#light fury SUCKS

[charlieslowartsies]

"One day you will lay in the sun and things won't feel so bad."

Is there a name for 'feel like you're wasting your summer but you know you're really not?' Because I've got a bad case of that.

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

Sometimes I'll think a little too much about httyd 3 and I'll get indescribably angry

[be-xkyy]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑉𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ

Warning: sexual content (mentioned), forced transformation, murder (mentioned), isolation, child abduction, blood, violence.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★ @minshookie29 ★ @rosey1981 ★ @thejadevvitch ★ @jellystar-star ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Son name: Alexandre

Husband name: Louis

Masterlist

Yandere Vampire who doesn't understand why you're so cold toward him; yes, maybe he killed all your friends and locked you in his castle, but he only did it because it was necessary.

Yandere Vampire who thinks you're being overly dramatic; he's already made up for his mistakes, turning you into a vampire, HIS mate, HIS wife, HIS duchess. Don't you see that he did the best for you by freeing you from your pathetic mortality? He gave you the greatest gift of all: eternal life.

Yandere Vampire who, despite his best attempts to make you happy, you're always melancholic. He gives you precious jewels that are over a century old. He makes sure his servants take care of everything and follow your every command so you don't have to lift a finger. He makes passionate love to you every night, giving you so many orgasms and love that in the end, you can't even form a coherent word. So why aren't you happy?

Yandere Vampire who after a long time decides to stop trying to figure out what you need to be happy and asks you directly (which is what he should have done from the start). One night, when you're both in your shared chambers, he decides to ask you the blessed question.

“I see that during these long months, my hard work to bring you happiness and joy has been a complete failure, so tell me, my dear, what do you need to be happy?”

“I want to be free. I no longer want to be confined within the walls of this castle. I don't want to be with you.”

“...”

Yandere Vampire who falls silent upon hearing your cold response; it almost seems as if your words didn't affect him, but his red eyes, which seem to glow, betray his anger. That, coupled with the lover/creator bond that unites your souls and betrays his anger, which seems to burn your body from the inside with a blazing fire, makes you shudder.

Yandere Vampire who decides to be merciful and forget this conversation, but not before threatening you. He approaches you, grabbing your jaw firmly. His elegant, ringed fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, which shine with a burning and terrifying fury.

“Never, EVER say something like that again, my dear, or I'll show you what it means to truly feel miserable and unhappy.”

Yandere Vampire who becomes more distinct and rougher in the months following your small talk. He makes love to you more roughly, leaving your body aching and your neck and chest covered in bites and love marks. In retaliation, you leave his pale back covered in deep, bloody scratches (which only feed his ego).

Yandere Vampire who one day while looking for his next dinner date in a nearby town sees a smiling happy woman in a house who reminds him of you when he first met you. She's sitting in front of the fire in the fireplace, which illuminates her with a yellow and golden glow; she's cooing to a baby who's laughing and gurgling happily; a light bulb goes on in his head when he sees this scene. Maybe that's what you need to be happy, a baby. Little brats always bring joy and happiness, right? Maybe you two can't have a baby biologically, but he can take someone else's baby... right?

Yandere Vampire who decides to take matters into his own hands. He sneaks inside the house, ignoring the pain in his throat and yearning to suck the woman's blood dry. After all, he can't alert the town of his presence (there are already many suspicions of vampires in the area). So, he decides to be subtle and snaps the woman's neck, which he does. He sneaks up behind her when she notices his presence; it's too late. He hears the woman's heart race as he grabs her jaw from behind and twists her head with an ugly "crack." The woman's heartbeat stops, and her body goes limp.

Yandere vampire who drops the woman's body to the ground and focuses all his attention on the baby lying on the floor on a worn, old floral blanket. The baby's lower lip trembles as if he can understand the cruel fate of his only parent. His eyes water, and high-pitched sobs soon follow.

“Waah-Waah!!!”

“Hey brat, don't cry. You have no idea what a favor I'm doing you! Now you'll have a beautiful and loving new mother. No more old or worn-out blankets, just the finest clothes and silks for you.”

Yandere Vampire who takes the child in his arms, rocking him a little, but he doesn't stop crying; on the contrary, he cries even more. Frustrated, he covers the baby's mouth, slightly muffling his sobs, and slips out of the house, quickly heading for his castle.

Yandere Vampire who enters the castle through the extensive gardens filled with red roses. He ignores the curious servants who stare at him curiously as he enters with the sobbing baby in his arms and, without wasting any time, heads to his chambers, where he knows for sure you'll be. He pushes open the wooden door and enters. Your eyes immediately look at him, or rather, at the child in his arms.

“My dear! Look at the gift I brought you.”

“From where? Where are his parents?”

“The mother is dead, and there was no sign of the father anywhere, so now he's all yours!”

Yandere Vampire who smiles proudly when you approach and take the baby from his arms. His eyes soften when he sees you cooing at the baby, gently rocking him in your arms, and the child soon calms down. You head to the bed, placing the baby on the soft silk sheets, protecting him from the cold. He can't help but notice the child's resemblance to you, but he snaps out of his thoughts when he hears your annoyed voice.

“You carried him all over the frozen forest in just pajamas? A baby is very delicate and could get seriously ill, you stupid man.”

“I didn't think of that at the time, my dear. I just thought of bringing him to you, and now he's here with you. That's better than nothing, right?”

Yandere Vampire who happily notices how you become someone much more energetic and happy since the arrival of the baby; although he won't deny that he's a little jealous of the fact that you spend more time with the baby (whom you named Alexandre) than with him; you take Alexandre for walks in the garden, you bathe him, you dress him and you even read to him to put him to sleep; the baby quickly became very attached to you.

“Mother! Mother, look at this!”

“I'm seeing you, my love.”

Your voice comes out lovingly as you look at the now five-year-old boy running through the rosebushes adored with vibrant red roses. You walk slowly, following your little boy. Louis, your husband, walks beside you. Your arm is intertwined with his, though you ignore him most of the time. But that doesn't make him talk any less.

“He grew up so fast, don't you think? I remember when I brought him here, and he was just a baby.”

“I remember.”

“I honestly didn't expect him to make it past the week, you know, given the fact that he was cold and malnourished, but your love seems to be able to cure anything, my dear.”

“...”

Your red eyes glare at him in annoyance, and he just smiles, revealing his white teeth and sharp fangs. You want to wipe that smile off your face and slap him for saying something so out of place, but you hold back as Alexandre runs up to you both.

“Mother! Father! I want to see the roses up close! Lift me up, father!”

“Yes, sir! As Your Highness commands!”

You can't help but let out a laugh as your son reaches out for his father, bouncing slightly before Louis finally picks him up and places him on his hip. Alexandre stares at the roses (which he's seen a million times before) with fascination before pouting.

“Roses have the same color as her eyes! I want my eyes to be red too, father!”

“I think your eyes are beautiful—”

“Don't worry, my son, soon your eyes will be red too.”

“Louis—!”

