#is it shallow? of course. will that stop me? no <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 1 year ago

Note

Now hear me out… Lando with a daddy kink. I rest my case (and send in my request).

heart to heart.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re heartbroken and lando knows exactly what you’ve always wanted.

oh, anon. how i love you. ngl haven’t written this trope much before so this was a baby-steps attempt… but it’s intense smut lmao. keep sending in requests guys, i’m getting through them (slowly)!! anyways enjoy, love you, tell me what you think <3

songs to set the mood: heart to heart by mac demarco

warnings: 18+ minors DNI!! smut, language, daddy kink (help), breeding kink (lord forgive me), friends to lovers (implied), mentions of cheating (not reader or lando), dom!lando, sub!reader

1.4k words

you’ve been friends for years.

sometimes it felt like the door was open for more, only to be quickly slammed shut when a cute barista handed you his number, or when lando slid into a bikini models dm’s. bottom line: it never ended up crossing that line and becoming more.

you’re crying on his couch when the line finally blurs.

“i just- i just thought…” you choke out a sob that cuts you off.

“what, honey?” lando coos, brushing some damp hairs away from your streaming eyes.

“i thought i’d marry him. how stupid is that?” you whimper. this is the worst breakup you’d gone through to date, and just like when anything goes wrong, lando is there with a spare shoulder for you to cry on. he always knew that your ex was a piece of shit but his warnings fell on deaf ears. “we talked about kids and houses. he asked me my fucking ring size.” you spat. all of this happened, of course, before you found out he’d been cheating on you with his boss’s assistant.

“you’re not stupid, honey.” lando pulls you in closer to his side.

you stay there for a while, letting the tears fall until there are no more left to cry and your face is drying up. your head rests on his shoulder, and when you turn it to look up at him, he’s already looking down at you.

pink lips are parted, slicked with a swipe of his tongue. two blue eyes turned to an icy grey dart between your own lustful pair and your lips, parted only to expel shallow, shaky breaths.

“kids and a nice big lawn, is that what you want?” he whispers. you shift against the couch, trying to hide the shiver the low gravelly tone of his voice shoots down your spine.

“mhm.” you nod slightly, sinking into his side and his eyes.

time speeds up for a moment; the hand he has wrapped around you finds your waist, and somehow he manoeuvres you onto his lap. it feels odd. odd, because it’s right. it’s new and yet it feels… familiar.

“why’d you waste all that time with those assholes, hm?” his voice is mocking, and your knees squeeze around his hips. “could’ve given you all that years ago. fucked a baby into you and put a nice, shiny ring on this finger.” lando pulls your ring finger between his lips, holding eye contact as he swirls his tongue around the digit. you tremble against him, his filthy words almost sending you slack against him.

“didn’t know you wanted me.” you pant.

“i’m gonna do things to you that will make sure that you never doubt me again.”

and he does.

you’re crying on his mattress, overstimulated, yet desperate for more. these are the only kind of tears he ever wants you to cry. he’s been between your legs for what feels like so long that hours could have passed and you wouldn’t question a thing. his tongue works over and over your throbbing clit and your hands rake through tangled curls.

“lando, please.” you chant, over and over again. you don’t know what you’re asking him for, but he seems to get it, because he doesn’t stop.

two fingers find your entrance, sodden with the remnants of more orgasms than you can count. in slides one, twisting deliciously before it’s joined by the second. you ascend, pretty much instantly, so overwhelmed by how good he’s managed to make you feel. your orgasm builds too quickly, and you’re dripping down his wrist before you can even tell him you’re close.

lando chuckles, tongue tracing the mess you’ve left as he shuffles on his knees between your legs. then, he’s hovering over you, balancing on one of his forearms whilst his other hand traces the curve of your body.

“having fun, honey?” he bumps his nose against yours, lips meeting yours a brief second later. it feels as good and as right the first time he kissed you earlier, and he licks into your mouth, deep and sensual. you moan into the kiss when you taste yourself on his tongue.

you can feel his cock brushing against your folds and you melt into the mattress, keening at his the feeling of him everywhere. your shaky hands skim his torso, feeling every dip and ridge under your fingertips. golden skin tenses, rippling flesh taut against your palms. your hips buck into his.

“tell me what you want, honey. need to hear you say it.”

“fuck me.” you mutter, rolling your hips once more. the angle you create means that his cock catches your folds and you can’t help but whine his name.

“how?” lando smirks, your chin trapped between his fingers. he makes you look at him, and you curse yourself for not doing this sooner.

“what you said earlier…” you choke out, trailing off.

“what did i say earlier?” he tease. you groan in frustration.

“please, lando.” you’re too hot, blush stains your cheeks and your neck.

“is my sweet girl getting shy?” he pecks your lips, kisses down your neck. when he reaches your ear, he tugs on the lobe. all you can feel is sharp teeth and warm breath. everything is slick.

“it’s okay, honey.” lando continues. “i remember. remember those wide eyes and pouty lips when i told you what i can give you. gonna make me a daddy, baby? finally gonna be mine?” he whispers, right into your ear. all you see is white.

finally.

“daddy.” you pant, when he finally slides into you, hard and deep.

“that’s it, baby.” lando grunts, hooking your thigh over his hip. you can feel the way his fingers dig in to your flesh, stopping him from falling apart instantly. his other hand takes your wrists, pushes them up the mattress until they’re pinned right above your head and he’s hovering over you, perfectly level. chest to chest, heart to heart.

shallow thrusts aid the deep grind of his hips, rolling slowly into yours. he’s everywhere, nothing separating your needy, flushed bodies. he never pulls all the way out, stays buried as deep as he can, and repeatedly hits that spot inside of you that allows you to see every star in the sky. you’re breathless, soundless, utterly helpless as you drown in him and everything he has to offer you.

you wonder if he’ll actually spill into you, mark you as his. it makes you dizzy, makes you shake, the idea of nothing stopping him from making such a mess between your spread legs. you want to beg for it but you can’t, the raging, wet pleasure in the pit of your belly rendering you speechless. all you manage is a dry plea of half of his name.

“lan-“ you begin, but he kisses the rest of the word out of his mouth.

“no, honey, that’s not my name.” he rasps, talks down to you in a way that pushes you even closer to sweet release.

“daddy. want you to be daddy.” you slur.

the reaction you get from him is worth every heartache you’ve ever suffered. his rhythm changes and now he’s slamming into you, and the sensation makes you cry some more, thick tears sliding down your neck which he tastes, licks away.

but then everything is soaking. you gush around him and his abs glisten. your throat burns from the scream, and then there’s silence, just for a moment.

“fucking hell.” he shudders, transfixed on the thin layer of you that seems to be everywhere.

he’s wrapped around you tight when he lets go, muttering unintelligible filth in your ear as he does. you stay intertwined for a moment, trying to piece together what you’d just done.

when lando eventually rolls off of you, he takes every inch of you in, a beautiful canvas covered in a memory. his eyes are warm again, soft. whatever had possessed him is long gone and he’s just lando again. your lando.

you attempt to wriggle across the mattress, seeking refuge in your forgotten pile of clothes on the floor. he stops you in your feeble attempts to peel your lifeless body off of his bed.

“hey, it’s okay, honey. let me look after you.” he coos, gentle sitting you up. “you okay?”

“thank you.” you whisper. your lips meet, fleetingly, delicate.

“‘m gonna take care of you, baby.” he promises. you believe him.

i don’t know what came over me lmao whoops

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane

removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

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chris-prank · 5 months ago

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Ya i need to punish Dr. Seraph for ruining my plans/ripping my hero suit. Clothes are very expensive these days :(

So we tear his off and pound into him :3 !! ^^ ❤️❤️💯💯😍😍🔥🔥

Sub Yandere villain sidekick x Top GN hero reader

CW: NSFW, doggy style, top reader and slight teasing

So I got carried away and ended up writing around 1K words of smut…

Just like last time the reader is GN, it’s vague enough so you can choose if the reader has a dick or a strap-on.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

“Do you know how much it costs to make a superhero suit? And don’t even get me started on the anonymous fees!”

Real frustration could be heard in your voice as the unpleasant memories of dealing with your supplier came to mind. But you swiftly chased them away to focus back on the man tied up under you.

“I’m s-sorry, if I k-knew I would ha—”

You placed your finger on his lips, shutting him up immediately.

“I don’t want shallow excuses or explanations, I want you to repay me properly.”

Dr. Seraph looked up at you with confusion. He knew what your intentions were, you had made them abundantly clear, yet he couldn’t connect the dots. How is him being tied up with bondage tape directly related to destroying your suits? Furthermore, he was wondering why you even had bondage tape in the first place! The mad scientist wasn’t complaining of course, but it’s not like it was efficient to apprehend criminals in any way, except…

You must have brought it with you just for this specific outcome! That’s it! You had planned on taking him for yourself! Oh, how quickly he convinced himself this was the truth and how flattered he was about it. And no matter how insane this conclusion was, he was indeed right.

He waited for you to take your finger off him to ask for clarification, but before he could open his mouth you effortlessly flipped him on his stomach, making the man yelp. You weren’t finished as you grabbed his hips, pressing his backside against your pelvis. That was enough to make this genius's brain go blank. He was already turned on by the predicament he had found himself in, but now a primitive desire had taken over any sense of logic he still possessed.

“Since you seem to love ruining my superhero suits, I think it's time for me to do the same with your uniform. That's the only punishment I’ll accept.” You caress his waist back and forth before adding, “I’m sure you’re fine with that, right?”

“Mm..y-yes.” He responded with a feeble voice.

You smiled to yourself, happy that he was so responsive. You took a handful of the fabric in your fist and pulled. His pants ripped apart like paper, making you feel like you were unwrapping a birthday gift. You tore until every inch of his private parts was exposed. The man gasped at this vulgar sight and buried his head back into the pillow.

You, on the contrary, admired your work. In this position, Vincent had the most perfect arched back and his ruined pants gave him a particular disheveled look. Soon enough, you had taken off your suit from the waist down, tossing it to the side without a care. A rush of excitement came to you when you felt Dr. Seraph pressing himself against your groin while letting out subtle whimpers.

You grope both of his ass cheeks as a response, before spreading them apart. With precise movements, you poured lubricant on top of it and prevented it from leaking all the way down by spreading it on his asshole. You stopped and instead rubbed your tip against his entrance to make it wet as well. After you were done, It was slightly glistening in the dim light of the room. By now, his noises had gotten louder, his legs trembling in anticipation.

“Are you ready Vincent?”

Hearing you say his real name made his cock and hole twitch.

“P-please, p-put it in.” He whined, impatience filling his voice.

He had already put aside the fact that this was supposed to be a punishment. He didn’t care if you destroyed his clothes, he had other ones, but there was only one you. Hell, he would let you tear down his entire wardrobe if it meant he could be fucked by you every night.

You grab his hips with one hand, making sure he would stay up right, and you positioned yourself with the other to stuff him full. Vincent threw his head back and cried out a lewd moan as your cock disappeared in his ass. You weren’t even down to the base that he was already gripping the sheets, nails digging through it. You also noticed it had gone in easy, a bit too easy even considering the lub.

“Someone has been preparing himself for me.” You teased, sinking deeper inside him.

Blood shot directly to the man’s face and to his cock, much to his embarrassment. He was already rock-hard, but the simple fact of implying that he has been stretching his insides for you, almost made him cum on the spot.

“Nggf…I-I didn’t…A-aahh! Mng—”

“Oh but you’ve been fucking yourself at the thought of me, haven’t you?” One of your hands grabbed onto his dick, giving it a few strokes while you added, “don’t worry I’m not mad.”

Vincent tried to hold in a sob by biting down his lips, as the mix of both different kinds of pleasure assaulted his nervous system. Though, nothing could prevent the tears from rolling down his eyes and into his mouth while he tried to answer you, emphasis on “tried”.

“Y—Mngh…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, as he felt your pelvis against his butt, meaning ou were completely inside him.

You waited until the mess of a man had visibly relaxed, before pulling back and thrusting inside again with more speed. The sounds of flesh smacking together and Vincent’s moan filled your ears like a melody. The way you bucked against him without mercy was contrasted with your thumb gently rubbing his hips in a praise like gesture.

There was one thing that was bothering you, as you glared at the upper half of his body. You had rolled up his coat a little when you were massaging his waist earlier, yet it wasn’t enough. You took the base of his uniform and ripped it in half all the way to his neck, the roll of your hips never faltering. Satisfied, you bent down and kissed his newly bare shoulders.

“That’s much better, don’t you think?” You took the chance to nibble there too, “And now your outfit is ruined, just like all my suits.”

“Nnhg Uh-uhh.” Whines and moans, mixing together as Vincent wished to speak.

You smile against his skin, satisfied with this little punishment.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I tried to match your freak, so I hope you enjoyed it 💅🏻

(Oh and I can tell you that Dr. Seraph will have a lot of explaining to do the next day when he arrives in a wheelchair at a meeting.)

