#i’m scared for harrow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rinhaler · 1 year ago

Note

May I humbly ask for Satoru Gojo stepcest with noncon dacryphilia and breeding kink? No pressure it's just something that crossed my mind

of COURSE you may sweetheart! Thank you for the request, sorry it's a little short but I hope it's okay :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, noncon, fem!reader, stepcest, step bro!gojo, vaginal sex, he pushes fingers in once and then pulls 'em out, dacryphilia, creampie, breeding kink, hair pulling.

words: 0.9k

“I knew you had a thing for Suguru… how embarrassing.” your step-brother teases you as he enters your room. You scoff, hanging up on your friend and tossing your phone down on your dressing table. “What? Something I said?” he chuckles.

“I can’t stand you, leave me alone.”

“Awe, don’t be like that, let me help. He is my best friend after all. No one knows him better than I do.” he reminds you.

The offer is intriguing and almost too good to refuse. He smirks as he watches your thought process through your facial expressions. You catch him, shaking your head and turning your nose up at his offer. You turn to look in yourself mirror, touching up your makeup.

“You got me. I can’t help, he’d never be interested in you.”

“Why would you say that?” you look at him again, pouting. “I’m minding my own business in here. You just came in and tried to ruin my day.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” he responds. “I don’t want you to fuck him.”

“Hah, why? Because you want to fuck me?”

“That’s right.” he nods, coming further into your room and shutting the door behind himself.

“Well that will never happen!” you slam your blush palette down on the table. You bend to pick up your purse, and you catch the way his head tilts in your mirror to check out your ass. “Satoru. Never gonna happen.”

He rolls his eyes as he steps closer to you. You’re too busy rummaging through your handbag to notice until he’s behind you. Before you can yell at him, his hand covers your mouth. You had no idea he was so strong, unable to fight him as he pulls you over to your bed. He collapses on top of you and shoves your face into the mattress.

“Sweetheart… you don’t have a choice.”

Your kicking does little to dissuade him, and neither does your muffled speech as you try and think of anything to say to stop this from happening. Of course, it’s all in vain. He pushes your skirt up to reveal your plump ass and lacy panties. His big hands make light work of ripping the material apart, giving himself easy access to your tight heat.

His fingers weave through your hair, pulling your head up away from the patch below that you had warmed with your heavy breathing.

“You cryin’?” he smirks. You hate that he can see what he’s reduced you to. You’re scared and tense and all too aware of what he’s about to do. He pulls out his cock with ease, fisting it a few times before lining it up with your tight hole. “If you tell me you want this, I’ll poke you.” he chuckles, the unmistakable laughter signifying that he’s going to get what he wants no matter what you say. It’s so annoying, normally. But right now, it’s harrowing.

“You—”

“Yeah, princess. I’ll poke you.” he moves his fingers to prod at your entrance, sliding two of them inside and coating them in your slick. “Juuuust like that. And it won’t hurt as much when you take my cock, it’s big, y’know.”

You ignore him, opting to put your face back into the mattress to stifle yourself for what’s to come. He shrugs, his offer and kindness isn’t going to be repeated.

“Suit yourself… guess I’ll have to be a little rough.”

He pushes his tip against your entrance, hissing as your hole swallows him beautifully. It’s almost like you want this. He pushes in further… further… further. Until your sopping cunt meets the base of his cock. Your slick coats his white, trimmed pubes and they look like diamond dust.

You cry out as he moves his hips, tears streaming down your face without any sign of stopping. He smirks, sadistically, understanding that you regret not taking him up on his generous offer.

“You can be as loud as you want, little sister. No one is home… so scream for me.”

As much as you want to, you fight it. You keep your screams to yourself, but the same can’t be said for your tears. He pulls your hair again, almost ripping it from the roots as he pulls your face close to his own. His head tilts forward so he can lick the salty tears pouring down your cheeks.

“Fuck, gets me goin’ when pretty things like you cry around my cock.” he tells you, hips stuttering as he continues fucking into you. “You know what else I like? Cumming inside. ‘nd I’m real close.”

“You can’t! Pull out! Please Sato—”

“Oh no. Does my poor little sister use condoms? You aren’t on the pill? Well, guess I’ll just have to knock you up. Suguru really won’t want’cha then, you’ll be aaaall mine.”

Your fingers grasp as the duvet material beneath you as you try to ground yourself, you’re close, but you’re hoping he’ll cum first. You leave your body in the final moments of this encounter, picturing which drug store is closest and which one opens earliest so you can get the morning after pill as soon as possible. All the while Gojo is fantasising how cute you’d look stuffed full with his baby.

He grunts as his balls tighten and empty inside of you.

“I should pull out… but I don’t wanna waste a drop.” both of his palms slam down on your ass, and he laughs at the way you jolt forward. “Not that is matters.”

“What… do you mean?”

“Well, sweetheart, you didn’t think that was it… did you?”

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alwaysmoncheri · 8 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and jason have a complicated relationship, but when you find yourself in a troubling situation, jason just happens to be your emergency contact

𝐜𝐰: female!reader, minimal swearing, sexual assault, cat calling, assault, violence, 1.5k, jason todd x reader

midnights in gotham city smell distinctly of blood. the dark streets are littered with corpses of victims who stain the rubble red. crime is high and murder remains rampant among the homeless people living on the streets. you know walking home alone at this hour alongside the hundreds of criminals that hide in the shadows is a terrible idea. but your shift at the library ran late tonight and you had no other means of transportation, hence the reason why you find yourself alone in a dark alley far from the comfort and safety of your apartment.

the faint footsteps of desperate strangers lurk behind you, the sound echoes through the night, and your skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to follow. nothing good comes from the situation that you’ve found yourself in and that’s what brings you to pull out your phone and tap on the first contact that pops up on your screen.

jason.

your relationship with jason is complicated. like most things in your life you suppose. but jason is the only one who’s almost always by your side. maybe that’s part of what possessed you to click on his name on your phone and bring it up to your ear with trembling fingers.

“hey, sweet—”

“jason, I think i’m being followed.” you breathe out quickly and you don't dare to peek so much as a glance behind you.

“shit. hang on, babe. just—”

jason's voice, laced with urgency, cuts through the tense night as the echo of your footsteps intensifies. the sounds of the desolate alley amplify, creating an eerie symphony of fear and impending danger.

“i’m so scared, jay,” your shaky voice reaches jason, carrying the weight of dread as if it were a tangible thing. in response, jason's voice becomes a soothing anchor, his words a balm to your frayed nerves.

“hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. tell me where you are,” jason's voice, steady and reassuring, breaks through the chaos. your breath catches as you fumble to provide your location, the darkness of the alley making every detail obscure.

“I don’t know, I think in an alley near the corner of 5th and main. I thought it would be quicker. jason, please hurry,” desperation seeps into your words, painting a vivid picture of the peril you find yourself in.

“just hang on, i’m on my way,” jason's promise becomes a lifeline, a lifeline you desperately clutch onto. the plea, "don’t hang up, please don’t hang up," echoes through the phone, the fear of losing that connection palpable.

“I won’t, honey. just keep telling me what’s going on, okay?” jason's voice is a steady stream of reassurance, a counterpoint to the mounting chaos.

your breath quickens as you confess, "there’s multiple, jay."

“multiple what? sweetheart, talk to me,” jason's concern deepens, the gravity of the situation reflected in the intensity of his inquiry.

“people, there’s multiple people. they’re still following me, and I can’t lose them,” your voice quivers, painting a chilling image of the shadows closing in.

“i’m almost there, okay? just hang on a little longer, can you do that for me?” jason’s words are a beacon of hope, urging you to endure the storm just a little while longer.

“they’re getting closer. shit,” panic infuses your voice as the chase intensifies. jason senses the urgency, a quiet determination in his response.

the abrupt cut-off and your distressed cry for help and jason’s call to you, "y/n!?" mark the harrowing turn. the phone, a lifeline moments ago, is silenced by a crushing foot, an audible confirmation of the looming threat.

“looks like your boyfriend isn’t going to make it, gorgeous,” a sinister voice taunts, the malevolence palpable in the dimly lit alley. the struggle intensifies, and your defiant words ring through the night.

“get off of me, you creep!” your voice is a mix of fear and defiance, a visceral response to the encroaching menace.

“watch your tone, sweetie,” a chilling warning hangs in the air as they pin you down. the confrontation takes a dark turn as you spit in their faces, a desperate act of resistance.

“such a shame that’s what you’re using such a pretty mouth for,” a sinister chuckle underscores the dehumanizing intent, leaving a bitter taste in the tense air.

“that’s alright, we don’t want you for your mouth anyway,” a chilling statement, a precursor to unspeakable horrors, hangs over the alley.

in the clash of desperation and violence, the air changes as jason, your vigilante savior, descends upon the scene like a guardian angel emerging from the shadows. the sounds of a fierce struggle ensue, muffled grunts and the scuff of boots on concrete. with a swift, powerful intervention, the men are knocked out and when they loosen their grip you sink to the ground with defeat and despair. you don’t even notice you’re crying until jason gently prys your hands from your face and rubs your tears away with the rough thumb of his leather glove

then, in one swift motion, jason's strong, reassuring arms envelop you, pulling you into an embrace that feels like sanctuary. relief washes over you, grounding you in the reality of his protective presence.