“Really, Father?! I'm so happy my eyes will be like yours and my mother!”

~~~

“Have you lost your mind?! Why are you telling my son he'll also have red eyes?! He's not going to turn into a vampire!”

You yell in annoyance as you pace around your chambers, your furious eyes glaring at him accusingly as he lies in bed, propped up against the pillows. He smiles at you with a shrug before getting up from the bed and walking over to you.

“Why not? I mean, our son could live forever as a five-year-old. Is that really so bad, my dear?”

“That's selfish! You killed his parents, forced him to live confined here in this castle, and now you also want to force him to be five forever?! You are truly a horrible man!”

“His mother.”

“What...?”

“I killed his mother. I already told you there was no father anywhere, and I confined him here because it's safer for him... besides, I know the idea of ​​him being five forever doesn't bother you, my dear.”

“That's not true—!”

“Oh, you can deny it all you want, but I can feel in our bond that you don't mind the idea at all. It almost seems like you'd like him to be your baby forever... so tell me, my dear, who is the really horrible person here, huh?”

You don't know how to respond, because it's true, everything he says is true. You don't want your son to grow up and leave here, leaving you with the pain and agony of your lost life tormenting your soul again. Just thinking about it sends a feeling of pain to your dead heart. Even though you hate yourself for being so selfish, you can't deny what he's saying, so you duck your head and remain silent.

He lets out a playful laugh, moving closer to you. He runs his ringed hands down the front of your dress's corset, tracing the soft fabric with his fingers. His hands slide back, playing with the laces of the corset, untying the knot and loosening the bodice. He rubs his nose against your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses up to your ear. You shudder when his cold breath hits your skin. He murmurs playfully against your ear.

“Don't be ashamed, my dear. After all, being selfish is in our blood. Just let yourself go~”

[03jyh23]

༘⋆mon's 500 followers special.ᐟ.ᐟ 500-word prompt roulette⟢

🚿┆revenge is sweet

jeong yunho x fem! reader

│synopsis: the one where you need to teach your boyfriend a lesson

│genre: smut

│trigger warnings: mature/sexual content, light dom(reader)/sub themes, mild sexual teasing/denial, handjob

│roulette prompt 27 + yunho + shower

You storm into your hotel room with a scream on your lips. "JEONG YUNHO!" Looking around, you find your boyfriend lounging on the bed, scrolling through his phone with a knowing smile. He doesn't even flinch at your outburst, which only fuels your anger.

"Oh, hi honey," he drawls, not bothering to look up. "Did you enjoy shopping?"

You hurl your purse onto the chair. "Did. I. Enjoy. Shopping?" you ask through gritted teeth, hands planted on your hips, fury radiating off you. "What the fuck is that reel you posted, hm?"

You'd been mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when you saw it - a casual thirst trap of him fresh out of the shower, water droplets still clinging to his bare chest, hair damp and tousled. The way he'd run his fingers through it, that knowing smirk on his face... He knew exactly what he was doing.

"You mean my GRWM reel?" he asks innocently, finally looking up at you. "I was just showing my morning routine."

"Morning routine my ass," you seethe. "You were practically naked!"

He sits up slowly, setting his phone aside. "What's wrong with that? My fans like seeing me take care of myself."

"Your fans?" You scoff, pacing the room. "You mean all those people thirsting over your little show?"

Yunho's eyes follow your movement, his smile growing wider with each step you take. "Ah... I see what this is about."

You glare at him. "What?"

He rises from the bed in one fluid motion, crossing the room to you. His fingers catch your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You're jealous, aren't you?" His thumb grazes your lower lip as he murmurs in a low, challenging voice, "Then do something about it."

You surge forward, crushing your lips against his in a bruising kiss, determined to remind him exactly who he belongs to.

"You have no idea what you sign up for," you tease as you bite his lip. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging sharply.

He groans into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist tightly. "Show me then," he challenges when you pull back to catch your breath, "Show me what I signed up for."

You shove him back towards the bed, watching as he falls onto the mattress. You climb on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head. "I'll make sure everyone knows who you really belong to," Yunho's breath hitches as your nails scrape down his neck. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before teasing everyone like that," you purr, enjoying how he squirms beneath you. You palm his clothed crotch, and his confident façade shatters. "You're mine," you growl, watching his eyes flutter shut as a moan escapes his lips. You start unzipping his pants, and his hips buck up desperately against you. "Should I post a video of you like this?" you murmur against his mouth as you wrap your fingers around his hardening length. "Let everyone see how easily you fall apart for me?" You wet your palm before teasing your thumb over his sensitive tip, then slowly glide your hand down his shaft.

"Fu-fuck," he moans against your lips. His hips stutter as you twist your hand back up, slowly increasing your pace. You press your lips to his neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks - a reminder of who he belongs to.

"Who do you belong to?" you demand, but his only response is a desperate whimper as he arches into your touch.

"Baby, please," he whimpers as his muscles tense, his eyes rolling back. "Need to—mmph—feel you."

"Ah-ah," you tease, quickening your movement, "only good boys get to feel me." You whisper against his ear, "And you've been very, very naughty today." You softly squeeze around his base, and your hand stills its movement. Yunho lets out a desperate whine that makes you smirk.

"Who do you belong to?" you ask again, your voice commanding. When he still doesn't answer, you remove your hand completely, drawing another desperate sound from him.

"Y-you," he finally gasps out, his chest heaving. "I belong to you, only you, please—" he begs again, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, just please don't stop." His fingers dig into the sheets as he writhes beneath you. You smile mockingly as you run your thumb against his tip just before releasing his cock.

"See you later!" you chirp as you swing your leg off him, climbing off the bed.

"Wait, what?" Yunho props himself up on his elbows, looking at you with wide, desperate eyes. "Baby, please, you can't just—"

"Can't what?" you ask innocently, grabbing your purse from the chair. "I think I'll go grab some dinner. Maybe do some more shopping." You head towards the door, adding over your shoulder, "Maybe next time you'll think twice about posting thirst traps." The last thing you hear before closing the door is Yunho's frustrated groan, and you can't help but grin. Revenge is sweet.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│please join my 500 followers special!│

[rioromanoffroses]

Ovulation (Part 2)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, G!P Natasha, finger sucking, oral sex (R and Natasha receiving), implied non-con, unprotected sex (P in V), breast sucking, degrading, toxic relationship, obsessive Natasha, jealousy and slight possessiveness

Summary: It's been three months since your heated encounter with the Black Widow. When your paths cross again at a work party, it doesn't take much for both of you to crack...

Pairings: dom!Reader x sub!Natasha but they switch halfway through

WC: 5.7k

It was just like any other S.H.I.E.L.D. party you had attended many times before but you decided to dress like a slut anyway.

You were wearing all black, brightened by gold jewellery that gleamed whenever a streak of light hit the metal. Your lacy corset was mostly hidden by your cropped blazer and your tight, formal trousers outlined your curves, your outfit finished by formidable, 6-inch heels. 

It was three months since you’d last seen Natasha Romanoff but it had felt like so much longer. She had left while you were still asleep — the only evidence of her departure had been the lipstick stain on your forehead.

You made sure you were wearing the same lipstick shade that night and the most dramatic eye look you had ever done. Three months was a long time for resentment and rage to grow and evolve.

There was no guarantee Natasha would even be at the party. You didn’t recall seeing Natasha at one before. But for some reason, there was a nagging feeling in your gut that insisted you’d see her. She’d see you; in the outfit you’d picked out for her. 

As soon as you walked into the party, you noticed several eyes lingering on your figure. The room was dark, lit only by violet ceiling lights. There were clusters of agents everywhere and the dance floor was relatively empty, the night still too young and the people still too sober.

You spotted one of your friends by the bar and strode over to her, your heels echoing against the marble floor. 

“Hey Maria,” you said, taking a seat next to her. Her eyes widened when she saw you. 

“Oh my God, what are you wearing?” You had always been on the reserved side in front of your colleagues, even though your style had always been quite bold and formal, so your new look was a slight shock to her. “Is that top see-through?”

“Everywhere except the chest area, yeah,” you said, turning to the bartender, “I’d like a glass of champagne, please.” He nodded and began preparing your drink. Maria sighed.

“You’d better avoid Fury like the plague,” she said, “This is a work party, you do realise that?” You knew it wasn’t an appropriate place to look so provocative but you hadn’t been thinking straight for months. Natasha had been on your mind non-stop and like a drug, you were craving her and burning for a high that would rid you of your withdrawal symptoms.

The bartender placed the glass of champagne in front of you and you carefully took a sip, making sure the liquid didn’t disturb your lipstick.

Maria took a sip from her glass before spotting something behind you and her jaw dropped. She quickly drained the glass and scrambled to her feet, causing you to frown. “Are you okay?”

“She looks pissed,” she said, dragging out the ‘i’ vowel, “And I am not getting involved. Have a good night.” She gave you a quick tap on the shoulder before hurrying away while you were still processing her words. You were about to call after Maria until a voice sounded behind you and your heartbeat ceased. 

“God, I’m going to kill you.” You snapped your head around and stared at the redhead, blinking a few times to make sure she was real. Her hair was curled onto her bare shoulders, the red, satin straps of her dress tight across her arm muscles and chest, allowing some of her breasts to spill over the material.

Part of you wanted to slap her across the face… another part of you wanted to kiss her right there and then. You raised an eyebrow.

“And what would call for such unnecessary violence, Agent Romanoff?” She grabbed your wrist, sinking her sharp, scarlet nails into your skin. Despite the thumping, irregular beat of your heart, you stood your ground and didn’t break eye contact with her as her eyes burnt right into your skull. 

She leaned forward and whispered into your ear, “That wasn’t the name you were screaming a few months ago.” From the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha’s pupils darkening. “I’m going to kill you for thinking of this outfit, deciding to wear it and letting half this room stare at you with it on.”

She tried to pull you onto your feet but you didn’t budge. You took a sip of your champagne, looking up at her through your eyelashes. 

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” you mocked, your tone of feigned innocence, “You don’t like it?” Natasha clenched her fists and scowled. 

“When did you become such a smart-ass?” You smirked, taking another sip of alcohol. You had become as soft as unheated clay the last time you were together and you had let her mould you into whatever she wanted.

That night, you were on fire, and your silhouette was shaped exactly how you liked it — how it was before your first encounter. “I don’t like you looking like a whore when you’re mine.”

“Oh, I’m yours, am I?” you snapped, “I didn’t get that impression when I woke up to an empty bed stained with your bodily fluids. I didn’t get that impression after not hearing from you for months.”

You turned your body away from her and tilted back your head, the remaining champagne running down the glass and into your mouth. As soon as you set the glass down, you felt Natasha’s hand on your jaw, forcing you to look at her. 

“I didn’t want to leave like that,” she said, her voice becoming serious, “It’s complicated.” She hesitated. “Do you know who I am?” You smiled. You were stupid not to realise it until Maria told you, after you confessed to having slept with a fellow agent.

Natasha was the Black Widow, the most formidable S.H.I.E.L.D. agent there was. You wondered if knowing her identity earlier would’ve changed anything. Perhaps you wouldn’t have been so reckless in the shower. Perhaps you wouldn’t have stared at her like a fool. Perhaps you wouldn’t have spread your legs for her.

“I don’t care if you’re the Black Widow, Natasha,” you said, “You left me. That’s the only thing I care about.” You pushed her arm away, forcing her to let go of your face. Natasha’s expression fell. She reached for your fingers and brushed her own against them, sending goosebumps down your arm. 

“Let me make it up to you.” You looked down at where your skin made contact before switching your focus to her face. You knew she was a woman of many masks but she seemed genuinely apologetic.

You were undeniably angry with her still but your need was too strong and from the sound of her short, sharp breaths, you knew she was feeling the same. You slipped off the bar stool and took a step towards her so you were less than an inch apart. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Romanoff.” You spun around and started to march towards the door, the crowd parting like the red sea as soon as they saw the Black Widow behind you. You were too far in front for her to touch you without being obvious about it but you could hear each beat of her footsteps. 

You decided to play into your wrath and aggravate Natasha; she deserved it. It would be fun. Your teasing started as soon as the taxi drew up on the pavement and you opened the door for her, wordlessly instructing her to get in first with your eyes.

On the drive there, you pretended to adjust your bra strap, moving it just enough so Natasha could catch a glimpse of the vibrant red colour. You did it more than once, just enough times to piss her off.

You were enjoying the game and kept it going, leaning forward between the two seats and flirting with the taxi driver. The compromising position meant your breasts were pressed together slightly, making your cleavage more noticeable.

The driver was struggling to keep his eyes on the road and as uncomfortable as it made you feel, as soon as you saw Natasha’s eyes in the rearview mirror, you knew it was totally worth it. Her pupils were on fire.

By the time you had shut the door of the hurriedly booked motel room, you could see sweat on her forehead and her breath was heavy, like an animal being driven by primal desire. She pushed you against the wood before you could even turn on a light, sending a shot of pain down your spine and you had to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from whining.

You knew what she wanted. You weren’t going to give in to her just yet. You had a queen firmly clutched in your hands and she was still gliding across the chest board under your will and control. 

Natasha tried to kiss you but you stopped her with your finger on her chin, moving your other hand to her thigh. She pressed into you more urgently, your chests touching, your foreheads only inches apart. Her hands were on your hips, her nails digging into the material of your trousers. 

You inhaled sharply when you felt her against your lower stomach. She heard the difference in your breath and she started to move her hands, massaging your sides in slow circles. She wanted to see how long it would take for you to give in; Natasha wanted to know what your weakness was.

You couldn’t see her in the dark, amplifying the sensation of her touch and you could feel your control slip from your fingers but you caught it just before it was lost. 

“Was that all I had to do?” you mocked, scratching her chin with the edge of your nail, “Look pretty and say some nice words to the driver?”

Your hand drifted in between her legs and up her dress so you could feel just how hard she was and emphasise your point. You let out a low whistle when you felt the wet patch on her boxers. “Slut.”

Natasha pushed away from the door, your heart pounding in your ears, and strode towards the bedside table lamp. The light cast an amber glow onto the furniture, exposing the off-whites and beiges of the cheap room. It was better than the place you’d been together in Moldova but it was still small and underwhelming. 

You were distracted from the room as soon as your eyes fell on Natasha again. There was a reason you had fallen so easily the first night you’d met.

You had rejected the most important part of yourself, your dignity, partly because of your raging hormones but mostly because of her: the venom of her eyes, the blood of her hair, the skull-white of her skin carved by Lucifer himself. Her looks were only the surface, though — the deeper you dived, the faster you drowned. 

The sight of you had a similar effect on her and a few seconds passed in silence without a single movement between you. You were both in a trance, your eyes taking each other in the privacy of the room.

You were alone; it made you vulnerable to each other. Natasha already knew you were becoming a weak spot and if you’d been less self-driven, it would’ve dawned on you too. 

She was the first one to move, the electricity between you weak against the current of her desire. She sat on the edge of the bed and let her dress ride up her thighs, exposing the black of her boxers. You strode towards Natasha, looking down at her, and you slipped your blazer off your shoulders, letting it fall onto the carpet. 

You stopped in between her legs, capturing her face in your hands, your fingertips touching her scalp. She leaned back on one arm, wrapping a hand around your wrist, not breaking away from your gaze. 

“You’re right,” she said, “I am a slut. And so would anyone if they’d been allowed to touch you.” You traced your thumb along her jaw and then along her bottom lip before pushing it into her mouth. ‘This is so much more fun,’ you thought, ‘why didn’t I try this before?’ Your walls weren’t going to be so easy to knock down that time. 

Her tongue pressed against the tip of your thumb and when you dragged it out of her mouth down her chin, it left a trail of spit on her bottom lip, quickening your pulse even more.

The sight of Natasha below you, her face a mess, started feeding into your own twisted desires. You could feel the heat building between your thighs and the cool air was a relief against the beads of sweat forming on your arm. 

“The Black Widow, huh?” you said. Red pricked her cheeks like a thorn and you knew if she wasn’t so desperate to be inside of you, your neck would be in the chokehold of her bare hands.

She was more skilled than you; she was stronger too. She could kill you at any given moment… yet she was letting you have power over her. 

“Bitch,” she muttered. You straddled Natasha’s lap and wrapped your legs tightly around her waist to keep yourself firmly in place.

As soon as your lips touched, it was like your muscle memory and body took over, suppressing your logical thoughts. She grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you closer, slamming your lips together. 

You forgot about the game and your confidence, the chess board falling to the floor and you held her face so you could kiss her more harshly. You were swallowing each other’s moans, the months of tension and pent-up emotions spilling like blood from a wound. You had only spent two nights together but you had missed her more than any of your exes, even more than some of your old friends.

Your lips separated for only half a second at a time so you could take a breath and change the angle. Her back fell against the sheets as your legs loosened, your kisses growing more desperate.

Your tongue dove into Natasha’s mouth and you almost let her win against you until you noticed the intensity of her moans and the movement of your hips. You had been so lost in kissing her you hadn’t realised that you were grinding against her subtly — just enough to worsen her hard-on. You ripped your lips away from hers when you felt her fingers on the buttons of your trousers.

“No,” you said, stopping her movements, a smirk forming on your face. She whined. 

“Please,” she said. She looked up at you through her eyelashes and you could feel her trembling beneath you, her sweat forming tears that ran down her face. “Please just let me fuck you.” Natasha would never admit it to anyone but she’d touched herself while thinking of you ever since she’d seen your photos in the mission brief. It had been easy to get relief before she’d actually met you and slept with you. 

Following the mission, she hadn’t been able to release at all, not by her own hands, toys or even the few women she’d had a one-night stand with in an attempt to get you off her mind. You were the only thing she thought about some days. She couldn’t wait much longer; she had needed you for months; she had ached for you night after endless night. 

You sat on top of her like she was a podium with a shit-eating grin on your face. You had gotten Natasha so wound up that she was begging you. You couldn’t smell a single trace of alcohol on her lips, meaning she was sober and her words were her own.

You leaned down and nudged your mouth against the shell of her, arching your back to make sure she had a clear view of your ass. 

“You want my cunt?” you said into her ear, tightening your grip around her squirming fingers. 

“I need it,” she breathed, turning her head towards you, connecting your lips for a brief second. You didn’t return the kiss, moving away from her instead.

You sat up, shifting to the centre of the bed and relaxed against the pillows behind you, spreading your legs. 

You gave her a show as you watched her panting form, unbuttoning your trousers slowly and shimmering out of the black material. You threw them to the floor before hooking two fingers under the red of your panties, the colour matching your bra.

“Don’t you dare move.” As you dragged your lacy underwear down your thighs, her pupils widened, the black in her eyes like obsidian. Natasha could see that you were dripping and the sight of your slicked folds and porcelain-stained thighs caused the rope in her stomach to tighten into a knot. 

As soon as the red underwear was on the floor, you started touching your stiff clit just so she could watch your arousal spill onto the sheets beneath you. Natasha’s hands tightened into fists, her gaze fixated on your slit. She swallowed hard. 

“Make me feel good,” you said. She crawled towards you without hesitation, diving into your pussy like she was starved. You moaned as soon as her tongue pressed against your warm, soaked folds and your nerves buzzed with adrenaline as she dragged the muscle all the way up to your clit.

She wrapped her mouth around your sensitive bud and you guided her hands to your thighs before lying back on the sheets, allowing yourself to concentrate on your body’s reactions. 

You lifted your legs onto her shoulders to give her more access and bit down on your lip as her mouth continued to work your pussy, not wanting to expose how she was making you feel just yet.

It was a pathetic facade, though — Natasha could tell how much you loved her tongue from the amount of arousal that flooded her throat. A bubble began to form around you as her movements sped up, cutting off the outside world and lifting you off the ground, far away from reality. 

You had tried to convince yourself to hate her during the weeks following the night she abandoned you. You knew it was irrational deep down — you understood the nature of your jobs.

You knew her position as well — it was bigger than yours and she was responsible for more. Her past wasn’t a secret either and although yours had its fair share of trauma, it had affected you differently. You had failed to hate her; it was impossible.

You reached for Natasha’s head and pushed it further into your folds, finally letting a moan slip past your lips as she slid her tongue inside of you.

You started to grind against her face and her groans sent vibrations through your cunt, heightening the pleasure building in your stomach. You looked down to admire the sight of her face buried in your thighs and you noticed the movements of her hips against the mattress. She was so, so desperate for relief.  

As your orgasm approached, you moved your hands into her hair, tightening your grip on her curls as you came undone, gasping and repeating her name as your release gushed into her mouth and spilled over her lips.

You let go and your limbs slumped onto the sheets, your heaving breasts straining against your bra, your corset top soaked with sweat. 

“I want you to get undressed,” you said in between gasps. Natasha lifted herself from between your legs and shot you a dark look. You could see the moment she snapped.

“If one more word comes out of that pretty mouth of yours, I’m going to wrap my hand around your throat until you pass out.” Your eyes widened at the sudden change in her demeanour. Natasha wasn’t following your rules anymore; she had reached a breaking point.

She seized your hips and dragged you onto her lap, letting you feel the outline of her straining cock against your cunt. Your mind raced with things to say; you wanted to fight and keep taunting her but you were craving her too.

No one had ever compared to her and if it hadn’t been so arousing to tease her, you would’ve let her fill you up as soon as the door closed. 

She untied your top and threw it behind her without caring where it landed before ripping the bra you had teased her with in the taxi in two. You gasped but before you could recover from your shock, her fingers were squeezing your nipples and the bubble around you was rising into the clouds again. You were both fucking insane.

“Such a stupid slut,” Natasha spat and before your desire-drunk mind could process what was happening, she was guiding your hand to her cock and moving it up and down. You looked down to see the reddened tip spilling with pre-cum, her dick angry and aching. “This is what you’ve done to me. You’ve fucking ruined me.” And she had every intent of ruining you in return.

She knew it would be better for her to stop and breathe but the redhead wasn’t in control anymore. She had liked sex with different people before you; she had enjoyed touching herself but you had taken that from her. You had also ignited feelings that she had suppressed and had made her question too much at once. They were questions Natasha refused to think about. 

She lifted you from her lap and positioned you above her cock, the tip nudging against your entrance, which was still sensitive from your orgasm, before pushing in. You both cried out at the same time, your voice a mix of pain and ecstasy.

Your walls immediately began sucking Natasha in as you sank further and further onto her length. You gripped her shoulders as you watched her disappear inside you, your mouth stuck in an ‘O’ shape as she filled you completely. 

The stretch was almost as uncomfortable as the first time, reminding you how long it had been. You thought about having to wait for months before seeing Natasha again sent a pang through you. You didn’t know how you’d get through it — you were already growing dependent on Natasha. It was pathetic. You hated yourself for it. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” Natasha said as she started to bounce you up and down on her cock without giving you a moment to adjust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you moved your hips in time with hers, your tits bouncing with each thrust.

She buried her face between them to try and stifle her moans but it was no use. Anyone in the rooms next to you or above you would be able to hear but neither of you had any thoughts left to spare. 

The bubble had soared above the atmosphere and there were stars streaked across your vision, the light intensifying as Natasha continued to pump inside of you. She lifted her head and collided your lips together with a bruising force, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

You could still taste yourself on her tongue as she delved deeper into your mouth, not letting you win against her that time. There was a metallic sting against your tongue as her teeth punctured your lip and drew blood.

Your head was dizzy with lust and bliss; your vision blurred with tears as you were overwhelmed by the sensations of her. You didn’t understand how or why she felt so good but you knew you’d do anything she asked if it meant she’d keep fucking you. She separated your lips and started peppering your jaw with kisses, your nails clawing down her clothed back as she continued to forcefully drill into you.

The blood from your lip dribbled down your chin and ended up smeared over your face as Natasha kissed down your neck, pausing against your sweet spot. She sunk her teeth into your neck and sucked on the skin, forcing a cry from your lips. 

“How the fuck does this cunt stay so tight?” she groaned against your skin. Your head fell back as her mouth moved to your collarbone and she marked you again, her tongue cooling against the scorching skin. 

“Please, Natasha,” you whined, “Don’t stop.” The stars dancing along your vision shifted into a kaleidoscope, the colours disorientating and bright, the shapes blurring at the edges. You had broken her demand not to speak but she dismissed it when your walls clenched around her, causing her to practically scream. 

Her hands slowed down their rhythm so she could sink deeper inside of you, hitting that specific spot that caused the pockets of white in front of you to spin impossibly faster.

She was met with no resistance as she slid in and out of your fluttering walls, the movement made easy by the arousal gushing out from your entrance. The wet sounds of your cunt echoed through the room every time your thighs met with hers, the noise drowned out by your loud moans. 

Each time her tip brushed against that one place inside you, your cunt squeezed her tight and you could tell by the erratic timing of her hips that she was getting close. As soon as you felt Natasha’s thighs shaking beneath you, the stars in your eyes burst, sending hot sparks flying through your veins, the heat setting the end of your nerves on fire.

She followed immediately after you, releasing inside of you in waves as she screamed your name. She didn’t stop bouncing you on her dick until you slumped against her shoulders, crushed beneath the weight of your orgasm. 

You lifted yourself from her softening cock and moved to the centre of the bed, lowering yourself onto your back. You hooked your hands underneath your knees and pulled them up to your chin, exposing your lower half to her eyes. She drank the sight of you in, still gasping for air. 

“You already want more?” Natasha tutted. “Greedy whore.” She didn’t even ask you to beg; the sight of you exposed to her was enough. She pulled her dress above her head and it joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor before releasing her breasts from their confines, her nipples sore from the restraint.

She placed her hands on either side of your head, admiring your blown-out pupils and the streaks of mascara on your cheek; you hadn’t even realised you’d been crying.

Natasha didn’t know if it was from exhaustion or the way your beauty struck her but she decided to take her time with you that time. Her fingers dipped into your folds, caressing you with a gentleness you hadn’t felt from her before, the whines she earned from you quiet and subtle.

She ran her tip through your slit, soaking it with a mix of both your releases before nudging it against your entrance again. She dipped into you slowly, savouring the feeling of each new nerve that came into contact with your walls, re-tightening the released knot inside her stomach. Natasha didn’t start moving until she was fully inside of you, her face flushed by crimson.

As she leaned down to press her forehead against yours, you picked up her scent, the same vanilla and brown sugar perfume from before flooding your senses. Your hips met as she thrust into you with purpose; she was focusing on hitting exactly where you needed her to. 

She lifted your legs onto her shoulders so she could fill you to the brim and free your hands. You moved them into her hair, your nails running along her scalp.

Each breath that left her lips met with your skin, the faint sound intertwining with the oxygen leaving your lungs, your body buzzing with exhilaration. You could already feel yourself tipping over the edge, each wave that hit you stronger than the last. 

“You love this, don’t you? You love being put in your place,” Natasha said. It was like she was holding a blade to your every seam and she was cutting them one by one, splitting you apart slowly. “You’re taking my cock so well.” You closed your eyes as the ecstasy racing through your veins lifted you higher and higher, loud whimpers leaving your mouth. 

“I’m so close,” you admitted. She increased her pace as she rocked her hips into you and as you tightened around her, without either of you saying a word, you let go at the same time. You could feel her cock pulsing inside of you as you spilled over her and you plummeted back to earth, your nose nudging against hers as you arched your back. 

As soon as your climaxes were over, she shuddered and collapsed on top of you. Natasha didn’t move for a few minutes, nuzzling her face against your neck and you ran a hand over her hair, absorbing the softness underneath your fingertips, hoping it would stay in your memory.

Your chests were pressed together and the weight of her on top of you was comforting, although a little warm. The intimacy of the moment was dangerous but you were both too tired to notice it.

“You look so pretty when you come undone,” Natasha murmured against your skin, her finger tracing shapes along your jaw. You weren’t thinking about what she was doing; you hadn’t caught onto her tone. A few moments passed before she added, “I was being serious earlier. I want you to be mine.” The organ in your chest dropped.

Your hand halted and you slipped it out of her hair, causing her to lift her head. She was inches away from your face, close enough to see the electricity in your eyes, crackling with anxiety and something more. Your pupils were shrinking rapidly and there were lines were forming across your forehead. 

“What do you mean?” You thought she had meant it in a possessive way; it was said from a place of jealousy and lust. How could it mean anymore? She shook her head.

“I don’t know what it is about you. I just can’t get you out of my head.” Natasha knew it wasn’t just for sexual reasons either but she couldn’t quite confront that fact. She slipped herself out of you and rolled onto the mattress beside you.

You stared up at the ceiling, hyperaware of her every movement. Your muscles tensed as soon as she touched your arm, her fingertips dancing over the goosebumps forming along your skin. You weren’t someone who liked feelings or showed any vulnerabilities. You didn’t think she was either.

“What are we doing, Natasha?” you said, your chest tightening. You started nibbling on the corner of your lip, the room suddenly becoming too hot and small all at once. The situation between you had started off so normal; you had needed to blow off some steam and you were both attracted to each other, so it was an easy solution.

