under your spell.

"charles xavier?"

in a rush of excitement, you release logan from your threshold. he wants to bark at you for invading his mind but seeing you smile made him reconsider.

"so, you've heard of him?" logan raises a brow at you, watching as you hold his hand sweetly.

"of course i have." you answer tracing shapes on the back of his palm. "i've seen him in my visions. been waitin' on him."

visions? what kind of mutant are you? logan asked himself as you spoke.

"too bad i didn't see you in them, though." you sigh, batting your long lashes at him. "wish i had. could've bought us some time to... well, you know."

the teasing flirty tone made logan's cock stir under the tight latex. he felt this overwhelming desire for you fill his head.

"hm... we should focus on getting you out of here first, huh, princess?" he tilts his head to the side, amused by you. "step back."

you obey, walking backwards near your rope. in the blink of an eye, logan cuts through the bars and bends them out enough for him to help you get out. loud flashing sirens go off, slightly startling the two of you.

"guards." you warn him. "they're coming."

logan turns around, claws bare to anyone coming towards the two of you. he steps in front of you, ready to protect like a guard dog. it was quite cute of him, you think. the moment the guards burst in, logan starts attacking, stabbing them ruthlessly.

you allow him to take out a few one by one but as more poured in, you stepped in. your eyes roll back into the same shade of green as a hand raises, some of them fall to their hand and knees, shifting into dogs others were being strangled until they looked blue in the face.

logan couldn't believe it. the only mutant that he thought could rivaled your powers was jean. the room fell quiet except for the record echoing as it replayed.

"it's my favorite song, you know?" you grin as if nothing happened.

"old soul, huh?" logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

"witches are timeless, sugar." you wink, extending your hand for him to take.

logan hesitates but knows he has to get the two of you out of here alive. one look into your starry eyes and he's a goner. logan takes your hand and leads you to the jet, knowing he will never hear the end of it from his teammates.

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mide404 · 4 months ago

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As autumn leaves scatter, the leaves of our memories scatter here and there, carrying with them the cells of time, the words of thoughts, and human emotions. Once upon a time, we grew and matured, we dreamed and aspired, we lived in pleasure, and suffered pain. We experienced desire and ventured into the fields of work.

Now, our dreams have stopped, and our ambitions have dissipated. Our vast and wide hopes have shrunk into small and narrow spaces. From the expansive space... to an unknown world. Today, we lament our youth lost to war, and mourn the days that go to waste. I am overwhelmed now by feelings of boredom, weakness, and helplessness, escaping from our present to our past, and from our future to our past.

When will we be able to live our present moment with hope? Will we be able to turn the days of war into memories and scenes we can accept?

The feelings of departure are painful, sad, and lonely, making the heart throb and the eyes tear up. But when it is a departure from pain and sorrow, from a narrow prison, from long-lasting deprivation, to a long-awaited beloved, to a spacious world where there is no oppression, no harm, no worry, and no trouble... do not be surprised by how one perished, but rather marvel at how one survived in a moment of weakness and pain, my friend.

Just like my family, torn apart by the brutal war, which cruelly claimed my father and did not stop until it took my niece and my sister’s daughter, both with innocent souls... until it reached the point of destroying their home and memories completely. They are now homeless and without support, and the innocent souls have disappeared and left the place. They now live in displacement camps that carry nothing but suffering and torment in their name.

I, Mahmoud Saleh, appeal to you to look upon my torn and displaced family with mercy, and grant them the chance to continue their lives in peace. I stand before these compassionate hearts to help what remains of my family and provide them with a better living, so they may enjoy safety and peace.

@bilal-salah0

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bloodrvvvsh · 4 months ago

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Needs Me When He’s All Alone. | Post-Prison!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer had broken up long ago — his work kept him too busy for a relationship, is what he told you. Now, several years later, when your paths cross again because you take a job as his boss's assistant, the feelings you both had buried seem to be rekindled.

Pairing: Ex-Boyfriend!Post-prison!Spencer Reid x Fem!Assistant!Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), p in v sex, rough hate sex, dom!Spencer, sub!brat!Reader, afab + fem!Reader, hints at some sort of rivarly (kinda) between Spencer and Emily, face fucking, spit/drool, spanking, face slapping, very sloppy and messy fingering, hair pulling, hand around the throat (no choking), dacryphilia, lots and lots of biting, back scratching, marking, orgasm denial, praise, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, prick, asshole) + pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, good girl), creampie

Word count: 4.4K

Notes: Another PWP from me, who’s surprised. Anyways enjoy and stream Starfucker by Slayyyter ✨

It would be a lie to say you hadn’t thought about Spencer Reid since your breakup.