“it's okay, sweetheart. you're safe now,” jason's voice, previously a lifeline over the phone, now echoes directly into your ear, a soothing melody that erases the lingering echoes of fear. his words are a healing balm, mending the wounds of terror inflicted upon your psyche.

the dimly lit alley transforms from a nightmare into a haven under the watchful gaze of your friend. the tension in your shoulders eases, and the erratic beat of your heart gradually steadies as you bask in the warmth of his reassuring touch.

“i've got you, y/n. you're safe,” jason whispers, the warmth of his breath against your ear a soothing balm to the wounds inflicted by fear. the resonance of those words sinking deep into the recesses of your shaken soul. his presence is a shield against the haunting memories of the alley, a reassurance that the nightmare is over.

the shattered phone lies forgotten, a casualty of the struggle, as jason continues to shield you from the residual fear. he tilts your chin up gently, meeting your eyes with an unwavering gaze that speaks volumes of his commitment and protective instinct.

“let's get you home,” jason murmurs, his fingers tenderly brushing away a stray strand of hair from your face. together, you navigate the now-quiet alley, the looming threat replaced by the solid ground beneath your feet and the reassuring touch of the person who faced the darkness on your behalf.

as you approach the familiar comfort of your apartment, jason's protective hold lingers. “are you okay?” he asks, his voice a gentle murmur that eases the residual tension in your body. you nod against his chest, words escaping you as relief and gratitude flood your senses.

the apartment door closes with a muffled thud, shutting out the ominous whispers of the night. jason, ever watchful, guides you towards the bathroom. the soft hum of the overhead light bathes the space in a gentle glow, revealing the porcelain sink and mirror.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror – disheveled, eyes wide with residual fear. without a word, jason turns on the faucet, letting the water flow until it reaches a soothing warmth. his fingers graze yours, urging you to lean over the sink.

the splashing water echoes in the small room as jason's hands cup and scoop, the liquid cascading over your face. the feel of his fingers against your skin is both tender and firm, each touch a cleansing ritual that washes away the remnants of the night.

you glance up into the mirror, meeting jason's eyes. there's an unspoken understanding as his hands move methodically, the cool water providing a refreshing contrast to the heated intensity of the ordeal. the sensation is grounding, a simple act of care that transcends words.

as you straighten up, a vulnerability lingers in your gaze. you turn off the faucet, and the silence hangs in the air. the wet droplets cling to your skin, a tangible reminder of the shared intimacy in this simple act of cleansing. jason's hands linger on your face, his fingers tracing a silent promise. the air in the bathroom holds a charged stillness, the transition from fear to intimacy palpable.

the urgency of the night lingers in your eyes. “stay, jason, please,” the plea escapes your lips, a raw, desperate plea that echoes in the confined space of the bathroom. his gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to shift.

there's a pause, a heartbeat suspended in time, before jason's expression softens. his agreement is wordless, a nod that carries the promise of a shared refuge in the night.

the journey from the bathroom to the bedroom is taken in tandem, the touch of his hand on the small of your back a grounding force. the mattress welcomes you both, and the room is immersed in the soft glow of bedside lamps. the night unfolds with shared breaths and jason's hand finding yours.

“thank you.” you whisper to him under the sheets, the warmth of his body next to you radiating into your own, “thank you for protecting me.”

“i’ll always protect you, sweetheart.”

masterlist . jason todd masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year ago

Text

Your Mark On Me, Part 1

Summary: when you need something to help you stay alert study, you found a whole lot more than you were looking for. Tatted and massive. He was what your dreams were made of, but is he a nightmare? He claimed you, and now he intends on keeping you. No matter what the cost.

Pairings: Tattooed!Steve Rogers X Innocent!Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, selling drugs, taking drugs (adderall/marijuana), non con/dub con thigh riding, thigh riding with an audience, taunting, threating, a bit of degradation, teasing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.3K

Series Masterlist

*Tattoo edit by the amazing @randomagnes0210

Putting your car into park, you take a deep breath as you stare at the club in front of you. If you weren’t desperate, you wouldn’t be here. You had run through all the possibilities in your head, and this seemed like the best solution. Your grades started to slip after the breakup, and it was like you couldn’t concentrate. You couldn’t stay awake, and you weren’t able to study.

But this was beyond desperation. This was complete lunacy to be driving up to the belly of the beast. The rumblings of this club were more than just gossip. People who started doing more than taking the pills came here. The allure of big money and protection with Steve Rogers was hard to resist.

You didn’t want to sell, but you also didn’t want to buy from anybody on campus. You just need a few pills to get through finals. That was all. Enough to keep you awake to study, and then you were out. It made sense to go straight to the source for that. You didn’t care what it took. You just need to stay alert.

Exhaling deeply, you get out of your car. The bass of the music rumbles deep in your body the closer you get, mimicking the pounding in your chest. You can hardly breathe, and you know that your pulse is visible. You didn’t do things like this. You can’t afford jail time or even a mark on your record. You’d lose all scholarships, and have to drop out, and this would all have been in vain.

Stepping up to the door, a brutish man towers over you. His shoulders are wide and broad, and his arms as thick as your legs. Casting your eyes down to the ground, you get a glint of metal as his fingers. The man tilts chin up, and you tremble. Your whole body shivers with fear.

“Why are you here? You look like a scared little lamb coming to slaughter. It’s just a night club, darling,” his silver blue eyes look behind you, casting their gaze all through the parking lot. Seemingly looking for someone with you before looking back at you.

“Are you alone?”

“Y-y-yes,” you hiccup, trying to tilt your head back down, but even his finger was enough to keep you in your place.

“Why are you here?”

“I-I-I…”

“You’re not cut out to be a pusher. Your fear shows you know exactly what goes on upstairs. You offering up your flesh? I’m sure there are several that would love to feast on you.”

“Oh, god, you eat people? I’m sorry,” tears blur your eyes, but the man lets out a harrowing laugh at your expense. Grabbing onto your wrist as he pulls you in the club. This was it, you are going to die, and all because you thought you needed Adderall to stay awake.

“Oh, you’ll be eaten. There’s nothing more delicious than the honey between a woman’s legs. Your body will be trembling for a very different reason besides fear. It’ll be pure unadulterated pleasure. Pleasure so grand you won’t even know where you are. That is, if you get the right client.”

“I don’t want to be a whore. I want to go home,” he pulls you into an elevator, waiting on the doors to close before his sneering face is rounding back on you. Inching ever closer before both his hands go on either side of you. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry.”

“You’re right. You are just a scared little girl. Steve will have fun with you. Tell me, little lamb, why are you here? You wouldn’t be good at selling, and judging by the sweat beading around your hairline, and you recoiling into your skin, I bet that cherry is still fresh and ripe in between your thighs, so selling your skin doesn’t seem like you. Someone offer you up as a sacrifice, giving you all sweet and innocent up to some man that is going to destroy you? You wired, sweetheart?”

“No,” you sob. Shaking your head. “No, I’m by myself. Honestly.”

“Tell it to Steve,” he growls as the doors open up, and he pushes you forward. “Go on,” it is hard to move with the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your body pulses with fear. Convulsing uncontrollably, and when you see the cherry of a blunt light up in a corner, a dark figure clouded by even more darkness, and you yelp.

Attempting to turn around, and get past this behemoth of a man, but it was pointless. You are trapped. Just like a mouse in a maze waiting on her predator to pounce. A hand drops down on the arm of the chair, and almost every inch of it is covered in black ink. Rings adorn all his fingers. Rolling them along the fluffy arm, but never bringing his face into the light.

Inhaling a long drag of his joint you can almost make out some features on his face, and it only gives you more to be afraid of. He was just as big as the man that was refusing to let you go. “What have we here, Bucky? Did you bring me a little angel to sit on my lap? What’s your name, darling?”

He clears his throat when you don’t answer. Chuckling when you’re able to squeak out your name, “You’re just as sweet as an innocent Dove. I think that’s what I’m going to call you. Now, why don’t you come and sit on my lap, and let me get a better look at you?”

“No,” the answer comes out quickly, and much more surely than you were expecting.

He slowly stands up from his chair, twisting his neck to the side and a sickening pop rolls through every bone in his spine, and he takes one solid step forward, and his body is out of the shadows. Another step, and you see just how dangerously handsome he is. Tattoos erupt over every inch of his skin, except his face. A boyish quality to him with the smile of the devil, himself.

You have nowhere to go, because the brick wall behind you is nudging you closer to Steve, and the gap gets smaller. Steve’s thick hand raises the roach to his mouth, and inhales long. Flicking the stick to the side, he completely closes the gap. His hard muscles, coupled with the ones behind you stifle your breathing, and all you can do is stare up at him.