Then, it had become an orchestrated plan to get her back for leaving you, even though she had no obligation to stay and after spending yet another night together, you were discussing your fucking emotions. “We both know you won’t be with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said. You barely caught her words. She kissed your shoulder and hesitated before tilting your face towards her, pressing her lips to yours.

Her kisses were slow and sensual, her lips moving against you as you kept yours still. She stopped when she noticed you weren’t reciprocating, brushing the strands of your hair stuck to your sticky forehead from your face. “It’s not that simple. You know that.”

You felt a stab of anger and your nails dug into the palms of your hands. It wasn’t like you to break easily. Perhaps you were still too young to withstand the pain after all; your heart was inexperienced and malleable. You had dated before but it had never been serious or long-term. You couldn’t truly say that you’d ever loved someone (not that you loved Natasha or ever would, of course).

You had a strange urge to get to know her better; you wanted to have a conversation with her beyond sex. You wanted to spend time with her without it involving the two of you being wrapped up together in the sheets of a cheap motel bedroom. It was stupid of you to even think about the idea.  

You could feel your barriers crumbling, so you ran back to what you knew, to what was comforting. If it was only lust between you, then that’s what you’d drink. 

You climbed on top of Natasha and started kissing down her neck, grazing your teeth over her pulse point. You didn’t stop when she whispered your name in a confused tone, in fact, it only spurred you on. Your mouth wrapped around her nipple and you squeezed the other one in between your fingers, refusing to look into her eyes.

Her hands remained by her sides, refusing to touch you. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and she itched to push you off, to ignore the hunger coursing through her body and to be honest with you, she wanted to talk to you properly. She didn’t want to use you. She wanted it to be something more.

You released her nipple and dragged your fingers down her stomach, tracing the taunt muscles of her abs and dulling her mind to everything that wasn’t your touch. When you reached her thighs, her cock was already hard again and you could feel tears building in your eyes but they weren’t caused by overstimulation or exhaustion. You knew how twisted the whole thing was. It was sick — you were sick.

The first drops of translucent hurt slipped down your cheeks as you ran your tongue along her tip, your bare body on complete display to her as you settled in front of her on all fours, gripping her thighs. You were going to give Natasha everything but your soul that night and she was going to watch as you slowly but surely fell apart under her gaze. 

A/n - I have an idea for part 3 (which would be the last part). If anyone has any ideas for the actual smut bit, please don't hesitate to send a request about it.

[mdsbabygirl]

Needy sex w Bachira Meguru

Pairing: Bachira Meguru x FEM!reader

Wc: 860

Cw: domestic life w meguru, needy and horny Meguru, creampie, use of pet names (love, baby, angel, sweetie..), nipples play, clit play, mentions of multiple rounds, marking, Bachira is somewhat possessive, slight breeding kink, bachira is a bit of a tease, etc..

Note1: I'm into bllk now, so pls bear w me loveys... Also I'm crushing really hard on this mf... That's it thnx for hearing me.

Note2: this isn't proof read, so u may find mistakes..

Meguru who can't help but not get a boner when he sees you walking around the house, wearing only his tshirt and his fav pair of panties. He really can't help the surge of blood rushing south, when you're so mindlessly bending over the counter to grab something. How could you be so fucking hot without even trying.

Meguru who quickly creeps up behind you, sliding his hands under your -his- shirt to squeeze your pretty tits. He holds back a gasp when he finds out you're not wearing a bra, his lips morphing into a devilish smirk as his fingers quickly start toying with your nipples. Taking your already perked nubs in between his thumb and index finger and twisting it. "Look at you baby, I haven't done anything and your nipples are already hard!" He chuckled lowly.

Meguru who latches on your supple neck, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses on your soft skin,  sucking and biting it, leaving hickeys and love bites scattered everywhere. Bachira needs to mark you, needs everyone to know that you're his one and only babygirl. Just the thought of owning you makes his dick twitch in anticipation. You feel his smirk on your skin when you let out breathy whimpers. "Your sounds are so pretty! Need to hear more!" He whispers huskily in your ear.

Meguru who slides his hands past the waistband of your panties, and touches your soaked pussy. "Oh, so wet f'me already?!" You hear him tease, his chuckles echoing through your ears as he starts toying with your wet folds,  his digits go to your hot hole, gathering all the slick and coating your little bundle of nerves before circling on it slowly. He keeps teasing your pretty cunny until he can't take it anymore, "fuck sweetie, can't wait no more. Need to fuck you Angel!" He spoke in a low growl.

Meguru who swiftly bends you over the counter, pulls your soaked panties to the side, and slides his thick hardness inside your waiting cunt, filling you to the brim. Low grunts leave his soft lips, as your pussy flutters around his cock, adjusting to his size, "fuck you're so tight love" he moans through gritted teeth as he bottoms out, letting you get used to him.

Meguru who as soon as you give him the green light, starts pounding into you with animalistic fury. It's as if he was pussy deprived for so long–when he actually fucked you the day before– slamming his hips so rapidly against yours, his big cock bullying his way into your warm inviting cunny.

Meguru who moans so sluttily when your pussy squeezes every inch of his cock, leaving him gasping for air as he keeps thrusting relentlessly. He never stops his slamming, he fucks you so fast and hard that it leaves you breathless, turning you into putty in his hands. It's when he angles himself to thrust upwards, that you're finally seeing white, his tip hitting that yummy gummy spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You're a moaning mess really, panting, whimpering and whining like a pornstar, all thanks to Meguru's big cock. "Damn it.. haa..l-I love your slutty moans princess.. Mmmph shit.. " you hear him mumble, his voice so deep and sexy that it sends tingles of pleasure to your little clit.

Meguru who can't hold it in anymore, he needs to cum inside his precious princess. His thrusts become a bit sloppier, but he still manages to keep that same frantic pace, more or less. His moans become more and more high pitched, his hands squeezing the flesh of your hips so tightly it could bruise. "F-fuck I'm gonna cum!" He whines out, his head thrown back, and mouth wide agape as he chases his release. You were very close too, your shaky moans and the way your hips met his thrusts, told him you were on the verge of release. He smirked, hovering over your quivering form, peppering kisses to your neck, as his fingers went to play with your puffy clit, pressing on it with his thumb and drawing fast circles on your throbbing nub to help you reach your climax.

Meguru who cums as Soon as you do, hot ropes of thick cum shooting up your womb, as your walls milk him of all he's worth. His moans are so loud, whimpering and grunting so sexily into your ears to make you even more sensitive than you already are. He's such a tease honestly. "H-haa.. keep milking my cock sweetie.. nghhh y-yeah just like that!" He moaned, as his pace slowed down, his rhythm now a slow sensual one, wanting to ride out both of your orgasms.

Meguru who pulls your face towards him, kissing your lips so gently and pulls out, his hot sticky seed leaking out of your abused hole. The sly smirk on his face turns into a devilish grin when he sees the erotic sight before him. His fingers quickly gather the pearly remnants of your lovemaking, and pushes it back inside, he can't let his cum go to waste.

Meguru who chuckles lowly, thinking about how he's gonna keep ruining you for the next couple of hours. "Wanna go to bed for round two my love?" He asks, the predatory gleam in his eyes and teasing grin never fading.

©ᴍᴅꜱʙᴀʙʏɢɪʀʟ2024 ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

[zeroxxlhero]

Monster • Caitlyn Kiramman

Warnings: 18+ characters, vampire! Caitlyn, hunter! Reader, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blood play, biting, overstimulation, bondage, mentions of werewolf! Vi, use of a strap-on, vaginal penetration, praising, slight degradation, use of ‘good girl’

Pairings: Caitlyn Kiramman x You

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

After Vi’s run-in with the hunter, Caitlyn sets out on the journey to find such woman—her intentions to feast on you and suck your blood dry for even crossing into her territory. But things don’t seem to work out that way and she finds herself at the mercy of you just as Vi once was.

The moonlight gleamed off the worn gravestones, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance with the wind. Caitlyn’s boots echoed softly against the soft earth as she paced slowly through the graveyard, her gaze fixed on the darkened path ahead. Her thoughts were tangled, the sharp edge of her focus consumed with the scent of the hunter girl—Vi’s former lover. The lingering traces of her scent had clawed at Caitlyn’s thoughts ever since Vi returned, and now, they twisted inside her chest like a knot of jealousy and rage.

Her sharp senses had picked it up, unmistakable and still hanging in the air. The hunter’s scent was everywhere—the mingling mix of wild, earthy musk, and something more intoxicating. Every time Caitlyn closed her eyes, it was there, consuming her thoughts. She couldn’t deny it any longer—the woman, the enigma, was a constant in her mind, and Caitlyn hated it. She hated the fact that she could smell her, could practically feel her presence even when she wasn’t around.

A growl rumbled deep in her chest as Caitlyn’s instincts stirred. Her blood boiled at the thought of this woman, the one who had entangled herself with Vi. Was she a threat? Was she trying to get between them? Caitlyn’s fangs slowly elongated, her eyes glowing with the first flicker of monstrous hunger. She could almost taste the power surge as her beastly instincts began to rise to the surface.

Her body moved with unnatural speed as she followed the scent, slipping into the shadows like a wraith. The graveyard seemed to stretch endlessly before her, but Caitlyn’s senses never wavered. The smell was getting stronger now, more concentrated. It wasn’t just a trace anymore. It was a trail.

The wind shifted and carried the scent to her more sharply, and in that moment, she realized she was close. Her eyes glinted with animalistic anticipation, and the predator within her stirred, pushing her forward as her body shifted—her mind now fully consumed by the need to hunt. There was no room for anything else. Just the scent. Just the urge to confront the hunter girl.

The cabin loomed in the distance, a soft yellow light glowing faintly in the window, a beacon in the thickening night. The scent was stronger now, and Caitlyn knew she had reached her destination. It was here, in this isolated place, where she would find her.

With barely a whisper of sound, Caitlyn glided toward the door, her form slipping between the shadows, unseen. She felt the surge of power in her limbs, her senses razor-sharp, as if every step taken had purpose. Her heart beat with a mixture of fury and a twisted kind of desire for retribution. She wasn’t sure what she intended to do, but she knew she had to confront this woman. She had to destroy the presence of her that lingered between her and Vi.

Inside the cabin, the air was thick and heavy. It smelled of wood, dust, and something faintly metallic—another trace of the hunter’s scent. Caitlyn crept through the darkness, her eyes flicking to every corner, every shadow, searching for her target. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her feet seemed to vibrate with the tension in the room.

Her anger was palpable, and yet, her patience was unnerving. She moved slowly, deliberately, letting the weight of the silence settle around her. There was no sign of the woman, though the scent still lingered in the air like a taunting whisper.

Caitlyn’s fangs gleamed in the dim light as her anger began to surface again. She had come here for a reason, and that reason was slipping away from her. Her eyes narrowed, and she tossed a stool violently across the room, the sound of splintering wood filling the cabin with a burst of frustration. The chair crashed into the wall, pieces flying across the floor.

She stood still for a moment, trying to gather herself. Her fists clenched, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Stay calm, she told herself. Stay focused. But then, another scent reached her. Faint, unfamiliar, and burning with a rancid sharpness. She froze, her nose twitching as the stench infiltrated her senses. She’d never smelled anything like it before—nothing that was so wrong.

The smell was sour and sickly, an overpowering chemical stench that clawed at her insides. Her stomach twisted as she followed the scent, almost involuntarily, toward a small cloth lying discarded near the hearth. Without thinking, she grabbed it, bringing it to her face.

The moment the cloth touched her nose, the burning sensation hit her like a blast of heat. Her eyes watered, her skin prickling in agony as her mind reeled. The putrid stench burned through her nostrils, the sensation sharp enough to make her gag. Her fangs snapped instinctively, and she threw the cloth away with force, her breath coming out in sharp, frustrated gasps.

“What the hell is that?” she hissed, her voice strained, as she wiped her nose furiously with the back of her hand. The sensation lingered, nauseating and strange, almost as if it were meant to incapacitate her, to stop her from using her powers. Was this a trap? She felt her chest tighten, the air feeling thicker in her lungs.

With a growl, Caitlyn turned to leave, her mind racing. She had to keep searching, had to find the woman. But just as she moved toward the door, she felt a sudden, overwhelming pressure settle over her chest, crushing her breath. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell to the floor with a heavy thud, her body unable to function. Her vision blurred as her head spun, disoriented and weak.

“W-What is happening?” she gasped, trying to push herself up, but her limbs wouldn’t obey. The air felt thick, pressing against her chest like an invisible weight. She strained, her body shaking, trying to summon her strength—but it was no use.

Then came the sound of soft clapping.

Caitlyn’s head snapped toward the doorway, her eyes wide with disbelief. You stood there, leaning casually against the frame, your smile almost kind, yet chilling in its sincerity. There was something deeply unsettling about your expression, something cold in your amusement. You took a few steps forward, your eyes gleaming with a quiet triumph.

“Well, well,” you said, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Congratulations, Caitlyn. You fell for it so easily.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat, and she tried to move, to rush at you. But her legs couldn’t hold her. She collapsed, her body crumpling like a ragdoll onto the floor. Her teeth gritted together, frustration bubbling up, her mind screaming at her to fight.

“What did you do to me?” she demanded, her voice strained, weak.

You stepped closer, your expression shifting into something more predatory as you looked down at her. “Oh, it’s simple,” you replied coolly, “Just a little concoction I brewed—specifically for your kind. A sedative, really. Only a small dose is necessary, but you took in more than your share, didn’t you?” You tilted your head, eyes gleaming. “Your powers? Useless now. And I’d say you’ll be out for longer than I intended.”

Caitlyn’s vision flickered, her heart hammering in her chest, but she couldn’t fight it. Her head sagged to the floor, her limbs too heavy to move. The last thing she saw before her world went dark was your smirking face.

“Sleep well, Caitlyn,” you whispered softly as the shadows closed in around her. “I’ll be seeing you again.”

..

Caitlyn groggily stirred from the haze that clouded her mind, her body feeling like dead weight. Her chest heaved with shallow, uneven breaths, each one feeling heavier than the last. She tried to move, but her limbs felt like they were filled with lead, and a deep pressure weighed down on her chest. Panic began to set in, and she tried to shake it off, blinking hard to clear her vision.

As her focus sharpened, the fog of sleep lifting, Caitlyn quickly became aware of the painful truth of her situation. Her hands were chained behind her back, the metal digging into her wrists, and around her neck was a cold, unyielding collar—its presence as constricting as the fear that coiled in her stomach. She tried to pull at the chains, her muscles straining with effort, but no matter how hard she tugged, they wouldn’t give. Her strength—her unnatural, monstrous strength—was completely gone. The weight of the sedative still held her down, and the familiar hum of her powers was nonexistent, leaving her frustrated, helpless.

“Dammit,” she muttered, a low growl forming in her chest as her fangs scraped against her lip. Her vision blurred again, but she pushed it back, glaring at the darkened room in defiance. She would get out of this. She had to.

Suddenly, the soft sound of running water interrupted her thoughts, and Caitlyn’s eyes flickered toward the bathroom door. Through her half-blurred vision, she saw you step into the room, drying your hands casually with a towel, completely at ease as if nothing had happened. The sight of you—of your smug expression—made Caitlyn’s blood boil. Her eyes locked onto yours, and a fire of rage sparked in her chest, driving her forward despite the chains that held her in place.

“Let me out!” Caitlyn growled, her voice laced with venom. She bared her fangs at you, trying to rise from the floor despite the heavy chains that kept her tethered to the ground. “If you don’t let me go right now, the Kirammans will hunt you down and rip you apart! You’ll wish you’d never crossed me, or Vi for that matter.”

You paused, glancing over at her with an almost amused smirk, your eyes glinting in the dim light of the cabin. “The Kirammans, huh?” you said, your tone mocking, laced with humor. “Let me guess, your father’s Tobias, right? A half-breed who’s not even considered a true vampire by your kind?” You shook your head, unfazed by her threats. “And your dear mother, Cassandra? From what I’ve heard, she’s little more than a passive beast, unskilled in any real combat. She might be a threat in her own way, but it’s easier to deal with her than it is to tie a knot.”

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched at the mention of her family. She hated hearing you talk about them in such a dismissive tone, as if they were beneath her. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way you talked so casually about their deaths, as if it were nothing more than a simple inconvenience.

“You think I can’t kill you?” Caitlyn hissed, her eyes narrowing with suspicion and growing fury. “You think you can just walk away after what you’ve done? You have no idea who I am, or who my family is. They’ll track you down. They’ll feast on your bones.”

You chuckled darkly, stepping forward and running a finger through your hair, your eyes still glimmering with amusement. “Caitlyn,” you cooed, mocking the seriousness in her voice. “I’m not worried about your family. You may be powerful and quite influential but even then, it’s still not enough.”

Caitlyn’s stomach twisted with fury at your words. The rage in her eyes intensified, her fangs visible as she snapped her teeth, but she couldn’t move—not with the chains holding her in place, not with the lingering effects of the sedative weighing down her limbs.

“Shut up,” she snapped, her voice tinged with anger. “What the hell do you want with me?”

You tilted your head and flashed her a wicked smirk, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “I’m guessing you have an idea, don’t you?” you asked, your voice a teasing drawl. “I’m the woman who was with Vi. She and I go way back.” You let out a soft, almost wistful laugh. “Vi’s still the same beast I remember. Still a creature of instinct, wild, untamed… and I enjoyed my time with her, believe me.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with a fury unlike any other, her breath quickening as her chest tightened. “You,” she growled, her teeth flashing like knives in the dark, “you think that means something? You think I give a damn about your time with her?”

Her anger bubbled over, the heat of it suffocating her rational thoughts. You knew exactly what to say to provoke her, to make her want to tear you apart. And somehow, that only made her want to fight more, even if her body wasn’t cooperating.

Her breath came in sharp bursts, her fangs gleaming in the low light, and her eyes flared with an intensity that burned like fire. She was desperate to lash out, but she was trapped—physically, emotionally, and now… mentally. You had her where you wanted her.

“So tell me,” you said, your voice still light and playful, “What are you going to do now? You’re just a pretty little vampire with no fangs, Caitlyn. What will you do when the Kirammans can’t save you?”

Caitlyn’s mouth was dry, and her chest tightened with a mixture of fury and helplessness. She knew what she wanted to say, but it didn’t matter. In the end, she was at your mercy. And right now, it felt like she had none.

Her jaw tightened, her fangs gleaming as she glared daggers at you. But there was something in her eyes—a flicker of uncertainty, of doubt. You had struck a nerve, and you knew it.

You sauntered closer to her, picking up a knife from the nearby table. The blade gleamed in the dim light as you turned it over in your hand, inspecting it casually. Caitlyn puffed out her chest, her glare unwavering as she spat, “If you’re going to kill me, then get it over with.”

You stopped in front of her, letting out a low laugh. “Kill you?” you said, tilting your head. “Oh, Caitlyn, I’m not here to kill you.”

With a deliberate motion, you pressed the edge of the blade against your arm, dragging it just enough to draw blood. A small bead of crimson welled up, sliding down your skin. Caitlyn’s nose twitched immediately, her sharp senses honing in on the scent. Her body stiffened, her breathing growing heavier as the intoxicating aroma of your blood filled the air.

Her composure began to crack. Her glowing eyes darted between your arm and your face, her chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. She tried to fight it, to keep control, but the hunger was too strong, too overwhelming. Her fangs ached, her entire body screaming for her to take what she needed.

“You want a taste, don’t you?” you asked, your voice smooth and teasing. You held your arm out slightly, just close enough to tempt her further. “If you behave, maybe I’ll let you have some.”

Caitlyn clenched her jaw, trying to summon the strength to resist, but her body betrayed her. Her chest heaved, her fangs lengthened, and her eyes were locked onto the blood dripping from your arm. The scent was overwhelming, consuming her thoughts and instincts.

“Screw yourself,” she hissed, though her voice wavered. “When I get out of these chains, I’ll tear you apart.”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “Oh, Vi said the same thing,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement. “But we both know how that turned out, don’t we?”

Caitlyn’s eyes burned with fury at the mention of Vi, but her focus was slipping. You raised your wrist to your lips, deliberately licking the blood that had pooled there. The scent grew stronger, more potent, and it sent Caitlyn over the edge. Her eyes darted between your wrist and your mouth, her beastly instincts taking over as her breathing grew more erratic.

You leaned in, your voice low and mocking. “Come on, Caitlyn. I know you want it. Stop fighting and just give in.”

Her resolve shattered. The hunger, the intoxicating pull of your blood, was too much. Caitlyn’s fangs glinted in the dim light as she lunged forward, sinking them into your arm with a growl. The moment her teeth pierced your skin, she was consumed by the rush. The warmth, the taste—it was euphoric, electrifying. Every drop of blood that filled her was like a drug, intoxicating her senses and drowning out everything else.

Her fangs buried deeper into your arm as she fed, her entire body trembling with the intensity of it. She was lost, completely consumed by the moment, her mind clouded with the pleasure of it. Nothing else mattered—not the chains, not the collar, not even you. All that existed was the blood, the power it gave her, and the hunger it satisfied.

You watched her with a wicked smile, your amusement only growing as she surrendered completely. “That’s it,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over her labored breaths. “Good girl.”

The air in the cellar is thick, heavy with the scent of blood. Caitlyn’s fangs are deeply embedded in your arm, her body trembling with the power of the feed, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she drinks from you. Her hands, bound behind her, are flexing and straining in vain against the chains, and her eyes—glowing with hunger—are fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, you allow her to drink, watching the way her body responds to the rush, to the sweetness of your blood, to the way it’s driving her wild. But then, as her greed deepens, you know it’s time to pull back. She’s already too far gone, teetering on the edge of losing herself entirely.

You take a deep breath, then grab her by the back of the head, trying to pull her away with a firm, swift motion.

Caitlyn’s body fights against you, but her desperation makes her stronger. Her growl is low and guttural, a desperate, animalistic sound that reverberates through the room. She tries to push forward, her fangs still embedded in your skin, but you press her back, your grip tight, controlling.

“Enough,” you hiss, your voice sharp as you try to force her away. Her hands claw behind her back uselessly, her body rigid with frustration, the hunger burning in her eyes.

But Caitlyn’s not done. She’s feral now, completely consumed by the desire, the need to feed, to drain you dry. She makes a guttural noise, barely human, as her head snaps forward, trying to latch deeper into your arm.

“Greedy little vampire,” you grimaced, grabbing her by the jaw with one hand, physically prying her mouth open, trying to remove her fangs from your flesh. The pressure of her bite is sharp, the sensation of her fangs digging into your skin maddening, but you don’t flinch. You can’t.

You wrenched your arm back suddenly, breaking the connection and taking a step out of Caitlyn’s reach. Her head snapped up, her glowing eyes wild and ravenous as she instinctively lunged forward, but the chains yanked her back. A growl rumbled low in her throat, guttural and animalistic, as she strained against her restraints, her fangs bared and dripping with crimson.

“Easy there,” you teased, holding up your arm just out of her reach, blood still oozing from the shallow wound. “You don’t want to get too greedy, now, do you?”

Caitlyn’s chest heaved, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she fought to regain control of herself. But she was too far gone, her mind overtaken by the intoxicating taste of your blood. Her lips parted, a desperate sound escaping her as she leaned forward, straining against the cuffs that held her in place. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to have more, to sink her fangs into you again and drain you dry.

“You’re pathetic,” you said, your tone dripping with mockery. “Look at you—completely feral. Is this the mighty Kiramman I’ve heard so much about? Or just a starving little beast who can’t control herself?”

She snarled at you, a wordless sound of fury and hunger, but there was no mistaking the desperation in her eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, her body trembling as the scent of your blood still hung thick in the air. She lunged again, only for the chains to snap her back into place, her head bowing as she let out a frustrated growl.

“You really are hopeless,” you continued, stepping closer with an infuriating smirk on your lips. “So much for all that high-and-mighty vampire pride, huh? One little taste, and you’re already begging for more.”

“I’m not begging,” Caitlyn hissed, though her voice was hoarse, trembling with the effort of holding herself back. Her glowing eyes darted to your arm again, her fangs aching with the need to sink into flesh, but she grit her teeth, forcing herself to look away. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Oh, really?” You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening as you stepped even closer, letting the scent of your blood flood her senses again. She flinched, her head snapping back toward you despite herself, her body betraying the resolve she was trying so desperately to cling to. “Your body says otherwise.”

Caitlyn growled low in her throat, her fangs glinting as she glared up at you, but the wildness in her eyes betrayed her. She tried to speak, to retort, but the hunger clawing at her insides had stolen her voice. Her gaze flicked between your face and your arm, every breath she took pulling more of that intoxicating scent into her lungs.

You tilted your head, watching her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “It’s almost adorable,” you murmured, your voice soft but cutting. “You’re trying so hard to fight it. But you and I both know you’re losing.”

She snarled again, her body tensing as she fought against the chains, but it was clear she was at her limit. Her glowing eyes burned with rage and hunger, her lips pulling back in a feral sneer as she tried to snap at you despite the distance between you.

“See?” you said, stepping back with a laugh. “Completely feral.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her mind was consumed by the need, the hunger, the overwhelming scent of your blood that still lingered in the air. Her body trembled, her fangs bared as she stared at you like a predator stalking its prey, but the chains held her firmly in place.

“You really are something else, Kiramman,” you said, your voice laced with mockery as you finally turned away, heading toward the table to grab a rag to wipe the blood from your arm. “I think I might just keep you around a little longer. Watching you squirm like this is far too entertaining to give up just yet.”

Caitlyn strains against the cold metal of her restraints, her vampire strength useless against the unyielding chains. She glares up at you balefully, her crimson eyes glowing with barely suppressed rage. "Let me out!" She snarls, baring her fangs at you menacingly.

Her threats are empty, her fear pungent on the air. You smile at her, a slow, predatory curve of your lips. "I think what you mean to say," you murmur, crouching down to meet her eyes, "Is please. Please, may I have some blood?"

Caitlyn's eyes widen, a look of shock crossing her features. "Wh...what?"

You chuckle darkly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her face. "Come now, Caitlyn. We both know that's what you really want."

You lean in close, your lips brushing her ear as you whisper your next words. "To be fed, to be dominated, to be owned completely." Caitlyn shivers, a small, involuntary sound escaping her throat. She tries to pull away from you, but the chains binding her are unyielding.

"I don't...I won't..."Her protests are weak, her resistance crumbling under your hungry gaze.

"You will," you assure her, your voice a low purr of dominance. "Because I know how much you need it. How much you crave it." You trail your fingers down her neck, over the pounding pulse of her jugular.

"Your body knows what it wants, even if your mouth won't admit it."

You press a slow, deliberate kiss to her exposed throat, your tongue laving the pale skin. Caitlyn gasps, her head tipping back to bare more of herself to you. You can feel her trembling, the vibrations traveling up your lips to your bones.

"Pleasure," you murmur against her flesh. "That's all this is. Simple, primal pleasure." Your words, spoken low and seductive, are almost inaudible. But you know she can hear them, can feel them vibrating in her very soul.

You know she's close to breaking, to submitting to the desire you've kindled within her. "Just say the words, Caitlyn." Another kiss, another brush of lips and fang. "Beg for what you need."

Caitlyn's pride wars with her desperation, her need for sustenance battling with her stubborn will. She's been fighting you, struggling against your hold, determined not to give you the satisfaction of hearing her beg. But the longer you tease her, the weaker her resolve grows. Her body screams for what you're offering, craves the life-giving blood pumping through your veins.

"Please," she finally gasps, the word torn from her throat against her better judgement. "Please, I need..." she breaks off, swallowing hard. Her eyes, when they meet yours, are pools of scarlet desperation.

"I need you," she whispers, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. "Please. I need your blood."

You smile, a slow, predatory curl of your lips. "That's it," you murmur approvingly, running your fingers through her hair. "Good girl." Caitlyn leans into your touch, her eyes slipping closed as she savors the praise.

You can feel her hunger beating at you, a physical ache in the space between you. But you ignore it for now, focused on her capitulation. Youtrail your fingers down to the chains, snapping your fingers sharply. "On your knees," you command, your voice leaving no room for argument.

Caitlyn immediately complies, the metal of her restraints clinking as she drops to the floor before you. She gazes up at you adoringly, her head bowed submissively. "Now," you purr, "Open your mouth."

You release your throbbing clit from the tight rubber band, the action making you hiss as the cool air hits your sensitive flesh. The pleasure almost painfully intense after such prolonged stimulation. Caitlyn gazes up at you, her eyes hooded and dark with lust. "Please," she rasps, "I need to taste you."

Without waiting for permission, she dives forward, her hot mouth engulfing your aching sex. Your eyes roll back in your head at the first swipe of her tongue, a low moan tumbling from your lips as she devours you. Her mouth is magic on your skin, licking and suckling at your pussy as if she's starving for the taste of you. You can feel her fangs grazing your tender flesh and it only heightens your pleasure, the slight pain mixing with the ecstasy until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

Caitlyn moans against your core, the vibrations adding to your pleasure as she feasts on your juices. You thread your fingers through her hair, holding her close as you grind your hips against her face. "That's it," you pant, "Take what you need, my good little vampire slut." She whimpers at your filthy praise, doubling her efforts. Her tongue delves deep, lapping at your inner walls, before moving up to circle your throbbing clit. You're close, so close, your thighs starting to tremble with the force of your impending release.

"Don't stop,” you demand, your voice strained. "Don't you dare fucking stop," Caitlyn growls in response, the sound sending delicious vibrations through your core. She redoubles her efforts, alternating between suckling hard on your clit and plunging her tongue as deep inside you as she can reach.

Caitlyn sucks your clit into her mouth with single-minded greed, her tongue working feverishly over the bundle of nerves. You can feel her fangs grazing your sensitive flesh and it only serves to heighten your pleasure, sending electric thrills shooting up your spine. Her hunger is a living thing, palpable in the air around you, in the desperate way she's devouring your cunt like a woman starved.