You tried not to think about him, but it was impossible to when you were still so hopelessly hung up on him. It was almost pathetic with the way you were always mentally comparing your dates to him, or spending the day dreaming about him and his big hands and big.. other things.

It was even worse when you considered the way he decided to dump you, too. Some excuse about his work keeping him too busy to maintain a relationship. What kind of a reason is that? It’s not like you ever minded when he was away on long cases, it just made the reunion all the more sweeter in your opinion.

But it wasn’t good enough for Spencer, apparently. You were not good enough Dr. Spencer Reid.

Or, at least, that's what you told yourself when your mind wandered a little too far a little too late at night. It was the same thought that had been cycling through your mind for the past five years. Why else would he dump you for some lame ass reason after nearly three years of dating?

That was the past, though. You were moving on and moving forward. There were more things in life than an ex-boyfriend who happened to be really great at the time. The world didn’t end five years like you might have thought, the earth continued to turn and you continued to wake up every morning.

Today was a day you actually woke up with a sense of excitement bubbling inside your chest. Today was the first day of your new job. You had always preferred the quiet hustle of office jobs and this job was exactly that.

While some might be intimidated by the idea of working for the FBI, you really didn’t mind it. It wasn’t like you were going out on the field every day. You were just an assistant, and you were fine with that. Living in DC, it was a little hard to escape all things governmental and the like, so really it was just another Monday for you.

You watched as the numbers on the elevator ticked by as you rose up. Tucked in the crook of your elbow was a manila envelope and a coffee in your hand. Your free hand fell to the hem of your skirt, tugging on it slightly to hopefully provide some more coverage to your body. The skirt was a little short, but you had paired it with some black pantyhoses to - quite literally - cover your ass. You weren’t sure how well it was actually working, though.

The elevator dinged with the arrival of you to your floor. You let a deep breath out through your mouth before you stepped out. Your heels clicked on the floor, hurriedly trying to make your way across the bullpen and to your new boss’s office like requested.

You had crossed the bullpen with seemingly no problem and you were just about to step onto the stairs when a familiar call of your name had your blood running cold.

“Y/N?” A pit settled in your stomach, dark and cold and full of horrible feelings when Spencer’s voice hit your ears. You swallowed. You turned your head slowly, like you were expecting him to disappear before you looked fully behind you.

But no luck. There he was, in all his glory. Although, he looked very different to the last time you had seen him. He seemed to have ditched his old cardigans and sweaters for tailored suits. His hair was longer, messier, and stubble grew across his face.

Unfortunately for you, he looked even hotter than before.

And even though he looked so different, so unlike the sweet and dorky Spencer you used to date, now looking more like the gruff FBI agent he truly was, there was still a softness to his deep brown eyes that told you this was the same old Spencer Reid you couldn’t get your mind off of.

“Spencer,” you sighed. God, why did he have to be so beautiful still? “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” he said with a raise of his eyebrow. Mentally you cursed yourself. How could you possibly forget? You were too starstruck to even think properly in that moment. “What are you doing here?”

“I also work here.” You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. You watched his gaze flit up and down your body and suddenly you were too well aware of your outfit choices when he lingered on your thighs. You should have just worn pants, but no, you wanted to look cute for your first day.

For a moment, the two of you could only stare at each other in silence. What could you possibly say after your last interaction being a shitty breakup? And just as you were about to say something, another voice cut in.

“Y/N!” Emily called out cheerfully. A sense of relief washed over you at the sight of her, your whole body relaxing. You nodded your head at her, bending slightly at the knees to give a half-assed bow.

“Emily,” you murmured. You held out the envelope and cup of coffee to her, giving a little smile when she took them into her own hands.

Emily’s attention turned to Spencer and you were almost certain there was some hint of smugness in her eyes. “I see you’ve met my new assistant,” she said with a hand falling to your back, giving it a soft pat. Spencer’s eyes narrowed.

His fingers curled tighter around the satchel slung across his body and you noticed a flicker of something - anger? jealousy? - in his eyes. “I have met her,” was all he said, his tone suddenly turning very curt.

You didn’t know what they were doing, what sort of mind games they were playing, and you weren’t sure how to feel about being a pawn caught in between it all. The air was thick, tense, nearly electric. Like they were two live wires waiting for a spark. You could feel the prickle of the hair on the back of your neck standing on end.