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lowkeyren · 6 months ago

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FOR HIS HEART CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

in which — dan feng can’t imagine a life without you. so even when death takes your hand, he'll hold on to your other and do anything to get you back in his embrace, no matter the consequences.

pairing — dan f/heng x gn!reader

wc: 2.5k, lovers to enemies, you both are lowkey bad with feelings LOL, i lied when i said there's an alternative ending for hurt/comfort enjoyers, now suffer. (reblogs w comments are appreciated, pls enjoy <3) ps. dividers aren't working cus tumblr is being mean to me so using dashes instead ARRHGHGHG

—

lying in your shared bed, your breathing grows increasingly shallow, your hands tremble uncontrollably, signaling another episode of your deteriorating condition. the dim, cold room feels oppressive as you catch the distant echoes of the best physicians from all around xianzhou, their hurried steps reverberating against the walls as they hasten to your side.

dan feng tightens his grip on your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, his expression etched with concern. the smell of herbal remedies and the sharp scent of sickness fills the air, mingling with the mustiness of the stone walls; a familiar sense of dread washes over you as you struggle with each breath.

his brows are furrowed, and his lips are pressed into a thin line, his knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip on your hands. the pressure is so intense that it almost hurts —almost, but not quite enough to cause you (more) pain. he would never hurt you, not even over his own grave.

despite the best efforts of your personal caregivers, the limitations of medical knowledge, and the uncertainty of your treatments are harsh realities you have to face. it fills him with anguish to witness your episodes almost daily —suddenly collapsing in his arms, gasping for breath; moments like these are where he feels like he's standing right beside your deathbed, desperately hoping for signs of improvement each time you open your eyes again.

it kills him that there's nothing he can do but watch over you, he watches as you waste away before his eyes, feeling a piece of himself wither away in tandem.

dan feng’s eyes search yours the moment you regain consciousness, the doctors respectfully step back, bowing before hurriedly exiting the room. his heart breaks into a million pieces when he sees your eyes that were once bright with joy, now clouded with tears. the sight pierces through him, stirring a deep ache in his chest.

"dan feng," you whisper hoarsely, your voice fragile with pain. “it hurts, it hurts so much…” he presses a soft kiss against your entwined hand, his touch a soothing balm amidst the storm raging within him. “don’t worry,” he murmurs softly, “i’ll make it go away soon, i swear.”

“thank you.. but promise me, if i don't make it, you'll find a way to move on.” you manage a weak smile through the pain. his eyes glisten with unshed tears, he shakes his head slightly, "i won’t let that happen."

of course he won’t. you were the kindest, most lovely soul before this godforsaken unknown illness with no definitive cure stole your life away; he sees your smile slowly losing its radiance, and your eyes dulling as each day passes.

“this body… it’s useless, i’m useless. i’m sorry, i—” dan feng places a finger against your lips. his touch tender yet firm, stopping your words. "don't say that," his voice choking with emotion. "you're not useless, in fact you're the strongest person i know."

hearing you utter such self loathing words is like a dagger twisting in his heart, tipping him over the edge. you, who have always been his anchor in life's turbulent seas, slipping away feels like fragile glass shattering into countless shards, leaving him scattered and irreparable, each piece cutting deeper into his core with every breath.

he can't face the idea of losing you. it destroys him from within, even more so now that time is running out. but he won’t let anyone else have you, not even the cold hands of death. for you, he’s willing to pay any price, even if it means he has to break the highest laws of xianzhou.

—

you wake up feeling unusually energized, a stark contrast to the persistent aches and pains that have haunted you for so long. as you sit up, the familiar discomforts are no longer present, instead replaced by an almost surreal sense of vitality.

but something feels strangely off, an unsettling sensation gnawing at the edges of your awareness. your eyes dart around the room, frantically searching for your boyfriend’s presence; he has never left your side without a word (his protectiveness wouldn't allow it anyway), especially not for this long.

panic flares as you look down at your body. the surgical wounds that once marked your skin have vanished without a trace. your breath catches in your throat as you run your fingers over the smooth, unblemished surface where scars should be.

you push back the covers and swing your legs over the side of the bed, struggling to piece together what could have happened.

where is dan feng? is he in trouble? and, why do you feel so... alive?

then, a chilling realisation dawns on you. you try to shake the thought from your mind, but no matter how hard you try, you aren’t able to find any other explanation that fits your condition. as the high elder, dan feng should know better than anyone that such an act is a sin —a disgrace...

the truth begins to settle in, he really did sacrifice everything to grant you immortality.

—

“you’re literally the high elder for god's sake, what have you done?!” you exclaim, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and anger.

dan feng's expression is pained as he meets your gaze, his own eyes filled with a desperate resolve. “i’m only trying to help you. you don’t understand, i—”

“help me?” you cut in sharply, scoffing. “you betrayed xianzhou! you betrayed me. i was ready to let go, so why?”

he reaches out to you, his hand stopping, and hovering in mid air as if unsure whether to touch you. "i can't bear to lose you," he confesses, his voice barely a whisper. "i can’t just stand by and watch you suffer when i have the power to save you."

tears well up in your eyes, the room feels suffocatingly small as you stand in front of him. for the first time, you find yourself on opposite sides of the battlefield, the weight of his transgression hangs heavy between you, tearing apart everything you once knew.

“by defying everything we stand for?” you choke out, your words laced with venom. “do you realise just what you’ve done?” he takes a step closer, his face etching with anguish. "i know i’ve made a grave mistake." he admits, “but will you believe me if i say that i didn’t regret it one bit?”

“how can you do all this… for love?” your eyes search his for answers that seem unfathomable. “no, my dear, for you.” he steps closer, his breath warm against your skin, gaze locking onto yours with an almost desperate intensity.

"but how can i ever love you again after this?" you whisper, your voice trembling. his heart shatters at how your eyes taint with fear and betrayal, the sight wrapping around his chest like a vice. the mere thought of losing you, of seeing you banished because of his desperation, is a torment he can hardly bear —but now one that he has to face.

"if you can't accept what i've done, i'll grant your wish, whatever it is.” he murmurs. “for you, i’m willing to pay any price."

though when bound in chains, his title of high elder does little to shield him from the repercussions of breaking the sacred laws. he’s taken away; his fate sealed by the very rules he broke. and you, the one he tried to save, find yourself exiled, cast out for the sin you never chose.

as you wander, lost and alone, the realisation of what he gave up for you lingers, a bittersweet reminder of his love that defied everything, yet cost you both so much.

—

the land of xianzhou is something dan heng is strangely familiar with; he walks through the maze of narrow alleys and crowded squares, every corner seems to whisper fragments of memories long buried.

“dan heng! look, isn’t this so cool?!” the excited voice of a pink haired girl reaches his ears. her eyes sparkle with enthusiasm as she animatedly gestures towards a nearby market stall with hand-carved trinkets. she continues to gush over the intricate designs while holding the hand of her grey haired companion, eagerly dragging them towards the stall.

his eyes follows them as their silhouette grows smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing amidst the crowd. just then, another figure in the distance catches his attention.

it’s a brief glimpse, a fleeting moment where your eyes meet across the street. perhaps it's your mannerisms, your familiar gestures, or simply the way you carry yourself —whatever it is, it stirs a rush of adrenaline, a sense of déjà vu that he can’t quite shake.

dan heng pushes through the bustling throng, eyes darting frantically in search of you. the world blurs around him as he focuses solely on catching another glimpse of you; he spots you slipping into a narrow alleyway, and without hesitation, he follows.

the noise of the market fades into a distant hum as his footsteps echo softly against the alley walls. he turns a corner and sees you up ahead, your figure outlined by the dim light filtering through cracks in the buildings.

you soon reach a dead end, but as you turn to leave, you bump into someone’s chest. the world seems to stand still for a moment, dan heng's breath catches in his throat as he looks down at you. although your face is partially obscured by a thin veil, your features are still discernible.

“oh? it seems you still remember me.” you finally meet his gaze. those eyes he cherished so dearly still hold a spark of life. “[name]?” he murmurs, the sound of your name still so intimate on his lips after many years.

“you haven’t changed one bit.” he reaches out to gently push the veil covering your face aside. a flood of memories rushes through his mind, one a sharp pang in his heart. seeing you again triggers a vivid recollection of the exact place and position you were in years ago, a memory that stings to recall.

“i wonder whose fault it is?” you tilt your head, if only he knew the trouble you went through to find him again; given that goodbyes were never exchanged between you, it seems fitting to offer one now.

before he can say a word, you swiftly grab his collar and wedge him firmly against the wall. he doesn’t resist even when he feels the cold sharp edge of your dagger pressing against his throat, his gaze still fixing firmly on yours.

"have you ever felt remorse?" you lean closer into him, your voice is barely audible through your gritted teeth. he ignores your question; unexpectedly, he grips your hand, dragging the blade down to his chest, positioning the point directly over his heart.

"as long as my blood is on your hands, go ahead, do it." he whispers, his voice steady despite the tension. "my heart has always been yours anyway." his eyes bore into yours as if daring you to follow through.

his grip on your hand tightens, urging you closer. "and if this is what it takes to ease your pain, then i'm ready."

"...what? you must be out of your mind if you think this way of making amends will work." your disbelief is clear in your voice; you try to shake his hand away, but he refuses to budge.

dan feng couldn’t imagine a life without you, so when death takes your hand, he holds on to your other —and finds you again as dan heng. even as he gets on his knees and begs for your forgiveness, he still holds on to your hand as tightly as he can, afraid that any moment you might slip through his fingers.

“i��m sorry, i just couldn’t accept the thought of you leaving me.” and i still can’t, so please don’t leave me again.

you feel your willpower wavering, his very being melting away at your resolve. it's too much to bear, and you feel yourself slipping under the weight of his words. even still, you find yourself struggling to deny him. to deny yourself. to deny your own feelings.

you fight the urge to simply give in, torn between the desire to just let go and fall into the sweet oblivion of his embrace, and the fear of getting sucked back into a cycle of destruction and pain. the weight of all that history, all those memories of your bittersweet love, it's overwhelming, nearly crushing.

“i know.” your heart aches, but you still deny the crave of the comfort of his arms. “and you’re not wrong,” the dagger clatters to the ground, the metallic sound echoing through the alleyway.

“your heart is mine.” you push the veil to cover your face, placing your hands on his shoulder, leaning in. the cool silk brush against his parted lips, and oh… he’s been waiting so, so long for this moment.

though you pull away just as he comes to his senses. for the first time in years, he sees your smile again —the same smile that first captivated him, the one he had cherished and sought to preserve over the years.

"remember the wish you owe me?" he nods, unable to find words. the memory of his promise resurfaces with startling clarity, his mind racing with the possibilities of what you might ask for.

—

dan heng looks in the dagger's reflection; a dishevelled and broken man stares back.

the cold metal digs deep into his palm, the sharp edge slicing into his skin. in that moment, he wants nothing more than to be free of it, than to plunge the blade into his own heart. he feels the pain all over again, the pain of not being able to hold you, to touch you, to be with you.

for he knows that no matter how tightly he grips the dagger, it will never be the same as holding your hand. he knows that no matter how deeply it cuts into his flesh, it will never feel the same as holding you close.

“i wish i never loved you.” your words echo painfully in his mind. “and i hope we never cross paths again. goodbye, dan feng.” he releases the dagger with a sudden twist of his arm.

if choosing you over xianzhou was wrong, then consider him a sinner, and if loving you this much is his downfall, then consider him already on his knees.

but was it worth everything? was it worth it to see the look of utter desperation on his face? was it worth it to see him break apart in front of you? you feel only resentment and satisfaction; you made him feel what you wanted him to feel, you made him suffer for you.

the blade falls from his grasp, he stands amidst the shards of shattered illusions; the pain of your absence cuts deeper than any blade ever could.

perhaps in another lifetime, he can find you again.

for now, he honors your wish and only watches as you live on from the sidelines, yearning to be a part of your life again, even if only in his thoughts and dreams. he remains steadfast in his longing, a silent witness to the unspoken ache that lingers in the wake of your parting words.

—

masterlist

©lowkeyren 2024 only on tumblr. please do not plagiarize, translate, repost on other platforms, or feed my works into ai.

author's notes!! (my line of thought when writing this lul)

1. you made him suffer for you. -> irony. vengeance. he made you suffer BECAUSE of him granting you immortality. 2. dragging the blade down to his chest, positioning the point directly over his heart. = "my heart has always been yours anyway." -> which reader says with “your heart is mine.” 3. “and i hope we never cross paths again. goodbye, dan feng.” -> reader refers to dan heng as dan feng, i wonder what that means. 4. perhaps in another lifetime, he can find you again. -> you're both evil asf ngl, yes he will find you, you can't die aka you can't leave (him). ^ the only reason why he doesn't keep pursuing u now is cus he promised to grant your wish which is "to never cross paths again". (wow, he's such a man of his words.) 5. reader kisses dh over the veil, deliberately denying him the satisfaction of any intimacy. can be seen as a form of "punishment", leaving him yearning for more.

ty for reading xx for each reblog i will write 100 words for pt2 /j (BUT DO REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!! and it might not be a slash jay after all heuehehheh)

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writers-potion · 9 months ago

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The Pirate's Glossary

Ahoy - an interjection used to hail a ship or a person, or to attract attention.