You know she could take you, could bite down and fill her mouth with your essence, but she holds herself back. You can see her muscles trembling with the effort of restraint, hear her teeth grinding against each other as she fights her darker impulses. It's a testament to her obedience, her complete submission to your will. And it only serves to turn you on more, to push you higher.

Your orgasm crashes into you with the force of a tsunami, your back bowing as pleasure wracks through you in intense waves. You moan, a high, keening sound that echoes off the walls as your pussy clamps down hard. Your juices gush out to flood Caitlyn's greedy mouth, and she swallows every drop, not spilling a single precious bit of your essence. Through the haze of your climax, you can feel her pressing closer, her nose grinding into your clit as she prolongs your ecstasy. But she doesn't stop at one, doesn't give you a chance to come down from your high.

She continues to eat you through the aftershocks, her tongue dipping into your still-fluttering hole as if to catch any stray drops. You writhe against her, your hips bucking uncontrollably as she wrings every last tremor from your spent body.

Caitlyn snarls in frustration as you pull her mouth away from your aching core, her fangs bared in a feral grimace. She strains against the chains holding her hands behind her back, trying to buck her hips forward to regain the friction you denied her. But you keep a firm grip on her head, holding her in place as you watch her writhe beneath you.

"P-Please," she whines, her voice high and needy, "I need...I need more." You just smirk down at her, reveling in the desperation radiating from her body. You know you have her now, completely at your mercy. A simple no from you, and you could leave her aching and unsatisfied, her hunger a constant throb between her thighs.

But that's not what you want.

You kneel down, throwing Caitlyn's legs over your shoulders with a predatory growl. She gasps, her eyes widening as you settle between her thighs. Your hair brushes against the sensitive skin of her inner legs, making her shudder.

"Please," she begs, the word a broken moan, "Please, I can't stand it." You lean in, inhaling deeply, savoring the rich musk of her arousal.

"You beg so pretty," you murmur, your breath hot against her weeping slit, "But I don't think you've suffered enough yet." With a wicked grin, you run the flat of your tongue up her pussy, licking a slow stripe from her entrance to her throbbing clit. Caitlyn cries out, her hips jerking as if hit by lightning, but the chains hold her firmly in place.

You take your time, lapping at her folds like a cat lapping cream, coating your tongue in her sweet, tangy essence. Caitlyn thrashes beneath you, her body twisting and writhing as if trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure. But there is no escape, no respite from your relentless ministrations. You dip the tip of your tongue into her tight hole, fucking her with shallow strokes. She bucks against your face, trying to take you deeper, to drive herself onto your invading muscle. But you won't allow it. You keep the thrusts light, teasing, prolonging her torment.

You move higher, swirling your tongue around her clit in lazy circles that gradually tighten in spiral. Caitlyn keens, her voice ragged as she chants mindlessly, "Pleasepleasepleaseplease..." You can feel her start to throb against your lips, her climax hovering just out of reach.

You can feel her start to throb against your lips, her climax hovering just out of reach. With a wicked grin, you slowly plunge one finger into her tight, clinging heat. Caitlyn bucks wildly, a broken moan escaping her throat. "Fuck!" she gasps, her hips rocking frantically to try and take your teasing finger deeper.

You keep your touch light, pumping your finger in and out of her in excruciatingly shallow strokes. She's so close, trembling on the precipice of oblivion, but you hold her back by a thread, denying her the final push she needs. Leaning forward, you ghost your lips over her drenched folds, your warm breath making her muscles clench and flutter. "What do you want, Caitlyn?" you ask, your tone deceptively mild. "Do you want me back in your pussy?"

“Fuck, yes…!”

At her answer, you seal your lips around her clit and suck hard, piercing your tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. At the same time, you curl your finger inside her, stroking along the rippling walls of her sheath in a come-hither motion. Caitlyn moans, her body going rigid as her orgasm slams into her like a freight train. Her back bows, every muscle in her body pulling taut with the force of her release.

You work her through it mercilessly, pumping your finger and flicking your tongue against her spasming flesh, coaxing every last tremor from her spent body. Only when the rippling of her walls starts to slow do you ease off, gentling your touches to bring her back down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy.

You kiss her, your tongues tangling languidly as you share her taste. She moans into your mouth, her kiss as desperate as a drowning woman seeking air. You pull back, trailing your lips over her cheekbone and down to her ear.

"You did so well, my vampire," you murmur, your voice a low, approving rumble. "So eager, so responsive." You nip at her earlobe before soothing the sting with your tongue. Caitlyn shivers, a full body tremble that makes your still-buried finger clench inside her.

"More," she begs, the word a breathless gasp against your skin. "Please, I need more."

"You want more blood, or you want more of me?" you ask, already knowing the answer. Your little vampire is insatiable, always greedy for more. Whether it's the crimson nectar of life pumping through your veins, or your body bringing her to heights of ecstasy she's never known, she craves both like a drug. And you're more than happy to oblige, to feed and fuck her until she's a boneless heap of satiation.

Caitlyn's choice is the same, her voice a wanton moan that hangs heavy on the air. "Both! God, please, I need it all. Need-you." Her desperate plea is like the sweetest music, stoking your own desires into a raging inferno. With a final, searing kiss, you rise and saunter over to the table, the chains of her restraints clinking with every step.

You take your time putting on the harness, adjusting the straps so the dildo stands proud and ready. The latex feels cool and clingy against your skin, a sensual contrast to the heat building in your core as you picture burying the thick cock deep in Caitlyn's waiting heat. You turn back to your vampire, your eyes glinting with predatory hunger as they rake over her bound form. The sight of her like this, chained and open and so utterly at your mercy, sends a fresh flood of arousal straight to your pussy, making the toy bob enticingly.

You stalk toward her slowly, savoring the way her eyes dilate and her tongue swipes over her bottom lip as you approach. Stopping just out of reach, you trail the tip of the dildo up the inside of her thigh, watching her muscles jump and twitch under your touch.

"I'm gonna fuck you," you purr, your words sending a shiver down Caitlyn's spine. "I'm gonna go so hard, so deep, you'll forget your own name." You punctuate your promise with a teasing swirl of the cock around her dripping pussy, coating the head in her slick arousal. Caitlyn whimpers, her hips canting forward in a desperate attempt to gain more friction. But you pull back at the last second, grinning at her frustrated growl.

"Beg for it," you demand, your voice a low, seductive rumble. "Beg me to ruin this needy pussy."

Caitlyn's pride wars with her lust, her stubbornness battling with the aching emptiness in her core. But you can see the exact moment when desire wins out, when she gives herself over completely to the need pulsing between her thighs.

"Please," she gasps, her voice ragged and rough. "Please, I need your cock. Need you to fill me up, fuck me full until I can't tell where you end and I begin. I need it so bad. I'm begging you. Fuck me. Ruin me." Her words are music to your ears, your little slut so far gone she's practically babbling.

With a predatory growl of approval, you line up the head of the dildo with her entrance and surge forward, sheathing yourself to the hilt in one hard thrust. Caitlyn howls, her back bowing as she's split open on the thick cock.

You set a punishing pace from the start, your hips snapping forward in hard, deep strokes that hit her cervix with every pass. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes off the walls, mingling with Caitlyn's wanton cries and desperate pleas for more. You can feel her tightening around you, her muscles clenching and fluttering as she nears her peak.

But you know she needs more to push her over the edge. Plunging your hand between her body, you find her clit, the engorged bundle of nerves slick with her arousal. You rub tight circles over it, feeling it throb beneath your fingers. "Fuck," you curse, your voice a low rasp as you continue your brutal pace.

You continue pistoning into Caitlyn, your pace relentless as you drive her towards the edge. Suddenly, you lean down, your lips brushing the shell of her ear as you coo teasingly, "You're so loud, Caitlyn. Are you this loud when it comes to you and Vi, your little werewolf girlfriend, fucking each other senseless in your bed?"

She cries out, her inner walls clenching around you, the mention of her lover both shameful and shamefully arousing.

You chuckle darkly, nipping at her earlobe. "Vampires and werewolves shouldn't be sharing the same bed, should they? And yet, there’s you two." You punctuate your words with a particularly brutal thrust, burying yourself to the hilt in her sopping cunt. "Or is it that you just can't help yourself, even after all this time? I know I certainly can't."

You can feel Caitlyn starting to tighten around you, her orgasm building at the base of her spine. But you hold her back, keeping your thrusts shallow and teasing even as the need to pound into her grows. Not until you've had your fill of tormenting her with memories of your lover. "Vi was so good," you croon, your lips brushing her cheekbone as you speak.

"So obedient, so eager to please." You press a line of biting kisses down the column of her throat, your teeth scraping lightly over her racing pulse. "She loved it when I fucked myself on her cock. Would moan so sweetly as I rode her hard and fast." Your thrusts speed up, mimicking the frenzied rhythm you used on your wolf. "But in the end, it was her who tapped out first. Even with all that lycan stamina, she couldn't last."

You grin wickedly as Caitlyn's pussy clench around your dildo, her body's response to your taunting words. "And if you and Vi just ever played nice," you purr, punctuating your words with a sharp snap of your hips, "I might just let you both fuck me as hard as you want, as often as you want."

You can almost picture it, the vampire and werewolf girlfriends rutting into you from either side, your body stretched and full and flying high on the dual pleasure. But that's a fantasy for another day. "But first, my sweet little Caitlyn," you growl, your cock plunging deep one last time before stilling, "You're going to come. Now."

You redouble your efforts, pounding into Caitlyn with wild abandon as you chase your own climax. Her scream of ecstasy mixes with the wet slap of skin on skin, the sound echoing off the walls. But you're not done with her yet. You want to give her everything, to let her sate her hunger on more than just your cock.

"Caitlyn," you pant, your voice strained, "Bite me. Drink." You angle your head to the side, baring the vulnerable expanse of your throat. You can feel her falter, hear her whine of denial as she struggles against the chains holding her in place. But you won’t take no for an answer. Reaching out, you grasp her head in your hands, holding her in place as you grind your hips against her oversensitive flesh.

"Drink," you command, a note of desperation creeping into your tone.

With a groan of surrender, Caitlyn sinks her fangs into your neck, her bite sharp and painful and so fucking perfect. You moan out, the pain of her bite mixing with the pleasure of her spasming cunt, driving you higher and higher until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. Your blood flows hot over her tongue, rich and thick and laced with the coppery tang of passion. She drinks deep, gulping greedily as if she's been starved, her throat working to swallow every drop of your life's essence.

You come with a shout, your vision going white as your climax crashes into you like a tidal wave. Your hips jerks and twitch against her, your release hitting you like a punch to the gut. Through the haze of your ecstasy, you can feel Caitlyn following you over the edge, her pussy clamping down hard as she cums.

You can feel Caitlyn start to come down from her high, her sips on your neck growing slow and languid as she floats in the afterglow of her release. Her body goes lax in your arms, her head lolling against your shoulder as she lets you cradle her close.

You smile, running soothing strokes down her back as you pepper soft kisses over her hair. "So good," you murmur against her temple, your voice rough with satiation, "My perfect vampire, so well-behaved." You nuzzle her, breathing in the heady scent of her satisfaction, of the musk of sex and blood that clings to her like an aphrodisiac.

"Shh, it's alright," you croon as she whimpers against your neck, her fangs finally releasing their grip on your flesh to lave the wound with her tongue. "I've got you."

..

Caitlyn buttoned up her shirt with shaking fingers, the post-orgasmic tremors still racing through her system. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitized, every brush of fabric against her flesh sending sparks skittering along her nerves.

She could feel your eyes on her as she tugged her pants into place, could sense the smug satisfaction radiating off you in waves. Probably still riding that high from marking her so thoroughly, making her his all over again. The thought sent a twinge of guilt spiking through her chest, a silent reminder of her responsibilities waiting for her at home, of the life she'd turned her back on to indulge in forbidden pleasures.

Caitlyn picked up her trench coat from the floor, shrugging it on with jerky, distracted movements. She avoided your gaze as she fumbled with the zipper, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of satiation and shame. "I should go," she said, her voice rough and raspy, the words sounding forced even to her own ears. "Vi will be wondering where I am." The mention of her lover's name sent a fresh wave of guilt washing over her, twisting uncomfortably in her gut.

She cast a glance at the clock, grimacing when she saw the late hour. She'd been gone for hours, longer than she'd intended. Vi would be frantic with worry, no doubt imagining all manner of horrors that had befallen her mate. And she would know as soon as she smelt the presence of the hunter on Caitlyn’s skin. The thought made Caitlyn's stomach churn, shame and self-loathing mingling in a sickening cocktail.

Turning back to face you, Caitlyn hesitated, suddenly unsure. She knew she shouldn't ask, shouldn't tempt fate or jinx the fragile understanding you'd reached. And yet the words slipped out before she could stop them, hanging heavy in the air between you. "Will I see you again?" Your answering smirk was slow and satisfied, your eyes glinting with wicked promise.

"Oh, my sweet vampire," you purred, taking a long drag on your cigarette before blowing the smoke in a leisurely stream towards the ceiling, "You have no idea how soon."

You gestured with your cigarette towards the door, your gaze never leaving hers. "Now go on, get out of here. Vi must be just dying for you." The smirk on your lips turned playful and taunting. "Bring her next time.I'm sure the three of us will have a blast."

You stubbed out your cigarette in the ashtray, grinding the amber into ashes. Before Caitlyn could turn away, you reached out and snagged her face in your hands with an unbreakable grip. Despite her own monstrous strength, she stumbled, her eyes flying wide as she found herself pulled flush against your chest. You kissed her hard and deep, plundering her mouth with a ferocity that stole the breath from her lungs. By the time you released her, she was breathless and reeling, clinging to your waist for support.

Only when her legs started to shake beneath her did you release her, keeping one steadying hand on her cheek as you steadied her focus on you. "If you ever need more," you murmured, your lips brushing her ear, "You know where to find me."

You know she'll come back, knows it as surely as you know your own name. Whether it's tomorrow or next week or a month from now, she'll be back in your bed, begging for you and craving your blood. It's only a matter of time before Vi finds out about your little arrangement, before the werewolf shows up again, eyes flared and fangs bared. But you're not afraid.

If anything, the thought sends a thrill of anticipation skittering down your spine. Wouldn't it be fun to have them tear you apart, their greed and lust clouding their minds and erasing their human senses?

There's always time for fun later.

[suguwu]

part of the last light on series. f!reader who has a child with sae but never told him. minors and ageless blogs dni.

"sae."

that airy warble is gone; your voice has settled into something cooler, the first kiss of winter on an autumn day. there's a slight furrow to your brow, but sae still knows you. there's something sad tucked secret in the corner of your lips.

he says your name. watches the way you cup your daughter (his daughter) closer to you, her little face burrowed in the gentle curve of your neck. you have one hand cradling the back of her head, as delicate as a dove's wing, your fingers splayed like feathers.

"what are you doing here?" you ask.

"looking for you."

something flickers across your face, a fleeting summer storm.

"japan, sae. why are you in japan."

he shrugs. "it's still my home, you know."

"is it?"

your daughter makes a small, musical noise, shifting in your arms. you hush her, humming softly until she falls still again, lulled back into sleep. sae watches the way her little hand curls into your sweater, tiny fingers anchoring her to you.

(he wonders, briefly, if she would hold onto him in the same way.)

"what's her name?" he asks.

"why do you care?"

he sighs. "games don't suit you," he says. "tell me my daughter's name."

something in you hardens, frost spiraling across a river's surface.

"rin," you say quietly, and his brother steps in front of him again, blocking his view of you and his daughter. he flexes his fingers as rin scoops up the little girl; she mumbles something before settling against his lean shoulder. it's easy, born of familiarity, and something in sae grows teeth.

"one brother wasn't enough for you?" he asks.

rin whips around, fury lining him like a cloak, splitting through him like a thunderclap. your hand comes up to rest on his other shoulder, restraining him with the most delicate of touches. an owner pulling her dog's collar.

sae can't help the smirk.

"it's fine," you tell rin. "can you settle her in the stroller, please?"

rin's turquoise eyes are aflame, burning like a comet's tail through the velvet sky. he stares down sae for another breath before he turns back to you.

he leans in close; too close for sae to hear what he says to you.

you nod, and rin sends sae one last glare before he walks away, carefully cradling the little girl in his arms. sae's gaze catches on her small form; he thinks of the sea foam that washes up onto the shore, too delicate to last.

"why didn't you tell me?" he asks, turning back to you.

you meet his gaze steadily. "you wouldn't have stayed."

sae shoves his hands in his pockets; he stays quiet. you watch him, your lips curling down at the edges, like wilting leaves.

"what do you want, sae?"

"my daughter."

"you can't have her," you say. "you'll break her heart."

"like i broke yours?"

"you didn't break my heart, sae."

he watches you for a moment. you don't look away.

"yes," he says. "i did."

you sigh. "go home, sae."

"i will," he says easily. "but not without her."

you stiffen. "you'd take her from me?"

"no," he says. "you're coming too."

"fuck off, sae."

he steps in close, until he can feel your body heat, until he can hear the soft breath you suck in. "you miss me," he says. "don't you?"

"fuck off, sae."

"that's not a no."

your hand comes up as he pushes closer; you splay it across his chest. the heat of it sinks through his shirt, like spring sunlight, gentle and warm. he waits, but you don't shove him away. he wraps a hand around your wrist, stroking his thumb over the tender underside.

"you miss me," he says. "say it."

"i miss you," you breathe.

"then let me in."

you let out a shaky breath. "sae—"

"yeah?"

"earn it," you say, finally shoving him away. he steps back gracefully, his face impassive. for a moment, you think he won't say anything, but then he's cupping your jaw with one big hand, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"fine," he says. "i will."

[cruel-seduction]

Jealous, Rabid, and Out of Control part 2

Werewolf!theo au. || Click here to read Part 1

A/N - Hello, my certified cute red flags!! This is part - 2. It only have smut but to understand how they got in this situation you gotta read part 1. Read tin order otherwise it wouldn't make sense. I am posting like this since Tumblr doesn't allow more than 4k words at once. And I wanted too add so much smut element that I exceeded the word limit.

Summary - He smelled another man on you. That was cute. Really fucking cute—until he had you on your knees, crying, begging, ruined. Until he edged you for hours, tore you apart, and put you back together exactly how he wanted. You swore you’d never break, never beg, never let him have that power over you. Too bad. Because now? Now, you were nothing but a dumb, wrecked mess, pleading for the release he refused to give. And Theo? He was just getting started. 

Contains - Degrading, Manhandling, Slapping (tits & cunt), Spanking, Choking, Edging, Overstimulation, Forced Submission, Power Imbalance, Mocking, Humiliation, Hair Pulling, Begging, Dumbification, Forced Eye Contact, Possessive!Theo, Rough Handling, Size Kink, Light Worship, Mean!Dom, crying, forced blowjob. Tell me if there is more. 

The room went still.

Then, before you could even breathe, Theo moved.

A gasp tore from your throat as his hands snatched your waist, yanking you down with brutal ease. You fought. Arms swinging, thrashing, shoving at his shoulders, trying to get away, but his grip was iron, unshakable. He caught your flailing wrists with one hand, the other forcing you down, pressing against the small of your back until your knees hit the fucking floor.

Pain shot through your joints from the impact, your hands bracing against his thighs, panting, shaking, your face burning with fury and something else, something dark and unspoken.

Your eyes burned. Tears threatened. But deep down, beneath the rage, beneath the shame—you were fucking thrilled.

Theo’s fingers curled around your cheek, tilting your face up to him, forcing you to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown, dark, a hunger in his stare that made your stomach twist.

"Open your mouth."

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head, eyes flashing with rebellion. No. His smirk didn’t falter. Didn’t even waver.

Then—a sharp yank. A gasp tore from your lips as his fingers snatched a fistful of your hair, tilting your head back, forcing your mouth to part just slightly, just enough—

And he took the fucking opportunity.

Two fingers shoved past your lips, pressing against your tongue, the taste of his skin, his salt, his cruelty flooding your senses. You choked, trying to jerk away, but his grip only tightened, his fingers pressing down, claiming space in your mouth like they fucking belonged there.

"Suck."

You shook your head, humiliation twisting in your chest, hands pushing at his thighs, but he only yanked your hair harder, tilting your head further back, sending a sharp sting across your scalp.

Tears blurred your vision. Humiliation burned hot in your throat, and your body betrayed you again, heat curling deep in your belly. “Suck.”

His voice was razor-sharp, commanding, and it broke something in you. Slowly, hesitantly, you obeyed. Mouth closing around his fingers, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling—

Theo groaned, low and dark. And when you glared up at him, eyes still burning, still furious, all he did was smirk, thumb stroking against your cheek. "Look at you,” he murmured, mocking, taunting, his voice laced with nothing but pure fucking cruelty. "Thought you liked gentlemen, sweetheart? But here you are, on your fucking knees, sucking on my fingers like a desperate little thing."

Your humiliation burned. And Theo? He fucking reveled in it.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, hot and burning, spilling over your cheeks as Theo’s fingers stayed shoved deep in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, forcing you to take it, to accept it.

“Crying already?” His voice was a low, condescending drawl, thick with mockery as he tilted his head, watching the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. “God, you’re fucking pathetic. Pathetic—and so damn pretty.”

You tried to jerk away, to push back, but he tightened his grip on your hair, yanking you back into place like you were nothing more than his to control.

Then, in a tone so low, so casual, it sent a chill down your spine, he murmured, "Grind on the floor, dove.” Your stomach twisted. A hot pulse of something shameful curled deep inside you, but you shook your head, immediate, instinctive.

No. Absolutely not. There was no fucking way you’d do that—even if you wanted to. Even if the ache between your thighs was already unbearable. Even if your body was screaming for relief.

Theo exhaled sharply, a deep, annoyed sound that vibrated through the room, and just as you braced yourself for whatever would come next—

A sharp sting seared through your chest.

You gasped around his fingers, eyes flying wide. The bastard had slapped your breast. The pain was sudden, hot, electric—but the worst part? The absolute worst part? Your body fucking liked it.

A sound tore from your throat—a moan, a whimper, a gasp—you didn’t even know what the fuck it was. Your back arched, hands fisting the fabric of his pants, and before you could recover, before you could reel yourself back in—

He did it again.

Harder. Rougher. The impact sent a sharp pulse straight to your core, and fuck—fuck—you knew he could get worse. You knew if you kept pushing him, if you kept testing his patience, he’d do something crueler, filthier.

And so, with your pride cracking, with arousal dripping down your thighs, pooling beneath you in a humiliating mess—

You moved.

Slowly, hesitantly, you rolled your hips, pressing yourself against the cold, unforgiving floor. Theo groaned, low and rough, his fingers twitching in your mouth as he watched you, devouring the sight of you with a hunger so intense it made your stomach clench.

“Fucking hell.” His voice was thick, wrecked, but still laced with mockery. "You’re actually doing it. Look at you."

You burned, the shame, the arousal, the overwhelming heat twisting into a mess that left your brain mushed out, barely able to process anything but the friction, the ache, the way your body betrayed you completely.

Theo chuckled—low, dark, full of something vicious as his fingers pressed harder against your tongue, keeping you filled, controlled, helpless.

"Thought you were too proud for this, dove," he taunted, watching you with those dark, gleaming eyes, like he was memorizing every second of your humiliation. "Turns out, you’re just a little thing who needs to be told what to do."

Your face burned, your breath hitching, and he smirked, seeing right through you. "Keep grinding, baby. Make a mess of yourself."

And fuck—you did.

Finally, Theo pulled his fingers from your mouth, glistening with your spit, and your head swam—hazy, messy, wrecked from the relentless grinding against the cold floor, from his sharp words slicing through your pride like a blade. Your body was betraying you, trembling, soaking, desperate, and you hated it—hated him—hated the way your thighs clenched at every cruel little thing he said.

And he knew. He always fucking knew.

His spit-slick fingers dragged down, moving toward his belt, and your breath hitched. No. No, you wouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t want this.

But when you saw the way his hands worked, the smooth pull of leather, the sharp click of the buckle coming undone, your mouth went dry. His zipper slid down, and then—fuck.

Thick. Heavy. Hard. Precum dripped from the flushed tip, smearing against his fingers as he pumped himself once, twice, dragging the motion out, making sure you were watching.

“Open up,” he ordered, voice low, rough, dripping with amusement.

And this time, you didn’t resist.

Didn’t fight. Didn’t curse him. Didn’t spit something vicious back in his face like you should have.

Instead, you obeyed. Your lips parted, tongue flicking out ever so slightly, and Theo chuckled, shaking his head. So fucking easy.

“Look at you. Didn’t even have to beg this time. What happened to all that fight, dove?” His fingers ran through your hair, deceptively gentle. “You talk all that shit, act like you don’t want me, but the second I pull my cock out, you get all quiet.”

You should’ve told him to go to hell. Should’ve slapped him, pushed him away. But instead, you leaned in, let your tongue swipe over the leaking head, let the salty taste coat your lips as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice strained. “That’s it. Take it. Be a good little thing and—” He pushed in. Too fast. Too deep.

Your hands shot up, grabbing at his thighs as he forced himself further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat before you had time to adjust. A choked sound escaped you, tears springing to your eyes as you tried to pull back, but his grip in your hair tightened instantly.

“Uh-uh. You wanted to act like a brat? Now you can choke on it,” he growled, dragging your head forward, making you take more, more, more.

Your nails dug into his jeans, breath coming in desperate little gasps through your nose as he set a ruthless pace, fucking into your mouth like it was his right. His filthy, degrading words spilled into the air between you, mixing with the obscene, wet sounds you were making—sounds that only seemed to spur him on.

“Crying already? Pathetic. And you thought you could handle a ‘gentleman’? You’re fucking made for this.”

You gasped around him, throat tightening as he pushed in deep, holding you there, his cock buried so far down you swore you could feel it in your chest. The tears you had been holding back spilled over, rolling down your cheeks in hot, humiliated streaks, and Theo only laughed.

“That’s it,” he groaned, shuddering as your throat convulsed around him. “Look at you, dove. A fucking mess for me.”

You hated him. You hated how wet you were. You hated how every cruel word made the arousal between your legs pulse, made you clench your thighs together like it would do anything to stop the ache.

And then he tensed.

You felt it—the way his hips jerked, the way his cock twitched on your tongue, how his fingers in your hair turned bruising. You knew what was coming, and you tried—really fucking tried—to pull back.

But Theo wasn’t having it.

The second you so much as twitched, his hand fisted your hair, yanking you down, shoving you back onto him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled, voice raw, breathless.

You tried to shake your head, tried to mumble something around him, but it was useless. Hopeless. His cock pushed deep once, twice, and then— Heat. Salt. A choked sob escaping your lips as he came down your throat, holding you there, making sure you took it all.

“Swallow,” he demanded.

Your body obeyed before your brain could protest, throat working around him as you swallowed every last drop.

When he finally pulled back, you gasped, coughing, lips swollen and wet as you wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand, tears still clinging to your lashes. Your body trembled, a mixture of exhaustion, humiliation, and something else—something dangerous—coiling low in your stomach.

And Theo?

He just grinned.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he murmured, dragging his thumb over your spit-slick lips. “And you thought you wanted a gentleman.”

You barely had time to catch your breath, saliva smeared across your lips, throat burning from how roughly he’d used your mouth. Your body trembled, knees aching from being kept on the floor for so long, but before you could even think about moving—Theo grabbed you, hard.

You barely had time to gasp before he threw you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. The air left your lungs in a sharp exhale, the rough treatment sending an embarrassing rush of heat straight between your thighs. You should hate this—hate how easily he manhandled you, how strong he was compared to you—but fuck, it was hot. No one else had ever picked you up like that, no one else had ever taken what they wanted from you like you were theirs to ruin.

You were still reeling when you heard the sharp rip of fabric.

Your dress—your fucking dress—was nothing more than torn scraps in his hands, carelessly discarded like it was worth nothing. You should be mad, you should be cursing him out, but all that left your mouth was a desperate little sound when his fingers hooked into your panties next, yanking them down with no hesitation.

Theo clicked his tongue, eyes dark as they dragged over your exposed body, taking in every mark he’d already left on you—the bruises on your thighs, the raw bite marks on your chest. His marks.

"You really let me do this to you," he murmured, voice thick with condescension, fingers tracing over the bruises like they were a masterpiece he’d painted on you. "Little miss ‘I don’t need you’—letting me tear your clothes off, letting me spit in your mouth, letting me make you fucking cry just from how bad you want it." His fingers snapped against your thigh, making you jolt. "God, you’re disgusting, dove."

You should have shoved him off—but instead, your thighs clenched together, heat pooling at the base of your spine. He saw it too. That flicker of weakness, of arousal. His smirk grew sharper.

"You like this," he sneered, grabbing your knees and spreading them apart roughly, exposing how soaked you were for him. "Fucking pathetic. Can’t even pretend anymore, can you?"

You hated him. You hated him. But you ached for him.

Before you could spit something venomous at him, two fingers shoved inside you in one swift, merciless thrust. Your back arched off the bed, a strangled moan escaping your lips at the sudden stretch. Fuck.

"That’s it," Theo muttered, watching you keen against his hand. "Think you gonna cum just from my fingers, dove? Gonna roll your pretty eyes back and lose your fucking mind? No wonder you had to go on a date with some pathetic little gentleman—probably thought you could pretend you don’t need me. But look at you now." His fingers curled just right, pressing against the perfect spot, and your hands clawed at the sheets, body jerking at the sheer pleasure of it.

You tried to talk—tried to curse him out, but when his thumb found your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles, all that left your lips was a broken "Theo—"

His smirk turned cruel. "What was that?" He slapped your thigh, making you gasp. "Say it louder."

You refused. You wouldn’t. You had your pride.

But then he thrust his fingers deeper, scissoring them inside you while his mouth found your breast, biting down with no mercy. You wailed, body jolting from the pleasure-pain of it, your mind turning fucking blank.

"You’re such a fucking liar," Theo murmured against your skin, licking over the mark he’d just left. "All that attitude, all that fucking backtalk—but look at you. Dripping for me, crying for me, letting me do whatever the fuck I want to you. You don’t need me, right? Then why the fuck is my name the only thing you can say?"