He blows out a puff of smoke, before his thick fingers close around your neck. Not tight enough to hurt you, but it would take only a second for him to start crushing your windpipe. “What did you say to me? Did you just tell me, Steve Rogers, no? Dovey, I could have you bent over this couch, and let every man that works for me stuff you full of cock, and there’s nothing you could fucking do about it. I was being nice when I asked you to sit on my lap. I just wanted to look at you. And now that I’m closer to you, I’m demanding you sit in my lap. The pleasantries are gone, sweetheart. So if you don’t want everyone to watch you take my fat cock, I would suggest you listen.”

Without warning, he walks back to his chair in the dark, and that ringed finger rubs over his thigh, “He won’t ask twice,” Bucky whispers into your ear, and you shuffle your feet over to Steve.

“You won’t hurt me?” His eyes roll up to meet yours, and he shakes his head no. Waiting for you to gently sit down, and a possessive hand, lays too high up on your thigh. Rubbing on it, and his fingers dip too low between your thighs. “I don’t like this.”

“I would have been much kinder had you just sat down, and not defied me. You wired?” You shake your head no, and his fingers move all the way up your legs. Roaming around at the apex of your thighs before cupping your covered core. Drifting up higher, and he cups each breast, and runs up the swells of them. Another hand sweeps down your back, until he grunts in satisfaction.

“You understand why I have to check? A pretty and sweet girl in a place like this. It’s like they know my weakness. There is something about fresh meat. Has anyone ever touched you, sweetheart?” You stare dead faced at him. You weren’t answering. You didn’t have to defy him, but that's none of his business.

“They haven’t. Your pussy was throbbing so hard, and that sweet little sigh you let out. I can make you feel good if you let me touch you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I just want to go home.”

He clicks his tongue as his eyes roam over your body. Getting too close as he sniffs up your neck, “You even smell sweet. You wanna know a secret?” Don’t answer. Just stare. “I can feel how hot that cunt is. Feel how she’s pulsing so hard at being filled. You hide nothing, Dovey.”

“Why can’t I go home?”

Steve settles back in his chair, glancing towards Bucky who also sits on a couch, and kicks up his feet. Rubbing his hand slowly up and down your back, but keeping a firm hand on your thigh. Keeping you spread out a bit more than you would want. “Why did you come here in the first place? You sought me out. I had to question things. Everyone knows I love pretty little things with tight pussy.”

“Stop, please,” your voice deadpans. There’s no emotion in you even though you want to scream and flail around. But it wouldn’t help. You chose to walk in here on your own accord, so now it was time to just listen.

“Why? You don’t feel that heat radiating out from between your legs? I have asked you why you are here, and you can’t provide an answer. So until you tell me, you’re going to sit like this. Have your panties become soiled with that sweet nectar. Uncomfortable, and desperate for friction. I just know you’re going to go home, and touch yourself thinking about me.”

“I won’t,” his eyebrow cocks up, and he waits. It would just be easier if you told him the truth. “My grades are slipping.”

“Oh, she’s sweet and educated. Let me guess…early childhood education? It will come in handy for when you take care of our kids,” Bucky snorts, leaning his head back on the couch, but you look at him horrified. “Oh good grief. What are you studying?”

“Early childhood,” a deep chuckle erupts out his mouth, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. Distracting you while his hand moves further up your thigh. “I…I need to cram in some studying.”

“I can definitely help you with some cramming. So you thought you would come to the supplier for some Adderall? Is that it? Why not ask one of the many people on campus? I’m sure they’re good and stocked up. We know it’s finals season.”

“I don’t trust people,” Steve moans, and his hand starts to rub in and out of the gap between your legs, only inches away from your core. “All it would take is for them to get caught, and then they’re ratting everyone out that they sold to. Even you.”

“Oh, trust me, if they sing like a canary and mention my name, it’ll be the last thing they fucking do. So let me get this straight, you, this sweet little Dove, come to the seedy part of town, thinking you’re going to march in here and ask for a few pills from me to get you through finals?”

“I have money,” you close your eyes as his fingers lightly graze over your panties. A skirt was a terrible idea, but you can deal with being angry at yourself later. Right now you just need to remain calm, and get out alive.

“I don’t want money.”

“I don’t want sex.”

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s definitely ways I could want you without having my cock going into your pussy. Fine. I’ll give you your fucking pills. If you don’t pass, you get to suck my giant cock. If you’re lucky I might let you ride my face before I split your pussy open for the first time,” don’t answer. Don’t even look.

“Why so wet Dovey?” Don’t answer. Don’t look. Definitely don’t moan. “Wet and so hot. I bet it feels like heaven in between your thighs. A pussy like this is something I would need all the time. Make you sit in my lap, with my cock buried so deep in your warmth, all while I hand out everyone’s product. Every seller would know you were taking my cock like a big girl, but they would see how much I stretch you out. Is that what you want? To be my pretty little cock ornament for all my sellers?”

Don’t answer. Don’t look. And stop whimpering. “You better answer me, you little bitch,” you gulp as he twists you around, making you stare at Bucky as you straddle his leg. Holding onto your hips as he forces you to grind on him. “How much do you have?”

“Carol told me they were fifteen dollars a pill.”

“I could give them to you for free. Just come on my leg, and tell Bucky what a pitiful little birdie you are.”

“I can pay like a normal customer,” you moan. This is humiliating. Bucky sits in front of the two of you, munching on some form of nut or cracker with the biggest eat shit grin. “Steve, I’d rather just pay.”

“Your money's no good with me. Who sent you? Carol? She’s the one that told you to come straight to me? Whoever told you to come here, sent you right into a mousetrap, sweetheart,” his own moan echoes yours as you clench your eyes close. You can’t look at Bucky or him. Your body is betraying you. Feeling things deep inside of you that you have never felt before.

Even the thought of Bucky watching this all unfold is making you weak. You hate it, but the pleasure is proving you didn’t hate it enough. “I have a type, Dovey. Sweet little ladies like you. One that wants to deny themselves all this pleasure is even better. I promise there are things that feel better than this.”

You didn’t want anything that felt better. It was like Satan had his finger curled, wiggling it towards you, and beckoning you deeper into depravity. First the pills, now riding someone’s thigh while another man watched. What was next? Did you even want to know? Or did you not want to let go?

Your hands slap down on either armrest, and you can not control the sounds that seep out of you. His tattooed fingers dig even deeper into your hips. He was going to leave marks on you, but it didn’t matter. What mattered now was the high that was all through your limbs. This shouldn’t feel good, and you are irritated by the fact that it was Bucky watching that made this more enjoyable.

“What is it that you want more than anything, Dovey?” Don’t answer. Keep your eyes closed. “The way this cunt is making a mess of me, I think you want to come, huh? Does this pretty little bird want to come? I’ll keep going until you pass out, so you better learn to talk to me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, little darling? Yes isn’t a damn answer,” he grinds you down even harder on his thigh, and you have to brace yourself. Holding onto his knee as your head tilts back to the ceiling. The most strangled of cries as you come undone, but Steve doesn’t slow. Doesn’t stop, but goes faster. Harder. Leaving you screaming. Writhing around.

Your fingernails dig into his knee, but still he goes harder. He is trying to kill you. “What does my little bird want more than anything, hmm? Yes, isn’t an answer. And I won’t stop until you tell me.”

“I want…” your eyes roll into the back of your head as another orgasm builds up in your belly. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t process what is even happening. “I want to come!”

“Done,” Steve growls, giving your neck a little nibble, and you lose all self control. Your body trembles as you come undone. Whimpering even more when you hear drips onto the floor, as you squirt onto his thigh, and he gives your sensitive skin a hard suck.

“I figured you’d want your little pills to keep you awake for studying. Maybe even to pass your finals. But making you come is so much easier, and cheaper for me. Now how many pills do you need?”

“What” you pant out, turning to look back at him.

“You need pills. I’ll give them to you.”

“How much?” You ask, shifting on his thigh. No matter which way you turn, you’re uncomfortably wet. Slick coats the inside of your thigh, and Steve’s leg just further wipes it on you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Really, oh my god, thank you!” He releases your hold, and you stand up, ready to hug him, but take a step backwards instead. Staring down at his drenched leg in horror. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Bucky, get her five pills?” You give him a sweet little smile, nodding your head. “No more than one a day. If you need more, just come to the club, and Bucky will bring you straight to me, and I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t believe he’s being so nice to you, but you’re thankful. Delighted even as Bucky hands you a bottle, “It has my name on it.”

“I don’t need you getting in trouble, Dovey. I need you to pass your finals. Come on, let me walk you out to your car. It gets dangerous at night. You don’t need to be alone,” you forget about the mess left behind on Steve’s pants. Don’t even pay attention to how his eyes darken as he leads you through the club.

Don’t notice the stares that are pointed right at you, and all because you have a nasty little hickey on your neck, and Steve’s possessive hand on the small of your back. No one approaches the two of you. No one points. You’re able to get out of the club without some man hitting on you.

Steve opens the door for you, letting you get seated before buckling you in. “I don’t want you to be out by yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,” that is a weird request, but you weren’t going to be seeing Steve anymore for it to matter.

“Good luck on your finals, Dovey,” he licks his lips as he looks over the expanse of your body. You’re just thankful that it is over. It wasn’t that terrible. And you saved some money.