Arr! - an exclamation

Avast! - a command meaning stop or desist

Aye (or ay) - yes; an affirmation

Becalmed - the state of a sailing vessel which cannot move due to a lack of wind

Belay - (1) to secure or make dast by winding on a cleat or pin (2) to stop, most often used as a command

Bilged on her anchor - a ship holed or pierced by its own anchor

Bilmey! - an exclamation of surprise, short for "God blind me!"

Blow the man down - to kill someone

Boom about - when a ship turns in the wind the boom can swing violently enough to injure or kill a person on board. "Boom about" may be shouted to warn others the boom is about to move.

Bring a spring upon her cable - to come around in a different direction, oftentimes as a surprise maneuver.

Careen - to take a ship into shallower waters or out of the water altogether and remove barnacles and pests such as mollusks, shells and plant growth from the bottom.

Chase - a ship being pursued, or the act of pursuing a ship.

Code of conduct - a set of rules which govern pirates behavior on a vessel.

Come about - to bring the ship full way around in the wind. Used in general while sailing into the wind, but also used to indicate a swing back into the enemy in combat.

Crack Jenny's teacup - to spend the night in a house of ill repute.

Crimp - to procure (sailors or soldiers) by trickery or coercion, or one who crimps.

Dance the Hempen jig - to hang

Davy Jones' locker - a fictional place at the bottom of the ocean. In short, a term meaning death.

Dead men tell no tales - standard pirate excuse for leaving no survivors.

Deadlights - (1) strong shutters or plates fastened over a ship's porthole or cabin window in stormy weather. (2) Thick windows set in a ship's side or deck. (3) eyes.

Fire in the hole - a warning issued before a cannon is fired.

Furl - to roll up and secure, especially a ship’s sail.

Give no quarter - the refusal to spare lives of an opponent. Pirates raise a red flag to threaten no quarter will be given.

Handsomely - quickly or carefully; in a shipshape style.

Haul wind - to direct a ship into the wind.

Heave down - to turn a vessel on its side for cleaning.

Heave - an interjection meaning to come to a halt.

Ho - used to express surprise or joy, to attract attention to something sighted, or to urge onward.

Letter of marque - a document given to a sailor (privateer) giving him amnesty from piracy laws as long as the ships plunders are of an enemy nation.

List - to lean to one side

Long clothes - a style of clothing best suited to land. A pirate, or any sailor, doesn't have the luxury of wearing anything loose that might get in the way while climbing up riggings.

Marooned - to be stranded, particularly on a desert isle.

Me - My

No prey, no pay - a common pirate law meaning a crew received no wages, but rather shared whatever loot was taken.

Overhaul - (1) to slacken a line (2) to gain upon in a chase; to overtake

Parely - a conference or discussion between opposing sides during a dispute, especially when attempting a truce, originating from the French, "parler," meaning "to speak." The term was used in "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" as part of Pirate law.

Piracy - robbery committed at sea.

Quarter - derived from the idea of "shelter", quarter is given when mercy is offered by pirates. Quarter is often the prize given to an honorable loser in a pirate fight.

Reef sails - to shorten the sails by partially tying them up, either to slow the ship or to keep a strong wind from putting too much strain on the masts.

Run a shot across the bow - a command to fire a warning shot.

Sail ho! - an exclamation meaning another ship is in view. The sail, of course, is the first part of a ship visible over the horizon.

Scupper that! - an expression of anger or derision meaning "Throw that overboard!"

Sea legs - The ability to adjust one's balance to the motion of a ship, especially in rough seas. After walking on a ship for long periods of time, sailors became accustomed to the rocking of the ship in the water. Early in a voyage a sailor was said to be lacking his "sea legs" when the ship motion was still foreign to him. After a cruise, a sailor would often have trouble regaining his "land legs" and would swagger on land.

Shiver me timbers! - An expression of surprise or strong emotion. In stormy weather and rough seas, the support timbers of a ship would "shiver" which might startle the crew. The phrase may have been less common during the Golden Age of Piracy than it had become later in fictional works.

Show a leg! - A phrase used to wake up a sleeping pirate.

Sink me! - An expression of surprise. Many pirate exclamations used exaggerated imagery to highten a point. Ye might say the sailors were punchy or a bit melodramatic after a lengthy stay at sea.

Smartly - quickly

Take a caulk - To take a nap. On the deck of a ship, between planks, was a thick caulk of black tar and rope to keep water from between decks. This term came about either because sailors who slept on deck ended up with black lines across their backs or simply because sailors laying down on deck were as horizontal as the caulk of the deck itself.

To go on account - A pleasant term used by pirates to describe the act of turning pirate. The basic idea was that a pirate was more "free lance" and thus was, more or less, going into business for himself.

Warp - To move (a vessel) by hauling on a line that is fastened to or around a piling, anchor, or pier.

Weigh anchor - To haul the anchor up; more generally, to leave port.

Ye - you

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Reference:

https://www.pirateglossary.com/

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thethronezone · 10 days ago

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High Consort Pt. 3

Like mentioned in previous parts, you have a Custodi bodyguard. But you also have a whole guard of Custodes assigned to guard you, on orders of the Emperor of course. Your Custodi bodyguard just so happens to be the captain of this guard and the one that's always directly by your side. Because of this, you are quite close. So what if they work for your husband? So does every other bitch in the Imperium!

Whenever the Emperor leaves for the Great Crusade, it's up to you and Malcador to hold down the fort and make sure that everyone stay in line, both on Terra and beyond. You especially are seen as an extension of the Emperor and his will. This means a lot of public appearances on your part, with you flanked by your personal guard. Your presence reminds people that while the Emperor may be off planet and busy elsewhere, he is still aware of everything that's going on.

Because of this, you rarely leave Terra, or at least the star system. You might visit Luna or Mars every now and then but it's very rare that you venture to another part of the galaxy. You are needed where you are, providing a sense of stability in the heart of the Imperium.

Some people (mostly nobles) believe that, just cause you're not an incredibly buff, 4 meter tall, armored super-psyker that you are for some reason easier deal with, easier to push around. WRONG. You are both equally as terrible, sorry not sorry. The Emperor is unapproachable and straight up railroads every conversation while you just don't give a shit. You are older than most noble's bloodlines, at some point their rules just stop applying to you. The one big difference between you and Big E is that you at least try to act like a normal person, he doesn't, so people just find it easier to approach you.

There's also a belief that since you are HIGH Consort, that the Emperor is open to getting more consorts/concubines. At first this assumption was funny, the two of you had a good laugh about it. Then people kept trying to marry off their family members to him, accosting him at events, sending letters and some downright begging on their knees for him to accept one of their sons of daughters. Then only you were laughing. And Malcador, of course. He also found it all very funny.

Sometimes, when people want something from the Emperor or want to meet him, they try to get through you first. Butter you up so that you will put in a few good words for them to your husband. You might humor them for a short while, pretending to be as shallow as they appear to think you are, but the moment they no longer amuse you or step out of line you'll give your Custodi bodyguard a look that they know well. It means "I am tired of their chatter, remove them from my presence and if they ever try to approach me again, don't let them." You might be immortal but you won't waste your time on people you don't like.

A family can be a super-human psyker, his consort, their unmarried friend, their 10 000 strong personal army, their 20 18 super-human children and their respective super-soldier legions.

Half the Primarchs look at your and the Emperor's marriage and go "aww, so that's what true love looks like" and the other half goes "why haven't you DIVORCED this man yet?" Mortarion, Angron, and Perturabo full on believe you have Stockholm Syndrome or something.

Meanwhile, Lorgar, Horus and Lion think this is the perfect marriage, like, this is what everyone should strive for. Lorgar has written sermons about it and called it the "most divine and holy union in the galaxy". Would threaten to crucify himself if you and the Emperor ever separated. His legion would join him in solidarity. This is a hostage situation.

#warhammer 40k #the emperor of mankind #x reader #malcador the sigillite #adeptus custodes

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

Note

❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ with isagi and any kink !!!!!!

☆༉ — YOICHI ISAGI: 0-800-HOT GUY-HOTLINE.

line. ❛ i’m sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.❜

extension. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. public humiliation, free-use, voyeurism + fem!reader, nsfw.

things to note. RAAA !!! luna im sorry this is so late but i was excited to do this one pls enjoy i missed isagi saur much !!!! <3

your boyfriend, isagi, is sometimes prone to selfish tendencies.

being the japanese football league’s diamond in the rough and all-star player has meant that all the best and softest parts of him have become more rigged and hard around the edges. he takes what he can get, even if it means leaving other people behind — you have to be selfish to be at the top, it’s something that you understand.

your boyfriend is never selfish when it comes to making you feel good.

if yoichi can help it, he has you creaming on his tongue, fingers or cock at least twice a day when his games are at home. it’s almost double on the days that you visit him while he plays away or accompany him to tournaments. he can’t keep his hands off you, can’t stop himself from needing you or claiming you — his good luck charm. especially after he wins a match, even more so if he loses one. come rain or shine, isagi is selfish with how he teases and uses your body…even in front of his friends and fellow teammates.

“y-yo…yoichi s-stop!” you gasp, face hot and voice strained.

“stop? oh i don’t think so,” isagi growls, speeding up his skilled fingers as they dance over your slit and press his name into your clit. “i don’t think you want me to stop, precious. whatever happened to ‘yes, yoichi.’ ‘whenever you want, yoichi.’, hm?”

choking on your own words, the spit that weighs down your tongue as you drool dumbly from the pleasure — you relax back into your boyfriend, fluttering around the circumference of his leaky cock as it breaches your tight, wet walls. “good girl, relax for me. let me fuck that princess hole open, hm?” he kisses the side of your face, peering down between your soiled shaky thighs to watch the way you selfishly suck him in, your cunt dribbling slick down his shaft and balls. “i love you. so fucking much.”

isagi’s hands slip up your shirt, exposing your perky nipples, all hard for him, to the rest of the van to see. his teammates, your friends. as far as locker room talk goes, all of the blue lock boys know that you and yoichi have a particularly wild and active sex life — but they’ve never been around to see it. except for bachira, and sometimes rin.

from across the van you can see ten sets of eyes watching you as if you’re a fountain of cold water isn’t he middle of a scorching desert — a sweet mirage for them to drink in as if they’re dying of thirst. kunigami respectfully looks out of the window when he catches your teary bambi gaze, though he does nothing to conceal the fat erection he’s sporting. nagi writhes in his seat with pink cheeks and parted lips, the front of his joggers already soiled by his leaking cock. and if you squint hard enough, you can see the way that bachira already fists his painfully hard dick to the rhythm of isagi’s shallow thrusts.

shame intertwines with the lust that simmers in your lower tummy, coursing through your veins and spreading like a cloud over the thoughts in your brain. you like this, you like being watched while your boyfriend ravages you in front of his friends, cream frothing at the base of his shaft as it twitches inside of you.

you’d be absolutely miserable right now if you weren’t getting fucked a million ways to cloud nine — isagi’s hand on your blistering hot mound, spreading your folds and exposing your budding clit to the cold world and cruel stares. “‘ichi,’” you whimper pathetically despite bucking your hips down on him, chasing the delicious burn of his girth stretching out your sloppy walls as his cockhead glides over your g-spot. “i-ichi please…’m embarrassed… they’re watching!”

“what’s that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.” he seethes, teeth sinking into your earlobe as he forces you to listen to the salacious, sticky sounds your pussy makes as he fucks himself into you. “listen to her cryin’ for me, you’re tellin’ me you want me to stop?” you can only imagine how long isagi would keep you on the edge of orgasm if you said yes.

when he was like this, fuelled by his excitement for the next match — he would get mean, toy with you like a cat with a ball of yarn. he twists his fingers along your sensitive clit you, winds you up from the inside and you let him. “you’re so naughty, baby. letting them look, pretty girl. you want them to see what they can’t have. what winners get when they play right.”

gasping, your head falls against isagi’s shoulder — followed by his breathy chuckle. his hands cascade along your body, pinching and pulling, tracing your dips and curves and scars. he might be selfish enough to take you in front of the people who know you more innocently, but he’ll still prioritise your orgasm over his own. he knows just what makes you tick, how to get your pretty hole spluttering and clenching around his thick dick like there’s no tomorrow.

“you gonna cum for me, baby?” yoichi breathes hotly, his sticky fingers, the ones coated in your juices, coming up to grab your neck tenderly — guiding your gaze up to meet his feverish midnight blue stare. his cherry bitten lips slip into a soft smirk while he languidly rolls his hips into you — feeling your arousal slide down your slit, his balls and even between your cheeks to create a slick slapping sound with the intensity of his thrusts. “go ahead, you’re such a good girl. wanna see it, make me proud, ‘kay?”

that’s all you really need to hear before your vision starts to shake and your body siezes up all at once. feathery and high pitched moans bubble up on your wet lips, your hand tangling in isagi’s sweaty dark locks while he rocks into you through your high — your juices splash out against the seat in a never ending stream — only fuelled by the team’s grunts and accompanying moans from watching you cum.