His fingers rubbed faster, harder, his teeth grazing your neck, and you were so close—so fucking close. Your walls clenched tight around him, a desperate sound escaping you as your hips bucked up against his hand.

And then—he pulled away.

The loss was instantaneous, brutal.

You gasped, eyes snapping open, hands reaching to grab his wrist—but he just laughed. Laughed.

"God, you’re fucking desperate," he mocked, licking your slick off his fingers as he watched you pant beneath him. "What, you think I’m just gonna let you cum after that little stunt? After telling me you want some pathetic fucking gentleman instead?"

"Fuck you," you spat, furious, body trembling with unfulfilled pleasure.

Theo just grabbed his cock, dragging it through your soaked folds, his smug fucking smirk never leaving his lips. "Oh, dove," he murmured, voice dark, mocking, brutal. "You will."

And then—he thrust forward.

Theo dragged his cock through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal, letting the blunt head press against your entrance. The sensation sent a full-body shudder through you, a gasp leaving your lips as he teased you, rubbing against you like he had all the time in the world. Like he owned this. Like he owned you.

"You feel that, dove?" His voice was low, mocking, his cock sliding between your folds with lazy, deliberate strokes. "You’re fucking soaked. And for what?" His smirk sharpened, rubbing himself against your most sensitive spot, making your hips jerk. "Some gentleman, right? Did he make you drip like this? Did he make you beg?" He leaned down, lips grazing your ear as he whispered, "Or did he bore you so fucking badly you had to think about me just to get through it?"

Your nails dug into his arms, rage flashing in your eyes, but before you could snap back—he pushed inside.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as he stretched you, the slow, unbearable drag of him sinking deeper, spreading you apart with no hesitation. Too much. Too big. Too full. A sharp cry left your lips before you could stop it, your body tensing at the sheer intrusion.

"Too much," you gasped, hands pressing against his chest. "Too—Theo, it’s too much—"

He didn’t stop.

He just grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the bed, his face inches from yours. "Oh, it’s too much?" His tone was mocking, cruel, but his hips kept pushing forward, deeper, deeper, until he was buried to the hilt. His breath was heavy against your skin as he stilled for a moment, letting you feel every inch of him, letting your body struggle to adjust.

Fuck.

You swallowed him whole. Your walls clenched so fucking tight, your body trembling from the stretch, and he felt it all—felt the way your cunt fluttered, felt the way you clenched, trying to handle him.

A low, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight," he murmured, his grip on your wrists tightening. "Like your body knows exactly who it belongs to."

You wanted to curse him, wanted to snap something back—but when he withdrew slightly and then slammed forward, the air was knocked from your lungs.

Your back arched, your mouth opening on a soundless cry as he set a brutal, merciless pace. No hesitation. No restraint. Just pure dominance, pure force. His hips snapped forward, pushing you deeper into the mattress, his hands keeping you pinned beneath him, his mouth crashing against yours to muffle your screams.

His teeth scraped against your lower lip, his tongue shoving into your mouth, not kissing you, not seducing you—just owning you.

"You take it so fucking well," he growled against your lips, his hips slamming into you, deeper, harder. "Look at you. You can’t even talk anymore. What happened to all that attitude, dove? What happened to the girl who told me she liked gentlemen?"

A desperate whimper left your throat, your body overwhelmed, shaking.

"That’s what I thought," he sneered, thrusting harder.

You were so close—so fucking close. The pressure coiled in your stomach, building, building, burning—

And then—he pulled out.

A strangled, desperate sob left your lips, your hands grabbing for him before you could stop yourself.

Theo just laughed.

"Pathetic." His palm cracked against your inner thigh, sending a shudder through your body, making your breath hitch. "Did you really think I was gonna let you cum after you insulted me?"

Your body ached, pleasure still curling at the base of your spine, your mind turning hazy, desperate, ruined.

Still—you forced your lips into a mocking smirk, voice breathless but taunting as you muttered, "Is this the best you can do?"

Theo’s eyes darkened.

"Oh, dove," he murmured, his voice a dangerous purr. "You just made the biggest fucking mistake of your life."

And then—he ruined you.

Your body was wrecked. Shaking, trembling, ruined.

Your mind had long since melted into nothingness, the world around you a blur of sensation, of desperation. Theo had pushed you past your limits, past sanity, past pride. You couldn’t form a single coherent thought—only need.

And he knew it.

Theo’s hands gripped your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His lips were curled into a wicked smirk, dark amusement gleaming in his eyes as he watched you come undone beneath him—watched the way your body twitched, the way your breath hitched, the way your nails dragged over his back, leaving stinging red lines in their wake.

He only groaned, low, deep, utterly wrecked himself, at the pain you inflicted, at the way you clung to him, no longer fighting, no longer resisting—just needing.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice like silk drenched in venom. "The girl who swore she'd never break. The girl who told me she'd never beg."

A pathetic whimper left your lips. Your body was too sensitive, too raw, every nerve ending burning, pulsing, crying for release.

"You don’t even have the words anymore, do you?" His thumb traced your swollen bottom lip, his other hand gripping your hip like a brand. "Can’t even tell me what you want."

You tried—tried to force the words out, but all that came was a soft, desperate plea, a sound so broken, so utterly wrecked that his smirk only widened.

He leaned in, lips brushing over your ear, his voice a low, taunting murmur.

"You want me to let you cum, don’t you?"

You nodded frantically, breath hitching, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, dark and cruel.

"Beg for it."

Your pride screamed at you to resist, to fight, to hold on to the last shred of defiance you had left. But your body betrayed you, arching, trembling, reaching for him, the sheer desperation consuming you whole.

"Please," you choked out, a whimper, a plea, a total surrender.

Theo groaned, dragging his teeth over your throat, his grip tightening.

"That’s my girl."

And then—he gave you everything. And you finally came.

You barely registered the moment he pulled out, barely noticed the way his weight left the bed. You were too tired, too spent, too utterly wrecked. Every muscle in your body ached, but in a way that made you smile—a lazy, unfiltered, thoughtless smile, one that was soft, genuine, without pride or sarcasm.

Theo saw it.

And for the first time all night, he hesitated.

But only for a moment.

Then, he leaned down, brushing a slow, lingering kiss against your forehead, his lips warm, tender, contradicting every filthy, degrading thing he had said just minutes ago. Another kiss followed, this time against your lips—softer, slower, without demand.

You barely responded, too tired, too comfortable, just humming softly in contentment before sleep dragged you under.

Theo watched you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his sharp gaze, before he exhaled, shaking his head as he pushed himself off the bed.

The room was quiet, the only sound was his steady breathing and the faint rustling of fabric as he grabbed one of small clothes and a clean towel before heading to the bathroom.

He returned moments later, his expression unreadable as he sat beside you. Slowly, carefully, he began cleaning you up—wiping away the mess he had made, making sure every part of you was taken care of.

Then, without thinking, his hands moved to your legs, his thumbs pressing into the sore muscles, massaging the ache away.

You sighed softly in your sleep, your body instinctively melting into his touch, trusting him even in unconsciousness.

And fuck, that did something to him.

He swallowed hard, his gaze drifting over your exhausted form before his fingers trailed lower, over your ankles, down to your feet.

And then—he kissed you there.

A soft, reverent press of lips against your skin, like you were something holy, something untouchable.

His jaw clenched. He hated this. Hated how much he fucking wanted you.

But for tonight, just for now, he allowed himself this moment.This moment of worship, of possession, of something he would never admit.

Taglist - @empath-bunny @gipsonnikki @emptyachingblue @syymplypotter @a-little-funny @chimchoom (comment/dm to get added)

© This work belongs to me. I do not allow repost or translating my work. If I found you doing something like that you will be blocked and reported.

[salemrph]

"Let the World Burn"

Chapter 1: A not so well planned night

Navigator: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 (NEW) | Chapter 8 (Final) AO3

Summary: A night of celebration ends in chaos—you vanish without a trace. The ransom demand arrives, but Sylus knows this isn’t just about money. What should’ve been a simple rescue mission unearths secrets far more sinister than anyone ever imagined.

Character: Sylus x MC; Luke and Kieran, Caleb, Zayne

Genre/Warning: descriptions of violence and blood, hurt/comfort, injuries, grief, romantic, drama, action, slight sexual content, angst

Word count: 8,135 | Reading Time: 32 min | AO3

taglist: @voidsylus @thechaoticarchivist @syluscrows @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme

Chapter 1: A not so well planned night

The burning building groans under the weight of its own collapse, crumbling piece by piece. The flames rage uncontrollably, swallowing the entire complex, leaving nothing but charred ruins. In the heart of the main part of the wearhouse, the scene is a nightmare. The floor is slick with blood, bodies scattered in unnatural poses, bullet casings gleaming like twisted confetti in the dim light. The air reeks of gunpowder and death. This was no battlefield—this was a massacre.

Under the eerie glow of the red moon, such a sight might seem familiar. But tonight, something is wrong. This wasn't supposed to be the end. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not after everything. 

Gunfire echoes, sharp and relentless. The screams of the fallen mingle with the guttural roars of the Wanderers, their twisted forms wreaking havoc as they tear through what remains. It’s a cacophony of violence, a hellish symphony that cuts through the night. And through the madness, there he is—the man in the suit. The one who has conquered with nothing more than his calm demeanor and his cold, calculating presence. The one they all feared. But now, as he stands in the wreckage, there is no cool detachment. There is no indifferent strategist. His expression is tight, his jaw set with a fury that has never before surfaced. His usual composure has shattered like glass, replaced with darker, dangerous rage. His right eye, glowing like a dying star, reflects the turmoil inside him. It burns with the kind of intensity that could scorch the very earth beneath him.

In his arms, the body of a woman, limp and lifeless, hangs like dead weight. Her blood stains his clothes, seeping into the fabric, marking him with a reminder of the choices he’s made, the consequences of those choices. The plan was never supposed to unfold this way. This was not the outcome he had imagined. The walls of the building continue to groan, buckling under the weight of the flames, the weight of everything collapsing. It had been a trap. Of course, it had been. But he had no choice. The risk was necessary.

And now he has paid the price.

Few days before

Gradually, routine returns to your life. The festivities are over, the beginning of the year has been wonderful. Going to the New Year's market with Sylus has been a good way to see how your relationship has changed. The feelings you have for him have been consolidated. You accept them and welcome them, letting the beautiful and sparks fill your chest with warmth, tenderness and love. 

As you made the lanterns together you remembered every adventure you've shared with him. The search for the lost gem, being sucked into a protocore to a far away place. The trip to the mountains or to the lost oasis. You smile in a daze. You've spent so much time with Sylus, that returning home alone is strange. Lying on the bed, you remember how he struggled to shower at your place. Making a mess in the bathroom. That was just the first step to letting him into your territory, not only speaking about your apartament. Your holy sanctuary. That night of secrecies. You couldn't let him go, that night your whole body and mind wanted to make him stay. You sigh as you remember his lips, the heat between you two, the melting feeling to become one. You hug the big crow plush laying next to you on the bed, it smells like him. So comforting. Now, without him around, you’re deeply sure that being with him makes your life funnier, kind of dangerous but strangely full of new emotion. 

However, not everything is honey-coated and perfect. Your face changes, your stomach hurts, and you lay on your side as you remember your mission in Skyhaven. Caleb. You want to throw up. He lied to you, in the cruelest way possible.

Although you wish with all your heart that Caleb had his good reasons, something doesn't add up. The explosion definitely happened. The Fleet and everything around it is a black box. A void, like Caleb. He came back so different… You haven't talked about it at all. He must have a reason to hide things from you, locking you up in his apartment. That wasn’t nearly how you had him in memory. Worst of all, you can't just go to Zayne and tell him: “Oh by the way Caleb isn't dead”. You can already picture his face, not sure if he should prescribe you pills or send you to psychiatry. Making maybe at the beginning a dry joke or something. Zayne would pinch his nose before removing his glasses. Trying to figure out if you’re really serious about it or you haven't fully accepted Caleb's death. Either way, if Zayne believed you, his reaction would be just as stoic as ever. What you can't know is that beneath that icy, overly professional manner of dealing with you, he feels a deep affection for you. Ever since you met. That affection would make him get into a big fight with Caleb. 

Oh, and how about explaining this to Sylus? He would believe you right away but at the same time, he would be probably looking for a way to make Caleb pay for his action. If those two ever met, it could be the end of the world. Seeing how Caleb is now and how overprotective he is with you. He would probably not like it one bit that you're dating the most wanted man in the galaxy. And thinking about how much Sylus doesn't like people messing with you…and how he usually treats his enemies. Very bad idea, very, very bad idea. Honestly speaking that would be a fight to see who has the biggest cock. The Farspace Fleet's Colonel vs Onychinus's Leader. Place your bets on who will be the last one standing. 

You are tense, tired and helpless. The whole thing just gives you a headache. Caleb has texted you a few times after New Year. He showed up a few times but it was still weird. That's it. You sit up on the bed, you look out of the window, it’s raining. Somehow he always brings a storm into your life. It doesn't matter if he comes back or if he is leaving. You truly wish you could trust him, like you used to. A tear rolls down your cheek. You breathe in deeply, trying to hold back all the emotions. 

A notification pops up on your phone. You wipe the tears from your face. 

“How are you doing? We haven't seen each for a while” You smile at Tara’s message, quickly typing a reply.

“Good, just trying to survive this weather. Feels like it’s been forever since we last spoke. You back from your family’s place yet?”

She responds almost immediately.

“Yeah! Just got back yesterday. It was nice, but chaotic as always. What about you?”

You hesitate for a moment before replying.

“Nothing too special these days”

Tara, of course, sees right through you.

“Nothing? Girl, that answer is screaming ‘I’m hiding something.’ Spill."

You roll your eyes, but your fingers hover over the keyboard. You could tell her about Sylus—about how you ended up together, the teasing, the tension, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. But you feel like it isn't the moment. 

"There’s nothing to spill 🥱"

“Mhm. Sure. You definitely didn’t spend time with someone who makes you all flustered and stupidly heart-eyed♥."

You: "I don’t get flustered😖"

Tara: So you were with him!!! 

You groan, rolling onto your stomach and burying your face in your pillow before typing back.

You: "That’s not what I said."

Tara: "You didn’t deny it either."

She’s relentless. You can practically hear the smugness through the screen.

Tara: "Oh, pleaaase. You are so gone for him. It’s painful to watch. Let's have fun this Friday, and share the tea with me. Girls Night!😘 

A distraction. That’s what you needed. Something to pull you out of your own head, away from the tangled thoughts of Caleb and the mess that had been occupying too much space lately. Maybe just enjoying the fact that Tara is back, you have Sylus and work isn’t too stressful since your mission in Skyhaven. 

You exhale tiredly, relaxing your body a little and you type back a quick "Fine, fine. Girls’ night it is." 

You toss your phone aside. If you keep this up, your thoughts will consume you. You need to rest, relax and disconnect, even if it's just for one night. You know full well that if it becomes too much, you can always return to the base. Lose yourself in assembling and disassembling illegal weapons, listen to the stories behind each stolen gem, or simply sink into the sound of a classic vinyl record.

But that would mean pretending, and you don’t have the energy for that either. So you stay. You stay in the solitude of your apartment, listening to the spring storm getting closer, raindrops tapping against your window.

The nightmares keep coming—fragments of memories slipping through your mind, haunting you in the quiet hours of the night. You toss and turn, drenched in cold sweat, your chest tightening with an unease you can’t shake.

That day, you walked behind Caleb. Why does he always look at you like that? Like you’re some helpless animal. 

“We’ve been outside for too long. Gran’s going to be worried” he says. You sigh, arguing with him a little longer. He worries too much. You’re an adult now, you can handle yourself. You’re one of the best in your squad—you don’t need protection.

Caleb shakes his head. “Since you’re grown up now, I won’t cover for you this time” he closed the door and with that a huge explosion knocked you off. 

You wake up gasping. Your hands tremble as you press them to your face, trying to ground yourself in reality. But the memory is so vivid now, more than it ever was before. Because he’s alive. But he shouldn’t be. You went to his funeral. You grieved. You cried for weeks, drowning yourself in work, chasing leads that led to dead ends. Searching, desperate, for any explanation that made sense. You were lucky to just have a few bruises and scratches, but you still don't know how you survived that. 

Is still raining outside.

Friday arrives, and with that, the bass thrums through the air, a hypnotic pulse that sinks into your bones. The music is loud, almost overwhelming, but it pulls you in, makes you move without thinking. The crowd around you sways in sync, bodies pressed close, some dancing, some lost in their own world. Flashes of blue and red lights sweep over the dance floor, catching glimpses of flushed faces, sweaty skin, and wide, dilated pupils. Laughter and shouts mix with the heavy bass, but it’s all just background noise. You let the rhythm take over, moving to the music, feeling lighter with every beat. The shots you took earlier are kicking in, smoothing out the tension in your mind, making everything feel a little more distant, a little easier. 

You're not here to drink yourself into oblivion, this isn’t about forgetting. But Tara knows you too well. She’s been sliding shot after shot of tequila your way, a knowing glint in her eyes. She’s not being subtle. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Tequila loosens your tongue.

And Tara? She’s waiting. Watching for that moment when your guard slips, when the alcohol smooths out the edges of your thoughts just enough for you to say what you wouldn’t sober.

You slightly stumble into the bathroom, Tara right behind you. The pounding bass from the dance floor fades into a dull thrum. You grip the edge of the sink, taking a deep breath, using the cold water to clean the sweat of your neck. 

"So," she starts, dragging out the word. "Are you going to tell me?"

You blink at her. "Tell you what?"

Tara tilts her head, exhaling like she’s dealing with a particularly slow student. "Skye. That ridiculously handsome fruit entrepreneur you’re definitely fucking aaand… you’re in love with?" She smirks. "That. Talk to me."

You hang your head in shame. Tara can read you like an open book. She’s not stupid. Sweet? Sure. Cheerful? Most of the time. But when she wants the truth, she has a way of digging it out of you, whether you like it or not.

"Fine, fine…" you mumble, rubbing your temples as if that’ll somehow erase the tequila-induced haze clouding your brain. "I have…" You trail off, searching for the right word like it might magically appear on the bathroom wall. Tara arches a brow, waiting. "...Something with him" you finally admit, the words tasting both bitter and sweet.

"I knew it" Tara says triumphantly, a smirk spreading across her face. But then, her expression softens. "But… there’s something more, right? Is he treating you well?"

Your instinct is to brush it off, to tell her everything is fine. Perfect, even. But you hesitate, and that tiny moment of silence is enough for Tara to catch on. Her smirk fades as she studies your face.

"Hey," she says gently. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head quickly, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. You don’t want to cry. Not here. Not now.

"I’m fine with Skye, really. I’m fine." you insist, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "Emm…  It’s not about him… I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it."

Tara doesn’t look convinced.

"You can always talk to me, you know that?" Tara says softly, her voice free of judgment, just warmth.

Before you can respond, she pulls you into a long hug, wrapping her arms around you tightly. The kind of hug that makes your chest ache, like it’s holding together all the cracks you’ve been ignoring. For a second, you let yourself sink into it. Eyes closed, fists gripping the back of her jacket. You don’t say anything because if you do, you might break. You just want to forget for a moment, so you put on your best smile. 

You step out of the club with Tara, your laughter spilling into the crisp night air as you imitate the ridiculous guy who’d tried—laughably—to hit on both of you at the same time. The absurdity of it still had your sides aching. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed this, the chaos, the rhythm, the freedom of letting go. Your feet ache from hours of dancing, but it's the kind of satisfying pain, the kind that comes from having fun. You glance down at your feet, sighing a little, but when you look back up, Tara's already pulling out her phone, tapping away at a text with that familiar, sly smile.

"Good night! Come home safe, you hear? she says, giving you a playful wink before stepping back with a wave.

You smile back, tilting your head to the side. "Night, Tara. We need to do this more often."

Her laugh rings out, light and warm, as she taps out one final text before slipping her phone back into her bag. She spins on her heel, her stride confident as she calls over her shoulder, "Oh, trust me, we will."

You decide to walk a few streets down, hoping the cool night air will help ease the alcohol still remaining in your system. The city around you buzz with the low sounds of late-night life—cars passing, distant conversations, and the occasional siren. You pull your jacket tighter around you, enjoying the peace after the chaos of the club.

As you walk, you briefly think about calling Sylus. It’s late, though, but you figure he’s probably busy with his usual late-night reading or, more likely, handling some shady business—being the leader he is. A smirk tugs at your lips.

You glance down at the bracelet with the cursed gem, remembering the hunt in the N109 Zone. The gem had caused so much trouble, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of Sylus swearing he had "lost" it. He really has no luck when it comes to keeping things, does he?

The thought of him—his unwavering confidence, the rare softness he reserves only for you—warms you from the inside out, like the memory of his hand brushing against your hand, your cheek and finally all over your body.

You shake your head with a quiet chuckle, a mixture of fondness and comfort washing over you. Sylus has a way of consuming your mind without even trying. It’s maddening, really. But in moments like this, you don’t fight it. You let yourself savor the pull he has on you, that magnetic connection you both share.

Maybe you’re finally ready to tell him how you feel. You haven’t said those tree teeny-tiny words that are always on your lips. Is undeniably to say that what you two have is certainly a relationship. The thought sends a flicker of nervous energy through you, but it’s one you can’t push away any longer. After all, you’ve declared it already—in your own, complicated way. The matching bracelets might as well be a couple's tokens, a declaration sealed by the ominous phrase you both had exchanged: “Live together and die together.”

Your fingers graze the gem on the bracelet, its surface cool against your skin. The memory of the moment flashes brightly in your mind. Sylus’s eyes, deep and endless like the gem itself, holding this mix of tenderness and affection. He had looked at you in a way that made your breath catch, and though he hadn’t said much, the subtle shift in his expression told you everything you needed to know. He was happy. Happy to share the „curse“ and whatever else might come with it, as long as it was with you. At that moment, you wanted to kiss him so bad.

You laugh softly to yourself, shaking your head again. Nothing about Sylus is ever quite normal—not the way he plans, not the way he cares, not even the way he agrees to wear such trinkets like it’s a love note. But that’s okay. In fact, it’s more than okay. It’s him.

So much has changed since that snowy night. Despite the low temperature outside and the way the snow piled heavily on the ground, you felt warm—warmer than ever on a winter night. Your territories merged into one, his skin became yours, and yours became his. The cold was forgotten as his touch anchored you, the world outside fading until only he remained.

During the festivities, creating lanterns for the New Year, in your new complicity. You have almost forgotten the mission you both went after that snowy night.

„I don't need to mention that you always surprise me, sweetie.“ Sylus smiles at you from the passenger seat.

You smile back, the satisfaction of your plans falling into place shining in your eyes. "It’s what I do best" you reply confidently, earning a soft suppressed laugh from him.

Sylus shakes his head lightly, his sharp red eyes glinting with intrigue. "Go on, tell me what you’ve figured out, my bold hunter" he prompts, leaning back in his seat, clearly enjoying your moment of triumph as much as you are. Your fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel as you prepare to unveil your findings.

It’s only when the faint scuff of a step echoes behind you, too close to be ignored, that the spell of your thoughts breaks. The warmth in your chest cools instantly, replaced by the sharp edge of awareness. You glance over your shoulder, the street seems empty. Either way, you pick up the pace, your footsteps quickening on the sidewalk. That nagging feeling won’t go away. Someone’s definitely following you.

You keep your pace steady, trying to stay calm, but your hand instinctively moves towards where your weapon would be. It’s not there. Dammit. You left it at home. Of course, the security guy at the club wouldn’t have let you in with it. You click your tongue in frustration. You wanted a simple, easy night. Instead, you're walking through dark streets, being stalked like some damn prey. Surely that moron from the club is stalking you now, for letting him down. This drunk dipshit has no scruples whatsoever. The last thing you need is a confrontation. You can’t help but feel the adrenaline start to pump, trying to spot whosoever tailing you. 

You whip around into a side street, your heart pounding. You peek over your shoulder again, the unease turning to full-blown anxiety. But as you turn to face forward, a hard, sudden impact knocks you off your feet. Pain erupts across your face, and you stagger back, knees buckling as the world tilts dangerously. Blood trickles down your cheek, hot and sticky.

A low laugh follows you, cruel and mocking. "We got you, honey... Be good, and don’t make any sound."

Before you can even react, something heavy slams against the back of your head, your vision spins out of control. The darkness takes over, pulling you under like a wave. Sylus... Hardly able to hold onto the thought as everything goes black for a moment.

"Hey! Are you stupid or something!? The boss said she should arrive in one piece" The big guy that punched you, swings out to hit the other guy in the face. "You!" He turned to the third man in a raincoat "Throw her in the truck, we're leaving".

The big guy spits on the ground, wiping his knuckles with the back of his hand, his face twisted in irritation. He shoots a glare at the third man, who's standing off to the side, clearly unsure of what to do.

"Get moving, asshole" the big guy growls. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Raincoat guy, a little skittish but obedient, steps forward and grabs your arm, yanking you to your feet with surprising strength. You barely register the movement, your head spinning, everything still hazy from the second blow you took. The world around you seems to blur and twist as they drag you along the alley, the sounds of their voices muffled as if coming from underwater.

"It wasn’t easy to get you" the big guy mutters, his tone low as they push you toward a black truck parked at the end of the street. "But.. It seems that today is our lucky day." The cold metal of the truck presses against your face as you slip completely into unconsciousness. You feel your hands being tied roughly. It hurts. You don't even have the strength to scream. The world fades away, leaving only the faintest whisper of the crow's caw ecos in your mind before everything goes dark.

Under the red moon in the N109 Zone, in one of the many locales under Onychinus's control, stood an opulent lounge hidden within the skeleton of an old industrial building. Polished black marble floors gleamed under the warm glow of crystal chandeliers, their light dancing across walls adorned with intricate carvings and rich velvet accents.

A long bar of dark wood stretched across one side of the room, lined with bottles of the finest spirits from across the world. Plush leather seating circled low tables, each arranged for privacy and comfort. The faint hum of classical music played in the background, a stark yet intentional contrast to the lawless chaos that marked the rest of the zone.

Sylus glanced at the cards in his hand, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he discarded one and leaned back in his armchair. On the table in front of him, cards, chips, and a half-full glass of whiskey were laid out in a casual arrangement that belied the tension in the air. The dim lights of the room flickered over his sharp features, creating shadows that only accentuated his calm, confident demeanor. His eyes flicked briefly to the clock on the wall. It was late, but that didn't matter. The game had its own rhythm, its own flow. Time was just another tool in Sylus’s arsenal.

The men —business associates, lackeys, and rivals alike— around the table exchanged words about profits and threats, the usual back-and-forth of business. Sylus sat at the head, his posture relaxed yet commanding, fingers loosely gripping the edge of his glass. To anyone watching, he looked completely in control, nodding at the right moments, his sharp eyes betraying nothing. But the truth is, he wasn’t really listening. His mind was elsewhere.

He’d just finished dealing with a potential problem in one of the sectors—nothing that couldn’t be handled by the twins, but still, it had required his attention. Normally, his focus would remain on the next move, but tonight, his thoughts wandered. 

He knew you’d be out tonight, enjoying yourself. Mephisto is taking an eye on you, even if he shouldn't be monitoring every time. But it is the best for both. And besides, you don't need to know everything he does to keep you safe. His jaw tightened slightly, and he forced himself to relax. The thought of you laughing, genuine and carefree, eased the tension in his chest. He wanted you here, with him. The room’s dim light, the murmur of voices, the ever-present hum of danger, it all felt less significant compared to the idea of you.

He imagines you sitting on his lap, dancing in the shower, looking at him with that sweet smile laying next to him…makes Sylus want to leave immediately, setting everything on fire. Burning the whole fucking planet down if that’s keeping him from going back to you. Especially after that sublime night when you finally fell into his arms, when you finally said yes to him. The memory of your sweet whimpers replayed in his mind, again and again. The way you called his name in soft whispers is a melody he couldn’t forget. 

The lascivious sound that emanates through the silence of the room, the rustle of the sheet under your skin, the slight creaking of the bed as Sylus thrust his cock inside you, a symphony that he wishes would not stop. 

“Sy..Sylus” you moan. “More...”

“As you wish." 

Each movement, each shift of his body against yours, sends a wave of heat through him, making it harder to stay composed. His muscles tighten with every gasp and every whimper that comes from you. Your fingers pulling at his silver hair, it's like adding fuel to the fire. 

Sylus took a discreet, deep breath, forcing himself to keep his composure. His dick is already reacting to the thought of your naked body. That night and all the others he has spent with you, have been the ones in which he has slept most peacefully. In his built fortress where he can have you all to himself, away from the dangerous world, where every second person wants to kill him. And in those moments, the chains of anxiety, loneliness and fear vanish with every smile you give him. He still doesn’t understand how, despite everything he did to you in the beginning—kidnapping you, forcing you to resonate with him—you still choose him. 

He would never have imagined that in this opportunity that the universe has given him, he would actually have you for himself. He doesn’t want to be selfish or let greed consume him, but it’s not enough. He waited so long, so painfully long. Every second he doesn't spend with you is another second wasted in his semi-mortal life that he has. The desire to feel your love forever, your hand gently caressing his hair, drowns him.

He needs to call you after this—no, perhaps he would come to you instead. Maybe pick you up wherever you were or better yet, slip into your apartment and fall asleep beside you, where he belonged.