Bucky comes to stand beside Steve as he memorizes your license plate. A sinister grin on his face, “Don’t lose sight of her. You know what to do,” he tells his friend before walking back into the club. Bucky goes over to his bike, already sensing some late nights for himself.

Steve had a mission. To keep you safe. Because you are his. And your scent engulfed him fully. He was going to break you down. And he was going to have every part of you. You just didn’t realize it. But everyone else did. He saw the club goers look at you and their sight was quickly averted. He’d wear your juices for the world to see. And soon, you’d wear his mark as well.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmaii @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess

#your mark on me #tattoos #tattooed #tattooed!steve rogers #tattoos!steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #druglorg au

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maxlarens · 2 months ago

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driver!reader and engineer!george spiel:

I can just imagine if driver had a tyre blowout or smth George just becomes so apologetic and feels terrible-

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice it in the data-“

*driver sighs* “for the a thousandth time, it wasn’t your fault.”

also when driver first moved to the team George had no idea how to comfort them after a bad race, unsure if they wanted space, or just someone to be with them. George decides to keep his distance until one race where driver just sighs and mutters “stay…please.” George’s heart melts and combusts simultaneously at this.

i love this it’s so sweet!!!! hope y'all enjoy!!! i feel so bad for not posting anything recently so i wrote this sooo quickly before i had to get ready for work lol😵‍💫😵‍💫

You know the disqualification wasn’t your fault.

You know that. How could it possibly be your fault anyway? Sure, if you twist it into something utterly unrecognisable you could make it into a personal failing. But you’re trying not to blame yourself for every little thing, and you’re trying hard not to micromanage.

You’re new at Mercedes anyway, you don’t want to come off too strong. Scare them off before they start to really trust you. It's a miracle in and of itself that you're here. A rookie driver, a woman, at Mercedes of all teams. Alongside Lewis Hamilton. You've got Susie and Toto Wolff to thank for that you suppose.

Anyway, you're trying hard not to think about the car just on the other side of the wall. Trying not to grab a tape measure and measure the chassis yourself. Like you'll find anything different than the FIA, like it'll change anything at all.

It's only P8 after all— four points— which is four points you'd have really liked to have to your name. Especially so early on in your rookie season. Toto knows that, had been apologetic on behalf of the team during the debriefing. You'd understood.

You'd tried to understand at least.

He'd said it wouldn't happen again.

Still, it hurts. There this ache in your chest that makes it feel like your hopes and dreams are slipping away through your fingers. This was the first race you felt you'd really begun to prove yourself and your position on this team and now everyone will be able to point to the disqualification and say this is why. She doesn't have the raw skill, it's because of the car—

"There's next week."

You snap your head up, startled at the noise. It's George, in the doorway. You'd not heard him come in, too busy navel-gazing, feeling sorry for yourself. God, you're pathetic.

"Hm", you question, trying not to let on that you're utterly miserable.

"There's next week," he repeats, inching into the room and closing the door gently behind him, "You'll do it again next week."

Your mouth twists involuntarily, skeptical. Even though you know it wasn't you. It was the car, it was some silly mistake from the warehouse. You couldn't have done anything. It just inexplicably feels like the world is crumbling in on you and you can't figure out why.

"You think?"

George nods, expression serious, a little harrowed. But sympathetic, like he understands, like he knows how it feels. You're inclined to believe that he does, he'd not given you a reason to think otherwise in the six odd months you've known him.

"Pretty sure," he says in such a way that you're sure he means 'unequivocally yes', like he believes in you wholeheartedly, like he'd never doubt you.

You're not sure what you've done to deserve that from him. This unwavering loyalty to you that he seems to have already. You just know you feel it too. Inexplicably.

You watch him, long-limbed and slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot under your stare. He makes a move to leave after a long minute, giving you a cursory nod— you feel something open up in your chest at the thought of him leaving right. Some pit of yearning, some ache that you cant quite place.

"Wait," you say, feeling brave.

His hand falls from the door knob, he turns, tilting his head at you in question. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Would you stay? For a bit?"

He's nodding before you've got the words out, crossing the room to sit next to you on the couch. Not too close, but enough that you can feel the body heat radiating off him, smell him, a little sweaty from being out on the pit-lane, but mostly the smell of his cologne.

"Yeah," he says gently, "Of course, I can."

You nod in thanks, feeling a little exposed, a little vulnerable from your shame, from begging for a friend in him.

"Thank you, George. I just—" don't have anyone else, you don't say, feeling like that might be too far. Instead you let you sentence taper off and sigh, letting some tension leech out of you, "Yeah."

George moves closer, fractionally. Feeling brave again, you lean your head onto his shoulder, hoping he doesn't mind too much. You decide he doesn't when his arm comes around so he can rub little comforting circles into the top of your shoulder.

Slowly but surely, you feel all the anger and the sadness make way for some warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach. From then on, George becomes a regular fixture in your driver's room, especially post-race, especially when you feel like your heart has been stomped on. It's hard to feel like shit when George acts like you're capable of anything.

headcanon: george is a former driver turned engineer!

#george russell x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #💫drabbles #drabbles:gr63 #driver!reader #engineer!george

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sainamoonshine · 2 years ago

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So I know the entire narrative in The Locked Tomb is like « oh ahaha Babs, what a loser » but I genuinely think that there might be something really interesting about him. Babs was the only person in the whole galaxy to know about Ianthe and Corona’s secret. And I’m starting to think that as much of a natural asshole he is, at least 50% of what we see of him in GtN is acting.

Let me explain: he is obviously in puppy love with Corona, and dismissive of Ianthe when Corona is looking. But privately, he is terrified of her. He knows she’s his necromancer and NOT Corona; this is proven when the Second challenges the Sixth, and Corona wants to intervene but Ianthe says no. Ianthe is 100% certain that Babs will do as she says, but Corona is actually surprised. And when he finds Corona duelling Gideon, he is scared and tells her that he will not tell Ianthe. I think Ianthe probably threatened him behind Corona’s back one time or a dozen. And I think Babs isn’t just protecting their secret, he might be trying to protect Corona from Ianthe’s anger too. Being the annoying go-between, the butt of the joke, the meat shield. On purpose.

Pay close attention to when he’s being a contrary asshole for no reason. A lot of it seems to come naturally to him, sure. But also: when Jeannemary finds the human ash and asks for Corona of all people to help her identify the deceased: he immediately redirects attention by being a mega-asshole. Corona ends up not having to do any necromancy; her secret is still safe. Similarly, later on in Dulcinea’s sick room, when everyone is having a discussion about necromancy: he makes a tetchy comment, prompting Corona to whisk him away like ‘oh ahah he’s getting hangry’. How familiar is this routine for them?

I think deep down, while he’s an arrogant dickhead, Babs isn’t evil. He’s shocked and appalled that Silas went and took Dulcinea’s keys, and I don’t think it’s because he wishes he thought of it first, as Jeannemary accuses. I think he genuinely thinks that’s dishonourable. And when Corona tries to stand up for the Sixth and Ianthe says no, Babs follows her order, but is pissed about it.

But hold on, you might say to me, five minutes later HE is the one to issue a challenge to the Sixth!! Yeah, after a tense stare-off with his necromancer. After, perhaps, coming to some conclusions of his own about the Third house’s chances regarding the key situation. Ianthe herself says to Corona: you need a facility key. This is your only chance. Might be that Babs figured something similar!

When Harrow answers the call, his face is frozen in a look that’s both cautious but trying to look though. When Jeannemary jumps on the table, he immediately backs out. Without waiting for Ianthe to call him off. He tries to play it off, but Babs is pretty consistent on NOT wanting to fight the teenager.

In conclusion: the dude is a dick but I think he’s got honour and he is stuck between a rock and a very hard place. AND he fights Ianthe after the lyctoral process for a surprising and impressive long time!

Also: lmao when he jumps off the table he mutters ‘should have just stayed home and gotten married’. Okay??? Babs what’s that about? 👀

#the locked tomb theory #the locked tomb speculation #the locked tomb #naberius tern

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ninibeingdelulu · 4 months ago

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I’m scared

synopsis: simon can’t sleep due to his nightmares, so he tells you about his childhood and…his fear of becoming a bad father

The fading sunrays streak vibrant tangerines and crimsons across the dusky skies gradually dimming over the secluded ranch you both retreated to - desperate for a more tranquil life far removed from Simon's harrowing past.

Despite the idyllic setting and near-constant solitude constantly surrounding your cozy homestead nowadays, he still instinctively startles awake most nights drenched in a cold sweat.

Tonight seems no different when that painfully familiar shudder wracks Simon's powerful frame beside you in the tangled bedsheets.

One moment, he's coiled tighter than a loaded spring through the entire rippling expanse of his musculature while visions of yet another fallen brother scream silently behind those tightly screwed eyelids.

The next, Simon jolts upright sucking in air like he just emerged from being submerged as the last vestiges of his latest night terror dissipates.

You stir only fractionally at the abrupt disturbance, too preoccupied with your own dreams involving a much more joyous source leaving you both deliriously giddy as of late.