“yoichi…” you whine, back arching away from his chest and hips lifting away from his.

his lips drop to your neck in a loving and reassuring kiss as his hands settle on your waist to pull you back down onto his aching cock. “so good, precious.” he goads condescendingly. “‘m right behind you, keep that orgasm going for me.”

it’s not long before your fluttering cunt is flooded with a pool of thick, white seed — tacky and warm against your ribbed walls. isagi muffles himself by biting down on your salt-licked flesh, panting happily against you as whe rubs approving circles into your hips.

a silence in the van follows, only interjected by the bother boys and their own highs. “s-she just lets you use her like that?” kunigami mumbles, red in the face and embarrassed by the fact that he just nutted to his best friend’s girl.

isagi wraps his arms around you, soothing your fatigue with sweet kisses. “i mean yeah, we talked about. it’s something she likes.” he squeezes you possesively as you drift off. “we both do.”

“lucky,” bachira grins sickly, tucking his own wet dick away. “when do we get a turn, isagi?”

“when you’re dead.” your boyfriend retorts, selfishly, which makes you smile sleepily into his chest. “she’s mine, and will only ever be mine.”

sometimes your boyfriend can be selfish — but you’re mostly grateful for it because it means your chest fills with love and warmth whenever he’s possessive over you.

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

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please don't kill me mr ghostface (part 1)

(AO3 Mirror), (Main Masterlist), (Kinktober '23 Masterlist)

(Part 2 - coming soon!)

pairing: stalker!Miguel x f!reader, slight yandere undertones. (he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)

summary: murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?

warnings: 18+ , fingering, anal play (mig eats ass, send tweet!) , rimming, p in v, soft dom mig, some switchy + needy behaviour, mild threat of violence (not by mig), alcohol consumption. Minors DNI

a/n: 5k words of ignoring red flags. girl get a grip!

wc: 5.2k

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

You look too good to feel this shitty.

That's the thought you're left with, picking at flimsy spiderwebs draped on a sofa. Sandwiched between two couples making out like their life depends on it, of course, but that's beside the point.

“Someone said there's CCTV of a guy walking out the building at 3am… seems a little convenient, if you ask me…”

There's a TV on in the background, barely cutting through the dense chatter. By this point, your eyes have glazed over, trying not to let them rattle around in your skull. Drunken conversation around you, and it's the same thing as always; long, winding tales of a campus killer - the kind out of a cheesy slasher. What the news says, officially, is that there weren't any links between those 3 bodies that turned up out on the playing field, an empty dorm, a supply closet; but it hasn't stopped people from indulging in wild speculation.

“No, no, she just didn't turn up to my Econ class….I swear–”

Stay in pairs. Don't walk alone at night. Whilst you think it's all tangential at best, you're not one to tempt fate. The gossip, you could do without. But it doesn't hurt to keep yourself safe, pepper spray nestled in your usual bag.

Tonight, however, you've left it at home, thinking the friends you came with would be enough. Somewhere, somehow, they're off chugging shit beer and you're milling about the place and sinking into couch cushions. There's something sticky by the seat, and there's a crackle as you're jostled - the sharp edge of a stray elbow almost knocks your drink away.

Fuck.

For one night only, you're a cheerleader. A short, short skirt and little top; it has you feeling overdressed. Even though you've left the pompoms at home, next to your taser; seemingly, you've read the mood wrong - stupidly assuming people would dress up for a Halloween party. As you make your way to the kitchen, tugging down your skirt here and there, that's all you can see; half-hearted costumes - cat ears, white sheets and flimsy masks. It feels like you stick out in comparison. You've gone all out, with nothing but the threat of a beer sodden lap for your trouble.

It's a big house. Alpha-delta-phi, kappa-something-or-the-other; a frat with too much money and too much time on their hands. With all the doors you walk past, shallow thuds and thumping ringing out behind them, you're as good as lost. The best ragers this side of campus - as raved about by one of your friends. It feels like bucketfuls of horseshit right now, wandering around packed halls - and oh. Is that the same staircase?

“ Fuck, watch it!” You clatter into the side of an arm, a t-shirt with a superman symbol emblazoned at the chest. He's pretty, but his features curl into a sudden sneer.

" Sorry –" You start but he doesn't let you finish, wagging a thick finger in your face.

There's a girl draped on his arm, merely watching as he shouts; loud over pumping music from the next room over.

"Hey, dipshit , you gonna keep staring? Mouth open like a fucking fish– do you know how much this shit costs?" Your eyes are wide, as he gets closer - stinking of alcohol and pot and God knows what else. You're not drunk enough to entertain this, shirking away from confrontation. The room is hot, his breath is sticky , and–

He grabs your arm. Immediately you're trying to wrench yourself away, not daring to look into blown pupils. Clammy, his grip tightens on bare skin and your stomach churns. He's solid, bigger than you and unable to keep the anger out of his voice…. and fuck. You're scared.

Fear, rising like bile at the back of your throat. Bitter and sharp, fear at the fact that there isn't anyone to help; that everyone else looks away and pretends that this isn't happening. Fear at the spittle that sprays from his mouth like poison, stinging skin. You screw your eyes shut, expecting a slap, a blow, or something worse and then…

Thud. The hand around your wrist is no more, replaced by a gentle pat on your shoulder. Nothing lingering, just a light touch to get you to open your eyes; to see that guy on the floor, clutching at a swollen jaw and split lip.

"You okay? "

It's deep, muffled by a mask, and the figure in front of you has to crouch to be heard over incessant chatter.

You're nodding, sheepishly, not trusting yourself to keep that edge out of your voice.

Ghostface, the masked man, the only other person at this party properly dressed up; he only cocks his head in a gesture that says a thousand words. His robe pools around his wrists, thick fabric that you grab onto without thinking, grip just as tight as your would-be assailant. You don't even want to think about it, what could've happened if someone hadn't stepped in. It has you biting back tears, more shaken than you'd like to admit.

"H-Hey, hey, easy…" He's rubbing little circles into your shoulder, hesitant. Your lip wobbles, ever so slightly, but he catches it, gently pulling you aside.

There isn't a crowd. The stragglers, those that saw the display, barely look at the guy on the floor, scrambling to his feet and far away. In the meantime, you fight off tears and force yourself to flash a shaky smile.

"Good. " You croak, taking his hands off your shoulders. "F-Fuck , I mean… I'm good. Thank you."

He doesn't quite budge, giving you that strange look again. At least, you think so, rearing up to his full height to cross his arms. Quiet incredulity, almost cartoonish, and it almost makes you laugh. Almost.

"Let me get you a drink… some water, or something." He says, stretching out a gloved hand. Sensing your hesitance, he quickly adds, "... Please ."

Chewing your lip, you only have to think for a second before taking it, and you're led out through double doors. Your masked man is big; broad shouldered and hulking, cutting through the writhing mass with ease. It's just as well, you think, unable to sort through the tangle of things that rattle around in your head. You hate this fucking school, sometimes. Boys will be boys. Wear more appropriate clothing. Well, wasn't she just asking for it? A culture of inaction; of hand-wringing and hand-waving… passing on the blame until three dead bodies show up on campus.

That's one thing you have to thank the so-called serial killer for, at least. At least something might actually change around here.

Empty, the kitchen is a mess, but nothing you wouldn't expect. Drink long gone; a distant memory spilled on a carpet, somewhere; you perch awkwardly around a counter, not knowing where to put your hands. Rattled, you've resorted to a glassy stare; stewing and festering and thinking so intensely it might frighten off your masked man.

It doesn't. He merely taps you, a gentle elbow to your side and he offers you a glass of water. Weakly, you give him a smile, gulping up the liquid.

"You here by yourself ?" He asks, muffled by plastic.

You can't help it, eyes wide at the implication - a masked man, a killer on campus - and he must realise the way it sounds.

In no time at all, he clarifies, "I just mean… fuck … is there someone I can call? So you're not alone."

It's a kind gesture. Kinder than you'd expect from a stranger. Slowly, you shake your head.

"They ditched me about an hour ago." You give a bitter laugh. "Just me and you, Mr Ghostface."

And with that he laughs; deep and sonorous, causing heat to bloom at your chest. Despite yourself, you smile, and you swear you see a glint of something behind the mask.

It has you itching for a drink. All of a sudden you make your way across the room, swiping at empty beer bottles and cans, rummaging around for some hard liquor. When you find it - a half empty bottle of something that smells like carpet cleaner and acetone - you're taking a swig, and offering it to the man across from you. It's sneaky, but you don't think he clocks your paltry attempt to see what he looks like under that mask.

He shakes his head, hands up in defeat.

"You sure?" Your voice is lilting, hazy around the edges. Creeping up closer, you press your body to his, taking another unceremonious gulp. Under that cloak - heavy, somewhat well made - you can feel him, lean and cut muscle that tenses as you get closer.

Batting your eyelashes, you make full use of the cheerleader get-up, snaking a dainty hand to his side, and then up to the counter. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was ogling you, chest taught and tight at the way you feel against him.

Or maybe, he's bored as shit. You wouldn't know - with the mask, and all.

Wobbly, you clamber up onto the counter, helped up by a gentle hand at the small of your back… and oh. You like that: big, thick fingers that press into you, carefully tracing your waist… and why won't they go down a little further? Grab handfuls of the flesh at your thighs, your ass, everything in between?

He's too conservative for that, you think. Nervous, too. Nevertheless, he slots between your thighs, big palms flat next to your ass.

"I… I don't mind watching." He says, voice low.

It makes you giggle as you drink, sweet and soft, and liquid dribbles past your lips, down to collarbone. Mr Ghostface is gentle, tracing a finger across the juncture of your neck, light pressure on the vein that sits nice and pretty at its side.

It goes to your head. The alcohol, the large man of few words with a hand on your neck. When he finishes swiping at the liquid and pulls his hand away, you curl your hand around his, bringing it to your lips. Pert lips wrap around his finger, tongue swiping over leather, and you swear you can hear his breath hitch - heart clearly skipping a beat.

"Careful…" You say, leaning forward to press your tits against him, brushing away imaginary fluff from his shoulders. "I really like this costume."

"I like it too." He clears his throat. "You look nice."

"Nice? Is that all I get, Mr Ghostface?" You're teasing, tracing up his broad chest to his neck and then just under his chin. Carefully, you hook a finger under the thin strap of his mask, tugging ever-so gently.

Quickly, he stops you.

"Not yet, sweetheart."

You pout, flashing him a frustrated look - and God , does he want to kiss it off of you.

"But soon?"

"If you're good." You swear you can hear him smile, hands wrapping around your waist.

You get a bit bolder, hand tracing up his sleeve, clutching at thick, corded forearm. Watching intently as he keens, pushing you to the edge of the kitchen counter with only one hand at your back. This close, you even like the way he smells, like rust and oil and earth, the way he feels around you; strong arms caging you in, protecting you. You feel safe, for some reason.

When he sighs into you, exposing a sliver of tan neck, you feel your knees go weak - unable to stop yourself from mouthing at it, pressing little kisses into the skin. He seems so sensitive, rocking into the counter for some pressure already, clutching you closer and closer until there's a hickey blooming just under sharp jawline.

"Fuck- " He hisses, pawing at your waist a little more desperately.

Suddenly self conscious, you separate with a wet smack, and inspect your handiwork.

"Shit." Eyes wide, you press a finger into the flesh. Your masked man winces. "M'sorry. Got carried away."

He heaves, placing his head on your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

"It's fine," He strains. "Don't worry… s'fine."

Admittedly, he doesn't seem too fine, adjusting what feels like a painful hard-on beneath a loose cloak.

Cradling his head so he can look at you, you whisper something bold, even for someone who's downed more than a couple shots worth of cheap liquor.

"I know somewhere… I-I think … that we could go if you wanted to…" His head lolls, and you hear him swallow roughly. "Somewhere quiet . We'd be alone. Just us."

A beat passes and you think you might've read this wrong, much too forward for your own good. It’s why he surprises you by nodding - slowly, at first, and then with more conviction. Taking your hand, he snakes it under his mask, and you almost gasp when you feel soft, plump lips at your knuckles and palm, pressing shaky kisses to the skin.

“I need to do something first.” He says it so quietly, you almost miss it under the mask. “Where can I meet you?”

You don’t ask questions.

“Pool house.” You nod towards the windows, overlooking a sizable pool. People mill about its edges, but you know the little house is off-limits for the night. “Side entrance. They… leave it unlocked, sometimes.”

He doesn’t ask questions.

Before he goes, he snakes a hand under your skirt, giving your ass a sizable squeeze - leaving you breathless.