You cleared your throat, running your hand down the front of your skirt to rid yourself of your sweaty palms. “I, uh. I’m gonna.. go get some more case files that need to be sorted.” The minute the words left your mouth, you were already making a beeline to simply get out of there.

The rest of the day seemed to move by fairly smoothly. No more incidents between Spencer and Emily (to your knowledge) and you didn’t have to see Spencer again. A perfect day in your book.

You were actually almost finished with the day. You only had a few cases to be printed and sorted away, and then you were free to leave. Most had already left for the day, leaving the office vacant and eerily quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Sometimes that was better, no distractions from finishing up the last few things before you clocked out.

You stood at the coping machine, your back to the door, when you heard it creak open. You didn’t think much of it, it was a busy office, after all, and plenty of people used the copier room. You didn’t even think to look behind you to see who it was. Your mind was one track at this point, just looking to finish your tasks and go home.

You should have known better.

You knew it was too late when you felt a broad chest being pressed to your back. A warm breath fanned over your ear as large hands that you knew too well roamed your sides. It was pure instinct the way your body melted into his touch, a sigh full of wanton desires wafting from your lips.

You felt weak. You were weak. In that moment, you were nothing more than a mammal with the primal need to procreate.

Your head fell to the side, leaning back to rest on Spencer’s shoulder, baring your neck to him, submitting to him like the weak little thing you both knew you were. God, you were really going to hate yourself when this was all over. You were already starting to feel that bubble of anger and hatred forming in your chest, creeping up your throat and burning like bile in your mouth.

Your hands snapped over his, stilling his movements. His lips hovered over your neck, mere inches from your pulse point. “You are such a prick,” you bit out. You sounded breathless, needy.

You tugged at his fingers, trying to pry them off your body. You spun in his arms, turning to face him. His pupils were dilated, swallowing his irises whole and making them more akin to black holes than the warm brown eyes you used to love. His hair was a mess, like he had been running his fingers through it too many times, his tie askew. Your eyes narrowed.

“You must have something wrong with you if you think I’m going to sleep with you after what you put through,” you hissed at him. You pressed yourself against the copier machine, trying to create some semblance of distance between the two of you, and crossed your arms tight over your chest.

“After what I put you through?” Spencer echoed almost incredulously. He had to be playing dumb, because you knew he was the farthest thing from stupid.

You scoffed. “You broke up with me with some lame ass excuse, and then you never bothered to talk to me again!” You could not believe him in that moment. It was like he was purposefully trying to piss you off.

“Y/N-”

“Do not “Y/N” me,” you spit out like the words were venom in your mouth. “I am not your girlfriend, and just because I now work at the BAU too doesn’t mea-”

Spencer’s lips were crashing against yours before you could even finish your sentence. He always kissed like a man starved, like he was trying to consume you whole. You whimpered against his mouth, hands flying to grasp onto his wrists while his hands cradled your face.

The kiss grew even more passionate, somehow, becoming a mashing of lips and teeth and breathless moans and animalistic growls. You missed this - missed the intense fire Spencer lit in you, the passion that he brought into everything he did.

His hands flew down to the hem of your skirt, quickly hitching it up as you both stumbled around the room, barely breaking your kissing to catch your breaths. He hooked his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up onto a nearby table. You instantly spread your legs, inviting him in without so much another thought. He quickly shed his suit jacket, tossing it aside to some random part of the room.

Then you heard a distinct rip of fabric. You pulled away from Spencer’s addictive lips, pressing your hands on his chest and forcing him to let in some room between the two of you. You glanced down to see a huge tear on your tights and you gasped.

“You ripped my tights?!” you shrieked, landing a smack to his chest.

“Keep it up, and I’ll rip your panties, too,” he growled and you hated that the deep timbre of his voice sent flashes of arousal straight to your core. He didn’t miss the way you clenched your thighs together. He weaved a hand into your hair and curled his fingers around the strands of your hair, giving it a good tug to force you to bear your neck to him once more.

He pressed wet and sloppy kisses to the junctions of your neck, nipping at the neck, making you gasp and squirm. He pushed your panties to the side, not bothering to even pull them halfway. He plunged two fingers in, knowing you could handle it. You gasped even louder when he filled you so suddenly, your back arching into the feeling.

“You’re so wet for me,” Spencer murmured against your sweaty skin. The thrust of his fingers were hard, fast, making your head spin with arousal. You couldn’t remember the last time you had sex, let alone sex this hedonistic, but god, were you loving it. His fingers were so long, hitting all the right places in you without even trying. “You missed me, didn’t you?”