Blearily cracking one eyelid open, you're greeted with the sight of Simon swiping a weary palm across his sweat-slicked brow while continuing those subconscious white-knuckle grips along his thighs.

He remains completely transfixed by some unseen assailant lurking in the shadows beyond your bedroom door for another few interminable beats.

"Hey you..." Your voice is soft yet purposefully pitched just loud enough to penetrate the lingering fog clouding Simon's senses.

Instantly those impossibly soulful blue irises you fell hopelessly in love with swivel back towards you - naked vulnerability completely undisguised in their sunken depths as his respiring gradually calms.

"Shh...c'mere, baby." You beckon with your arms outstretched - Simon swiftly answering by collapsing with practiced ease against your welcome embrace while thumbing away the sudden moisture rimming his lashes.

Neither of you exchange another syllable for what feels an eternity. Simply existing in rare respite tangled as one until his residual tremors finally cease.

"Tell me about your nightmare..." You murmur - lips brushing the sensitive shell of Simon's ear while trailing your fingertips along the corded musculature spanning his shoulders.

His timbre emerges low and throaty when he acquiesces - callused palm drifting towards where your hands remain splayed across the bunched plane of his abdomen.

"It was… it’s stupid, it was about my dad. All the shit he put me through when I was just a kid,” His voice crack slightly at the word. “It disgust me. The animals, the concerts..."

You squeeze Simon closer at those doleful parting words - mouth parting to rebuke his self-deprecation when his palm suddenly clenches against your belly into a taut fist.

Those once warm blue spheres boring through you with naked terror reflecting in their unsettling blankness.

"...but now, how can I be a father worthy of passing anything on when I'm still such an utter wreck myself?" Simon croaks desolately.

"My own childhood ended before it even began between what the 141 had me doin' out there...and that ain't exactly the example I want settin' for our--"

"Simon Riley, you are going to make the most natural, incredible father this little one or I could ever dream of - end of story."

Your tone brooks no argument as you unhesitatingly seal his fears beneath the scorching press of your mouth colliding against his.

Imprinting every ounce of staunch belief and devotion swirling behind your next declarations directly onto his plush lips.

"Because no matter how much darkness this crazy world dragged you through? You somehow emerged even brighter...and when I look at you now all I see is pure, unconditional light. Nothing else matters except the profound love you have shining in these eyes and overflowing from your beautiful soul, okay?"

Simon remains resolutely mute as you cradle his visage in your palms - thumbs gently caressing those gratefully glistening irises swimming closer with every steadying breath cycling between you both.

Until eventually another profound epiphany seems to dawn across his expression while one hand slowly descends to cup your burgeoning swell...

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ivystoryweaver · 1 year ago

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With You part 5

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Jake tries to fall asleep beside you, Steven is there to adore you in the morning and Marc is still struggling. What happens when Jake breaks his lifelong silence?

Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings/notables: Fluff, longing, complicated relationship stuff. Angst. References to past abuse. Struggles with addiction/alcoholism and its effects. Probably inaccurate description of addiction. self-worth probs. Violence is mentioned. kissing and touching, implied sex but no smut, nothing explicit or gender-specific. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd we die like arthur harrow in the back of jake's car

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...

Oh, he liked the idea of getting under your skin. He liked it a lot.

“Really?” He teased. “You mean you don’t scare the shit out them in the middle of the night? Follow them around? Drive them crazy...wearing that?” He threw your words back at you.

What a little shit.

“No,” you steadily answered him, your gaze open and honest. “I guess I’m just here to drive you crazy.”

With little convincing, Jake got ready for bed, so he could join you in finally getting some rest. Your 3am alarm went off as he was washing up, so you silenced the one for 4:00.

Conveniently it was your day off, so no other alarm was set. Steven did have one class mid-day, but otherwise, also had the day off.

As Jake slid under the covers, you reached to turn off the bedside lamp. Then you were left in the same position you found yourself in that first night.

The night he held your hand.

Remembering what you'd whispered to him in the dark that night, you softly uttered, "I'm glad you came back to me, Jake."

"I'll always come back to you," he swiftly replied, his voice the softest you'd ever heard it.

Slowly, you reached for him, resting your hand over his. He immediately slid his fingers through yours, just like the first night, and whispered goodnight.

Jake always came home while you were asleep, and he didn't even front every day. Usually he was only there when Khonshu bid him take to the nighttime alleyways and rooftops, or when Marc and Steven were in an exorbitant amount of danger...

...which was unfortunately more often than either of them (or you) were aware. Marc had a long and colorful past, in which he'd made many enemies - some of them, through no fault of his.

Abused, with an undiagnosed disorder, there were sections of his life missing, and problems he just couldn't control. That, combined with blackouts from drinking and a mighty temper, when provoked, had left a trail of...unfortunate mishaps. And pissed off former associates and enemies.

Time eased many grievances, and Marc had handled several problems on his own, years ago. But even after Jake himself had dispensed with Arthur Harrow, there still lingered fingers of his network. And those weren't the only problems.

Just last week, Jake had disposed of a man who had followed you home from work two nights in a row. He simply watched the first night, choosing restraint, but after he saw the mysterious man following you a little too closely the second night, well - that man did not live to see a third.

At first, Jake wondered how Marc could be so naive. He expected that more from Steven. Well, not naivety, exactly, but a general "chin up" outlook on life that the he radiated.

Steven, although far more direct, outspoken and cautious than most people gave him credit for, was an overall ray of sunshine. In protecting the system, Jake wasn't just protecting his own body, or Marc, who he had known since his youth, he was protecting Steven - the one Marc simply could not do without.

And Jake supposed that's what it all came down to. Marc had settled into a beautiful domesticity with both you and Steven. And maybe that was why Marc couldn't perceive the danger you were all in.

Jake was happy to keep it that way. If Marc was not only safe, but thriving, if Steven was growing and learning, putting his beautiful mind to work, and the two of them had someone they loved? Then Jake had done his job. As long he stayed on top of things, it could all work out.

But the drinking relapse was a problem. And he hadn't counted on you meeting him.

Jake had often wondered how Marc and Steven - for lack of a better word - shared you. He wondered if they ever got jealous. Or if you ever showed any preference for one over the other. That's why he thought it best to stay out of it. Not only did he hope to keep his head down and do his job, he was concerned that getting mixed up with you would only confuse him.

That all went right to hell when he carelessly barreled into your bedroom the other night, having forgotten to have Marc or Steven check in with you earlier, or go to bed beside you. He was equally panicked and wonderfully elated for this mishap.

And now, as your soft breathing slowed, he tried to pretend this night was like every other time he'd slipped through the window to find you asleep.

But it wasn't and he couldn't.

He wished you were still awake. He wished he had more time to hear your voice, to watch the flurry of you around the room, picking up his things, worrying after him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he remembered the press of your body against his - the soft satin hugging your shape.

Shit. He could use a cigarette. Or maybe he could beat the hell out of someone.

It was difficult to blow off steam when Marc - a.k.a. their body - couldn't drink and with Marc and Steven engaged to you. Jake tried to respect that. He had the right to his own life, sure, but he just couldn't bring himself to "blow off steam" in that way since you got engaged. You weren't his, but he was faithful to you anyway.

As if sensing his irritation in your sleep, you rolled over, burying your face into his shoulder, snuggling up to him comfortably.

Jake was walking a very fine line between soothed and riled up. If your leg made its way across his thigh, he was going to lose his shit.

Only a few hours later, as the sun struggled to climb into a gray sky, you woke up, tangled in someone. Wondering who might greet you each morning always brought the tiniest smile to your face, but on this morning, just for a moment, you wondered if it was Jake.

Your body stiffened. Did you sleep like this for the past few hours? Did it bother him? You hadn't ever thought of what you might do in the night when Jake got home from his escapades.

As the man beside you continued to breathe evenly, in and out, you decided that three hours of sleep was definitely not enough.

Hours later, you awoke to the domestic sounds of the kitchen. You smelled cooked food and heard the sink's water running, along with the clang of a pot or saucepan.

The sun had made its way through the morning fog, and a sliver of it poured through the crack between the drawn drapes and the window.

After stretching like a very satisfied cat, you freshened up in the bathroom and headed back to your closet to decide what to wear for your day off.

Steven was waiting for you on your bed, perched on the edge.

"Morning, my love," he hummed cheerily, his eyes raking down your body appreciatively. "See you've got on those nice satin pajamas I gave you."

Glancing down at yourself, you softly smiled. "Indeed."

"You're so bloody lovely," he breathed, eyes darkening as he reached out his hand to beckon you back to bed.

Feeling absolutely adored and a little frisky, you skittered over, ready to pounce, when he held up two hands to stop you.

"Careful, darling, I've made you breakfast. Or brunch, rather. It's eleven o'clock," he laughed, nodding toward the tray sitting in the middle of the bed.

Eyes wide, you beamed - but it didn't stop you from climbing onto his lap, just...carefully.

"You are an angel." Locking your arms behind his neck, you dragged your hips forward until you were flush against his body. Rubbing your nose against his, you giggled as he chased after your lips.