You don’t feel the cold as you slip out, playing with a loose thread at the hem of your skirt. The side entrance is stiff but unlocked, and you duck past a screen, head on a swivel. Like a good girl, you sit on plush cushions, thighs pressed together to relieve a pressure that has been building since you met your masked man. And you want to touch yourself; to circle that little bud with clumsy fingers, imagining it was him.

You wait. And you wait. You settle between the cushions, adjust your skirt, look at your hair through a makeshift mirror - the glossy surface of windows overlooking the pool. Not wanting to risk turning on the lights, you wander past what little streams in from across the pool; flashing and pounding with the heady bass of music. You can't help but wonder where he's gone, if he's even coming, and what he had to do so desperately that he'd leave you wanting more.

At this point, you don't even care if he takes off his mask. You don't want to know a name, or see the real man underneath the costume. You just want him; writhing underneath as you bounce on his fat cock.

"Hey."

That voice makes you jump, swiveling to face him. How did he get in without you noticing? He was so quiet, so–

"Missed you." He says it so soft, it makes you melt, walking slowly towards him. Shrouded in shadow, as you get closer you notice he's shed his cloak, donned in a white t-shirt and straight leg jeans. Big boots, thick with fresh mud, thud onto the tile. When you meet, two figures cut by bright light, you almost gasp. He's taken off the mask. Instead of Mr Ghostface, you're met with a man - and he is so, so beautiful .

Tan skin. High cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass. His hair is haphazardly slicked back, fluffy and curly in all the right places. But it's his eyes: mischievous and glinting and serious all at the same time - absolutely gorgeous. You could look at him like this forever; chest heaving, messy, out of breath.

Your hand comes to his chest. He’s hot to the touch, clasping his great big hand atop yours. Squeezing, he pulls you closer, other hand creeping up bare thigh, before hooking under your ass in a move that makes you squeal.

From this close, his lashes look so pretty; wispy and romantic and yearning.

"You look beautiful.” He doesn’t kiss you, not yet, content with only watching - studying you with sharp eyes. “Always do."

All you hear are the compliments, too tipsy to notice what the stranger implies. You're not usually one for a one night stand, but he is intoxicating - intense in a way that's hard to explain.

Carding one hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, you press your lips to his in a kiss that starts off sweet and quickly deepens. He is hungry and devouring; licking up your moans with plump lips.

You lead him to the sofa, only separating for fleeting breaths. Eyes low, illuminated by a flash of light here and there; you force yourself to concentrate on him , shuddering breaths and all. He’s hard, rocking into your lower half splayed out beneath him and arms caged around your head. It’s sly, but you snake a hand past his t-shirt, across his back and then fumble with the belt. It makes him smile, soft laughter spilling into your parted lips; before he sits up above you.

“You want it that bad, huh?” Windswept, he croons, batting away your hands to unbuckle the clasp himself.

You groan, shifting upwards. You don’t notice the way his eyes dart down, eying up the peek of thigh that spills out of little shorts.

“Say it f’me, sweetheart.” He hikes up your skirt, exposing your covered cunt. He’s gentle, pawing at the flesh, pressing the heel of his palm right above your clit.

“F-Fuck!” The pressure is delicious, and you roll your hips up, up, up; chasing some semblance of relief. When he stops, you whine - clutching at his forearm, frustrated. “Want it, please .”

“Want what?” He prompts, lifting his shirt over his head in one quick movement. You’re met with the wide span of his chest, muscle taut and tight above you.

“Want you in me. I want… I want you to fuck me ‘til I break, pound my fucking hole so hard I can feel it in the morning. I want– ”

You’re babbling, now, spurred on by the way he tugs off black shorts, lifting up your legs to slip them off. He’s too slow, clearly enjoying watching you squirm and writhe.

“You can have it, sweetheart.” He coos, before capturing you into another kiss. This time, he separates and you follow him up; finally parting with a wet smack. “I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it… but you gotta do something first.”

“ Anything .” You breathe.

“Fuck yourself, for me. I…I–”

“You like to watch.” You finish it for him, breathless.

“Please.” His head dips low; big, red-brown eyes never leaving yours.

The way he says it leaves you panting, hung off of every word. And you croon, leaning back into couch cushions, already hot at the way he kneads his thumbs to the flesh near your pussy. This close, he can see the way your cunt pulses, eating up a tiny thong between glistening lips. He’s kneeling on the floor, now, snaking his body around to get a perfect view, flashing looks between both your pretty lips.

More than willing to oblige, you pat at your clit, sending sweet pleasure coursing through your lower half. Even though your legs tremble, he holds you down, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. Slipping your thong to the side, you dip two fingers past your slit, gathering up slick to press carefully into your hole.

“So… so pretty. ” He sighs, not daring to close his eyes despite the pleasure he feels. When you notice how his other hand is buried in his pants; jerking up and down to match your pace. You start slow, for now, pumping two fingers in and out, heel of your palm snug against your clit. The sounds are obscene, the wet schlick-schlick ringing out in the quiet room.

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever s-seen.” Your stranger moans, slathering over your thighs with sloppy kisses, occasionally swiping at your knuckles. Lower and lower, as you get faster and faster, his tongue makes you feel amazing. You’re close - entranced by your spot in the limelight and the sharp eyes that watch every ministration.

It’s only when you’re knuckle deep, well and truly fucking yourself ; chasing something just out of reach with his help; when two things happen, catching you by surprise. The first, the one that sends electricity down your spine, that makes you jolt and shiver and almost cum right then and there…

…is a wet kiss pressed to your asshole. He slathers and slobbers and licks large stripes up and down; ripping a great moan out from you. He doesn’t stop there, spreading the globes of your ass to delve deeper, tongue-fucking you as your hand stills - unable to concentrate on anything else. Pornographic, he humps his lower half to the same pace, sealing his mouth over your hole. With the vibrations of his moans sending pleasure straight to your clit, you finally cum - a rolling, bubbling orgasm that ends just as intensely.

The second thing that happens, just as you fall off the edge, is that you’re plunged into darkness. The lights from across the pool, once bright and flashing; are cut off. The music stops, and chatter dies down. Your stranger holds you through it, licking up cum from your neglected cunt, whispering sweet things into the skin.

“There it is, baby. Nice n’ slow.” He soothes as you whimper, hand tight in his hair.

In the dark, you’re heaving, feeling him slow down as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty. Shaky, you sit up on your haunches as he follows you up.

“Is everything…? What happened?” You’re a little panicked, shaken up from your orgasm.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. ” He rubs little circles into bare skin. “Too much?”

You shake your head, nuzzling into him. He gives your forehead a kiss, and you feel warmth bloom across your chest.

He shifts. “Just give it a…”

As if on cue, a generator whirs to life, flooding the little room in red light. Something similar seems to happen across the pool, as you take a quick glance to the window.

Your head is a little fuzzy. It aches as you catch his eye, looking at you intently.

“Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You say it resolutely, with so much force it even catches you off guard. “I want to.”

“Fuck.” He mutters, brows pressed together imperceptibly.

For someone you’ve just met, he still looks at you like ice about to melt, like he’s bearing witness to the last breaths of a dying star. He looks at you like he knows you; like he knows how many half-truths and one-night stands you’ve had to endure. It makes you shiver; here, bathed in crimson light, pressed against one another.

He starts with your lips, a gentle thumb pressed flat, and then deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s like before, you realise, the taste of liquor and leather long gone. He keeps his eyes on you, careful as he pops the thumb out, groaning at the length of spit that comes with a flash of your pink tongue. You splay yourself out underneath him, drinking in the sight above; your stranger, your masked man once upon a time, shirtless and breathless and rock hard against your cunt. Now, he tugs down black boxers, its band cut across his torso just so. Thick hair; dark, curly, neatly trimmed; and you reach to trace down his happy trail, to get a hand on his pretty cock.

He just watches , eyes dark, leaning forward to rock into your soft palm and put his mouth on the skin that pillows out from a tight crop top. To give him more access, you tug it down, exposing sensitive nipple. And then that tongue; searching, inquisitive, precise; wraps itself around the flesh. You keen - a pretty moan that has his heart fluttering and eyes clasped shut.

“Inside.” At first, it’s a whisper, said in the throes of deep pleasure. You repeat it, slowing your hand at his cock.

When he doesn’t answer; still slathering at your tits, pawing the flesh that spills out from your costume; you tug, a sharp thing that has him moaning and sitting up on his haunches.

“Said I wanted you inside, baby.” You say - and his breaths are deep, his eyes are wild. “Do you want it? Do you want me?”

“A-Always….course I— ” He stops himself, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Finally, he nods and you continue, satisfied.

“Watch.” You titter, reaching down to line him up; carefully gathering slick up at the head of his cock. His tip weeps; shuddering like your stranger does above, getting close and hitching up you up to stay flush against you. His eyes stay trained downward. Inside, he mouths at your neck, groaning once his cock sinks into your fluttering hole.

There’s a tightening grip at your hips, big hands bunching up the skirt to keep you close, with a careful pressure at your clit. That sends heat coursing through your veins, tasting deep crimson in the air. He fucks; up close and humping like he wants to crawl into your skin, with a fervour you’ve never encountered before. It has you hot and sticky, desperate for that biting edge that keeps slipping from dainty fingers. You start to put a hand at your clit, tracing between your bodies when a strong hand pulls it away. Firm.

“No, no, no…” He whispers it, putting your wandering hand to his face, kissing the palm.

“Please. ” You whine. “M’close. So close.”

You feel him twitch inside, hips stuttering at your tone.

“No.” He says it again, resolute. “I’m going to make you cum. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart… just… just be patient. Please. For me .”

You’re reaching up for a kiss, of which he obliges. This time, it stays sweet; pink tongues swiped over lips.

“Look at me.” His hips shift, changing angles to hit that sweet spot like you’ve been moulded to his dick - like he knows just where to touch you to make you fall apart. “Look at me, hermosa. Ohh f-fuck, you take me so well… so pretty. You gonna milk my cock? Feels so good around me, sweetheart, like you were made for me. Like we’re ... L-Like–”

You groan, unable to tear yourself away from his writhing form: strong, lean muscles, tensing in the red light. And oh, isn’t he pretty, mere moments away from release, from spilling thick cum inside you.

“M’gonna–”

“I know, I know, hermosa. ” You like the way he says it, rolling off his tongue like honey; treacled and sweet. “Cum f’me, sweetheart. Want to feel you clamp around my cock. Cum for me. ”

And just like that, you’re gone; nails digging into his back as you careen off a steep cliff’s edge. Your stranger quickly follows, pulling out to wrap a tight hand around the base of his cock, spilling onto your stomach as you clench around nothing.

You’re whining, getting ready to complain; why hasn’t he come inside? why doesn’t he want to stay?; when he stills, settling by your side. Propped up by one arm, he crouches down to stroke at your cheek, to touch your jaw, moving your head this way and that - as if he’s looking for something hidden behind bright eyes.

In the red of the emergency lights, you suppose you’re looking for something too. A beat passes, and then another. The generator splutters, whirring and coughing. The lights turn off; replaced by the noise and white lights from across the pool.

So lost in one another, you hadn’t quite noticed; everything else falling away.

He clears his throat, clambering off of the sofa and tugging up his trousers. Quickly, he returns, a bundle of towels draped across his bare shoulders, and then he wipes off the cum - gently, separating sweaty limbs. Your costume is more or less intact, but you’re unable to do more than just lay there. He’s diligent and patient, not in any sort of rush. When you sit up, he pulls on a shirt, kneeling by your legs to play with a loose thread at your skirt. Too intimate, you suppose. With his head on your lap, you don’t think you care.

“We should leave.” You say it first, what’s been left in the air for someone else to pick apart.

“We should.”

“Can’t leave together.” You say simply, curling a hand in his hair.

Humming, he looks up lazily, with a hint of a smile. “You go first.”

Neither of you make a move to get up.

“Mr Ghostface,” You start, giggling. “What happened to your mask?”

“Lost it.” He’s cryptic. Finally, he stands.

Your stranger stretches out a rough palm, and you take it, getting up on shaky legs. You almost collapse onto his chest, but he’s there; solid, stoic. Looking up, and it catches you off guard: the intensity of his stare, how he watches in a way that makes you feel stripped bare.

“You first.” He repeats, still holding on.

He’s pretty. Of course he is, but the shadow and light makes his features even more pronounced. In the quiet, you take the opportunity to catch him off guard; standing on tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jaw tight, he doesn’t react the way you want him to: ever-still, passive. Fuck. You’ve read it wrong: not used to the intensity of this kind of foray. After all: a one night stand seems too reductive, doesn’t quite span the depths and furrows of how your stranger has taken you apart. Finally, you leave the strange man still standing in the pool house. You don’t dare to look, but you can feel him; the weight of his stare at your back.