His phone vibrated, a notification lighting up the screen. His gaze flinched to it briefly, a part of him wondering if it was you. Perhaps you wanted to share some late-night thought or even indulge in one of those rare moments of vulnerability you let slip with him. The idea of hearing your voice, even through the static of a call, pulled all his attention.

As soon as he unlocked the screen, his smirk faltered just for a fraction of a second. His eyes narrowed as the footage played. The image on the screen was unmistakable: you, stumbling, disoriented, your silhouette outlined in the harsh glow of streetlights. A group of bastards surrounded you, their movements quick and methodical as they shoved you half unconscious toward the back of a truck. His fingers tightened around the phone, the faintest crack of pressure whispering through the room as his grip betrayed his calm exterior. For a moment his Evol expands around him, the crimson mist charged with energy could have killed everyone in the room in an eyeblink.

Sylus’s expression turned dark, cold and lethal. A surge of bloodlust coursed through him—the calculated rage that always ignited when someone dared to lay a hand on his treasures. And in this moment the greatest treasure is you. The men at the table, sensing the shift in the room, grew tense. The air felt heavier, thick with the wordless fear of being in Sylus’s presence when his mood changed. The conversations died down, and even the bravest of them hesitated to make eye contact with him. Everyone in this room knew Sylus’s reputation. They’d seen or heard stories of what happened to those who crossed him. And they knew very well that, while his vengeance is swift, it is the aftermath that was truly terrifying. Feeling the weight of his anger was to face something worse than death itself.

Sylus tapped his fingers against the table like a countdown to doomsday. His mind raced through possibilities, contingencies, and plans he’d already set in motion to ensure your safety. He’d anticipated countless threats, prepared for a hundred scenarios. But this? This wasn’t business. This was personal.

Taking you couldn’t be just an arbitrary coincidence. You weren’t an easy target, not with the layers of protection he has placed around you. No, this was intentional. Someone had been watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Finally, he broke the sepulchral silence making the men feel the air grow colder around them. “Excuse me, gentlemen. It appears I have… more urgent matters to attend to.”

He stood slowly, his eyes scanning the room one last time. None dared meet his gaze, their fear as tangible as the tension in the air. They knew Sylus wouldn’t merely retaliate—he’d destroy whoever had dared to piss him off. Making them pay the price in the most painful, unforgettable way possible. They had unknowingly signed their own death warrants.

As Sylus reached for his coat, his phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen—coordinates update of Mephisto position. He stepped out into the dimly lit hallway where Luke and Kieran waited. Both men straightened immediately, their usual confidence replaced with a cautious tension. They could sense it.

Luke spoke up, cautious, "Boss..."

Sylus didn’t even spare him a glance. He didn’t need to. Sylus shoved his phone into Luke's hand, the grainy clip of you being hauled into a truck playing in grim silence. His voice was low and cutting as he stepped forward.

"It’s hunting season," Sylus said coolly. Both stiffened. "I want a name. I don’t care who you have to hurt to get it." His eyes flicked between them, daring either of them to question him. They knew exactly what it meant: no one was safe. Every shred of mercy Sylus might have offered was off the table.

Kieran gave a sharp nod, already in motion. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, boss.”

Sylus’s lips curved into a smug smile. “Make sure you do. If anyone’s stupid enough to get in the way…” He let the threat hang in the air.

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

Your mind slowly clears, but the pain in your head and the taste of blood in your mouth make it hard to focus. You try to move, but something isn’t right. A sudden panic flares inside you as you realize your hands are bound. You attempt to shift your position, trying to find a way to free your hands, but there’s no give. The bindings are too tight biting into your skin, and your fingers are numb from the position they’re forced into. A curse escapes your lips.

A dim light flickers beneath the door, throwing unsettling shadows across the cold, concrete floor. The emergency light above you hums softly, its steady drone amplifying the oppressive silence that surrounds you. You swallow hard, the metallic taste of blood lingering in the back of your throat. It’s hard to think clearly with your head pounding like this, but one thing is certain: you need to get out of here.

Frustration rises inside you, the feeling of being trapped and powerless threatening to drown you. Your body hurts, each movement is an aching twinge through your limbs, but you refuse to stay down. You try to sit up, darkness creeping at the edges of your vision while your head is spinning. For a moment, the world tilts dangerously, and you think you might pass out again. You take a shaky breath, forcing your body to obey. Slowly you manage to sit up against the wall. 

With all the training you have had, even the session with Sylus or Xavier, nothing has prepared you for this. Being in pain and injured makes every mission hundred percent more dangerous, that's for sure. Now your body feels heavy and weak. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, but every minute you stay here, the situation gets worse.

“Where the hell am I?” you mutter to yourself, voice hoarse. No windows, no clues. No phone, no gun. The possibility of being found... It will be hours before anyone notices you've disappeared. Your breath catches as the realization hits: whoever brought you here isn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon. The thought makes your stomach churn. You shake it off. You can't afford to panic. The nice clothes you had put on for this trouble-free night are dirty, your socks torn. They've even left you barefoot. You try to hold back your tears. It seems that life loves to see you in these situations. Like seriously, how many times have you been so kidnapped already? This is the third time, if you count Caleb looking at you in his apartment and Sylus three days in his basement. Even if you believe you should have been stronger, this isn’t on you. 

What is this shit about!? 

After a while, the door swings open and a big guy comes in. The light from the hallway is bothering your eyes, making it hard to see the man clearly. He's not very tall, rather broad, wearing a shirt that's too tight for his body. He looks like some rich idiot's lackey. God, how you hate this. The smell of tobacco is definitely coming from him, but the smell of disinfectant comes from somewhere else. You try to pick behind the silhouette who is approaching you. 

"Wow, wow, look at that. Did you sleep well, princess?" he says with a mocking tone making your skin crawl. You press yourself harder against the cold wall, instinctively trying to make yourself smaller.

You glare up at him, forcing your voice to stay steady despite the surge of anger and fear in your chest. "Who are you?" you ask, but your words are tinged with more insecurity then you want to admit. “What do you want?”

He grins, kneeling in front of you like a predator sizing up its prey. The mockery in his smile is unbearable, and his words only make the situation worse.

"Oh, nothing" he says, the smell of your mouth makes you nauseous. "We just needed a bait." You manage to spit the rest of the blood on the floor, your eyes locking onto him with defiance. "Even with your damaged face you look beautiful. I understand why he has you around.” Your stomach turns, but you fight the urge to recoil as he reaches toward your face.  “I'm sure you suck him well off with that little mouth." You twist your head away, shaking his hand off with a quick, forceful movement. You breathe heavily and the pain in your head hits you again.

His malicious laughter has a sickening sound. "No need to be shy, princess. We know all about you."

You laugh trying to hide every piece of fear in you. “Oh... Entlight me”

“The untouchable Leader of Onychinus has a weak spot, his Achilles heel…” The man sneers. “A sexy hunter. ”His eyes glint with amusement as he leans in. “In other words... You” The words hit you hard, like a punch to the stomach.

“Achilles heel?” you ask with sarcasm. “I wish. So, you just know that I'm a Hunter trying to imprison him? Wow, great job, big boy. You really cracked the code, didn’t you?” You let out a soft, mocking laugh, leaning back against the cold wall as if his words mean nothing to you. Your heart is hammering in your chest, your ears are ringing because of the anxiety you’re feeling. Let him think you’re a regular Hunter. Nothing more. Let him underestimate you. The more he thinks you’re helpless, the better your chances of escaping this twisted game they’ve dragged you into.

He doesn’t seem amused. "Oh, I see," he sneers, his eyes narrowing as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your face. If he gets any closer, you might just throw up on him. "Playing dumb little girl, huh? Cute." He pauses for a moment. Checking your expression. "You think we don’t know who you really are? You’re not fooling anyone."

“Do you always talk this much, or are you just enjoying the sound of your own voice?” you counter, your words sharper now. It’s a gamble, but anything to keep your composure.

His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn't seem fazed. If anything, his smirk widens at your resistance. "You’re a tough one. I like that. You are one of those that are more fun to break" he says, his tone makes you shiver. He stood up and grabbed you by your hair, throwing you into the middle of the room. You scream. He approaches you while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "Oh, yeah, I will have fun with you before the others can." He kicks you in the stomach, and you scream in pain. "Don't worry I won't kill you."

You just feel bumps all around your body, you don't know how much time passed but it felt like an eternity. The pain is everywhere, you try to protect yourself somehow but there is no way. You are completely at its mercy. The taste of blood fills your mouth and finally when he stops you throw up: the tequila shots, the drinks and your dinner. The deep laughter tells you it's over. The door swings shut behind him, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoing in the room and with that the silence follows.

Sylus...

You fall unconscious again, everything hurts.

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

"Speak" Sylus commands, his voice low and clipped, as he stands in the armory, carefully selecting the weapon he'll need. Luke and Kieran finally return after two hours.

"There’s a man, goes by Rudy," Luke begins, breaking the silence. "Seems he’s been conspiring against you for a while."

Sylus exhales sharply, a frustrated sigh escaping him. "Not that jerk," he mutters under his breath. Rudy was one of those insufferable enemies you can have. At best, you could ignore him and hope he didn’t get too out of hand, but it was always a risk. He was a horrible man—too much alcohol, drugs, and cigarettes, with more money than sense. A nobody with delusions of grandeur. His greatest desire was to dethrone Sylus and take control of the N109 Zone. The last bastard who tried that, is dead.

However, the last time Sylus had to deal with that human waste, things went a bit awry. Rudy tried to interfere in a protocore transaction a few months ago, where Sylus gave him a first and last warning, not to interfere in his business. Rudy didn’t take it well, of course. That mission was when you managed to get the plane tickets to go with him. Despite all his efforts to keep you safe, you always found a way to stand by his side. During the mission, Rudy must have memorized your face. Sylus never brought anyone but the twins into his business. He tries to keep out of the mess but… You taught him a good lesson, kicking Rudy’s ass when he tried to attack you, you managed to dodge and knock him to the ground with ease. His beloved is such a fierce hunter. 

"And...?" he placed some weapons on the table and the ammunition boxes.

"He’s the one who kidnapped Miss Hunter," Kieran adds, his tone tense. "It’s definitely a trap. He must know that you... have feelings for her."

Sylus’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening at the mention of that fact. He knew exactly what Rudy was capable of, but to dare mess with him directly—kidnapping you... He should have killed him right then and there. But now, hearing the confirmation of what Rudy had done, Sylus’s grip tightens around the weapon in his hand. The anger surging through him is sharper, more dangerous than it had been before, and no amount of control can suppress it.

The hours of waiting was almost a waste of time. Sylus knows that the twins surely tried his best to bring the information to him, as soon as possible. You could be dead by now. He tried to erase the idea from his head. Mephisto lost track of your kidnappers in a remote area, it seems there is an electromagnetic field. However rushing in blindly, without the proper intel, would be reckless. Sylus was never reckless. He won’t let this go. This time, he’ll make sure Rudy learns the true cost of crossing him.

“There’s something…” Luke started. Sylus’s phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with an unknown number. He picks it up without hesitation, his voice cold and dismissive as he answers.

"Mister Sylus! My old friend!" The voice on the other end is smug, dripping with false camaraderie.

"Cut the crap, Rudy" Sylus snaps, his patience already wearing thin. He leans against the armory wall, his hand gripping the phone with the same tension he holds his weapon.

"Oh, come on now" Rudy laughs, his voice thick with arrogance. "That’s how you greet an old friend? Don’t be so harsh..."

"I don’t have time for this shit" Sylus growls, his eyes narrowing as he listens to Rudy’s infuriating tone.

"Ah, ah, ah… Be nice." Rudy continues, almost gleefully "I have something of yours. I wouldn’t mind giving it back, but... I want something in return."

He straightens, his posture sharp as steel. "Where is she?"

Rudy chuckles, clearly enjoying the tension. "Impatient as always. She’s... fine." There is a pause. "Say something sweetheart." Sylus freezes as he hears your voice, faint but unmistakable in the background. 

His mind flickers with a clear dark scenery: Rudy’s lifeless body, each limb meticulously severed, his blood-streaked remains scattered in the ocean to be forgotten by the world. He doesn't usually take the time to torture any of his enemies, but he would take all the time in the world for Rudy. Disintegrating his body with his Evol wouldn't give him the satisfaction he needs. He can already picture the slow, torturous death he’ll deliver, every cut precise, every moment a lesson in regret.

"Don't touch me you asshole—!"

There’s a scream, followed by a sharp scuffle, and then the sound of you biting him. Rudy curses under his breath, but Sylus can’t help but smile—if only for a split second. At least you still have some fight left in you. It’s a small victory in the middle of a much larger storm.

“Rudy” he says, his voice dropping to an almost deadly whisper. “You really don’t understand what you’ve done.”

On the other end of the line, Rudy laughs again, the sound grating against Sylus’s nerves. “Oh, but I think I do. You see, Mister Sylus, I’ve been watching you for a while now. You’ve got a weakness, and she’s absolutely delightful. I’m just making the most of it.”

Sylus doesn’t respond immediately. “I’ll give you one chance. Tell me where she is, and maybe I’ll make your death quick.”

“Always so violent,” Rudy replies mockingly. “You think I’m stupid enough to tell you that? No, no, no. This isn’t a negotiation. You give me what I want, and I’ll consider giving her back. Whole, even.”

The sound of your muffled voice cuts through the conversation again, and for a brief second, Sylus’s mask of control slips. His teeth clench, his jaw tight, as he stares at the weapons lining the armory wall.

“You’re running out of time,” Sylus growls, the dark promise in his tone chilling. “Do you know what happens to people who touch what’s mine?”

Rudy laughs, though it’s tinged with a nervous edge. “Oh, I know exactly what happens. But... You’re not in control this time.”

Sylus just smirks, his free hand brushing over the handle of a blade.

"What do you want?" 

Rudy’s tone shifts, the mockery giving way to cold calculation, his words laced with greed. “You know what I want. The Aether Core. I want it delivered to me, and if I don’t get it... well, let’s just say things will get very uncomfortable for your precious little bird.”

Sylus’s jaw clenches at the mention of the Aether Core. That cursed artifact—the very thing he’d gone to great lengths to bury, to keep out of the hands of people like Rudy. It wasn’t just dangerous; it was catastrophic in the wrong hands. And he? He was the embodiment of “wrong hands.”

For months, Rudy had been sniffing around for it, pushing boundaries, threatening allies, but Sylus had always stayed one step ahead. Now, it seems he has finally found the leverage he needed to force him into a corner. He knew the Aether Core couldn’t fall into Rudy’s grasp. The devastation it could unleash wasn’t just Sylus’s problem—it was a threat to everyone. The thought of you... Sylus mind paused for a moment. Is true that he has it, you both rescued that thing in the last mission. If Rudy is just asking about that one, it means he doesn't know about your Aether Core in your body. Sylus click is tough, that would give him more time but you're still in danger.

“Tick tock, Mister S.” Rudy teased, breaking the silence. “I give you, let me think, ten no... eight, let's do four hours to decide. Bring me what I want, or I’ll start sending you little pieces of her. Maybe I’ll start with a finger... or should I play a bit with that mouth she has? I haven’t decided yet.”

Sylus’s vision blurred for a second, red with rage. He took a slow, steadying breath, forcing himself to stay composed.

“You're dead by tomorrow.”

“Oh, I'm shaking.” Rudy replied smugly. “Don’t make me wait.”

The line went dead, but Sylus didn’t lower the phone right away. His hand trembled, not with fear but with the force of his restrained ire. He turned toward Luke and Kieran, who had been standing silently, their expressions grim.

“We need the location” Sylus barked, his voice sharp as a blade. “Now.”

Kieran nodded, already pulling out his device to track Mephisto. Luke looked at Sylus, his face tense. “Boss, what's the plan?”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, a murderous glint in them. “Tonight, we’ll put on quite the show. Bring everything—I’m going to destroy that worthless bastard and the filth he calls his empire.”

He picks up his leader jacket from the back of the chair and slips it on, his mind already running through the details. There’s no room for mistakes. Not this time.

"We’re going to meet him." Sylus says finally, his voice is colder than ever. "Get ready.” 

“Yes, boss!” They say in unison. 

Luke paused for a moment before speaking. “But there is something else you need to know…”

Navigator: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 (NEW) | Chapter 8 (Final) AO3

A/N: To be honest, I was nervous about releasing this. I hope I could live up to expectations and give you a good show. I had a lot of fun writing this. It's complex, as I've already mentioned, and I'm not used to long stories—let alone ones in this category. Next chapter in 2 weeks.

If you have the time, leave me a comment. I would love to hear your feedback.

[orphicsun]

NSFW CONTENT BELOW MDNI!

I hear so much about Ellie being dominant and smooth but what about how she actually is? This is just something to keep myself active before I post my Halloween fic.

Taking requests!

•Ellie who almost face-planted when she saw you for the first time. She was 18, and you had just settled into Jackson. At first, she’d keep her distance, already intimidated by pretty girls like you, but when you bumped into each other and you flashed Ellie that sweet smile, she knew the fall was inevitable.

•Ellie whose eyes lit up the first time she watched Jurassic Park with Joel. However, seeing it with you was something entirely special. Ellie borrowed the VHS tape from Joel, and it took her two whole weeks to gather the courage to ask you out on a real date.

•Ellie who felt so giddy when you happily agreed to her date. She had to restrain herself from giggling like some 13 year old girl with a crush, and instead gave you a goofy smile and a handshake(which she definitely felt embarrassed about later.)

•Ellie who couldn’t focus on her favorite movie with you so close to her on her couch. The way your eyes lit up as you experienced the movie for the first time, and when you sneakily intertwined your fingers into hers, your thumb stroking her skin, she felt summersaults in her tummy. You were just so beautiful, light playing off of your face as the movie continued.

•Ellie who thought you deserved to be treated like royalty, and took you out on the sweetest dates. Most of the time it was simple things, like picnics, watching movies, and late-night walks. There was unfortunately not much resources for dates in the world. However, she’d make sure to listen to you, and you felt your heart practically melt when she knocked on your door with some sketches of you in hand, nervously tapping her foot like a madman.

•Ellie who wasn’t a professional at the guitar but you thought she was the best damn musician in the entire world. Her soft voice, her wispy breaths between lines, the way her calloused fingers strummed away. She could make you just as nervous as she felt around you when that girl had her hands on a guitar.

•Ellie who found herself constantly knocking on your door, smiling and asking if you were busy. If you weren’t the two of you would lay cuddled up in your bed together, Ellie planting soft kisses all over your face until both of you were giggling together.

•Ellie who wasn’t really a horny person often, but when she was, she was definitely more of a giver..

NSFW HCS

•Ellie who was so mesmerized by the way you’d bounce on her strap-on that she couldn’t help but lap at your tits with a fury while they jiggled with you.

•Ellie who wasn’t much of the receiver type until you went down on her once and then she was hooked. The pleasure wasn’t even what sold her; it was the way you looked so hungry for her cunt while licking her like a damn lollipop. She loved seeing you so satisfied and needy so it was becoming a regular occurrence to have your face inbetween her thighs, moaning more than she even did as you tongue-fucked her.

•Ellie who was still a bit shy during sex, but felt confident after the first few times. Her favorite thing was fingering you because she felt as if she were filling you up in some way, making you complete. She also loved the way you felt so tight and so warm, the way your pussy practically begged for her, your walls fluttering around her digits. She loved to take her time with you, but it was so so hard when you were practically sucking her in, your sopping cunt clenching when she found your sweet spot.

•Ellie who swears she ascended to heaven the first time you two scissored. The way your cunt was slick against hers, your lips rubbing up so nicely against her own. She thought it was the most intimate thing to do with you.

•Ellie who wanted to fuck you with a strap but was honestly nervous she would look stupid swinging plastic penis around. However, if she ever found one on patrol, she would try her best to face that fear because the thought of stretching you on more than her fingers made her dizzy.

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: only one more day remains in the week before your mom returns home. your feelings for joel have deepened, and he's aware of it; it's evident to him. he's tempted to maintain his distance, yet he can't deny that you've become the most captivating presence in his life.

warnings: MINORS DNI. DUB-CON. NON-CON. big age gap [18/52], pussy inspection, fingering, forced squirting, pussy pronouns, joel "just the tip" miller turns into joel "i'll make it fit" miller, TW: light vaginal bleeding, belly bulging, reader is considered petite in height and body type, two (2) pussy spanks, missionaryyyy, choking, finger sucking, dacryphilia, joel is a dirty nasty old man okay, he's a meanie, phone sex (again, joel is REALLY fucking nasty), dirty nicknames (daddy's whore, daddy's bitch), this is all in joel's pov

wc: 7.6k

notes: this series literally would have been HALTED for a while if it weren't for @taeslarityy helping me with brainstorming and constructing how i should continue this chapter. cause pookies, i was stumped. i had no motivation for this series--until yasi and her lovely fucking brain gave me a kick in the ass and got me back up again 🥹🛐 also, i'm genuinely so disappointed in this chapter. it's been such a long wait and halfway through writing, i've deleted it so many times. and even now, i'm so unhappy with the outcome cause i feel like i just rushed through it and forced myself to finish it :(( but hey, one more chapter left. 🩷

series masterlist | prev chapter | final chapter

As Joel wakes up in the morning, he senses immediately that something is amiss. He sits up with a hoarse grunt, feeling his lower back muscles pinch and pull. Rubbing his eyes to clear the blurriness, he notices an absence of warmth. The night before, he recalls carrying you to the bedroom, the very one he has shared with your mom for years. He remembers laying down, letting your trembling body curl into his, and gently hushing you to sleep. Now, he's greeted by the cold, empty space in the bed where you slept, mocking him with its emptiness.

In an instant, a surge of panic and fury overwhelmed him, fueled by the thought that you had left without telling him again. The doors unlocked, his car taken, driven wherever your little heart desires. The house's silence confirmed his suspicions of your departure. However, as he swung his legs off the bed, he halted, spotting the small figure curled up on the floor, mere feet from where he lay.

Joel's breath catches in his throat as he approaches, seeing your small form turned away from him. The gentle rise and fall of your shoulders assure him you're still breathing, alleviating his fear that something terrible had occurred. Yet, he can't help but wonder what prompted you to shift away from him to the ground while he was asleep. Were you scared of him? Did you witness or overhear the incident with your friend? Joel kneels down and places a tender hand on your shoulder.

"Baby?" he whispers, careful not to startle you. "Come on, honey, time to wake up." He gives your shoulder a firmer shake, chuckling softly as you respond with a sleepy murmur.

As you begin to wake up, the only sensations are the ache in your neck from the awkward position and an intense coldness. You chose to leave Joel's warmth after coming to the realization that you didn't deserve the comfort and coziness of sharing a bed with him. Joel had taught you not comfort and warmth, but pleasure and pain. You didn't want to start the day being a bad girl for him.

"The hell you doin' on the floor, baby?" Joel couldn't help but laugh when you spring up, nearly cracking your head against his chin. "Hey, hey, easy." The sternness in his voice had you calming down.

A moment of silence enveloped you, allowing full consciousness to take hold. With a soft whimper, you nestled closer to Joel, your nose comfortably tucking in just beneath his jawline, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse against your skin. He pulls you onto his lap and leans back against the bed, comfortably stretching out his legs to hold you closer to his chest.

"You want to tell me why you were on the floor?" he asks quietly, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as you squirm in his hold, desperate to feel some of his warmth.

Joel feels you shrug under his hands. "I dunno," you say so softly that he has to strain his good ear to hear you properly. "I didn't want you to wake up and see me next to you. And... I didn't want to be a bad girl by staying in your bed. I-I think on the floor is better for me."

Joel is caught off guard by the response; it's not what he anticipated. He thought you would be fearful of him and would seek to keep a distance, yet remain within reach. As you look up at him, a slight widening of his eyes occurs, your lashes fluttering and the innocent smile on your lips hinting that if heart-shaped pupils were real, they'd appear in your eyes every time you looked at Joel. He doubts how much longer he can ignore this feeling before it inevitably consumes him. It's gnawing at his insides, twisting and pulling with force. It's a familiar sinking sensation, one he's experienced too often. But now, as you gaze at him with a doe-eyed look on your innocent face, Joel realizes he's in too deep. He's got you hooked, which was his intention, but now you're too hooked. He's searching for an escape. He needs a way out. The voice in his head is screaming, growing louder, louder, LOUDER.

Get out, Joel. Get out. Get the fuck out. Run. Don't get too close. Don't let her fall too deep. Run. Run. Run. Make it hurt. Ruin in. Ruin her. Make her hurt. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out.

"Daddy?"

The sound of a soft voice causes his eyes to fly open, not recalling the moment they had closed. The voice fades away, leaving silence behind. He senses your presence; your skin, your weight, your gentle breath against his neck. You are all he perceives. Yet, this incites anger within him. The sensation is overpowering, his skin grows warm as the walls seem to draw nearer. Joel's breath quickens. Disregarding the concern on your face, he chooses to shut his eyes once more, withdrawing his hands from you to form tight fists.

"Daddy?"

Once more, it's your voice, yet softer and fainter. Joel's jaw tightens, and he grinds his teeth while your voice sears through his ear canal, coiling throughout his brain and delving deeper into the membrane. He tries to steady his breathing, but flashes of your body, bruised and battered, eyes fearful with tears, pussy leaking all over his cock show up behind his closed eyes like a slideshow, and it's as though he was suddenly injected with a drug directly into his veins. His breath steadies and his hands relax. Joel's eyes open to a half-lidded gaze, emotionless as he stares back. He understands the necessary actions; it's for the best. He won't let himself become entangled in any feelings you may harbor towards him.

That's not who he is, nor who he will ever become.

It has been exactly sixteen hours, thirty-two minutes, and forty-eight seconds since the last time Joel has kissed your lips. His body is aching to feel their plush softness and subtle sweetness. To feel them wrapped around his thick cock, tightening all around and swallowing down his cum. To feel them pressed into his neck as you struggle to keep in your little whimpers of sinned pleasure as you fall apart on his fingers. Joel can feel the monster within him, howling and screeching to be released.

He can't.

He won't.

Joel confronts the intricate desires he diligently avoided. Their abrupt emergence, without a moment for him to brace himself, leaves him feeling disarrayed and distant from the man he strived to become. The facade he maintained for years has dissipated. Gone is Joel Miller; the husband, stepfather, boss, and big brother. Now, there was Joel Miller; pervert, predator, stepfather that creeps on his wife's daughter, violator. All the things he has desperately tried to hide away, he now became.

The haunting is relentless, day after day. Living in the same house as the person who evokes such darkness is excruciating. He feels akin to a caged animal, circling endlessly, biding time for an opening to pounce on any unsuspecting individual. Joel is convinced that the only escape from this torment is to confront it head-on. He knows. He also knows it's sick and disgusting, but it excites him unlike anything else. He enables it.

Joel watches from afar, conscious of the negative impact his behavior has had on you today. He notices your fidgeting and the way you quiet down when his glare falls upon you. Your averted gaze and pouted lips communicate all he needs to understand. This experience is as torturous for you as it is for him. Nonetheless, the voice persists, refusing to be silenced. This withdrawal seems to only fuel its anger, making it more aggressive and deafening. It's pushing Joel to the brink of madness.

You had to have known what you're doing to him. Joel firmly believes that you're being a fucking tease on purpose, wearing your soft sleep shorts and paper-thin camisole tank top. When you bend down, Joel could see how your shorts tighten around the shape of your ass and pussy lips, giving him a tasteful view of camel toe, and if he looks any closer, he could possibly see a wet spot on the fabric. He knows what you're doing, whether you know it yourself or not. It's like your body calls out to him, begging to be defiled, begging to be touched by his perverted hands. Whether you know it or not, you need him as much as he needs you.

The house is enveloped in silence. Joel has not uttered a single word for several hours. The quiet has persisted from morning until late afternoon. Nursing a beer, he attempts to divert his mind and avoid being overwhelmed by thoughts of you, his stepdaughter. The task was proven to be the most difficult he's ever had to endure considering the fact that you took a seat beside Joel on the couch and now, you won't stop fucking moving.

It would be a minute of stillness. Then, you would huff and shuffle in your seat, bare thighs brushing against Joel's jean-clad thigh. It was clockwork. Every time he tilted his head back to take a gulp of his beer, your movements jostled his side. With each sip, he grunted and nudged you roughly with his elbow, trying to push you away, yet you edged closer after each shove.

"Enough," Joel grunts for the umpteenth time, opting to use his hand this time to shove you away, albeit harder than the rest. "Sit your ass over there and give me some fuckin' space."

He notices your trembling lips and the tears brimming in your eyes. With a deep sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. All he desired was to savor a beer in the afternoon without your tears for every mistake he made, yet he realizes it was a situation he brought upon himself. Evidently, he has managed to reduce you to a state of dependency. Now, it was time to break you down even further until you can no longer cry, only accept your fate.

"Alright," he sighs once more, taking a sip of his beer before turning to you. "What's goin' on? Hm? Why is so goddamn important that you have to be glued at side?" Joel didn't intend to come off as harsh, but his nerves were ablaze, everything was humming, his clothes felt constricting, and the thought of your mother lingered in his mind, an unsettling presence.

He notices you curled up, knees drawn to your chest and arms encircling them. Resting your chin on your knees, you cast him a nervous glance. Joel lifts his eyebrows and gestures with his hand, urging you to speak. He understands that your attachment to him isn't your doing; it's precisely what he desired. Yet, he can't deny the thrill he gets from your reliance on him. Knowing that he's the one you yearn for fills him with a smug satisfaction, inflating his ego immensely.

A young, pretty little thing like yourself eager to please a dirty old man like him.

Clearing your throat in the softest way possible, you tell him, "I've been getting that feeling again... down there. And it won't go away no matter how many times I try to think about something else. I need your help to make it go away, Daddy. Please, help me." The last sentence comes out as a whisper, almost like a secret you're trying to keep for yourself, but Joel heard every word.