"Feeling cheeky this morning, are we?" he tutted after trying and failing to kiss you a few times. "Come here, you." Gently gripping your face in one hand, he opened his mouth hotly over yours. Sucking your lips one at a time, he teased you right back, easing one strong arm around your back. His forearm flexed, holding you firmly as he thrust up against you.

"Steven," you gasped, shifting in his lap to feel him just where you wanted him. Licking into his mouth, you pushed your fingers into his curls, tugging just hard enough for him to jerk deliciously against you again.

The two of you went on that way until he laid back on the bed, pulling you on top of him.

"Steven, Steven, wait--"

Too late. The tray carrying your breakfast spilled all over the bed, some of the jam-covered toast landing on Steven's adorably oversized sleeve.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." Scurrying off the bed, you rapidly gathered up the mess, hands bumping into Steven's as he struggled to help you.

"Thank goodness I've left the tea on the table then, yeah?"

You burst out laughing.

You and Steven cleaned up the bed, finished breakfast (at the table) and dressed in cozy clothes for a day off together. Steven decided missing one class wouldn't hurt anything, since he had high marks in every course.

"Thank you for taking care of me this morning, my love," you sighed contentedly, draping your legs across his lap as you relaxed on the couch. "I noticed you pulled the drapes closed so I could sleep in."

"Oh...must've been Marc, I s'ppose," he mused, rubbing up and down your leg. "Wasn't me."

"Oh, okay. But it was you that cleaned up the broken bottle the other morning, right? Before I woke up and made breakfast for Marc?"

Steven's head whipped around so fast. "Sorry, what? Marc broke a bottle? Darling--"

"It wasn't like that, I promise. It was an accident," you soothed. Reaching for his hand, you squeezed it gently, forgetting, in that moment, who could have cleaned up the bottle.

"Everything's a bit odd lately, innit?" He spoke up after a few moments. "Khonshu scaring the life out of Marc like that, deceivin' us both. Bloody stupid pigeon."

"I'm sorry, baby." You felt a shade guilty having talked to Jake twice when Marc and Steven had yet to even meet him.

"Not your fault, love. The old bird's the one to blame. Him and this other mysterious bloke I've got up here." He tapped one finger to his forehead.

"Jake, you mean." You eyed him cautiously. Feeling like you hadn't seen Steven as much for the past few days, you felt the need to confess - catch him up. "I talked to him again last night. Did Marc tell you we'd met?"

Dark eyes cut over to yours - unreadable - a rarity in your warm and open Steven. "Didn't have to. Spoke to him myself."

You gasped a little dramatically. "Y-you talked to Jake? He talked to you?"

"A bit, yeah," Steven sighed. "A bit. Might have told us we were still entangled with Khonshu so Marc didn't have to wake up in an alley like that. It's no bloody wonder he's had a rough go of it."

Gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, you inched a little closer to him on the couch. "So...you're angry with him then. With Jake."

Shaking his head, Steven's gaze dropped. "He's got his own life I s'ppose. Rather used to the way things are with Marc, is all."

"Must be hard, sweetheart," you sweetly sympathized, wishing you could fix any and everything for these men you loved.

"Not your fault," he softly repeated, reaching up to caress your cheek. "He does seem a bit taken with you, though."

Oh god.

"R-really," you squeaked. "Jake said that?"

"Not exactly, but...I gathered," Steven mused, his fingers trailing down over your throat to rest along your collarbone, which he traced carefully. "Made me wonder if you'd worn that lovely satin for him, if I'm honest."

You gulped. "Well...not for him, exactly. I did want to talk to him in a little more than Marc's t-shirt. I want answers too."

The corner of his mouth turned slightly upward, reminding you of Jake. "You're a vision in anything, darling - bare legs and t-shirt, or black satin. I certainly understand why he fancies you."

You skin heated up as you tried to decide how to respond.

And just like Jake the previous night, Steven seemed to enjoy you flustered like this. Giving you a devilish smile, he trailed his fingers down your arm.

"Steven...you're my fiancé," you finally managed, a little breathless. "Jake and I have only spoken twice. It will take a little more than crawling in the window at night to get to know one another."

Nodding, Steven asked, "But you would...like to get to know him?"

"Of course I would," you instantly answered, as if it were obvious. "Of course I want to know someone in our lives like this - part of you and Marc, and...honestly, someone who has you all out at night doing god knows what."

Reaching for your fiancé, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Besides, I doubt Jake said he fancies me," you chuckled. "Doesn't really sound like him."

"Ohhh, it doesn't, does it?" Steven laughed out. Studying you closely, he added, "Would you like to know what he really said? 'Bout you?"

Spellbound, you nodded as Steven leaned in close. "I'm not going to tell you. That's between you two. But I will tell you what I think, if you care to know."

Climbing across his lap, you touched your forehead to his. "As long as it's something good, baby."

"Oh it is," he breathed against your mouth.

He never told you. But you did finish what you'd started in the bedroom.

After all the recent late night activities, plus a vigorous couple of rounds in bed with Steven, your sated bodies drifted off to sleep...

...which inevitably led to you waking up from your nap, wondering who would be greeting you. The flat was quiet and you were alone.

Feeling a little more relaxed and rested than you had felt in days, you found the clothes Steven had yanked off your body just a couple hours before. You didn't want to waste one more second of your shared day off by sleeping.

After checking the bathroom and the living room, you finally found a note in the kitchen from Marc.

On the roof. - M

Finding some shoes and Marc's tan hoodie, you grabbed your phone, realizing Marc had sent you the same message via text, just in case.

A few minutes later, you made your way out to enjoy the chilly but decently sunny day. A rare treat indeed.

"Hey there," you sweetly greeted, walking up beside Marc, purposely bumping your shoulder against his. "Where's your jacket? It's cold."

He glanced over at you, smirking. "You're wearing the one I like. Looks better on you anyway."

Even though Marc was a little taller than you were, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders as if it might warm him up.

"What are you doing?" He chuckled, already a bit cheered up by your presence.

"I'm protecting you. Like I said, it's cold."

Glancing down at you, he shook his head, amused, while his heart flared with adoration. You were always taking care of him in one way or another. He could never deserve you.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling you into his arms, folding you close. "There, now I'm warm."

"Good," you returned, nuzzling into his neck.

He held you in silence for a few minutes, rubbing up and down your back lovingly.

From what little you knew of Jake, you were fairly certain that Marc was the quietest of his alters. It was nice sometimes, to just be together in contented stillness.

But unlike Jake, there was no one in the world you knew better than Marc. And he was neither content, nor prone to remain still for much longer. Itching to prod about what troubled him, you waited longer still. You had learned to wait him out and he had learned to trust you...confide in you.

"I, uh..." he cleared his throat, breaking the silence after a while. "I came up here because I was thinking about...having a drink."

Oh.

Releasing you, as you knew he would after an admission like that, he folded his well defined arms over his chest. "Sorry." He stared out over the city, wondering what you would think of him - of how he kept letting you down.

Matching his pose, you gave him just enough space to confess, while keeping close enough to ground him.

"Sorry for what?"

Huffing out an irritable sigh, he frowned. "You know what. Sorry for wanting to. For...fucking everything up, for letting you down."

"I see," you softly returned. "Is that all?"

Turning his head, he started at you. "Is that not enough? You need a longer list?"

"No," you shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the cityscape. "Just asking if there's anything else you're trying to punish yourself for today."

"There's a never-ending, extremely long fucking list," he huffed, rolling his eyes. "Where do I even begin?"

Turning your body to face him, you waited a moment for him to calm down. "How about we start with what brought you up here today? Did something happen? Did you talk to Steven? Or Jake? Or maybe Addiction is just being the annoying bitch that Addiction is?"

You could see that he was already relieved to have you facing him, engaging with him. Marc could fight with the empty, thin air if he wanted to, because the person he fought hardest with was himself.

"I did...talk to Jake," he finally confessed, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "He, uh...he actually apologized...for what happened in the alley, with Khonshu."

"Okay," you slowly nodded, your heart rate doubling at the thought of Marc and Jake interacting. "And how did that make you feel?"

"Like an idiot," he huffed, pushing a hand through his hair. "I should have known that Khonshu would never leave us alone." His hands landed on his hips - a trademark Marc-is-annoyed stance. "I should have known it wasn't safe, especially for you."

"What does that mean?" you hesitantly questioned. Surely he didn't mean he was unsafe for you, or Jake was... You started to worry for just a moment, that he would try to do one of those stupid 'you're safer without me' speeches that superheroes were always doing in films.

Like hell. Khonshu could shove his bony beak right up his bony ass. He was not fucking with your engagement, or your life.

Seeing your distress, Marc reached for your shoulders. "Jake saved your life last week," he explained. "Someone was following you home from work."

"He...what?" You gasped. "Who? Jake told you this?"

"Don't know who," Marc replied, his jaw clenching in fury at the thought of anyone even noticing you, let alone trying to stalk you. And to think he had no idea - no inkling that you were in danger... it was unbearable. "Doesn't matter. He's gone now. I just can't believe I let that happen to you and I didn't even realize..."