You can feel his hands, too; the ghost of his touch lingering as you make your way back to the house, mingling with the crowd.

~~~

You don’t tell your friends. You make your back home after the party, bundled into a taxi with a hand tight around your own wrist. It doesn’t feel like his hand on yours - not even close.

“I didn’t actually fuck him yesterday!” Your friend tugs on your sleeve, giggling into your shoulder as she recounts her night. A debrief with the girls turns into hungover breakfast-bleeding-into-lunch at your dorm. They’re bundled onto the sheets, some eating greasy takeout and others nursing bludgeoning headaches.

You’re fine, mostly. A little bit of liquid courage, but your hangover pales in comparison to some - catatonic on your rug and scrolling through their phone in a limbo-like state.

“You didn’t fuck him, but you wanted to.” Someone pipes up, and the conversation devolves into raucous laughter.

You laugh, tucked into yourself. The wonders of a half-dozen sophomores during Halloween - able to grin despite the shit storm that’s been mounting. Campus killers notwithstanding - they make you smile, at least.

“Were you there towards the end?” Someone asks, poking an elbow at your side. “When there was that blackout?”

You nod, simply - not trusting yourself to say more.

“I-I mean…” Her voice is suddenly shaky, thrusting a phone into your unsuspecting hands. “Well… they’re saying it must have happened then, or around that time.”

You squint, confused.

“And it could’ve been anyone, I suppose. There were like, what, a hundred people there? More? ”

“What?”

“A body. They found a body - by the pool house, or something…”

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #kinktober #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #kat_writes😼

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darlingdreadwrites · 10 days ago

Text

The Blade

pairing: Jeff the Killer x Final Girl!Reader

part: 1, 2, 3

summary: Jeff has you pinned to a tree, and you have an unexpected reaction. Stabbing is supposed to end someone's life, right?

contains: smut, thigh riding

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, violence, stabbing, knife kink?, implied character death, degradation and praise (felt this was super important), pet names and name calling (baby, sweetheart, bitch)

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Your movements are growing erratic, desperation flaring with every rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’re spinning, stumbling – caught between the frantic need to fight or flee, and the undeniable pull of his presence. Jeff’s eyes blaze as he watches you, amusement dancing across his features – until you make the mistake of rushing him.

He’s got you – his hands lock around your waist, and he pins you both until your back slams against the rough bark of a tree. Pain lances through your spine, but it’s nothing compared to the terrifying proximity of him. His breath is hot on your skin, the chill of his knife barely grazing the delicate skin of your neck, the cool steel teasing just above your pulse. Your heart races beneath the pressure of it, until you’re met with another pressure.

“Stay still for me, girl,” his voice drops, and it’s almost soothing in the way it promises control.

There’s that familiar, traitorous ache between your legs. You can feel your clit throbbing, screaming for his thigh to move against it and save you from an urge you’ve been hiding for months. You moan – unintentionally – your hips shifting forward, pressing against the hard length of him. You don’t care anymore, you need this—you need him.

A smirk dances on Jeff’s lips, his knife barely moving, just a slight inch of its edge pecks at your skin. He pulls back slightly, eyes flicking from your trembling body to your face, curiosity curling the edges of his lips.

“Oh?” His voice is quieter now, full of jeering. “What’s this?”

You stare up at him, hoping to god that he would just leave it be. But a louder part of you silently begs him to take this further.

Before you can respond, his leg slides between yours, pushing against you. His proximity – the heat radiating from him – is suffocating. His breath is searing against your ear as he leans in closer.

“Go on,” he whispers. “Let’s see how fucking desperate you are.”

You could cry. From embarrassment or appreciation, you don’t fucking know. But you can’t stop the roll of your hips, the relief you’re suddenly feeling almost makes you want to thank him. The friction sends a shiver through you, warmth pooling low in your stomach. The edge of the knife rests just above your pulse, its sharpness still present. You can tell, though, that he’s not going to hurt you. Not yet.

“Look at you,” Jeff taunts, adding more pressure against you. “Grinding on me like a bitch in heat. Is this what gets you off, sweetheart?”

You don’t know what to say. His words stroke a heat in your chest, flush creeping up your neck. The rush of humiliation is overpowering, but your body – and the way your underwear sticks to your cunt – betrays you. You whimper, unable to suppress the sound, your hips moving more urgently.

Your breath is coming out in shallow bursts, and you turn your face away. You want to hide the way his words make you ache, but Jeff won’t allow it. His free hand shoots up, gripping your chin with a startling force. He forces you to meet his gaze, his eyes holding a malicious delight.

“You know,” he murmurs, his cock twitching inside his pants when you moan. “I’ve thought of you, too.”

The brush of his thumb against your bottom lip sends a jolt through you, your breath hitching involuntarily. The need to taste him – the heat and salt of his skin – becomes too much. Your mouth opens, and with a whine, you take his thumb into your mouth.

His breath catches at the feeling, his brows furrowing briefly. The slight pressure of your tongue against his skin makes him shudder. He grunts at the sensation of you sucking his thumb, at the warmth of your muscle.

“I’ve thought about how much I’d love to have that pretty mouth of yours choking on my cock.” You feel him push his thumb deeper, your mouth accepting the intrusion. He coos mockingly, his bottom lip jutting out as you choke pitifully. The heat of his skin is intoxicating, and you moan against his thumb – a helpless sound that only fuels him.

“You’re trembling, baby,” Jeff purrs, a laugh escaping his lips as you struggle to regain control. “What is it? Fear? Or something else—Oh, you’re so pretty like this.”

He watches you closely, occasionally pressing his hips against yours so you can feel his erection. He loves being the thing that tears at your composure and adores how needy you are for him to do it. You can feel his words wriggling their way inside your head, making it hard to think clearly. The pulse of his knife at your throat is the only thing that’s keeping you roped to reality.

His thumb slides out of your mouth with a wet pop, and you glare up at him. But the incessant throb at the apex of your thighs feels far too delicious for you to deny how much you’ve been wanting this. You hold back any more sounds, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Shut up,” you hiss, the words barely escaping between gritted teeth. You shift, pressing harder against his leg.

Jeff’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, filled with cruel delight. “You’re fucking perfect when you’re desperate. Keep going, sweetheart. Show me how bad you need it.”

With each drag of yourself on him, a hot spark shoots through your whole body. Despite the cold, you can feel the sweat on your skin from the heat just underneath it. Mewling, you fight the instinct of tilting your head forward, choosing to painfully press it deeper against the tree trunk.

Your chest tightens, and you can feel your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. Your orgasm is building swiftly as you move faster against him, moans turning into short, quick gasps.

You whisper, barely audible, “I hate you.”

And yet your hips grind against his thigh, stuttering as you’re chasing the peak of your orgasm. The tension between your bodies builds, electric and undeniable. You huff as tears swell in your eyes, blurring your vision. You’re quivering against him, and a whimper comes from you, which he responds with a moan of his own.

Your pussy clenches around nothing just as your knife slowly sinks itself into his abdomen, your mouth opening to let out a loud, guttural moan as he grunts.

The flesh gives way to a sickening squelch, the blood pooling around the wound as it seeps into the fabric of his hoodie. You can feel the warm wetness of it on your fingers, the sticky heat clinging to your skin as it spreads across his chest.

But Jeff doesn’t flinch. Instead, he growls, his eyes flicking down to where the knife is buried in his body, before lifting to meet yours again. His grin returns, but it’s softer now – almost impressed, like he’s savoring the moment. The blood seeping from his wound doesn’t seem to faze him, not with the way he laughs.

“Damn, baby,” he rasps. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You’re breathing hard, the buzzing high starting to settle in your bones. The pain of the cut you took earlier is a distant pulsation now, joining the throbbing of your heat, and replaced by the charge of power surging through you.

Instead of pulling back, instead of retaliating with that sick smirk or another violent move, Jeff drops his knife on the ground next to you both. He leans closer, his breath warming your already flushed cheek. His hand moves to cup your jaw, his fingers firm against your skin.

His touch is gentle, far too gentle for the chaos that’s ensued, and it sends a strange chill through you. He tilts your head slightly, brushing the bridge of his nose along your jawline in a move that should feel tender, but instead only adds to the tension between you both.

His proximity makes it impossible to think as your chest heaves from exertion. The world narrows down to just the two of you – the sharp pain of the knife lodged in his flesh, the blood still seeping out in small rivulets, and the warm press of his body against yours.

His lips are on yours, crashing into you in a bruising, open-mouthed kiss that leaves no room for hesitation or mercy. His warm tongue slides against yours, taking everything from you with one smooth, hungry movement.

The kiss is intense, a clash of lips and teeth – the sounds of your exhales resonant into the night. You can feel every rasp of his breath, every pulse of heat from his body, as it mingles with the blood from the wound beneath his hoodie. It’s too much – and yet – you don’t want it to stop. Your body melts against his as you lose yourself in the ferocity of the kiss.

But your grip on the knife doesn’t waver. You twist it slightly, the motion intentional. It’s enough to remind him that you’re still in control here.

The kiss lingers, both of you breathing heavily, and unwilling to pull away just yet. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

He doesn’t break eye contact. He whispers against your wet lips – slick with spit – his voice challenging you in dark admiration.

“Do it.”

Five Months Later

Days slip into one another, marked only by the lingering sense of anxiety that clings to you. The silence of your apartment is louder than you ever realized, the absence of the usual noise – your breath, your pulse, the relentless ticking of the clock – replacing the sound of him. Jeff – the fucking bastard that had gotten under your skin in ways you never wanted, but who you knew would never leave.

The night of the fight feels like a distant memory, though every time you close your eyes, his face flashes behind your eyelids. And it was just as mocking and cruel as ever. But you were sure – so sure – that he was dead. You remember how his body had gone slack against the tree as you helped him sit down on the dirt. He didn’t move – not a twitch. Not a sign of life. You had left him there, slumped and lifeless – convinced that it was over.

The cops didn’t find him, and they hadn’t found him since. No news reports, no searches, nothing. And that never sat right with you.

You had told yourself that you were free – you were safe. But that left a disappointing taste in your mouth. You didn’t want it to end despite you telling yourself that you should.

But still, every corner you turn, every quiet moment spent in the dark, there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t quite shake. It lingers, a reminder that not everything is as it seems.

You’ve tried to move on. But it’s hard to let go when his presence is so ingrained in your mind, when you wish it was his fingers inside of you instead of your own. You’d been forced to carry on with the mask of normalcy, each day the same as the last – each breath a little shallower than the one before.

Then one evening, just when you think you’ve finally gotten used to the quiet, when you think maybe – just maybe – he’s really gone; you walk into your apartment and find it.

You set your bag down as the door closes behind you, you lock it and breathe out. Another night of pretending. You’re about to make your way toward the kitchen when something catches your eye – a small, simple envelope. Its edges are crisp and clean, lying innocently at your feet.

You freeze.

At first, you think it’s from Miller. There’s no return address, no hint of who might have left it. The weight of it seems to drag your entire body toward it. It’s a magnetic pull that you can’t resist. Hesitantly, you bend down, the envelope smooth under your fingers. The breath you didn’t realize you were holding finally frees itself as you tear it open.

Your heart hammers in your chest when you pull it out, your whole body going cold. Inside, nestled carefully within the folds of the paper, is your hunting knife. The one you used on him.

The one you thought you’d left behind, buried in his body as he bled out against that tree.

The blade is pristine, spotless – no blood. No sign of the chaos that had unfolded that night. Just cold, gleaming steel, as though nothing had ever happened.

You stand there, staring at the knife, your pulse pounding in your ears. Every nerve in your body is on high alert, your instincts screaming at you that this is a warning – a sign. But of what?

Now, as the envelope crinkles in your hand, the strange thrill you thought would be gone forever – the one you had missed dearly – was starting to buzz under your skin again.

The blade is a reminder. It is an invitation. It is a promise of what’s to come.

He’s still out there.

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fear-less · 10 months ago

Text

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 led by blind faith

pairing: harry potter x reader

warnings: smut, first time, ngl ending is rushed, use of y/n, fem reader lol sorry, p in v, unprotected sex oops, hand & blow job, first time writing smut…😭, somewhat jumps right into it, let me know if i missed anything

1.3k words ^_^

a/n: first time writing smut…so it’s not that good but the ending is cause it’s fluffy :3😭 also, false god lyrics as the titled we r cheered (i cant come up w titles so they’re always taylor inspired 🔥)

You and Harry were in your bedroom, after a few days of convincing him to come to yours during the holidays he had finally said yes.

It was 20 past 10, you were on top of him, kissing, the movie playing in the background long forgotten. Kissing was always the farthest thing you two have done, only dating for a few months.

But as the months have gone by, you have slowly been wanting more, more than kissing. nonetheless, you never brought it up to Harry afraid he would not want to go that far just few months into dating.

But now, you didn’t want to stop at just kissing, you wanted to go all the way. so now, here you were sitting on Harry’s lap, legs around his torso making out, few minutes in you started moving your hips, dry humping him.

“Mmm, Y/n, what’re you doing?” Harry said, catching his breath.