You hated profilers, and you especially hated Spencer Reid. “Screw you,” you hissed. You didn’t even notice when his hand seemed to have fallen to your ass, but you definitely felt the hard smack of it connecting with your flesh.

“What do you think I’m trying to do, princess?” He punctuated his words with another hard swat to your ass and a nip to the neck. You moaned at both sensations, grinding into the fingers deep inside you. “I don’t remember you being such a brat when we dated..”

“I don’t remember you being such an asshole,” you retorted. Another smack, another gasp from you. You glared at him.

Spencer’s fingers picked up pace, moving in and out of you in an almost messy and uncoordinated fashion, his thumb rubbing fast circles on your clit. The sloppy sounds of his fingers thrusting and your moans filled the air, creating a dizzying erotic symphony.

“You never answered my question,” he breathed out. He moved his lips to your ear, teeth grazing along the shell. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” you lied right through your teeth and you both knew it. He delivered another spank to your ass, making you squeak at how sensitive you apparently becoming with his spankings.

“There’s no need to lie.” He bit down on your earlobe and you keened right as his fingers angled perfectly to hit your G-spot. He pulled back to look you in the eye, smirking at the sight of you unraveling under his fingers. “You missed me, and you missed my dick, like the stupid little slut you are.”

The Spencer you used to know, the man you loved, would have never called you any sort of name, not even bed. Hearing that word tumbling out of his lips had you clenching hard around his fingers and whining loud, eyes squeezing shut as your stomach twisted into knots.

“Admit it, Y/N,” he whispered in a husky voice, “Admit you missed me fucking you.”

“Fuck you.” More smacks to the ass. Three in the row this time, not even giving you time to recover. Each was harder than the less, leaving your skin tingling.

Spencer retracted his fingers from your messy cunt, making you whine at the loss of feeling full for the first time in far too long. “Open,” he commanded and you obeyed, much to your own disgust. His finger plunged into your mouth and you wrapped your lips around them without another word.

You licked them clean, tasting yourself, all the while maintaining eye contact with his intense stare. He pulled his fingers out from your mouth as fast as he did with your cunt. He cupped your cheek in his palm, gently caressing your supple skin. Then he delivered a hard smack to your cheek.

Your head snapped to the right and you gasped, hand automatically flying to your stinging cheek. You couldn’t believe him. And you couldn’t believe yourself for getting even wetter from it all.

Before you could react any further, his hand was tangling back in your hair, pulling harshly to drag you to your knees. He made quick work of his belt and unbuttoned his pants, fishing his hard dick out of its confines. Your mouth watered at the sight. It was so big, so pretty with its pale pink head and veins trailing along the sides.

Spencer chuckled at the hungry look in your eyes. “You missed this, didn’t you, baby?” he cooed at you. You found yourself nodding your head. He wrapped a hand around his cock, giving it a few lazy tugs. His thumb swiped at the tip, smearing the pre-cum gathering with a soft hiss.

He hovered it over your lips, teasing you. And in that moment, you weren’t above whining, which is exactly what you did. “Poor baby missed choking on my big dick, didn’t she?” Fake sympathy dripped from his words, making you feel oh-so dizzy and small. You nodded your head again, more frantically and desperate this time.

“Go ahead,” he urged, reaching a hand to the back of your head and pushing you forward, “Suck it, pretty girl.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You braced your palms on his thighs as you stuck your tongue out, flickering it over the tip of Spencer’s cock. His fingers carded through your hair and you nearly melted.

You licked a broad stride along the underside of his dick and you shivered at the groan you earned in response. You took the tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him as you made your way down his cock.

“Fuck,” Spencer breathed out. His eyes fluttered shut, hips involuntarily rocking into your throat. He’d never admit it himself, but nothing could compare to your sweet mouth. He had spent more than a few countless nights dreaming about it wrapped around him once more.

You took his little curse and movements as encouragement, swallowing even more of him. You could never quite fit the entirety of him in your mouth, but it never stopped you from trying.

Spencer took a fistful of your locks in his hand, tugging hard at the strands, and you winced at the pain radiating from your scalp. Lust flared down your spine, electrifying your body as he forced his cock all the way in your mouth. You choked around the intruding object in your throat, contracting around him and making him moan.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he crooned. His other hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as your eyes watered. He brushed away a tear that spilled down with a grin full of sadistic glee. “You look so pretty like this.. Your mouth has better uses than being a brat, don’t you think, pretty girl?”