Releasing you, he paced a few steps away, and back again. Back and forth, punishing himself. For not perceiving that danger still followed him around - followed you. For not being the one to save you. For not recognizing someone else was in his mind, in their body. For being the absolute most useless and pointless of his alters. For all these things compiling and making him want to drown it all at the bottom of a bottle. For being a worthless alcoholic. For being like her...

Marc was the walking embodiment of the phrase, 'that escalated quickly...'

You knew it was bad once he stopped pacing and dug the heels of his hands into his forehead. Steven would probably be joining you momentarily. Or maybe Jake.

"Marc?" You softly called, gently reaching for his wrists to stop him hitting himself in the head. You didn't pull or try to halt his motion, you simply allowed your fingers to circle his wrists. As soon as he realized that his banging motion was jerking your arms too, he stopped, allowing you to hold onto his wrists, rubbing your thumbs carefully over his skin.

"There you are," you soothed, granting him the most gentle smile and pulling his hands down to his chest. "I think you kept this conversation going without me. Probably started telling yourself a whole lot of bullshit...does that sound about right?"

Sometimes you would undercut the most dramatic of his meltdowns with deceptively gentle sarcasm. It always seemed to disarm Marc - your comments showed him your tenderheartedness rather than your slight teasing feeling like mockery. You truly had a gift for it.

You didn't wait for his verbal answer. His silence was compliance. You kept hold of his wrists, there against his chest, and tried to fill in the blanks.

"I'm guessing you're blaming yourself for not knowing everything that's ever going to happen, for not predicting the future, for not knowing every corner of your mind, and for being afflicted with an addiction. Am I close?"

His jaw clenched, this time in anguish, rather than fury.

"You don't...you don't have to do this," he choked, avoiding your gaze. "You shouldn't have to do this."

"Like I hell I shouldn't," you shot back. "I marrying you in 52 days. And on that day, I'm going to vow to love you for better or for worse, in sickness and in health - you know the rest. This is exactly what I should be doing."

"I'm sorry," he brokenly whispered. "I'm sorry I'm like this. I hate it. I hate..."

"What are you like, sweetheart? How is it that you think you should be?"

Marc shook his head, his eyebrows pinched with worry. "I-I don't even have a job or go to school, or always make you smile or feel better, like Steven. I can't even protect you, like Jake. I have nothing to give you. I can't think of one reason to even--"

"Don't you dare," you warned. "Don't you dare compare yourself to them - they are a part of you." Releasing a shaky sigh, you realized then how bad things must have gotten for Marc before he ever even picked up a bottle.

This was deeper than one encounter with Khonshu. He was calling his whole self-worth into question, comparing himself to Steven and now Jake. He hadn't failed you. Maybe you had failed him.

"Look, I don't claim to be any kind of an expert on addiction or DID or marriage," you explained to him. "I only know what I know. When Jake saved my life, you were there. You are a part of him. And-and Steven - his amazing mind is your mind too. This addiction you have - they all have it! I understand you are distinct people, and I respect that. And I don't pretend to know what you're going through or what it feels like to be you, but baby..."

Squeezing his hands, you peered up at him pleadingly. "You were my first love. I knew you first. I loved you first. You are the reason I'm here. And Steven. And Jake. We all love you, Marc and we need you. We're with you. Who else is going to help Steven remember to do his homework? Or make my coffee the way I like it? Or fix the sink every time it leaks?

"Who is going to make me feel like the most special person in the world, make me laugh, make me the best toast for breakfast--"

"Uh, that would be Steven," Marc admitted, his voice softening. "Steven does those things for you."

Thinking back through what you'd just said, you nodded. "True. He does make better toast than you but his coffee-making skills are shit."

Marc cracked a smile. Just a tiny one.

"And you do make me laugh. And make me feel special. Why do you think Steven is the only one who does that?"

"Because...I don't know, because he's so good at it," Marc shrugged, calming down a little more. Your candor was somehow soothing because he never had to wonder where he stood with you.

"Baby, where do you think he gets that from?" You stared at him pointedly, waiting for him to get it. "How many years did you try to protect him, to keep him safe?"

"Yeah, but I fucked that up too," he argued. "He was pissed when he found out about me, remember I told you that."

"Only a first," you reminded him. "But since then, you're literally his best friend. You keep him grounded. And I know it's true for Jake too. You're his moral center."

"Really," Marc scoffed, "then he's fucked."

You rolled your eyes. "You are. From what little I know of Jake, he doesn't seem all that bothered by violence... by doing whatever he feels he needs to do, for you or for Khonshu. Don't you see?"

Marc shook his head.

"When you have to use violence, you hate it, because it was used on you. You've agonized over the lives you've taken, because you value life. What is more morally centered than that?"

Finally releasing your hands, Marc rubbed his face with a long sigh. "I told myself I wasn't going to do this to you. That I was just going to go to a meeting and talk to you after. But...but I thought if I left to go to a meeting that I might stop by the store and there would be a drink, you know, just waiting..."

His hands found their way back to his hips. "What do I do?" He gazed at you as if everything in the world hanged on your answer.

"This," you said confidently. "You take a beat...take a breath, talk to me. Exactly this, baby. Everything you need to be doing, you are doing right now: admitting you're tempted to drink, stopping and thinking first, going to meetings..."

You counted his victories off on your fingers, "Using your support systems, being honest about your feelings, even the really fucking hard ones. This is exactly what you do, Marc. You are literally my hero."

Completely taken aback, his lip trembled. "W-what? No...I-I'm not."

Folding your arms over your chest, you narrowed your eyes, waiting a beat.

"You're not? Shit. I must have been thinking of someone else then." Cracking a grin, you inched toward him slowly. "You're so damn stubborn, Marc Spector, but you have met your match. Game fucking on."

Reaching for his wrists, still planted defiantly on his hips, you pulled his hands into yours. "Now, is there anything I can do to make you feel better today? I could walk you to your meeting? Or fix you some matzah ball soup? I've been practicinggg," you sang, a little playfully.

Sometimes acting like a dork really cheered up your grumpy fiancé. Maybe it would work.

"Please, god no," Marc laughed out, "it was more like matzah meal sludge. I think I could have built a sandcastle with it."

Giggling, you released his hands, sliding your arms around his torso. "Okay, fair enough. Maybe we'll do something else then."

"Yeah, like what?" He shot back, some of the tension finally draining out of his tense body as he wrapped his arms around your back.

"How about a massage?" You suggested. "You love it when I play with your hair. You could lie down on my lap, relax..."

"You're just trying to get my head between your legs, aren't you?" Marc chuckled, narrowing his eyes.

You smiled innocently up at him. "Always."

"Come on, it's freezing out here," he laughed, guiding you back toward the doorway with his arm around your shoulders.

"Still feel like a drink?" You asked, your candor never ceasing to amaze him.

"Only if you make me eat your matzah ball soup," he teased.

Just him joking was a good thing. And he probably would have you walk him to a meeting later in the day. One step at a time.

"You're really doing it, you know? I'm really proud of you," you sweetly affirmed as the two of you made your way back down to your flat.

"Thank you," Marc evenly answered, after a long silence. He hadn't really been sure how to reply until the two of you were back inside your living room. "For everything."

"One day at a time, my love. Today, you're doing it. You're doing everything right."

Wondering what he would ever do without you, Marc pulled you close, gently swaying with you in the silence of your flat. He had always felt so hard to love - his childhood had made sure of that. But you loved him hard.

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @kindlover @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal

@rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face

idk if all the tags work. I tried!

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tofuxtea · 1 month ago

Text

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 | aphrodisiac + exhibitionism

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — tenth doctor x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, aphrodisiacs, exhibitionism, reader and doctor are being watched, dub-con if you squint (aphrodisiacs are administered without consent), slightly ooc doctor, kidnapping (?)/slight hostage situation, penetrative sęx, top!reader, “doctor” is said/taken sexually, “sweetheart” used, lmk if i forgot anything!

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — so the aphrodisiacs aren’t really aphrodisiacs but like a truth serum, if that makes sense. slightly misleading but it has a similar effect and result so ask me if i gaf! idk something about david tennant lately just has me rolling around with my fist in my mouth.

you and the doctor often found yourselves in indescribably wacky situations, but this one was by far the one that took the cake.

the doctor was feeling challenging that morning and decided to take the two of you to a distant planet over a million years in the future to find another adventure. it had been a while since the last one and you two were growing bored. what he didn’t expect was to be immediately overpowered and taken prisoner by this new species.

neither of you even had a chance to identify them properly before being knocked out with a needle to the neck and tossed into a shared cell. which, oddly, wasn’t even the strangest part.

when you awoke, you found the room was decorated with cameras in every corner, only one large bed, a small separate bathroom, and a rather large mirror that was likely double sided for observation.

it all felt a little too… intense. invasive.

the doctor was laid beside you on the ground, still asleep. his hearts were still calmly beating when you pressed your fingers to either sides of his neck. the only abnormality was that his skin was warm to the touch. you were quick to get to your feet, screaming eto be let out. but you found it was a little more difficult than it should have been.

it was like your bones had been replaced with lead and your skull stuffed with cotton. your stomach was a similar story. it was uneasy and empty from having been asleep for however long you were, but you didn’t quite know if it was because you were scared or starved. had they used some alien compound drug to knock the two of you out?

no, that wouldn’t make sense. the doctor was almost immune to stuff like that.

still, something was definitely off.

you struggled to keep yourself upright and grasped onto the tiny ledges that the room had to offer you. it was harrowing; the silence that answered your cries for help. surely something should have revealed itself by now. a voice or perhaps some hologram in the middle of the room.

the technology was sure to be advanced, you just didn’t know how much. it was certainly advanced enough to keep the two of you indefinitely locked in the room.

it took you a while to accept that nothing was going to work, so you turned to waking the doctor up. you knelt by his side and shook his shoulder, frantically calling his name. he jolted upright after a few hard shakes and took in his surroundings, looking to you to fill in a few gaps.