“do you want me to stop?” you said smirking knowing he probably wouldn’t want to stop, feeling him get hard beneath you.

“No, please don’t stop” Harry said whining, bringing you back into the kiss. His hands roamed your body, igniting every nerve with a tingling sensation. The soft sighs and gasps that escaped your lips mingled with the sound of heavy breathing, creating a symphony of desire.

Your movements became more urgent and rhythmic, each grind of your hips against his eliciting a low growl from Harry’s throat. The friction between your bodies sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, heightening every touch and kiss

Harry felt the tantalizing edge of release drawing near, his breaths shallow and ragged with anticipation. Just as he was on the brink, you abruptly halted, leaving him whining in frustration as the waves of pleasure ebbed away.

“Why’d you stop?” Harry’s voice cracked with need, his eyes pleading for the blissful sensation to continue a little longer.

You met his gaze with a mischievous smirk, relishing in the power you held over his pleasure. As Harry huffed in mild annoyance, your smirk deepened, knowing the effect your actions were having on him. With a deliberate movement, you peeled off your shirt, revealing a sight that made Harry’s annoyance evaporate into thin air.

Harry’s eyes widened in awe as he took in the sight before him, his breath hitching at the sudden rush of desire that engulfed him. The soft glow of the room cast a tantalizing sheen over your exposed skin, accentuating every curve and contour in a way that left Harry spellbound.

Without a word, Harry reached out, his fingertips tracing the outline of your bare shoulders, a silent plea for permission and affirmation. You met his touch with a subtle arch of your back, inviting him closer, igniting a primal hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface.

The air crackled with electricity as Harry’s lips found yours once again, a fervent urgency driving their movements. Every kiss was a symphony of longing and exploration, each touch a declaration of unspoken desires.

With trembling hands, Harry continued to explore the canvas of your skin, his touch tentative yet eager, as if afraid to break the spell that bound you together. But there was no turning back now, the floodgates of passion had been opened, and both of you were swept away in the torrent of raw, unbridled need.

Soon enough, you found yourself laying on your stomach, in between Harry’s legs. His pants off and left in his boxers, palming his hard on through them.

After a few seconds, you took his boxers off, his cock now in your hands, dragging your fist up and down. Loving how Harry was reacting, seeing him like this made your panties wet, embarrassingly wet.

“Please, use your mouth,” you hesitate for a moment before taking him into your mouth, exploring the length of his cock with your tongue.

His hands finding their way to your hair, pulling at it when wants you to go deeper.

"Oh fuck yes...", he moans, biting his lower lip. His cock throbs against your tongue, wanting more attention as he leans against your bed frame for support.

You take him deeper into your mouth, sucking gently on the head while your hand strokes the rest in time with your bobbing actions. “Mmm, just like that, baby...", he pants, his hips starting to move in rhythm with your mouth.

Harry’s grip in your hair tightens more, jerking his hips foward. "Please keep going... I'm close," he whines, his voice strained. "Don't stop now."

You keep going, taking him deeper into your mouth. The thought of making him cum making you eager.

Harry’s breathing is ragged now, his body trembling of pleasure. "I'm gonna cum princess...," he warns, his voice rough from need.

He groans, his hips jerking forward as he empties himself into your mouth. His hot cum fills you up, causing you to gag a little bit as he fills your mouth up, you swallow it and pull your mouth off his still hard cock, you sit up slowly.

Harry grabs your waist and pushes you down onto the bed, your legs now wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck. He takes off your sleep shorts and moves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening pussy.

“You’re so soaked sweetheart..” He whispers, sliding two fingers in you making you moan his name. He pumps his fingers in and out of you in a slowly before taking his fingers out and putting them into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

He loved the sight of you in nothing but your panties, laying underneath him, everything about you would be just so perfect to him, it makes his stomach flutter.

“I need more, Harry, need you inside me” you panted softly, rocking your hips against his hand.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he laughed breathily,

rolling his hips against you again, coating his cock in your already leaking juices before catching on your entrance and achingly slowly sinking into your plush walls and making you arch your back.

“I love you,” he murmured against your neck feeling your wall already fluttering around him. Pulling himself almost completely free of you but thrusts back into you lazily, setting a slow but steady pace that was driving you crazy with each stroke. “I love you so much.”

“Harry, I love you too,” you almost sobbed as your climax washed over you your walls clenching around him tightly.

“I love you more” He grinned, he gives a few more thrusts before allowing himself to fall over the edge and fill you with his warm seed.

In the quiet aftermath, a serene calm settled over the room, punctuated only by the soft sounds of your synchronized breathing. Harry’s arms wrapped protectively around you, his touch gentle and reassuring as he traced soothing circles along your back.

With whispered words of affection and reassurance, you both savored the intimacy of the moment, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. The tenderness in Harry’s gaze spoke volumes, a silent promise of care and understanding that transcended words.

As the world outside remained oblivious to the shared intimacy you had just experienced, you found solace in the cocoon of love and trust that surrounded you both. Harry’s fingers trailed lazily through your hair, his touch a soothing melody that lulled you into a state of contentment.

In that sacred space of aftercare, boundaries dissolved, and vulnerabilities were embraced. The unspoken bond between you deepened, strengthened by the shared vulnerability and tenderness of the moment.

Together, you reveled in the simple yet profound act of caring for each other, finding solace and comfort in the gentle aftermath of passion. It was in these moments of intimacy and aftercare that the true essence of your connection blossomed, a testament to the depth of your love and the unspoken emotions that bound you together.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshots #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter smut #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x you #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter imagine #harry james potter

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cottonlemonade · 8 months ago

Note

large machiatto for here with atsumu, we all know his ass is even more needy and annoying as fuckkkkkkk when he's sick

When Your Husband Is Sick

word count: 630 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip husband!Atsumu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of suggestiveness

warnings: mdni

request: spicy-fluffy, taking care of your sick husband Atsumu

It was still raining when you added the veggies to the soup.

For the past week the weather had been nothing but miserable, alternating between rain and even some snow here and there, adding freezing gusts of wind for good measure. And of course, your husband Atsumu had caught a cold. No matter how many times you had asked him to bundle up when he came home after training he wouldn‘t listen, arguing that all the practice kept him warm and that he was in the prime of his life and never got sick. That “no flu would ever dare to touch him“.

And now he was suffering in your bedroom, groaning and shivering. He turned his nose up at the tea you had made with a special recipe from his mom and asked for a soda instead which, after incessant begging, you had brought him, only for him to whine a second later that the bubbles scratched at his throat.

You sighed and smiled - rather miraculously, all of his idiocy had only made him more endearing to you. Lifting a shallow cup to your lips to taste the broth you hummed a few random notes and jumped with a screech a moment later when a cold clammy hand wrapped around your ankle.

“AHH! Atsumu!!“

Your husband, bundled tightly in his comforter, had crawled like a caterpillar into the kitchen.

“God, babe, I almost drop-kicked you.“ You looked down at the pitiful bundle of blanket writhing at your feet.

“It would have been a more merciful end.“, a dry voice croaked from underneath.

“Why aren‘t you in bed?“

The bundle curled to a ball, engulfing your feet.

“I missed ya… Who knows how much longer I have left.“

You snorted, “Honey, you have a cold, not the plague.“

“Are ya sure?“, he asked, meekly.

“Very. A common cold.“, you knelt down to gently pet the bundle.

“Then why does it feel like I‘m on Death‘s doorstep?“, he lamented, poking his disheveled head out from the cocoon.

“Why don‘t you crawl back to where you came from, hm? The soup is almost done.“

He retreated back into the warm shell of his comforter, “No…“ And he wrapped back around your feet, “Love me…“

“Atsumu, I swear…“, you chuckled, “Go back to bed.“

His body tightened around your legs, “Why don‘t ya love me…“

You poured some broth into the cup and bent down to carefully push it through the opening by his face. You heard a tiny slurping noise. “Good soup.“, he muttered and pushed the cup back out.

Placing it next to the pot, you wrapped your arms around what you assumed was his middle and pulled. He stretched like a cat not wanting to be picked up but eventually got to his feet, leaning heavily onto your shoulder.

“Come on, baby. Off to bed.“

“Yer so great, ya know that?“, he lulled, obviously getting sleepy again.

“You aren‘t so bad yourself. You know, for being on Death‘s doorstep and all.“

You wanted to lug him onto the bed but squeaked when he didn‘t let go and instead pulled you on top of him, arms closing tightly around your soft curves.

Your husband nuzzled into your breasts, squeezing your waist and thighs, slotting his leg between yours. His hands, usually warm and strong, snaked clumsily underneath your shirt and over your back, working the clasp of your bra.

“Tsumu, you can‘t be serious.“

“Imma give it to ya soooo gooooood.“, he mumbled, then his hands stopped and quiet snores could be heard from where his face was still buried in your chest. He had fallen asleep.

You extracted yourself from his grip, slowly to not wake him and tucked him in before heading back to the kitchen to finish up.

a/n: I had way too much fun writing this xD thanks for the request 🌟 please enjoy!

for requests see here

#sunnys cozy cafe #atsumu x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #miya atsumu #haikyuu x curvy reader

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 4 months ago

Text

Crash Course

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Word count: 708

Pairing: Lando Norris x diver!reader

Summary: Two fierce rival drivers, Y/n and Lando Norris, find their intense competition on the track evolving into something deeper.

______________________________________________________________

The roar of the Singapore crowd still echoed in Y/n’s ears as she clambered out of her wrecked car. She felt a surge of anger and frustration, her pulse racing with adrenaline as she tore off her helmet, tossing it aside with little care. The final lap had been hers—until that moment when she miscalculated, clipping Lando's car. Now they were both out of the race, and her championship hopes lay in shambles.

She didn’t care about the bruises or the pain in her side; her mind was laser-focused on one thing—Lando. He had every right to be angry, but so was she. She could already see him stalking toward her, his expression thunderous.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Lando’s voice was low, laced with fury. “You could’ve—”

But before he could finish, Y/n staggered, the world around her spinning. She blinked, trying to steady herself. The heat and exhaustion of the race clung to her, but something else was wrong. Her side ached more than it should have. The adrenaline that had been keeping her going was ebbing away, and her vision blurred. She stumbled again, reaching out blindly.

Lando’s hand shot out, catching her just before she collapsed completely.

“Hey—Y/n?” His anger vanished instantly, replaced with concern as he held her steady. She clung to him, trying to focus, but her body wasn’t cooperating. Pain flared up her side, and she gasped, finally realizing how badly she was hurt.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, her voice weak, though even she didn’t believe it.

“No, you’re not,” Lando said, his voice tense as he looked down at her. “You’re bleeding.” His eyes flicked to her side, where blood soaked through her race suit, the fabric darkening beneath his hand.

The pit lane had descended into chaos around them, but Lando didn’t seem to care about anything else. His grip on her tightened, worry etched into his features as he guided her gently to the ground. He kept her propped up against him, his arm supporting her shoulders.

“You need help,” he said urgently, shouting over his shoulder for the medical team.

Y/n winced, finally feeling the sharp, throbbing pain in her ribs. Her breaths came shallow, and she felt herself leaning more heavily into Lando’s chest. “It’s not… that bad,” she protested weakly, though her body betrayed her, trembling as the pain surged.

“You nearly fainted, Y/n,” Lando replied, his voice softer now, yet filled with intensity. “Stop pretending you’re fine.”

Despite everything, she wanted to argue, to push him away and insist she didn’t need his help. But there was a softness in his tone she hadn’t heard before, and the warmth of his arms was oddly comforting.

The medical team finally arrived, and Y/n felt Lando gently hand her over to them, though his hand lingered on her shoulder a moment longer than necessary. As they assessed her injuries, he knelt beside her, watching closely, his anger now a distant memory.

“You scared me,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible over the commotion.

Y/n blinked up at him, confused. “Why do you even care? I thought you hated me.”

Lando’s gaze softened, his jaw clenched as if struggling with what to say. “I don’t hate you, Y/n. I never have.” He hesitated, his expression vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen before. “You push me. You make me want to be better. And yeah, sometimes you drive me crazy, but… I care.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. Before she could respond, the medics lifted her onto a stretcher, cutting the moment short. Lando stood up, walking alongside as they moved her toward the medical center, his eyes never leaving her.

As they reached the entrance, Y/n grabbed his hand, stopping him. “I didn’t mean to take us both out,” she whispered, guilt and exhaustion weighing heavily on her.

“I know,” Lando replied, his thumb gently brushing against her knuckles. “Just focus on getting better. The championship can wait.”

She gave him a weak smile, her mind spinning—not just from the injury, but from everything he had just said. As she was taken inside, Lando’s words echoed in her mind, shifting everything she thought she knew about their rivalry.

#fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fluff #lando noris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #formula racing #female driver