He pulled you off his cock, leaving you to gag and heave heavy breaths. He clicked his tongue, faux pouting down at you. “Can’t handle it?” He didn’t give you any time to respond before he was pulling back down on his dick, pushing your head down until his pubes tickled your nose. “That’s too fucking bad.”

He repeated his motions, thrusting into your mouth violently until you got that dazed look in your eyes. Drool spilled from the corners of your lips and all over his cock. Praises from his lips, creating a chorus between his groans and moans of pure pleasure.

When you felt like you were seriously going to lose your mind from lack of oxygen, Spencer pulled out finally. You panted, dizzy and delirious, but so fucking horny. You whimpered when he guided you away from his dick, your bottom lip sticking out in a genuine pout.

He spun you around before you bending over the same table from earlier. You gasped, a sense of excitement bubbling in your stomach when you realized what was to come. His hands fell to your hips and you pushed your ass back against him, wiggling it with a pitiful whine. You glanced back at him over your shoulder and you were sure that you looked like some sort of pathetic slut, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.

“Someone’s eager,” Spencer remarked with a chuckle. But he was just as ready to screw your brains out.

He guided his cock to your soaking wet folds, taking a moment to smear your wetness around with his tip, up until you started whining again. He chuckled once more before finally entering you.

Your jaw fell slack as his cock entered you, stretching you to your limits. He was so fucking big, stretching you so deliciously and filling you up in a ways that couldn’t possibly be replicated.

“There you go,” Spencer murmured. He leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back firmly. “That’s what you’ve been craving, haven’t you, princess? Just needed some dick to turn your pretty little brain off.”

His hand snaked around to wrap his fingers around your throat. Not squeezing, rather just resting there, reminding you of your place, of his power over you. He continued to push until he bottomed out inside you and you both keened. How could you have ever broken up when you fit together so perfectly?

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby,” he hissed right into your ear. “Your pretty pussy definitely missed me, didn’t it?” His other hand landed on your ass once more and he delivered a hard smack on the available skin. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart, such a good fuckin’ girl..”

He pulled back slightly, roughly halfway, before slamming into you hard enough to make the table slam against the wall. Then he repeated himself, one rough thrust after the other. You felt so braindead in that moment, gone in your own head with pleasure, that you could moan and babble.

“Feels so good, Spence,” you whined, trying to grind your hips back against him. “Fuck, it’s so good, so good, please don’t stop, please, please-” You cut yourself with a heady moan when he slammed into you with force.

“Cockdrunk whore,” Spencer hissed into your ear and you could only nod. His hand moved from your ass to tracing your labia before finding his target - your throbbing and neglected clit. He rubbed hard and fast circles around the swollen nub and you nearly sobbed.

His lips drifted to your neck and began peppering every inch of your skin in kisses. Some light, some sloppy and messy, nearly bruising with the force of them. Your head fell forward, hair falling all over your face and sticking to your sweaty skin. Tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks.

Then came Spencer’s teeth, grazing along your neck before biting down, hard. You squeaked, hands curling around the edge of the table until your knuckles turned white. Your cunt clenched, sucking him in even deeper. His groan rumbled deep in your chest.

“Taking me so fucking good, baby, such a good girl for me,” he mumbled against your skin. He picked up his thrusts, hips slamming hard against yours. The circles on your clit increased in their pace, as well, the coil in your stomach burning hot and heavy.

“Spencer,” you nearly shrieked. “Spencer, I’m gonna- Shit! I’m gonna cum, Spencer!”

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” His words were nearly a growl, deep and low and so fucking sexy. “You gonna cum?” He landed a harsh slap against your pussy and you almost screamed once more.

Spencer pulled out suddenly, leaving just as empty as you were earlier. Your eyes shot wide open, whines tumbling from your lips, distraught at being denied your precious orgasm. He was spinning around you once more, crashing your lips together.

You moaned into the kiss, arms hurried wrapping around his broad shoulders. His hands fell to your thighs, lifting you up and into his arms, making you squeak. When did he get so.. strong?

You didn’t have much time to ponder over Spencer’s sudden display of strength because your back was practically tossed against a nearby wall. He pulled apart from the kiss to take his cock into his hand again, guiding it towards your dripping cunt again.

Your nails dug into his back as he stretched you open on his cock again, head falling back and hitting the wall. His lips were attached to your lips again, suckling and biting to leave behind millions of different marks.