Looking at you right now, his sleezy eyes swallow every inch. His fingers twitch on his lap as his hand tightens around the neck of the beer bottle. There's a warmth stirring in his gut. His jaw tensed and clenches as he tries to fight off the sexually violent images of you in his mind.

With the way you're staring at him, Joel knows what has to be done.

That's where he has you now, laid out on his and your mom's shared bed, bare naked and trembling, silky thighs spread wide open with your hands under the crook of your knees to keep them that way. Joel is kneeling between them, clad in only his jeans, his shirt long gone. He's staring down at you like a feral wolf waiting for the perfect moment to attack the pathetic bunny cowering in a tree stump. His mouth waters as he thinks about sinking his teeth into your flesh and drinking your sweet blood. His hands tremble as they start to stroke along your inner thigh, savoring the way you tremble under his fingertips.

"She's just drooling for me, ain't she?" Though the question was rhetorical, you still nod. Joel grins and lets out a deep chuckle before biting down on his bottom lip as his thumbs get closer to your sweet pussy.

He knows he's teasing at this point. The little flutters your pussy gives him tells him all that he needs to know. He only wonders how far he'd have to go for you to finally crack and lose composure. A pearly drop of slick slowly pools out of your hole and slides down to your other tight-ringed hole. Joel catches it with his thumb and gently swipes it up to your clit before pulling his thumb away, a string of arousal connecting from the fingertip to your clit. He sees you glancing down at it as he shows it off to you with a sadistic grin on his face.

"You see that?" he whispers, his plush lips parting as he continues swiping through your slick, subtle wet noises colliding with the sounds of your heavy breathing. "So messy down here, honey girl."

Joel's dick thickens underneath the two layers he wears on his bottom half. The throbbing is constant, his heavy balls pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He's surprised the button of his jeans hasn't popped open. With one hand, he unbuttons and slides down the zipper agonizingly slow. Your eyes are on his hands the entire time. Joel lets out a quiet laugh when his hardness forces the zipper to slide down the rest of the way on its own.

With his cock comfortably breathing, both hands are now back on your inner thighs, thumbs still close to the lips of your pussy. With gentle movements, he uses his thumbs to spread apart your lips to get a better look of your sopping hole. Pearly strings connecting from one lip to the other, your pretty labia spreading open like a blooming flower, your swollen clit throbbing for attention. Joel is in awe and falls into a hypnotized state the more he stares at your fully exposed pussy. His fingers are curious as they stroke along your lips, further dampening the light dusting of hair that keeps your mound warm and protected.

Joel eagerly listens to every little noise you make. His movements are torturous, and he knows he's being mean by not giving you what you asked for. The little trembles of your thighs and your weak moans when his fingers purposely avoid your aching clit. His lips part and he can feel drool at the corners. Licking it away, Joel continues to trace your pussy lips with his thumbs, further observing the clenching and unclenching of your non-stop dripping hole.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath, fingers catching the slick repeatedly to avoid it wasting onto the bedsheets. In a louder voice, he says in a smug tone, "She jus' won't stop leakin' everywhere."

Joel's mind is reeling the more he inspects your dripping pussy. He can practically taste you on his tongue. A husky, low growl escapes from his chest before he could stop it. He can hear that voice again, feel those claws sinking into his shoulders from behind. The rattling of the cage gets louder and more violent. Joel's eyes shut as fast as his hands left your body as he tries to shut out that dark voice coaxing him to do more damage. He lets out another low growl and shakes his head to himself.

"Daddy?" he hears your sweet whimper fill his ears. "Make it go away."

Joel wants to make it go away. He wants to make everything go away. He needs to or else this feeling won't stop. It'll only get stronger and stronger the more time passes. He knows what has to be done. Then, silence. He opens his eyes, his breathing heavy and labored. The two of you make eye contact, and Joel feels like his heart is about to burst through his chest from how hard and fast it's beating.

Without another word, his middle finger slowly sinks inside your pussy, your tightness sucking him deeper. There's a steady trembling in your thighs as you fight to shut them. Joel's thumb strokes your swollen clit in firm, tight circles. He crooks his finger and lays his free hand across your mound and applies pressure, pinning you between his palm and the mattress.

"What..."

He knows what you're about to ask, but he doesn't let the question slip from your lips before he's fucking his middle finger in and out of your pussy while simultaneously curling his finger against your spongy pleasure spot, all the while pressing down above your mound and rubbing your clit. The wet sloshing of your wetness being spread all around his finger, palm, and your thighs is an embarrassing noise that has you covering your face. For some reason, that pisses Joel off.

"Look at me!" He practically yells and yanks his finger out of your pussy to land a hearty smack directly over your clit. The loud smack has you yelping and squeezing your thighs together as you yanked your hands away from your face to look at Joel with a pained expression.

He shoves your thighs open with brutal force and shoves his middle and ring fingers inside your pussy this time, the tightness increasing from the sudden intrusion. You let out a louder yelp and reach down to grab his arm with both hands, but Joel slaps them away like he would an annoying mosquito. He moves his hand with vigor, fucking his fingers up against that one spot that makes you leak and shake. There's an abundance of wetness that splatters all over your inner thighs and on Joel's palm. His tongue tingles to clean up your sticky mess.

"Goddamn, you're so fuckin' wet, babydoll," he groans filthily, forcing himself to look between your legs. His calloused fingers are shoved so deep inside your pussy, the same ones that have been inside your mother numerous times. Joel is a disgusting man for the satisfaction he feels, knowing that these are the same fingers that have made your mom cum. And now, he's going to make you, his stepdaughter, cum on them in the same way.

Joel presses down onto your pelvis as he keeps the heel of his palm against your clit to apply delicious pressure. He moves his hand up and down rather than forward and back. He can feel his fingers stabbing at the ribbed spongy spot repeatedly, the wet sloshing growing louder the faster he does it. Your moans are garbled and stuttering from his unrelenting pace.

"That's it, babydoll," he grunts quietly, biting down on his bottom lips as he fights to slide in a third finger. If he's going to open up that pussy any further, it's going to be around his cock.

"Stop, stop, stop," you squealed and kicked your legs, trying desperately to pull your body away from his fingers. "I have to pee!"

Joel goes harder and faster, his palm practically slapping against your clit in time with his fingers. The final moan you let out was demonic, of some sort. It didn't sound like it was coming out of a teenage girl, but more from a deranged older woman. Then, a stream of wetness splashes out and splatters all across Joel's forearm and onto the bed sheets. It was fucking never-ending. Your pussy keeps sucking in his fingers, fluttering all around his knuckles. He pulls his fingers out and lands another smack onto your pussy, paying extra attention to your needy clit.

He knows what he has to do. He knows what has to be done.

He rests heavily on top of your body, one forearm planted on the bed beside your head as the other moves between your bodies to lower his jeans and his boxers, not quite shaking them completely off. You're still trying to catch your breath, not exactly understanding what it was that just happened, what it was that you just felt, and why it felt so good. Joel can see it in your eyes, the unspoken questions on the tip of your tongue. He hushes you softly, his lips just a hair away from yours.

"Daddy's goin' to do the tip again, okay? Just the tip, babydoll, I promise," his voice is quiet and soft, his breath tickling your lips like a kiss from the wind.

He doesn't care enough to hear your response or to see if you want to do this or not, but he's already pressing his tip against your sticky hole and pushing inside. Joel's hoarse grunt was muffled as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his big, heavy body sagging further onto yours. His hips slowly move forward and forward and back, fucking his mushroomed tip in and out of your eager hole.

"Oh, my God," your sweet little whimpers whispered in his ear as Joel's hips continued their steady pace. "Too...much." Your voice is clouded with a tinge of pain as he fucks an inch deeper, and then two inches deeper. "Daddy... Daddy, s-slow down!"

Joel's mental state is clouded with depraved lust, pleasure, and ecstasy. His cock sinks deeper. His vision is cloudy, and your voice sounds far away as your pussy sucks him in. He finds himself shutting you up by slapping a big hand over your mouth and pressing some of his weight down onto it. Joel's head lifts up, and he's inches from your face. Your eyes are wide and filled with tears, one hand grabbing onto his shoulder as the other desperately grabs onto his forearm.

"You can take some more," he breathes heavily, his beer-laced breath causing your eyes to flutter shut as you fight to pull away from his face, but Joel clamps his hand down tighter against your mouth, pinning your head down onto his pillow and constricting your movements.

The figurative crate in the recesses of his mind is rattling violently, the voice inside escalating, almost yelling for Joel to let go and inflict pain. This is the necessary action. It's a now or never situation. His skin turns scorching, almost too hot to touch. Every sense is inundated by your presence. Time has run out. The voice is reverberating in Joel's mind, fully taking control.

The chains are gone. The beast has awoken. He is free.

A small scream against Joel's palm has him breaking free from the darkness that has taken over. He's sure he looks feral right now. The widening of your eyes showcases terror. Joel glances down and notices that his cock is now halfway inside your pussy. He doesn't remember sliding his hips deeper into yours. He feels how tight you've gotten, your pussy almost begging for him to not go any further.

"Look at that," he mumbles to himself, pulling his cock two inches out and seeing the tiniest smear of blood around the thick base. "Seems like this little pussy can't all of me, huh?" Joel leans back down, laughing right in your face as he pushes his cock back inside. You're kicking at the back of his thighs with the heels of your feet now, trying to shake your head at him, but he tightens his hand once again. "Don't worry, honey girl," he grunts breathlessly. "Daddy will make it fit."

And with that, Joel reels his hips back and slams the last few inches into your pussy, hearing with glee as your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes cross and roll into the back of your head. The rhythmic push and pull of your cunt tightening around his cock had his heavy balls throbbing as heat builds stronger in the pit of his stomach.

Joel groans huskily, lowering his heavy body onto your own and slowly moving his hips forward and back, pulling out shallowly and pressing in deep. He makes sure you feel every single inch.

"Feel how deep I am in your tummy, babydoll?" he breathes heavily, his tongue thick in his mouth as his throat suddenly feels dry. Joel can feel his senses slipping as he loses control. He's been waiting for this day for months, and now that he finally has it, he doesn't want to let it go. This whole power dynamic went straight to his head, further inflating his already massive ego. Feeling your virgin cunt being deflowered around his cock was unlike anything he's ever felt.

Your eyes are blurry with thick tears that roll down your cheeks and slide along Joel's fingers. He pulls out again, slowly pushes back in, and repeats the process until the light smearing of blood disappears. He gruffly hushes you and pulls his hand away to shove two thick fingers into your mouth.

"Attagirl," he mumbles to himself as he obscenely pushes down on your tongue to widen your mouth. "Show me what that tongue can do." He slides his fingers forward and back along the pink muscle, mimicking the motions of his hips. He goes as far as to shove his fingers towards your uvula to make you gag. Drool slides down the corners of your lips as strings of spit crudely connect from your tongue to Joel's fingers.

He grins wolfishly. Oh, this is going to be fun. To have you under his body, cunt squeezing and choking his cock, knowing that you will forever live with the moment of your disgusting stepdad taking your virginity. Joel doesn't give a flying fuck on how this is going to affect any future relationships you might have with another man. Right here, right now, you belong to Joel. You know it, he knows it. Within the walls of the bedroom he shares with your mom, you belong to him whether you liked it or not. He's going to take, take, take, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Joel lifts the bottom of his shirt to watch the hypnotizing sight of your swollen pussy repeatedly sucking him in. Virgin blood was now replaced with that sticky slick he grew to love over the last few days. The sopping wet sounds of his hips smacking into yours, your stickiness covering his thick, dark pubic hair and happy trail. Joel looks up to watch your face as he starts to really fuck you. With one hand still trapped between your lips, he uses those fingers to hook behind your bottom teeth and force your head down as his other hand cups the back of your head to grab your hair in a fist. Yanking your head down, you're forced to watch his girthy cock violate your pussy for the first time.

"You fuckin' see that?" Joel pants heavily, his own lips parted to let out a few strained grunts. "See how your little pussy sucks me right in? You see that shit, right?" He sounds too cocky for his own good, but he has every right to be. Your mom was never wet enough or tight enough for him. Having her daughter nearly drowning his dick and choking the life out of it was an accomplishment he'll proudly wear like a medal of honor.

"Daddy," you called out to him, but a garbled, drooly mess came out from his fingers still hooked behind your bottom teeth. "Aaahhgghh!!" The next moan was practically punched out of you once Joel started to put some weight into his next few thrusts.

"Thaaaat's it," he has the audacity to laugh at the sudden reaction he pulled from your trembling body. "She's feelin' it now, ain't she?"

More tears spilled down your cheeks, and Joel's depraved sense of self forced him to swipe his spit covered fingers across the wetness to shove back into your mouth, forcing you to taste your tears on your tongue. The tiny moan you tried to hide wasn't ignored. Joel knows you want to let loose and enjoy what he's giving you, but he remembers what's going to happen if you enjoy it too. He can at least make it hurt just for a little, right?

Pulling his hands completely away from your head and face, Joel places them into the crook of your knees to force them to your chest, further spreading you open and giving him more room to work with. Joel doesn't bother to double check if the positioning is comfortable before he's driving his hips so fast and deep against yours, not even giving you time to breathe between each violent thrust. His head tilts back, his grin widening as he hears your pained yelps, feeling your hand desperately grabbing onto his forearms and scratching your nails down his skin, no doubt leaving deep marks.

"This is what a man's dick feels like," he grunts ferociously like a wild beast. "Quit your fuckin' whining and take this dick. Fuckin' take it. Take it. Take it." Joel's fucking you like a madman now, balls so heavy and filled with cum, smacking against your lightly bruised ass cheeks. Your wetness is splattering all over his jeans and your inner thighs. He glances at your face and sees the expression you wear--eyes rolled back and mouth open to let out ungodly noises.

Fuck, you're really enjoying this. No matter what Joel does, you're going to like whatever he does either way. He's tainted you. He deflowered you and rotted you inside and out. You're no longer that sweet, innocent girl he helped his wife raise. No longer did you have that girl-next-door personality. You were his little experiment, his naive toy to play with when he got bored of your mom and needed something new and young. He's in too deep, literally and figuratively. Your dripping wet pussy tightening around his girth has Joel coming back down to reality.

"Jo-oel! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!!" Your little squeals were music to his ears. The noises his cock was forcing out of you were ones you tried to keep hidden, but the pleasure was too intense to keep quiet about. "Right there!! Ri-ight... there!!"

Then, a shrill ringtone fills the room. Joel's back pocket is vibrating, and his hips freeze as if he were being held in a stickup. With his cock still so very deep inside, he glances down and sees a visible bulge in your stomach. He can faintly map out the shape of his mushroomed tip. He pulls out and pushes in again, completely hypnotized with the sight of your belly bulging from his massive cock. You seem transfixed on it as well, your own lips parted in wonder and eyes wide in awe. The phone rings again. Joel hisses a curse under his breath and reaches into his back pocket.

"It's your mom," he gruffly tells you and leans in close to point a finger in your face. "Not a single sound, you hear me?" His heart is pounding as if he ran a marathon. He's nervous, there's no lie there. Thankfully it's not a face call, but still. Joel can't shake the feeling away as he swipes his thumb to answer the call.

"I called you twice. Why didn't you answer the first time?"

Joel rolls his eyes immediately and tries to steady his breathing. Of course, no hi, hello, nothing. She had to go straight into getting on his case about not answering fast enough. His patience was wearing thin. He had half a mind to lay his cards out on the table and tell her he was too busy fucking her daughter to care.

"I was takin' care of a little problem I was havin', honey." Joel lets out a strained moan when your pussy clenches around him accidentally. He shoots you daggers, his glare burning into your skin as you hastily cover your mouth with both hands when he retaliates by shoving his dick so deep into you, it causes the stomach bulge to return.

"Oh, yeah? Well, what if I was dealing with the same problem?"

Her voice dropped into a sultry tone, and Joel's eyes rolled once again before he glanced down between your bodies. He uses his free hand to splay across your mound to rest his thumb against your swollen clit. He traces faint circles around the pearl, relishing the twitch in your thighs and your labored breathing.

"Yeah? You wanna do it together while I still have time?" Joel's hips start fucking into you again, slow and deep, just how you like it. He almost sounds bored when he talks to your mom, but his eyes are wild and filled with want as he stares at your wanton expressions.

"I miss your dick, Joely. Ugh. I need it."

Her moans turned Joel off, especially with that stupid fucking nickname she always called him. The sound of your shaky breathing and warm, wet, tight cunt soaking him brought him back to the present. He can block out your mom's voice and focus on what he's providing you. With one hand keeping the phone pressed to his ear, his other hand bats your hands away from your mouth and instead possessively holds onto your throat as he starts fucking you with rhythm.

"You jus' like this dick too much, don't you? Can't fuckin' live without it," he's making eye contact with you as he talks to your mom. He makes sure that you know he's talking directly to you. With his big hand firmly holding onto your throat, he can feel your skin becoming warmer as the eye contact causes you to fluster.

You nod as best as you can, his hand tightening around your throat to cut off any sounds you were about to make within a few seconds. The steady thwack of his hips against yours could be mistaken for his fist around his own cock to your mom. Joel makes sure to not sound suspicious in the way he's talking. Though he's speaking more to you, he doesn't want to use any of the words reserved for you to be used on your mom. Having her figure out what's been going for the week that she's been gone is not what Joel needs right now. What he needs is to fuck you stupid, doesn't matter if your mom is cockblocking him in the process.

"That's right, honey," he mumbles into the receiver, but loud enough for you to still catch on to his slurred words. He tosses you a wink, pressing his fingers deeper into your throat as he fucks you faster. "Takin' this fuckin' dick so good, huh? Only thing you're good for is takin' this fuckin' dick." He growls the last two words, your moans garbled and incoherent and strained from the pressure around your throat.

Joel takes the hint to release your throat and allow you to get a few gulps of air once he realized you were on the verge of passing out. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, forcing you to lick along his gold wedding band. Joel puts the phone on speaker and lays it beside your head on the pillow. He puts a finger to his lips and carefully maneuvers your legs onto his shoulders. There's really nothing like half-assed phone sex with his unassuming wife while he fucks her teenage daughter on the other line.

How stupid of both of them, being hassled by the same man for entirely different reasons. Joel is a disgusting, sick man. But God, if it doesn't make his dick rock hard right now. He knows he can't be stopped, and that's the fun part of all of this. No matter how hard anybody tries, Joel is going to keep doing this over, and over, and over again.

"I can't wait for you to fuck me again, baby. Ugh! I need it."

Joel looks deep into your eyes as he grinds nice and slow into your leaking cunt, your swollen clit crushed against his pubic hair with his balls pressed firmly between your ass cheeks. In a husky voice, all while maintaining eye contact, he tells your mom into the phone, "I'll fuck you nice and good, honey. I'll fuck you so good, I'll ruin every other man for you."

And with that, he gives you a kiss that was all tongue, teeth, and spit, all the while your mom's exaggerated moans were ignored. She's talking, but neither of you are paying attention. Joel is so focused on devouring your entire mouth with his that he doesn't register your mom calling his name until you're frantically tapping his arm to get his attention back onto the phone.

"I said, do you miss my pussy, Joely?"

"You know I do, honey," he answers almost robotically as he refocuses his attention back on kissing you sloppily. He pulls away from a brief moment to roll his hips deep into yours, swallowing down your squeaky moans with his lips. Your mom is talking again, but Joel doesn't bother to respond. Instead, he lifts himself onto his hands and starts fucking you vigorously.

Hips smacking into hips and wet, sloppy noises fill the room. You're trying your hardest to contain your moans and not cum so suddenly, Joel can see and feel that. He's grunting heavily, his entire lower half smeared and covered in your sticky slick. For such a virgin, you sure do get wetter than the local neighborhood whore that Joel has numerously encountered many years back. There's a saying that goes: Virgin pussy is the best pussy, any man will agree. And Joel stands by that statement as he feels it from his own stepdaughter. It's an ego boost to feel something so warm and tight get so incredibly wet for him, and only him.

"Fuuuuuck, I can hear how wet this pussy is for me," Joel says loud enough for your mom to hear, though he directs it towards you. The pinch of your eyebrows and the rolling back of your eyes tells him more than what you can say aloud.

"Fuck, Joely, I'm gonna cum!"

Joel is fucking into you harder than you can comprehend what's happening. He smacks a hand over your mouth to muffle your little punched out moans. He grunts and growls like an animal, sweat trickling down his spine, further staining his shirt. His heart races at the speed of a cheetah. He feels like the most powerful man as he watches you start to fall apart under him.

"Cum for me," he breathes out, the warmth in his gut getting stronger as he rubs your clit with a shaky thumb. "Fuckin' cum all over my dick like a good fuckin' whore, huh? Are you Daddy's whore? Tell me... aagghhh!!... Tell me you're Daddy's fuckin' bitch."

"Uuhhh, Joel?"

He reaches over to hang up and toss his phone onto the floor with a clatter before leaning completely onto your body, folding you into a pretzel and fucking you with violence. You let out a piercing wail as he fucks the air out of you. Your nails pinch his skin, no doubt drawing blood. Joel's grunting in your face, warming your already heated skin with his beer breath. Tears roll down your temples as you hold onto him for dear life.

"I-I... hhnnggh..." You can hardly speak, let alone open your eyes to tell him exactly what you want to say. "Daddy... I-I... I lo-ove you!"

Joel is taken aback, letting out a surprised moan when your cunt rhythmically contracts around his cock as you cum, and you keep cumming. It doesn't fucking stop. Your pussy is so wound tight around him that Joel couldn't pull out if he wanted to. Squeaky little moans and shaky cries, you hold onto him tighter as your pussy relaxes.

His cock still lodged inside your swollen cunt, Joel observes you in silence. Your words are still echoing in his ears. His cock is nearly soft as it rests comfortably within your ribbed, fleshy walls. Love. Love. Love. You love him. You love him. And it has to be in the same way girlfriends love their boyfriends and wives love their husbands, which isn't the relationship the two of you have.

Joel pulls out before he realizes what exactly he's doing. He hastily tucks himself back into his ruined boxers and zips up his equally ruined jeans. He tossed you your clothes without giving you a single glance.

"Clean yourself up and get dressed. We need to talk," he gruffly says and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him for a dramatic effect.

He paces in the hallway, both hands running through his hair frantically as he tries to figure out what the fuck just happened. That dark, evil voice in the back of his mind returns. It's creeping in slowly, and soon, it overcomes him, drowning him in its darkness.

Look at what you did, Joel. Look at what happened. Love is involved, the one thing you were afraid of happening. Make it hurt. Cause more pain. Do something, NOW.

He's sitting on the couch by the time you come down the stairs, a subtle limp in your step from the rough fucking he gave you just minutes prior. Your clothes are disheveled, and your shirt is on backwards. You're twiddling your fingers and looking down at the ground like a guilty kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Joel's elbows are pressed into his knees with his hands cupped over his mouth in thought. His mind is racing, his thoughts screaming and hollering. For the first time in a long time, he doesn't know what to do.

"Daddy?"

Your gentle voice fills his ears, and he has to force himself to shut his eyes to avoid looking in your direction. He feels the warmth of your presence sitting beside him on the couch. Fuck, he can even smell the thick scent of your pussy, and he wonders if you even cleaned yourself up like he done told you to do. There's a tick in his jaw the more silent he stays. He feels like the first word he utters is going to make him explode.

"Joel?" you whisper meekly, tenderly grabbing onto his tense bicep and flinching when he suddenly jumps up to his feet.

Joel's arm burns from your touch. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He paces back and forth like a tweaker at a gas station, itching to get their hands on some drugs or alcohol. Joel knows that he's royally fucked. He never meant for you to get feelings for him. He thought he was doing the opposite with the way he's been acting with you.

"You stupid fuckin' girl," he barks out a cruel laugh and wipes a hand down his mouth as he shoots around to stare at you with a new fire in his furious eyes. "You don't know what love is, you hear me? You do not know what love is and you sure as hell ain't goin' to get it from me."

He can see his words shoot at you like bullets. The sag in your shoulders and the crestfallen expression you wear on your face was a clear indicator that what he said truly hurt you.

"Excuse me?" your question comes out soft and broken. "You... You don't love me?"

Make it hurt. Ruin it. MAKE IT HURT, JOEL.

"No, I don't," he speaks lowly. "You're real fuckin' dumb to think otherwise, sweetheart. You think all the things I've done to you were from a place of love? Huh? What, you think I really cared about those little feelings you had? News flash, you're just a kid. I ain't your boyfriend, and I sure as hell ain't gonna be a husband for you. I mean, you really think another man will want you after I've already had my fun with your body, hm?"

Joel knew it was a low blow, but he needed to go in for the kill. The way you're looking at him drastically changed into a look of pure hatred and venom. Hot tears spill down your cheeks as he watches you take in his harsh wordss

"I hate you," you wept quietly. "I-I hate you, Joel Miller. You... You bad, bad man."

He leans over with his hands planted on his knees as he slouches to your height. He gives you a mocking pout. "No, sweetheart, you don't hate me. If you hated me, you wouldn't have let me slide my dick inside that pussy of yours and take what was meant to be for a boy your age. Ain't that the truth, hm? No, instead, you let your ol' stepdaddy work his way into your empty little head and make you think that you're really worth somethin'."

He can see in that moment your heart breaking. He stands up straight again, looking down at you with disdain and shakes his head, tsking as he does so. You don't bother to look at him as he fixes your hair over your shoulder. He smiles a little at the flinch you give. When he roughly grabs your jaw in his hand and yanks your head up to look at him, he leans in real close again.

"I still own this pussy whether you like it or not."

And with that, Joel Miller has completely ruined your heart.

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[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat Chapter 11: the trap snaps shut

masterpost

Five vans peeled into view, rocketing around the curved road fast enough that they visibly tilted through the turn. They all bristled with weaponry.

Cass felt her lips press into a faint line. She glanced at Dannybaby: scared. I knew it. Here they are.

They didn’t have to talk about it. The three adults stepped out and put their backs to ring Danny, facing outwards to the threat.

“Shoot the racks,” she commanded. The mounted weapons. She didn’t like that. She pulled out a batarang herself and squinted to find her aim. The construction? Sloppy. Exposed wires. Weakness.

A gun cocked. “Aye aye, captain.” Jason hefted a gun in each hand and started shooting as the vans screeched to a stop in a circle around them. Bang! Sparks flew where he hit. Cass and Dickiebird did the same with quieter precision, slicing wires and leaving projectiles sticking into the metal monstrosities. Electricity sparked. Just in time: machines whined as they were powered on. One gave out with a huge bang!  The van attached to it jolted as the machine punched a huge dent into the roof. White smoke floated away, clouding the nighttime scene with a chemical stink.

“Whoa,” Danny breathed.

She felt a twinge of satisfaction.

Jason hit the last set-up with a bang! Bang! Then his foot scuffed across the pavement to knock against Danny’s. Check, you’re here, you’re safe, you’re little.

“They’ll come out!” Danny warned.

He was right. Doors clicked unlocked all around them and men in white suits piled out, futuristic looking guns aimed at the little group. 

She felt a twinge of disbelief. “Can’t shoot,” Cass said. No way. So dumb. They were in a circle. Friendly fire, new concept to losers??

They shot. She hit the ground in a roll and trusted that everyone else would. They did. She turned her head to see that one agent was down from friendly fire. There was no blood as he was lifted off his feet and blasted backwards against the van he came out of.

“Ghost scum!” howled one of the suits.

“We knew it!” 

The victory in their voices set her blood boiling. Cass launched herself to the closest opponent and took him down with a nasty hit. She whirled on the next one, two mean hits. Go, go, clear the area! She heard feet scuffling and weapons whining as they fired, fired, fired on the boys.

She took number 4 down as the smoke was starting to clear. She heard a pained oof from the center, where Jason and Dickiebird were blocking Danny.

“Jason!” Danny said. He sounded very young. “Oh, shit.” Cass cast a frantic glance over at his posture and sucked in a breath even as she bulleted towards the next opponent. Determined. I have to do this. Here we go! 

No, no!

Jason was down. Dickiebird was darting between Jason and the man actively firing. Danny was pale. He opened his mouth. He put his palms out. He flashbanged. 

She blinked away stars and slammed a man’s head into a van before he could aim at her. Slam, slam, drop. She stole another glance. Danny was- Danny had white hair now and he was flashing green light at their enemies. Hm. She couldn’t afford to watch. Cass bared her teeth, angry. 

Air sizzled: GIW firing wildly. Guns fired: Jason was still conscious. Danny yelped: what? 

Cass didn’t dare look more. She moved faster than Batman could ever, brutally taking down these criminals with disdainful ease. They had nothing but numbers and lasers. 

Green shot past her vision. She traced it back: Danny! Her eyes went wide. Wow. He had some kind of organic blast, like Starfire. Very useful! 

 It wasn’t enough. Danny screamed. She heard him hit the ground. Sizzling.

She howled, wordless with fury. She tackled the next agent and cracked his head against the pavement. Only two more. She flung a batarang down the barrel aimed at her and then yanked the weapon away to brutally jab the air out of the agent’s diaphragm. Cass tossed it at him as he fell. Solid thunk. It hit his head.

The last man tried to say something, white teeth flashing in the gloom. Her ears were closed to it. The only language she spoke right now was violence. She used it to get him down and wrench him into zip ties. She could hear Dickiebird talking his soothing sounds at Danny baby. Cass wanted to go there. Cass wanted to soothe him. She wanted to see his hurts. 

But she had to secure the area. She rushed around to the groaning and crying men she had put down. She immobilized them. The foolish ones tried to get up as she approached. The smart one (and there was only one) held his hands out, eyes wide in the night. He talked at her. Beseeching, reasoning, she just doesn’t understand. You’re like me. Not like them.

Cass snarled. She understood just fine. She pressed his face into the ground harshly, fingers digging into his jaw. “Shut up,” she gritted out. She left him with effort, ignoring the mean impulse to smack him. 

All the boys were on the ground. There was no blood. Eyes open. Not dead.

Something in her gun unclenched.

Dickiebird looked up at her from where he was supporting Jason, sitting halfway with a grimace as he holstered his guns. Hands shaking. “He’ll be fine!” Danny pressed his body against Jason like he was trying to absorb his body heat. His hair was black again and his eyes looked tired. “He, uh, it’s shock,” Dannybaby babbled. She knelt to rub at his back, silently encouraging the explanation. “They basically zapped his ecto, stopped circulation. It should start up again in a few minutes and he’ll feel fine.”