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tetzoro · 1 year ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZORO — ༉‧₊˚.

fr. zoro roronoa !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : zoro needs to wind down after his birthday festivities and luckily, you know exactly what to do. but he might have a little surprise of his own.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI! f!reader. handjobs, cum eating, unprotected sex, soft sex, creampie, cockwarming — WC : 1.5k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : woke up this morning and felt the urge to write something soft n sweet for zoro <3 he deserves to be taken care of too !! please enjoy ^_^

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

zoro crawls into your bed, exhausted from the events of today. times like these he’d flock to you, pride withered away and heart open to welcome your affection.

his birthday could be taxing on him, everyone’s attention suddenly shifting onto him, being a guest of honor — it was overwhelming. especially when all he wanted to do was his usual, curling up in the corner with you and taking a nice, long nap.

it wasn’t that he was ungrateful, he just wasn’t used to it. and it’s something he’d probably never get used to.

his face hides in the crook of your neck, a relieved sigh blowing across your skin. you were a place of comfort, a sense of belonging. a pillar of hope in a desolate land that no matter how lost he’d get, he’d always find his way back to you. the ever steady lighthouse to his stormy seas.

even though he was tired, just thinking about how much you loved him, cared for him, sent blood rushing down to his cock — and you could feel it.

his length twitching to life between your two bodies as your fingers card through his hair. pressing a shallow kiss against his head, your hand slides over his body, relishing in his approving grunts as it makes its way down.

“want me to take care of you, baby?” you whisper out into the dark room, words that were reserved for him and him alone.

he just lets out another grunt as your hand rests on his lower abdomen, fingers dipping under the waistband on his boxers but not straying anywhere too close to where he was throbbing with need.

“i’m not going to do anything unless you talk to me.” you add on. that spurred him into action, no longer hiding his face, he pulls back to look at you. need washed all over his features and you felt a pang of pity course through you.

“please.” he whispers, face growing closer to yours. your breath hitches at his vulnerability. whatever happened today really chipped away from him and it was up to you to help smooth out the pieces. “please make me feel good.”

“of course.” you offer a soft smile before bridging the gap and capturing his lips with yours. the kiss was slow, no hurry in sight as you move as one. deep groans and soft grunts reverberated through you, little sounds he couldn’t hold back from just a simple kiss.

your fingers finally dip under his boxers, your palm running along his throbbing length. at the touch, his hips buck forward into your hand, chasing the comfort it brought. a mixture between a hiss and a whine left his lips as you ran your fingers over him.

you pull apart form him, a string of salvia tethering you together. bits of drool almost pooling in the sides of his mouth, his lips trying to chase yours. but you have other matters to attend to now. you start to move so you can wrap your lips around his cock but he stops you before you get too far.

“no,” he breathes, slight panic ringing in his voice. it has you stopping in your tracks, his cock still pulsing in your hand. “keep kissing me.”

“want me to use my hands then?” you kiss along his jaw, voice sweet as can be. “give you a little relief while we kiss?”

“yes.” his lips crash against yours again, the force catching you off guard but easily melting back into it. you feel his hands shift down, tugging his boxers off before wrapping his arms around you.

you wanted to worship him, his body. run your fingers and tongue over every inch to show him how beautiful he is. but he wasn’t going to let up — the stubborn oaf.

so you settle for the next best thing.

gathering the precum that was leaking from the tip of his cock, you wrap your palm around the head, squeezing softly before running your hand up and down.

he moans into your mouth, hips stuttering from the pleasure you were bringing him. by now, you know what he liked — squeezing and tugging at all the right spots had him turn into putty in your hands.

breathless moans and eager groans fueled the fire of his kiss, trying to devour you as he got closer to his peak. after a few more strokes, you feel his cock twitch and pulse in your palm, releasing ropes of cum that easily make a mess of your hand.

you break apart and he lets out a noise of protest, eyes searching yours as you start to move down his body again. this time he doesn’t stop you, his half-hard cock twitching with interest as your mouth nears it.

“shh, it’s okay, i’m just gonna clean you up.” your tongue slowly laps up his cum, maintaining eye contact with him. he squirms under you, cock now fully hard as he watches the little show you put on for him. “you’re so pretty, zo.”

even though it was dark in the room, you could tell he was blushing. but he didn’t look away, eyes glued onto you as you licked up every last drop. he couldn’t take it anymore, exhaustion be damned - he had to be inside of you.

he grabs you and pulls you up, flipping so you’re under him now. his hand trails along your face, bending down to give you another kiss and moaning at the salty taste of him on your tongue.

his cock nestled between your thighs, eager to bury itself where it belonged. he slides your panties off before adjusting his cock so his tip pressed right against your entrance.

“gonna take care of you now,” he slips into your sopping cunt, both of you moaning as he quickly bottoms out. always feeling so full from him it almost makes you light headed.

your hips start moving desperately, trying to get him move to the normal pace he usually set, but he didn’t budge.

“zoro, please move.” you whimper, melting into the mattress more as he stays perched above you.

“gonna take it slow tonight.” he kisses your lips softly for a moment. it surprises you, the two of you never ones to take it slow. normally, he’d pound into you until you couldn’t walk — hurriedly trying to reach both of your releases time after time.

but the deep, steady strokes he was giving you now was nothing like that. the slow drag of his cock along your walls had you feeling every tiny twitch, every pulse. like his heart had somehow taken control of his cock, every throb singing praises of i love you.

you almost had to choke back tears at the overwhelming emotion. warmth spread throughout your body with every thrust, a fire surging across you that had you begging for more. you’d let his love set you ablaze if you could.

“feel good, baby?” he asks, sounding just as wrecked as you feel. you clench around him, drawing out another groan from him. “oh, fuck. squeezin me s’good.”

“feels so good zo, can feel you everywhere.” your eyes roll to the back of your head as his cock nudges the deep spot inside of you, sending a new wave of pleasure all throughout your body.

“yeah? can feel me here?” he palm spreads across your stomach, adding slight pressure. you choke out a moan of his name, the coil in your abdomen tightening as his hand stays put.

“mhm,” your hand meets his before curling around his wrist — trying anything to ground yourself and keep you tethered to him. “y-you’re so deep.”

and he was. it felt like your hearts finally had a chance of meeting, no longer bound to just your bodies — you could almost see the union unfold before you. out of all the times you’ve been intimate with him, it’s never felt like this.

“want you to cum f’me, can you do that?” his other hand finds your clit, slowly circling around it in tune with his thrusts. you felt so full — of pleasure, of love. that alone had you unraveling in his hands, spiraling closer to your release.

“so close-“ you mewl out, back arching. his hand on your stomach quickly slides to your back, pulling you towards him so your chests are flushed together, almost every part of your body now touching his. the closeness sends you over the edge, moaning out his name as you release all over his cock.

“good, good girl.” he groans, hips moving just a little faster as he nears his end. he thrusts into you one final time, burying himself as deep as he could go before he cums — filling you up with everything he had to offer.

zoro falls next to you, still buried in you as he pulls you closer, your chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. as the two of you calm down, you press lingering kisses all over his face, taking your time as you cover every inch.

“can we stay like this?” he mumbles, arms wrapping around you again. “wanna be close tonight.”

“of course, baby. we can stay like this for as long as you want.” you snuggle into him, letting out a content sigh, sleep ready to claim the both of you as his day comes to a close. his breathing grows deeper and you know he’s just at the cusp of slumber. “happy birthday my love.”

#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro smut #zoro roronoa smut #zoro roronoa x you #one piece x you #one piece smut #one piece x reader #op x reader #op smut #opla x reader #opla smut

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thereaderinsertlady · 4 months ago

Note

could you do a yandere fic w bill cipher in his triangle form please :3

O yeye ofc! I'm finally getting back into the groove of things lmao; Expect to see more ask box fics being written! :D Here's the link on ao3, and I hope you enjoy!

‎

Bill Cipher x Reader - The Triangle of Your Dreams

Stood before you is an amalgamation beyond your greatest extent of horrors.

And he knew it.

Bill Cipher knew how to manipulate you, showcasing your fears when you didn’t obey him. It wasn’t real, you always had to remind yourself when you chose to fight back. Just a dream. Just a… very scary and hyper realistic dream.

“I…” Your lungs filled with dread, nearly stealing your breath to speak. “I know you want me.”

“Yee~ees?” His tone was sing-song and echoing. You couldn’t quite see Bill, your ‘lover,’ but he was here. Here, outside of your vision. Tormenting and taunting you. Mocking you.

…

Your head hurts.

“I know you want me,” you repeated, “And that you will do anything to have me.”

“Ah-huuuh? Where are you getting at with this?”

“...I want this to stop,” you ended softly, lowering your head and no longer staring at the gaping horror. It disappeared when Bill Cipher laughed.

“Oho, that’s easy! Just follow my directions next time–” something brushed past your shoulders. You whipped around to try and glimpse at him but to no avail– “And this won’t happen!”

You growled, clenching your fists. With a flash, a spotlight shone down on you, as if to showcase your beauty. Or whatever he said last week– month. You don’t recall when he said it.

“I want this to end! I don’t… ugh, I don’t want to play your sick games any longer.”

The emptiness around you seemed to stretch infinitely, yet every inch of it was saturated with Bill’s presence. His voice came from everywhere and nowhere, a sinister echo that wrapped itself around your thoughts like a snake coiling tighter.

“Come now,” his voice was smooth, condescending, “You know you can’t resist me forever. Why fight it, sweet cheeks?”

“I wouldn’t have to fight anything if you weren’t such a di– ah!”

He appeared in front of you, triangle form and all. Eye all seeing and all knowing.

The spotlight narrowed, isolating you further, making you feel like prey. Your breaths were shallow as the edges of your vision blurred, yet you straightened your back, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. You couldn’t let him win.

“Fickle little thing you are…” His lone eye narrowed. “Humans, always so… needy…”

“I’m not yours to control,” you spat out, even though your voice wavered. “I would have been at least your friend if you–”

“FRIEND?”

His mood snapped in an instant.

Of course, you knew he always wanted to be more than friends. He was greedy like that. He calls you needy, sure, but his wants would always come above your needs.

And he wanted you.

All for himself.

Forever.

He gripped your chin and you grunted, unable to move back in time. It was so real– you could feel your jaw bone nearly crunching under his fingers.

“We are lovers,” he corrected you. “In no reality are we just simply…” He laughed, “We are lovers. Okay? Okay!”

You fell to your ass when he released you, groaning in pain and rubbing your jaw. It felt so real. But it wasn’t real. This is just a dream– nightmare. A long, annoying nightmare.

You couldn’t let him be the one in control.

You can’t let him have power over you.

Bill almost seemed to hear your thoughts, hovering down low and getting up close and personal.

“Listen.”

You just scoffed. “I don’t want to listen to whatever you have to say, you monster–”

He slapped you. Your face ached. “Listen. And listen closely, little human. You are mine. And since you are mine, you will listen to me like a good obedient lover. There is nothing you can do to get me away. Understand?” He narrowed his eye when you didn’t respond right away. “UNDERSTAND?”

“Y-Yeah.” Your shoulders sank. “I do. I do understand.”

“Good.”

“...But…” You looked up into his eye, frowning deeply. “While I do understand… that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to you. You’re… evil. Awful.”

He rolled his eye, floating back and finally giving you some space, much to your relief. “Oh boo-hoo. So what? At least I don’t hide it.”

…You shivered, disgusted.

If he wasn’t like… this… then maybe you could have seen yourself having a future with him. Despite most people, you quite enjoyed the uncanny. The creatures of the night. Monsters. Dating someone that isn’t human would be awesome.

…

But this?

This is just abusive.

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat, getting up from the ground shakily. “I’m not going to listen to ANYTHING you say anymore!”

…

Bill Cipher just laughed.

It was humiliating.

“Oh we’ll see,” he practically cooed, seeming to have composed himself from his previous anger.

You gritted your teeth, angry and still mildly scared. Even still, after all this time with him being in your dreams, you didn’t know the full extent of his abilities. There were many things that he could do– and you wouldn’t know what he has done until it’s too late. Probably. He would be the type of guy to hold his aces until the last moment. Even when you first met him, you didn’t realize just how ‘awful’ he really could be. Who knows what he’s hiding?

After all these countless nights of encountering him in your dreams, you were still left in the dark about the true depth of his powers.

That was the worst part; not knowing what he can do. The sense that you were constantly teetering on the edge of a cliff, never certain when or if he’d push you over. He could be doing something right now, in this very moment, and you’d have zero clue. Maybe he was in your mind, twisting your thoughts into knots, or planting seeds that would only sprout when it was most inconvenient. That would be like him, wouldn’t it? Always one step ahead, always playing the long game…

“This doesn’t have to be like this,” he began, voice soft. A fake sense of kindness you knew. “All you have to do is listen. Even an idiot can do that.”

…

“Get out of my head,” you muttered.

Maybe there will be a time where you’ve had enough. Where you’d give up and give in, letting him do as he wanted with you.

…

But not tonight.

Bill Cipher released a wistful sigh. “Alriiight. But just don’t say that I never gave you a chance.”

With a snap of his fingers, you awoke in your bed.

#reader insert #bill cipher #bill cipher x reader #gravity falls #book of bill

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