“So big,” you slurred. Your voice sounded almost foreign to yourself - high-pitched and whiny. “Filling me so good, Spence, it’s so good.” Tears had begun to cascade down your face, streaking your mascara and leaving thick tracks of black on your cheeks. Spencer had never seen you look more beautiful than in that moment.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N,” he praised between heavy pants. “Taking me so good, so good, like the stupid fucking slut you are.” His hand made contact with your face again, leaving a red mark in its wake and leaving your skin feeling electric. Your walls squeezed around him.

“You like that, huh?” he did again and you moaned loudly, unashamed now. “You like being smacked around, huh? Like being treated like the filthy lil’ whore you are? Is that right, princess?” He repeated himself, smacking you once, twice, three times and each you clenched around him.

Your orgasmed barreled over you before you could have possibly processed it. Your eyes squeezed shut, stars popping in your vision, legs shaking. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as pleasure washed over you in waves near akin to a tsunami in your body.

Spencer fell right over the edge right after you, teeth sinking down into your shoulder with a heavy groan. Sprouts of hot cum flooded your insides and you whined at the feeling of overstimulation washing over you.

You both stilled for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, panting heavily together. Slowly, Spencer pulled out his softening cock out of you, and you whined for the final time at being so empty. Your cunt clenched around nothing for a few seconds before beginning to seep Spencer’s seed, dripping down your thigh and onto the carpet.

You felt a bit bad for the janitor who would have to clean up your messes.

Spencer grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning your head to look back at him. His lips met yours in another kiss, this time much softer and full of something you might describe as affection.

When you pulled apart, he smiled at you. “So good for me.” He was breathless, and you couldn’t blame him.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you again. Spencer cleared his throat before adding, “Did you, uh.. want a ride back to my place? I still have some of your clothes at my apartment, you could shower and change..” he trailed off, teeth catching his bottom lip. There was a hint of a pleading look in his eyes and your heart clenched at the sight. You could never say no to his puppy eyes.

“Only if you take me out to dinner after.”

“Deal.”

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deeplyunnerving · 2 years ago

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watching TV shows in a dream just makes me mad sometimes bc it's like.... Where was this production value when I was trying to write yesterday, brain? Why are you putting so much effort into 4K HD rendering with props and actors and everything for your own passion project but I don't get any of that when I'm wide awake??? And then getting left on a cliffhanger knowing that shit isn't gonna get renewed. What the fuck.

#plus realizing the plot was only good in your dream #cuz you wake up and go #''wait why the fuck did they have to steal a hamster bottle to escape from prison''#and there will never be fan content either #upsetting #im so mad #dreams

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fictionadventurer · 6 months ago

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Stories referenced:

Pentecost: Acts 2:15

Peter and John escape prison: Acts 5: 21-26

Peter escapes prison: Acts 12: 1-16

Paul and Barnabas worshipped: Acts 14: 11-18

Paul's fatal preaching: Acts 20: 7-12

Paul's rules-lawyering: Acts 26: 30-32

Paul's snakebite: Acts 28: 1-6

Paul turning his enemies against each other: Acts 23: 6-10

Philip's teleportation: Acts 8:39

#catholic things #lol #going through this during easter made it clear how much of a sitcom it was #and i was thinking about it again today #my vote's for paul's preaching #i almost had to throw in the moment where luke throws shade on athenians #'we all know that athenians are hipsters who are obsessed with whatever's new'#but it wasn't quite the same kind of thing as the others on the list

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charliemwrites · 6 months ago

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Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison.

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #hades and persephone inspired #soulmates #john soap mactavish #captain john mactavish #kate laswell

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atyourmerci · 6 months ago

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To think I’d know it all

Therapist!ellie (read pt.1 here)

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, sub!reader, power imbalance don’t fuck your therapist, talks of degradation, lots of praise, Ellie watches r! masturbate, thigh riding, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: this is for @catfern if she likes it I die happy. Sorry this took so long I got a little overzealous, yet still it feels rushed so I’m dropping this and disappearing! I promise I’ll be going back to working on reqs now.

You think you know yourself, your highs, desires, triggers, your inner most depravities. but you don’t. Maybe it wasn’t your fault- the bliss that came from blatant ignorance so bitter sweet on your tongue. So comfortable in your own escaped reality, why would you try to face it now?