“doctor, what is this place?” you asked, panic quickly subsiding now that your smarter counterpart was up and inspecting.

he didn’t respond for a long time. his wide eyes scanned the room from top to bottom while his hands patted each of his suit pockets. “i’m afraid i’m not going to be much help. for the first time, i don’t quite know.” the doctor shook his head and pulled at the collar of his shirt. his face subconsciously twisted into one of discomfort. “they took my… my screw- sorry, is it hot in here?”

his question caught you off guard and you suddenly became aware of the clothing clinging uncomfortably to your body. it felt like it shrunk a size and the temperature was raised to triple digits.

you peeling your jacket off like it had a venomous spider on it answered his question. he mirrored you and removed his blazer, then loosened his tie. “can’t tell if their plan is to roast us alive or if this is a negotiation tactic.” the doctor’s eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to think.

“what’s there to negotiate?” you knew the answer wasn’t going to be good. but the doctor never gave you one for he was too deep in his own thoughts.

you watched realization, or something adjacent, creep onto his features before it suddenly melted into worry. “oh, no. no, this isn’t right.” he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and to his flushed cheeks.

that panic from earlier only heightened. “what? what is it?”

“whatever they injected us with… seems i’m not immune to it.”

it was a response too vague for your liking. “what will it do to us? kill us?” it felt like you were beginning to run a fever. the heat went beyond external and it was reaching you from the inside. everything felt like it was on fire, but it was far from painful.

the doctor gave you a brief once over before averting his eyes. he searched for something to stare at. “quite the opposite. i think it’s some sort of neural catalyst. a bit like a truth serum but…”

“what’s it, like an aphrodisiac?” everything clicked into place. it made sense. the symptoms: the spike in temperature, the way your breathing felt like it was slowing down, the way the doctor suddenly looked undeniably attractive. “my god, have they given us an aphrodisiac?”

“if it’s as advanced as it should be, i don’t think it’s that simple.” the doctor froze, his head swiveling towards you. “i suppose it’s some kind of… stimulus that brings the truth of someone’s desires to light. i guess it was a negotiation tactic, if someone’s true intentions were to bring harm to ‘em. what do you mean aphrodisiac?”

your eyes narrowed at the doctor, who grinned down at you. “don’t try to tell me you don’t feel it. you said it yourself, even you’re not immune to it.”

“yes, but i never said anything about aphrodisiacs, you naughty thing.” the doctor never missed an opportunity to taunt you, even through his own discomfort.

you were too worked up to fight him back. instead, you dove for the bed and tried to concentrate on anything else but the growing heat in your stomach. it was starting to become unbearable. “well then, how do we fight it off? there’s got to be some sort of override to it.”

“i’m sure you’d like to override it, ay?” the doctor jabbed with a cocky laugh.

“doctor!” you scolded him, trying to remind him how serious the situation was.

it appeared he was already well aware, but was far too deep into his own symptoms to even begin to think of a solution. “right, right. sorry.” he tried to clear his head but it was to no avail. the serum made its way past his defenses for the first time and he had no idea how to handle it.

“you know, if i wasn’t so hot and bothered myself, i’d say i was flattered. you were never the most subtle thing, but…”

you were hardly paying attention. your attention was zeroed in on the massive mirror across the room for the past minute. “d’you suppose they’re watching us now?” you glanced at the cameras mounted in each corner of the spacious room.

“perhaps.” not an ounce of concern carried through in the doctor’s voice. if anything, it sounded a little deeper than usual. that playful, teasing bounce to it was gone.

you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing you were just a breath away from snapping and releasing your inhibitions on the man. out of the corner of your eye, you knew the doctor was already staring you down.

“what are we meant to do, doctor!” it was less of a question and more of a cry of defeat.

“look at me.” such a simple instruction, but it made your face flush red. you physically couldn’t comply because you knew what would follow and you had no idea how many eyes were on the two of you. “that’s what you’re meant to do. look at me, sweetheart.”

the doctor knelt on the other end of the bed, his hand tucking itself underneath your chin and turning your head. he didn’t have to force you, only a gentle beckon. the look in his eye was nothing out of the ordinary.

there was no strange hypnosis in them nor the lifelessness of manipulation. he wanted this. truly.

“doctor,” you whispered. you gravitated towards him, the proximity nearing dangerous.

he sighed. “have you always called me like that?” he seemed to be indifferent to your concerns about being watched. then again, the doctor was always one to give a show. perhaps that was a part of his desire. “you know there’s no other way out of it. if you don’t want to, i’ll find another way but you need to say something now.” he spoke with an urgency that sounded painful, like the thought of your rejection physically hurt him.

you were quick to close the gap, pulling him in by his collar. he sighed into the kiss like it was the antidote to his problems.

everything was a blur after that. the doctor’s hands were all over you as you shifted to straddle his lap. he grabbed at your hips, your ass, your thighs, your face and neck. it felt better than you had ever imagined. and his lips were utterly intoxicating.

you couldn’t help the breathy moans that would slip amidst your mad scramble to get each other’s clothes off. the doctor couldn’t get enough of those gorgeous noises. “c’mon my dear, don’t get all shy now.” he whispered breathlessly against your throat before pressing a chaste kiss to your skin.

kisses that trailed down to your chest while he searched for the clasp to your bra. “you’ve no clue how bad i’ve wanted this.” he murmured against your skin. his hands cupped your bare breasts, which elicited a whine from you.

instinctively, your hips rolled into his lap and you could feel him through the thin fabric of your panties. he was hard. and big. you moaned at the thought alone, desperately reaching for the buckle to his belt.

“needy thing, aren’t you?” the doctor teased, watching you with hooded eyes as you undid his trousers and freed his cock. he hissed at the contact alone, his head rolling back with a low whine when you started to slowly fist his cock. it seemed he was just as sensitive as you were.

you ducked down to catch his lips in a deep kiss that he gratefully accepted. he hooked his fingers into one side of the waistband of your panties and very impatiently ripped the fabric until it fell off of you in two pieces. you hardly expected something like that from the doctor.

in your momentary stupor, he roughly grasped your hips and guided you over his cock, running the head through your impossibly soaked folds. he watched each muscle in your face twitch with pleasure before sinking you down onto it.

his forehead pressed against your chest with a weak moan and sharp curse, though they were drowned out by the cry that tore from your throat. the feeling of your tight, wet cunt squeezing around him already told him this wouldn’t last much longer.

“shit,” he groaned when you finally started to move. it was well against your better judgment but you couldn’t resist it anymore. your body was on automatic now, itching for release.

you steadied yourself with a hand on the doctor’s knee as you rode him, angling your body back which allowed him a spot that made your mind go blank. the doctor quickly caught on to this and worked to meet your thrusts until he was fucking you from underneath.

“please don’t stop, don’t stop,” you pleaded, blinking back tears. “doctor, don’t stop!” it was all you could manage to say, chanting it over and over like a prayer.

“god, you’re fuckin’ filthy,” he muttered through gritted teeth. you had him nothing short of mesmerized. the way your tits bounced with each thrust, the way your cunt so greedily sucked him in, the way your head rolled back with each scream you let out. he couldn’t believe he didn’t do this sooner.

he could tell that you were close by the way your pussy clenched around him. “come on, that’s it,” he pressed his palm to your lower stomach, his middle finger rubbing circles around your clit.

the final stretch that broke you. your thighs tensed and your body arched into his hand as you came. the cries that came from you were likely to be heard by everybody within a mile of the room.

the doctor followed not long after, lifting you off of him with seconds to spare before releasing on your inner thigh.

neither of you were quick to move, adjusting to the slow return to homeostasis. it felt like the temperature had gone back to normal and your minds began to register what happened.

when you found the doctor’s eyes, you were worried they would be full of regret or disdain. but they stared right back at you with something you’ve never seen in them before. you didn’t have the strength to analyze it, though.

instead you collapsed beside him and prepared for a nap. “if those things were meant to observe us, i’m sure they got enough material.” you remarked.

the doctor laughed softly. “oh, i’m sure they did.”

lowkey dook but idc this came to me in a vision.

#doctor who kinktober #doctor who smut #doctor who #tenth doctor #tenth doctor smut #david tennant #david tennant doctor #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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