“Get off,” Jason grunted. He shoved at Dickiebird. Weak. “I feel fine.”

Lie.

“I feel drained,” he admitted. “But fine. Just weak. I can stand.” He struggled to stand, biting his lip. He swayed only slightly. “Man,” he cursed under his breath. Jason cast an unhappy look at the 14 agents groaning on the ground, on their bellies like the worms they were with hands ziptied at their backs. “Not my best showing.”

“Next time, you could dodge,” Dickiebird suggested lightly. 

“You’re lucky it got him and not you,” Danny snapped. “Didn’t you see that guy go flying?”

Tense. Dickiebird paused. Smile. Soothe. “I’m only teasing,” he said. “It’s fine, Danny.”

“None of this is fine!” Cass swiveled her head to make sweltering eye contact with the scumbag who was cutting in. He was bold, for someone with his cheek digging into the rocks and cement. “By the authority of the US Government, you are required to submit these ecto-entities for testing and capture into our custody. Release us, or face dire consequences!”

Cass looked at him. She felt hate. Disdain. You’re nothing, you’re a worm to me. 

“They’re telling the truth,” Danny whispered. “It’s, uh, it’s legal.” He looked haunted. He rubbed at his chest: some memory of sharp pain.

Dickiebird snorted and slung an arm over Danny’s narrow shoulders. “Maybe by US laws, but Oa has jurisdiction that supersedes. This was a clear case of assault.” He gave an unpleasant smile. Big brother. Big angry. Guard dog at the door. “I’ll make a call.” 

The next minutes felt very long. Cass pressed Danny’s face into her shoulder so that he didn’t have to make eye contact with the fallen agents. She stroked his hair with her free hand, boiling inside with fury. 

Dickiebird called. A Green Lantern answered: coming.

They waited. Jason said he felt better. His body said: mostly better. But strange. They ignored the threats and complaints from the GIW men on the ground.

Hal Jordan came, with one more Green Lantern that Cass didn’t know. He gathered up prisoners in a green veil. He talked with Dickiebird. He nodded, and left.

“I wanna go home,” Danny said quietly. “But I think that we need to get Jason to my doctor. He’s really not right. It’s… It might be time sensitive.”

[uhohdad]

(18+) ♡König♡ Voiceline Inspired Drabbles

“Who else is with you?”

Jealous!König Shows Ghost Who Reader Belongs To

WARNING: ABUSIVE & NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

“I can hear them with you, don’t even think about lying.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

Your response was meant to sound nonchalant, but it comes out wavered and squeaky. Shaking fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“Who is it?” König demands, but you both know he already knows the answer.

“It’s- it’s just the guys,” You mumble into your phone, shoulders braced and lips pulled back in unease.

“Of course it is. Is Simon there?”

“Who ya talking to, bonnie?” Soap asks, and you give him a panicked push on his chest in an effort to shut him up.

“Come home, right now.”

König’s tone leaves no room for argument. Grit and threatening, it sends a chill down your spine and raises the hairs on your neck.

Your lips part to speak, stammering through your sentence.

“I- I’m not driving, I cant-”

“You have twenty minutes.”

The line cuts off, the phone shaking in your rattling hands as you pull it in front of your face, staring at it with wide eyes.

“Simon,” You utter, “You have to take me home, now, please.”

The car goes silent, the light atmosphere sucked from the car the moment your frantic words cuts through.

“What’s wrong?”

“I- nothing,” You say, eyes darting to the side, “Just-”

You cut yourself off, debating whether or not you should tell the truth, scrambling for an excuse, but your mind draws a blank.

“You have to take me home.”

“Lover boy?” Simon asks.

Your silence confirms his suspicion. You wince, knowing this is being filed in his ever-growing ‘Reasons to Hate König’ folder.

“Simon, please,” Your plead is made of only breath, fingers fidgeting beyond control.

Simon says nothing, the car suffocatingly silent. He continues driving, not so much as activating his turn-signal.

Your voice picks up vigor, the desperation palpable, “Simon- Simon, please. Take me home.”

“No.”

The car sucks in a collective breath, only the hum of the engine filling the taut, awkward air choking you all.

“Simon,” You whine, your eyes pinch shut and your hand rests on your collarbones, “Please.”

Soap raises a brow, lost, “What’s wrong?”

“Lover boy doesn’t like it when our dove has a good time,” Simon answers gruffly.

You unclip your seatbelt, sticking your head in between the two front seats.

“Simon, you have to take me home, now, please.”

He says nothing, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Simon!”

Without thinking, your trembling hand darts out to grab the steering wheel.

“Sit back!” Simon demands, the car swerving in its lane as he bats your hand away.

The sudden harshness in his voice makes you flinch, eyes wide and your hand retracting to your chest. It is not a request between friendly co-workers after hours, it is an order from your Lieutenant.

“Now,” He says, glaring you down in the rearview mirror.

At once you shrink in on yourself, shoulders slouching and eyes fixated on your shoes as you sit back in your seat.

The burn of Soap’s stare is searing, he’s looking for an explanation, but you can’t meet his eyes, too busy swallowing the shame of Ghost’s scolding and the fear of your boyfriend’s fury. Your stomach is twisted in knots, breaths shallow and knee bouncing to expel the nervous energy.

When Simon pulls into the pub’s parking lot, you whip your phone from your pocket as you scramble to order a ride, but Simon snatches your phone from your hands and ignores your objections.

“Simon, please! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I’ll handle it,” Simon grits without looking over his shoulder.

He gives you a look piercing enough to make your knees knock together. You swallow, unable to find the strength to argue.

After a few drinks, the energy of the group has relaxed, but you’re still fidgeting, darting your eyes around and trying to keep the beer in your stomach instead of throwing it up from pure nerves.

You freeze when you see him yank open the pub’s door, hard enough he nearly rips it off the hinges. Your heart stops, your mouth parts, wide eyes locked onto him. He scans the pub for a moment before he finds you, wearing those scary, half-lidded, dangerous eyes that bore into you. From across the pub, his stare makes your stomach twist, and you have to stifle the urge to claw your way free from the booth and flee from predator eyes.

König crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head at you. An impatient finger taps his opposing bicep. Even from the other side of the noisy room, his message is clear.

‘I’m waiting.’

You swallow and look to the sticky tabletop, both your knees and your voice trembling when you speak.

“I gotta, I gotta run to the bathroom,” you mumble to no one in particular, shimmying awkwardly from the booth.

“König,” You start once in range, “I can explain, please, just let me-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when he snatches you by the wrist with a crushing grip, forcing you to stumble over your own feet as you’re dragged out of the bar and along the sidewalk.

“König, please- I tried, I swear I tried, Simon just-”

König’s other hand grabs you by the waist with enough strength that bruises are surely to bloom at his fingertips. He ignores your writhing and winces of pain when he pushes you up against the pub’s dingy alleyway, blocking you in with his massive frame. His voice is hissed, his eyes devoid of any emotion other than rage.

“I don’t ever want to hear his name again. You understand me, little one?”

You choke, sputtering and stammering out syllables that will never get flushed out into sentences as his eyes narrow at you. Your body curls in on itself as he towers menacingly over you, his size alone more than enough of a threat to keep you compliant.

You nod, shaky but quick.

“Say it,” He growls.

“I understand,” You answer, just a squeak with words warbled in.

“Good,” He says, but you can tell by his tone he’s still not appeased.

A hardened hand snatches your wrists, pinning them to brick. Another yanks at the waistband of your jeans, ignoring your objections and your squirming legs.

“König, no! Here?” You whisper frantically, head whipping around to search for watchful eyes.

“You had the opportunity to come home. And you chose not to.”

He leaves no room for argument, a boot coming up to step on the pants bunched at your mid thigh, forcing them entirely to the ground when he plants his sole back on the concrete. You obey when he nudges you to suggest you free your ankle, and he wastes no time taking his cock from his pants.

You whimper when he presses himself to your panties, nestling between your lips with a grind.

He laughs, low and sinful in your ear.

“Already fucking wet, schlampe?”

A raspy grunt leaves him as he ruts his swollen cock against your panties.

“Just a little hure, whoring herself out for every man who pays you attention.”

You shiver at the vibration of his words against your chest, the tickle of his breath on your ear.

“Guess I’ll just have to remind you who you belong to.”

With your wrists pinned to the brick above your head, his other hand snatches your jaw with a tight grip. He forces your head to the side, sinking his teeth into the sensitive, exposed flesh of your neck. You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you, and the hand on your jaw quickly covers your mouth, muffling your wails with his calloused palms as he leaves imprints of his bites on your skin.

He laughs into your slobbered skin, kissing over the tender indents in your flesh.

“Don’t worry little one,” He coos in a sickly sweet voice, “It’ll be over soon.”

Your whimper is stifled by his hand, but he gives your voice back when he reaches down to yank your soaked panties to the side.

“But you still need to learn your lesson, ja?”

He lets out a groan when the tip of his enraged cock swipes along your slick cunt.

“König, please,” You whine on a shaky exhale.

“Sh, sh, sh.”

König grinds between your lips, coating himself in your arousal before lining himself up. He is by no means patient, bullying half of his cock inside of you on his first thrust. Your head lulls forward, sniveling in his hold as your cunt stretches around his greedy cock.

He grunts through clenched teeth, pulling himself from you only to thrust mercilessly back in.

“Take this cock like a good girl,” He grits.

He finds a steady pace, hardly letting you adjust to his size before he’s fucking more of himself into you, your arousal soaking his throbbing cock.

“You want to act like a hure, hm?”

He leans in, letting go of your wrists to pick you up by your thighs, and gives you a stint of particularly brutal thrusts, your tits bouncing degradingly against your ribcage as he fucks you further into the bricks.

He snarls at you.

“Then I’ll treat you like a fucking hure.”

With your hands free, you’re clawing at him, trying to expel the overwhelming sensation of him robbing you of your tight, sensitive cunt. White knuckling his shirt and digging into his chest with your finger nails, pathetic whimpers leaving your lips.

“See? You can barely handle me, hure. You don’t need anyone else.”

You suck in a sharp breath when you hear bootsteps echoing at the end of the alleyway.

Sprung eyes lock with Simon, standing still in his spot, watching you get pounded against the wall.

König laughs, low and truly gut-wrenching. He doesn’t even have to look to know Simon’s there. As soon as he’s aware of his presence König doubles the pace of his thrusts, forcing his entire cock into you and filling you to the brim with each bottom out. His brute cock, his mound slapping against your clit, it turns your moans choppy and unrestrained as you succumb to the pleasure, the pain, the humiliation of knowing your Leuitenant has a front row seat to your punishment, watching König demean you and have his way with you.

You’ve gone entirely limp in his hold, intoxicated and cockdrunk, only able to focus on his ruthless cock ravaging your dripping cunt, the feeling of being stretched and filled, the burning eyes of Simon at the end of the alley.

“Alles meins,” He growls strictly, “Got it? All mine.”

You nod, stuttered moans pouring from your lips without thought. His grip on the back of your thighs tighten painfully in threat.

“Say it.”

“A-All yours!” You cry, lulling your head against the brick in defeat.

The pleasure is building in your lower abdomen, an electric and exponential euphoria taking control of your body, every muscle tensed and shaking.

“Tell your Lieutenant who you belong to.”

You twitch in his hold as he pushes you over the edge, not letting up in the slightest, cruelly abusing your g-spot as he works out every last wave of your overwhelming finish.

“König!”

♡ Jealous!König Makes A Bet With Reader ♡

♡ König Drabble Masterlist ♡

Dividers by the lovely @strangergraphics

[velvetpucks]

come undone.

dr. robby x reader

⸻

The door slammed behind them like a final verdict. No words. Just heavy breaths and the lingering scent of trauma—burned flesh, old blood, antiseptic, loss. Her hospital badge clattered against the floor, lanyard snapped from her neck as she kicked off her shoes with a fury that felt nuclear.

He stood there in silence, watching her. Jaw tight. Chest heaving. His scrub top was splattered—trauma red, IV blue, something unholy brown on the hem. He hadn’t even washed up after they called it on the girl in trauma three.

Neither of them had.

He opened his mouth.

“Don’t,” she warned, her voice low. Raspy. Dangerous.

Then she was on him. Fist in his collar. Lips crashing into his like she wanted to devour him or break him or maybe both. It was teeth and tongue and heat. A kiss that wasn’t really a kiss—it was war.

Her back slammed against the wall hard enough to rattle a picture frame. Robby didn’t even register it. His hands were already up her sides, under her ruined scrub top, palming the warm, soft skin beneath like he’d die without it.

“I need you to fuck me,” she hissed against his mouth, biting his bottom lip until it bled. “Right fucking now.”

Robby groaned—deep, guttural—and lifted her into his arms without another word. Her legs wrapped around his waist, locking them together as he stalked through the apartment toward the kitchen. It wasn’t graceful. It was unhinged.

He sat her down on the cold marble counter, not even bothering to sweep the unopened mail and leftover takeout to the side. She pulled his head down, kissing him again like she was angry—angry at him, at the world, at herself for not being able to save that kid.

And he gave it all right back.

Her scrub top was ripped in two. Literally. Robby’s hands tore the seams down the middle, exposing her to the warm glow of the kitchen light. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She never did on long call nights. He stared for just a moment—long enough for her to squirm.

“Robby,” she growled.

He leaned in, licked the sweat-slick valley between her breasts, bit her left nipple gently before sucking hard, eliciting a breathless gasp. Her hands clawed at his waistband. She got the drawstrings loose, shoved his pants down. His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, already leaking with need.

“Condom?” he panted.

“Drawer,” she choked out, nodding toward the kitchen island. “Hurry.”

He yanked it open like a man possessed. Fumbled. Found one. Tore it open with his teeth and sheathed himself in seconds.

She’d already shoved her scrub pants and underwear down her thighs, exposing glistening folds and the trembling heat of her arousal.

He groaned at the sight. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“For you,” she gasped. “Always.”

Then he was inside her.

One brutal thrust, and she cried out—loud, raw, head thrown back as her heels dug into his lower back.

He paused for a split second, lips brushing her jaw. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“If you stop, I’ll kill you.”

He didn’t stop.

He fucked her like he meant it. Like he needed to feel her clench around him to erase the sound of flatlines and screaming mothers. His hips snapped against hers, each thrust harder, deeper, rougher. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the space, along with her whimpers and moans—desperate, unrestrained.

She met every thrust with a roll of her hips, clinging to his shoulders like she was trying to crawl inside him. Her body arched into his touch, into the way his mouth moved down her neck, sucking bruises into her collarbone, marking her as his.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

“Yours,” she panted, nails dragging down his back hard enough to draw blood. “Only yours.”

The pressure was building—fast and dirty. She reached down between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles as he fucked into her relentlessly.

“God—Robby—I’m gonna—” she choked.

“Let go,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Come for me, baby.”

She shattered.

Her whole body clenched around him, spasming as she cried out his name, head falling forward onto his shoulder. He followed seconds later with a strangled groan, spilling into the condom as he buried himself to the hilt, holding her tight as their bodies trembled together.

For a long moment, they just breathed. Sweat cooling. Arms wrapped around each other like they were the only two people left in the world.

Then he pulled out gently, knotted the condom and tossed it into the trash. She leaned back on her hands, hair wild, chest still rising and falling erratically.

“I ripped your scrubs,” he said softly, almost sheepish.

“I don’t care.”

He bent down and kissed her knee. Then her thigh. Then her lips—slow this time. Tender. Reverent.

“Let’s clean you up.”

He scooped her into his arms again and carried her to the bathroom. Set her down on the edge of the tub and ran warm water over a soft towel. She watched him in silence, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes as he knelt and wiped between her thighs, gentle as ever.

“Come here,” she whispered once he finished.

They crawled into bed. She curled into him, head on his chest, fingers tracing circles over the faint scar on his ribcage. One from a knife wound, months ago. He let her trace it in silence.

“I lost her,” she said finally. “The twelve-year-old.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“I—I thought we had her. I thought—”

“You did everything right.”

“No, I didn’t. I hesitated. Just for a second.”

“Hey.” He cupped her jaw, tilting her face to meet his. “You are the best trauma surgeon I’ve ever seen. You’re allowed to break. You’re allowed to grieve.”

She blinked, and tears slid down her cheeks.

He kissed them away.

“Even when I’m… like this?” she whispered. “Dark. Angry. Fucked up?”

He smiled, brushed her hair back. “Especially then. That’s when you’re real.”

She buried her face in his neck, clung to him like he was her anchor in the storm.

“I love you, Robby.”

“I love you more.”

They fell asleep like that—legs tangled, skin still warm from the afterglow, hearts beating in time.

And for the first time all week, she didn’t dream of trauma bays or monitors flatlining.

She dreamed of home.

Of him.

⸻

[shotmrmiller]

Submitting to his dominance— part III

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: dubious-con???, light mentions of violence, tied up for a moment, biting, thigh riding, fingering, edging, unprotected p in v, creampie, this is just vulgar idk what to say.

WC: 3k

A/N: this is it. i didn't plan on using the small drabble of jealousy for this but it worked better for me in the end. this is totally self-indulgent gg yall

You’re on a call with a friend, excitedly discussing your upcoming date with Gaz. Telling her how the both of you are still getting to know each other, just dipping your toes in the water— but the chemistry you both felt was natural, and your friend was screaming on the other end of the line, excited for you.

Approaching your front door, you’re giggling at something they said when you turn your doorknob and push. It opens.  Unlocked. You never leave your flat unlocked. After a moment, you let your friend know you’ll call her later and pivot, dialing the police. Just as you’re about to leave, a recognizable voice comes from the other side of the door.

“Get inside, pet.” 

Ghost. 

Resolutely shaking your head, you firmly say, “No. I blocked you for a reason. Stay here as long as you like, I’m going to Johnny’s.”

In a split second, you find yourself yanked back by a forceful hand clutching onto your hair, causing a jolt of pain as a few strands give way. The grip on your hair intensifies, and you're forcefully dragged into your apartment, confined within its walls with a slam of the door. 

“Are you fucking—”, Ghost cuts you off with a rough palm over your mouth. Anger surges through your veins, nostrils flaring,  and you lift your arm to strike him when he uses the hand covering your mouth to slam your head against the wall— not too hard but with just enough strength to remind you of the position you’re in. Who you’re in here with.

“Hands to yourself, girl. You’d be pickin’ a fight you couldn’t even dream of winnin’.”

Maybe he had a suspicion that you’d test him again because he swiftly rotated you and fastened your wrists with zip ties behind you— before turning you around once again to face him.

How fucking dare he. Oh, if looks could kill. 

You give him the most hateful scowl you can muster, and he looks at you for just a second, almost mockingly. He lifts the mask to uncover his mouth and then tries to press his lips to your neck, but that’s not about to happen. You move your head and shoulder to prevent him from getting anywhere near,  when he moves his hand to fist your hair and yanks. You don’t know what made your eyes tear up. If it’s the stinging ache of your scalp or the twinge in your neck from how hard he pulled. It was silly of you to think he wouldn’t just take what he wants— he’s done it so far.

Ghost has the nerve to chuckle as if he didn’t almost break your neck.

“Don’t be dramatic, pet. If I wanted y’dead, you wouldn’t have even seen me coming.” 

Not realizing you spoke aloud, you’re about to purposefully speak your mind when his lips latch onto the delicate skin of your neck, sucking hard, to the point of pain. And he does it again, on the other side. The sting of his hickeys causes you to whimper, and you assume he likes the noise that involuntarily slips out of you because he grinds his clothed erection against your core while sucking a mark on the fluttering vein in your neck. 

Ghost pulls back, fist still in your hair, and rubs his thumb across the throbbing bruises as if admiring his work. “Hey,” and moves his shirt to reveal his neck— showing you a half dozen blotchy marks that his other conquests put there, and with mirth says, “We match.” 

You start thrashing at that, as best you can while being restrained, and the intense fury of why you even blocked him in the first place comes back to the forefront of your mind. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” you scream. You raise your leg to kick him when he readily grabs it, effortlessly lifting you off the floor. He lets your one leg hang over the arm he has sturdily planted on the wall before grabbing the other to do the same— and pins you flat with his hips, bulge pressed firmly against your cunt. Your arms ache with pain as they are ruthlessly pinned behind you against the wall, pulling a hiss of agony from you.

“Now, now,” he taunts, “There’s no need to get pissy over me sleeping with someone else. Y’asked for a fuck, not a boyfriend, lovie.” 

“Yeah,” you grit out, “You’ve made that clear enough, with your little flings Johnny told me about.” 

“Aw, and tha’s got your knickers in a twist, does it?” he grinds his hips, “Would you believe me if I said tha’ you’re the prettiest?”

You snort. “Piss off— and actually piss the fuck off. You can go get your dick wet with someone else.” 

“Why would I wanna do that when I got y’here spread open so willingly f’me?” and grinds his hips again. 

You were about to retort about the ‘willingly’ being questionable when he latches onto your skin again but this time, he sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. Your nails dig into your palms, eyes welling with tears at the sharp pain of the bite. 

“Ah— stop, please stop” and it feels like he bites down even harder before finally relenting. His teeth come off your skin leaving behind a dark, angry purple imprint. 

“You sound so pretty when you beg, pet.”

Ghost looks up from the bite to your eyes and notices them glassy with unshed tears— licking off the ones that did spill. He trails soft stubbly kisses from your jawline to the corner of your mouth almost to coax it open. You wish you were a stronger person to resist his allure, but his mystique pulled you into his orbit. His touch ignited the spark in you to a flame, and you cave.

His mouth caresses yours open, your body melting against his. You let out little, breathy moans, and when he sloppily licked into your mouth, you caught his tongue and sucked— pulling the raunchiest, cunt-clenching sound you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. You let go of his tongue with a pop.

He moves his hands off the wall to dig into your arse and walks to your couch, putting your back to the cushions as he pulls off your pants. With a firm grip on your hips, he pulls you towards him, making you straddle his muscular thigh while his hands wrap around your waist, reaching for your bound wrists.

“I’ma take this off. I wouldn’t try hittin’ me again.” You feel a snap, the tingle of your blood rushing through the mark left by the zip tie, and shrug— in an attempt to ease some of the aches in your shoulders from being forcefully positioned for so long.

You side-eye the military pocket knife he used to cut the ties, wondering when he took it out— where he even hid it. Ghost leans forward to shrug off his leather jacket, pulls off his shirt while keeping his mask over his mouth, and tosses them to the other side of the sofa. You knew he was fit but seeing just how much made you a tad insecure. The separation of the muscle from the round of his shoulders to the bulge of his bicep, with the vein running along the bicep was mouthwatering. Strong vascular forearms, only one of them with a half sleeve. You can see the muscle striation of his full-looking pecs, his abs clear cut, obliques you could count with your fingers. Ridiculously fit, unlike yourself. Soft tummy, thick meaty thighs, and fleshy hips. He brings you out of your musing with a hard slap to your arse.

“Out of your head and back here w’me, eh?” he says while soothing the sting with his calloused hand. “I can feel how warm your cunt is through my jeans. Go on,” and lifts his hand to rub a thumb over your mound, “ride my thigh.”

The feel of your clit against the rough fabric of his jeans and his thumb rubbing firm circles on it has your pussy growing wet, leaving a damp spot behind on him. One hand grips you to push you through the motions, and you continue to roll your hips— chasing the friction you need. 

The circles he’s drawing turn slippery as the tension of your impending orgasm intensifies. Your legs start to shake as you stroke yourself on the length of his thigh and the steady roll of your clit under his thumb is about to make you break, your walls fluttering when Ghost pulls away— abruptly leaving you at the ledge, and it stings. 

“Y’didn’t think I was gonna just let you come with how bratty you’ve been?” and you let out an angry whine. “Open your mouth,” he orders.

Your tongue unsticks from the roof of your mouth as you do, and he shoves two of his long fingers into it, and curls them over your tongue— and you close your throat to prevent your gag reflex.

“Atta girl, love,” the smirk he gives is so irrationally smug, that you want to bite him. He puts both of his thighs in between your legs to spread you, letting him get a good look at your swollen, dripping cunt.

He pulls his fingers out glossy with your spit to rub them through your folds, then presses one, and then the other. He pushes to half the length of his fingers and curls, pushing directly on the sensitive patch of nerves. Ghost repeatedly presses against it, and the noises you and your cunt start to make are lewd, sloppy. 

Your pleasure starts to rise again, back to where he left you off with every precise drag of his fingers over your patch of nerves, your body feels like it’s radiating heat, your vision starting to go white when again, he leaves you hanging. Right at the fucking edge and you dry sob from how pleasurably painful it is. 

Ghost grabs your neck with a firm, wet grip and pulls your face to his, lips hovering over yours, breath mingling. 

“With me in you or none at all, pet,” and slaps your cheek, leaving behind a sticky residue. 

Quickly divesting himself of his jeans, he picks you up and takes you to the bedroom, where he watches you bounce on your mattress. He’s about to crawl over to you when you put your foot flat against his chest. 

“I’m not fucking you without a condom when you still have the evidence of your promiscuity on you.” 

He grabs that ankle and wraps it around him, lifting its twin to do the same, then places himself between your thighs— resting some of his body weight on you. 

“I never sleep with anyone without protection. You’d be the first in many years,” and you scoff at him. He grabs your jaw, cheeks squishing under his fingers, demanding eye contact. 

“I’m many things but a liar isn’t one of ‘em. You’ve done so well f’me, been so obedient. You’re the only one I want to feel without any barriers. ” 

This reminds you of how much of a bastard he is. Taking wheat and spinning it into gold, just to get what he wants. 

“And how many times has that line worked for you?” whimpering at the feel of his heavy cock rubbing against your wet cunt. 

“You’re the only one I wanna see my cum drip out of, pet. I swear it,” and he starts to push into you. Even being as drenched as you are, your cunt still struggles to take him. He gives one thrust and it reaches halfway before it stops— almost like it’s stuck. Ghost pulls out, cock slippery and creamy with your juices then pushes in again. It’s like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water— he sinks to the hilt.

It burns. It’s an ache and his length feels too large, too much, but hearing this typically silent behemoth of a man mumbling into your ear has you groaning at his depth. 

“Fuck, baby, fuckin’ hell sweetheart—”, the salacious groan in your ear makes you clench your gummy walls around his invasion. He moves slowly, giving a series of unhurried, languid thrusts. 

“I’m gonna make sure this tight cunt fits me and no one else,” and that has you thinking if he said that because of your upcoming date, but then with a soft slap to your cheek, he shifts— bringing himself to his knees. Ghost grabs the back of yours and pushes them to your ears. You’re bent in half, can barely breathe, and then he gives you a knowing smirk— with just one corner of his mouth lifted as the only warning before he pounds into you. 

Viciously.

Unsparingly.

Every thrust of his has the tip of his head firmly pressing into your cervix with an obscene squelch. The deep pinch you feel against your womb brings tears to your eyes. 

He’s merciless with how hard he fucks you, and you can’t do anything other than take it, thoroughly pinned under his body weight. Ghost then lets go of one leg to cover your mouth with his hand before angling his hips upwards— just a tad and the angle is so sharp he has you screaming. He must’ve known exactly what was gonna happen because he’s completely unfazed by how loud you’re being, just presses down on your mouth even harder.

“Keep taking it, pet, I know you can,” he growls out, but it feels like he’s actually rearranging your guts, so deep inside you can feel him in your throat. His rhythm is unrelenting, and the coil that Ghost has kept tightly wound all this time threatens to snap, and you’re sure it’s going to break you.

He hisses as he feels your cunt quivering around his cock, and he definitely knows what’s about to happen because he then slows his hips and cuts through your pleasure with his selfish demand.

“You tell Gaz that this weekend is cancelled and I’ll fuck you against that wall and let you come,” and you’re babbling out your surrender, jerky nods of your head. You’re okay with losing this battle because you’re winning this war unequivocally. 

Ghost pulls out aggressively, pulls you to the edge of the bed to position your ankles at his shoulder, and lifts— walking to the wall, pinning you. He slaps your arse before sliding back in again. 

“M’good girl has earned her reward, hasn’t she?” and with that, he lets spit dribble from his mouth to land on your clit. 

“Lemme see you touch yourself,” and resumes his thrusts, this time pushing directly into your sweet spot, again and again. You rub circles in rhythm with his thrusting, your body starting to seize. 

“Fuck, tha’s it, love, fuck me,” and he moans when the nails of your unoccupied hand dig into his shoulder. “Jesus, yeah, scratch me. Leave a mark— I wanna see you on me tomorrow,” and he starts to piston into you at a punishing pace, and he in combination with your fingers has you careening into one of the most, if not the most, overwhelming orgasm of your life. 

You tense, and with no control, actually scream out your peak. Wave after wave of blindingly brutal pleasure, nothing but a ringing in your ears and your limbs that violently tremble— relieving the ache that has been in between your thighs for weeks, from Ghost’s ruthless edging. 

The choking vice your cunt has on his cock sends him over, groaning out his climax. He’s grinding so deep in you that it just hurts, then thrusts himself into oversensitivity. 

He backpedals, taking you with him in his arms, and falls back onto your bed with a grunt. You’re rubbing the marks your nails left on his shoulders— just an imprint. Good. Then, you shift yourself upwards, straddling his ribcage to touch the lovebites. 

“You didn’t really think I’d leave a trophy for you to take home, did you?” and his dark eyes unblinkingly stare at you. Gazing right back, you say, “I won’t be a part of your collection.” But you’re not sure if you aren’t already, seeing as how it’s his cum dripping out of you and landing on his stomach. 

“But an agreement is an agreement,” and get up to grab your phone. Sending Gaz a quick text, you then turn the screen towards Ghost. 

Can’t see you this weekend, Gaz. Sorry:(

Oh, the belly laugh Ghost lets out at the response Gaz sent makes your face flush.

We talked about this, doll. Our date is next weekend. 

“Now I,” you get up, leaving Ghost lying on your bed with his spend drying on his belly, “am gonna go shower, and you can let yourself out. I asked for a fuck, not a boyfriend.”

As you saunter to your bathroom, you turn your head to end it with, “Seeing as how I won’t be needing you anymore, delete my number.” 

—

By the time you step out of your bathroom squeaky clean, your apartment is as if you didn’t get fucked within an inch of your life. Everything looked in order, bed comforter tucked with hospital corners— empty. Except your phone wasn’t where you left it. You walk over to pick it up and on the screen is a text from Ghost’s number. He unblocked himself and changed the name of his contact to Simon.

If you wanted exclusivity, all you had to do was ask, love. Tell Gaz to fuck off for good, I’ll see you soon.

You quickly run to your bathroom and slam the door closed. Squealing, you dial Gaz’s number. 

“Hello, doll,” his voice is low, as if he was asleep.

“It worked! We did it! We—” and you cut yourself off, “Wait, did I wake you?”

He chuckles and you can hear another deep male voice in the background. 

“OH! Oh. You weren’t sleeping! OK! Sorry! So sorry! I’m hanging up!” and press the end call button. 

To beat the player, you must first learn how to play the game.

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