Half of the time you were lying to Dr. Williams. A white lie here, slipping through the cracks of reality by omitting the truth there. It’s not like she couldn’t read you like a book- she knew everything. Things you had never thought of, mysteries to you, solved in seconds by her.

You never gave her much of your true issues, deadbeat mommy leaving you at six for her new boyfriend that could be your brother. Never feeling academically competent, body issues, all the bullshit troubles any girl could dream of beating herself down over.

Thats what you told yourself she knew, the surface, pretty, palpable, easy to swallow, desirable.

But Ellie didn’t want palpable, she craved the chaos of your destruction. She wanted to watch the rage play out, dangerously close to her integrity. She wanted to pull the dirty guts out to feast on. Every last piece of you, torn out, then you would be easy enough to swallow for her.

The air only grew thicker. Suffocating your windpipes to choke on, making sure you felt every particle of desperation.

The session after she had cancelled. You thought she’d keep this up, realizing she had taken it too far, falling into her desires you had coaxed her into.

But yet there you were, back in your usual seat, legs crossed, throat dry as it eats at the hot pressure in the air. The buzz of a ring in your ear as you sit there silently. To talk of it, to progress, to regress back into the unknown- the lies, the omissions.

Would she guide you- like she did last time? would she make you do it yourself, pathetic and begging, longing for the validation that she did it for herself, even if only for a little bit.

“How have you been?” A formality, a principle, a greeting. She had to say it- what would she say outside the four walls of this prison?

“Alright,” came out as an unwanted sigh, subconscious as your body tells the truth before you can cut it off at the source.

“No witty comeback? did something happen with the girl?” Ellie furrows her brows at your change of body language. She takes note of how closed off it is, not desiring of visitors. You watch as the veins in her muscles twitch in her tank. rid of the cover of her modest blazer, shoulders now under the impression of your gaze.

“I stopped seeing her, Im seeing an ex,” you didn’t have to say that, could have left it at the end of your farce of a hookup ending. But this time it wasn’t a lie, you truly were fucking that cunt.

“Oh. Anything serious?” Ellie tenses, eager to unpack the dichotomy of the new woman. Why did you start seeing your ex again, what was she tied to, what did you have to gain from anyone but her?

“Just sex.” you shrug off. This was the truth.

“What drove you back to her specifically?” Ellie goes to write it down but once again find herself unable to find the words- lost in the craving the understanding of your mind selfishly.

“Comfortability- is that what you want to hear?” you taunt her, driving your eyes into a squint. What was her motive- what was your own?

“Well something in particular brought you back to her, no?” she pries, not letting you take control of the conversation. If she had to drag it out of you herself she would.

“She knows how I like it,” your attempt at intimidation, confidence in your own pleasure. Nothing but another beautiful farce covered in thorns. A hint of a smirk paints the doctor’s lips, mean and tortured.

‘Oh you think you know yourself so well you beautiful fool’ Ellie thinks to herself. You wouldn’t know satisfaction if it hit you in the face, but she was to help you- that was her job right? “And what is it…that you like?” Shrinking her face into a scowl, head tilted to the side, watching how your body twitches at nothing. How pliable could she diminish you to without touching you- she couldn’t, of course.

“She gets rough with me,” so knowing, as if you were breed for it. A toy of sorts, helpless under the hands of a predator.

“What entails rough?” Ellie probes, getting her scalpel out, ready to dissect your oblivion. Her flesh scorching with fervor as she coaxes more out of you. She had found her vessel.

“I dunno… hitting, tying me up, stuff of that nature.”

“What else?” You’d never know how eager she was, calm in her disposition, from what the eye can make out. Inside she pulses, her mind eating away at itself. To bite is still to touch- Instinctual and destructive. A morbid curiosity to drown herself in, held at the bottom of your mind with the weights of her own scrutiny.

“You wanna know that she calls me a fuckin’ whore?”

“Why do you think you like the degradation?” Ellie shifts forward, getting to the edge of her seat, splaying her forearms onto her thighs. A pissing contest, cruel and depraved.

“Probably my godforsaken mother- what are you get-“ you begin to question before you’re interrupted.

“Good girl.” Ellie coos, shifting her weight back into the seat, her forearms resting on the armrests as her legs are lazily parted. A test she knew she’d win- she knew you best didn’t she? Playing you like a puppet, taking matters into her own hands, unethical as it may be.

So abrupt you’re taken out of a haze. An uncalculated whine coming out of your throat, you attempt to cover it with a halfass cough but the damage was done- you were caught. Ellie just watches as you squirm, skin growing hot as she watches you knowingly, smug and cunning as you tip toe the ledge. “w-what?”

Ellie’s grin only widens, “that was a fair assumption, aware… you’re doing so well already.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, fire blazing in your chest ready to burst into ashes laid out like puzzle pieces neatly for her. A new sensation, uncharted and dense. Immensely ridged to obtain- the feeling of worth, accomplishment at its peak. Would you ever be able to fulfill the demand?

Ignore it, lie, get out of it.

“I like getting when she treats me like shit- gets me off…” you attempt, eyes casted downwards to your sweaty palms soaked from the heat of the air.

“No you don’t.”

“How would you know,” you laugh her off. You’ve built your wall, so high that not even you could see over it.

“Sure you want to be told what to do. But you also want to be acknowledged for your work. How pretty you look opened up. How good you are for taking more, taken whats asked of you. Don’t you?” Ellie doesn’t skip a beat, like shes rehearsed it, dwelled on your inner most necessities. The doctor asks but you both know it’s not a question, rather an admission of verity.

“Doctor Williams, please-“ the impending doom of your fate- the tip of the iceberg chiseling down each second. A ticking time bomb sure to go off. Your body pulses, heart racing. How much more could you take?

“It’s okay…tell me whats wrong” Ellie coos doe eyed, so forgiving in a breeding ground for destruction. A flower blooming in the midst of a tornado. To talk, to proceed, to regress.

“I cant control myself- listening to you…like that,” fist turning white grappling onto the armrests, breath shaky and wavering. Your hips subconsciously rocking into the thick leather of the doctor’s chair- a taste of salvation at any cost.

“Be a good girl and show me the mess you made on my seat,” a reckless invitation- one with grave consequences. Nonetheless too sweet not to bite, sink her teeth into and rip the flesh.

Shameful, degrading enticement. Shaky hands grasping the button of your jeans. How much time did you have left? What if someone walks in? Both your jeans and panties come off in one fowl swoop- fallen to the warm carpet on her floor. You wince as the naked, seeping flesh of your cunt reaches the leather, “Fuck.”

Ellie just watches, amused, stone faced as she understands the specimen. The way you hips rut without you letting them says more than your words, “Give yourself what you need.”

Your body comes back into consciousness with the approval for more. Give her whats shes asked of you. Nimble fingers beginning to circle the swell of your clit- the reoccurring ache of disappointment- the fate of inadequacy.

“Atta girl- just like that. Does it feel good?” the doctor mutters so sweetly- so proud of her specimen. She knew you needed it- the approval, the praise of accomplishment.

Your breath shortens and you pulse around nothing. Driving aimless circles around the bud as your head cocks back. Your cunt begs of her, pleads to be full of her- if shed ever let you have it. “n-need you, please Ellie.”

The doctor had never heard you speak of her name. Too casual for barriers, too comfortable for the tension. Something in her own mind switches at the words- the way they rolled off your tongue like you had said it many times before. Where had you said it, to whom? If not anyone at all. “I cant help you…but I cant stop you from helping yourself.”

Lust was a sin, but gluttony was a mere punishment. Overzealous in nature, depraved and lawless in practice. A reckless invitation- one with grave consequences. A walk of shame, magnets finding their match. She had made your bed, you were to lie in it.

Ellies hands on her armrest, sure to not budge- to uphold her ethics, principles responsible of her own will. She lets you climb her body, mount yourself up top her lap, positioning your cunt on her thigh.

The air. Thick, all consuming- so close, breathing her air, the breath of someone wiser, more understanding of your own mind. What a dangerous game, everything you need right there, yet taboo to drain every last bit of her. An inch given, a mile lacking. She keeps her eyes trained on you, her subject in testing.

“It’s okay, fuck yourself on me. You’ve been so good.” letting your cunt rake up and down the scratchy fabric of her slacks, hands pinned behind your back on your own accord.

The bubble in your stomach already ready to overflow, choking back whimpers drown in by your teeth. She made it so easy- she didn’t even have to fucking touch you.

“Let go. Let yourself come,” the doctor demands, she knew what you were doing. Ellie didn’t care how pathetic it was.

“I can-t not, not yet,” sweat dripping down your flustered face as your sticky white slick coats her covered thigh. The sight was so vulgar in Ellie’s eyes, watching you panting as you fuck yourself on her thigh. Thoughts of what she’d do in another world without laws.

“Do what you’re told.”

#ellie willams x reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie x reader smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x you #dom ellie

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