#much less with that as some kind of expectation of them as The Woman | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kabr0ztrousers · 2 months ago

Note

hey could you write about a pussy portal? with whatever monster you feel like! also could it be semi-public (public but hidden)? also knotting is appreciated!

Kabr0z Writes episode 53: Hornyposting

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: portal sex; knotting; public sex; cum in vagina; unknown male; freeuse; recieving cunnilingus; age gap; implied impregnation; interspecies; portal fucking

A/N: I do love writing portal fucking, though I'm not sure I understood the prompt properly on this one, so enjoy reading about fem!reader being fucked by a knotted cock while falling to avoid notice

Also, any requests etc, please drop an ask!

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When you bought something called a "telepresence glory hole" you weren't honestly expecting what you got. It arrived OK, and came with a phonebook of a disclaimer which you didn't bother reading. What was really interesting was, it actually seemed legit. In the box you got a pair of panties, and a handheld device that looked kinda like a fleshlight. Both had strange disks integrated to them made of some kind of metal. You spent the next hour going through the manual, registering them to a phone app and generating a friend code.

Testing went without a hitch, you plugged the friend code into the app, and the link established with a faint buzz. Next came the fun part. You broke the link, before taking to the internet. Would you believe there's a whole community centred around these things?

You got changed, a nice sundress to go out in, those panties underneath. A quick picture later and you posted your selfie and your code, out in the aether. You set off, walking to the cafe, locking the app as you left. For the next 4 hours, you're open for business.

The bell on the café door jingled as it opened. The local corporate chain, you weren't going to risk getting chucked out of a café you actually liked, but even if the coffee sucked here the wifi's free and there's plenty of people around. You joined the back of the line and inched towards the counter.

You felt a draft down below. A breath across your cunt. There were still a few people ahead of you. A shiver ran up your spine, it's starting already.

A wide tongue grazed your outer lips, starting slowly. You tensed your cunt a little to egg whoever this was on. You'd said in your post that you were up for any guy to give you a fuck, though maybe you hadn't mentioned what you'd be up to in the meantime... But that's very much what things like this were designed for, nobody's wearing these for a quiet night in.

The tongue came again, holding back a little less this time, coating the outside of your pussy in drool as it licked up and down your-

"Hi! What can I get for you?" The rictus grin of the cashier snapped you out of your thoughts

"C-cappuchino please. Large" you stammered out, speaking fast to try and avoid your voice giving you away.

You paid noiselessly, tapping your card on the machine which beeped compliantly before stepping over to the other counter with your receipt and the order number printed on it.

The tongue got more aggressive. Your knee buckled as it circled your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut a moment as it threatened to slip into your eager hole. You leaned on a low wall behind you, trying to look nonchalant as you checked your forum post.

WolfDaddy1969 had replied to you "Don't need to tell me twice" was this the person so diligently licking you out? He didn't have a profile picture. God, but whoever this was, they're good with their tongue. You rolled your head backwards in ecstasy, trying to disguise it by rubbing the back of your neck, but the quiet whimper you gave drew the eye of the suited woman beside you as she stepped forward to grab a tray of paper cups.

"Order 42, large cappuccino, regular milk"

Your legs threatened to betray you as you as you stepped up and took the almost litre cup of coffee with your order number stuck to it. You turned to try and find a table, almost stumbling as you did. The movement was shifting your pussy lips, moving them subtly against one another as the tongue pushed between them. You fell into a seat, legs spread. You could feel moisture leaking around the edges of the portal, the combination of drool and your pussy juice starting to slick your crotch.

The tongue had barely let up before you felt something else pressing against you. Hard and drooling, there was no mistaking it. You'd been with a lupine before, you knew how they start squirting precum almost as soon as you get them hard. You imagined it, if this wolf really was born in the late 60's then he'd have been in his thirties before you were even conceived... It turned you on knowing this cock was old enough to be your father.

He pushed in, or maybe down? Your pussy making up the business end of the toy he was fucking himself with. He slid in easily. Your toes curled in your shoes as you gripped the table in front of you, clenching your teeth as he started fucking you properly. He angled his toy, only slightly but enough that you could feel him thrust up into your g-spot before continuing into you. Despite your efforts, you could feel yourself making small, choked sounds with every thrust. His thumb hit your clit. You groaned as your legs started to shake, failing to hide your release as people started to take notice. A mix of worried and disgusted looks fixed upon you, some people clearly having an idea of what was happening.

The cock filled you up. The clenching of your aching cunt getting to the cock inside you. You felt the knit start to inflate. It was pulsing so deliciously, your mouth sagged open in a silent wail of delight and release.

The cashier from before was next to you "I think you should leave" his smile was gone, he just looked tired.

You nodded and got up, The movement of your legs rolling the swollen knot inside you, forcing you to walle away, your drink forgotten as you tried to ignore the mix of arousal and cum dripping down your legs.

The outside air was cold on your skin, the wetness covering your thighs stinging as it cooled in the brisk February air. At least you're within walking distance of home, though it's anyone's guess if you'd get back before the wolf was done with you.

He was still using you to jerk off, the knot thrusting up and down as you tried to walk, dictating the rhythm of your steps. You weren't hiding your noises any more either, there were fewer people on the suburban streets, but every one of them knew you had something going on down there. Some hurried on, some threw dirty looks, one or two gave wolf whistles and catcalls, only making you wetter.

You were halfway home when the knot started twisting in you, this way and that. You grabbed a lamppost as you moaned out, trying desperately to keep from falling as your knees gave way and your cunt gave another squirt of girlcum. He turned his cock again and again, feeling how you clenched and milked his knot, wringing every morsel of cum from him, before withdrawing with a pop.

That tongue came back. You slid down the pole, landing on your knees as the wolf licked deep inside you, tasting his cum as it mixed with your essence. You could swear it hit your cervix as you groaned and whined for all to see.

The tongue withdrew. The portal shut off and you were alone again, leaking onto the floor underneath you. You staggered to your feet, still clinging to the street furniture as you got your breath back. Legs still shaking, pussy still twitching, you got home.

The portal buzzed to life again. You checked your post. You'd been pinned to the front page, it looks like WolfDaddy left you a glowing review "10/10, tight pussy, would impregnate again"

You were going to have a lot of fun with this

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There's a little narrative dissonance between where it started and where it went here, but I thought it shook out pretty well, and you're not here for tight editing.

As always, any requests, ideas, thoughts, questions or fanmail is appreciated! My DMs and asks remain open for use!

Also, see below for a surprise poll!

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ahqkas · 5 months ago

Text

♯ WOMANIZER ( you misunderstand the batboys’ intentions about you ! )

— fem!reader, bruce & dick & jason ( separated ), cursing, i believe in the imperfection of dick grayson, based on this req.!!

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

THE PARTY AT WAYNE MANOR WAS ALREADY WELL UNDERWAY, with the gotham’s most privileged citizens mingling in perfect suits and ethereal gowns that sparkled like they held all the stars in the universe. you didn’t really belong here. or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood near the edge of the balcony, nursing a glass of champagne and pretending you weren’t keeping an eye on the man who seemed to command attention wherever he went.

bruce wayne. gotham’s billionaire playboy. philanthropist. occasional heartbreaker. you’d known him for a while, though you wouldn’t exactly call yourself friends. he had a knack for being charming in a way that left people breathless, and you? you’d seen through it. or at least, you thought you had.

when he’d started showing interest in you—lingering glances, invitations to these kinds of events that were hosted by him, casual but warm conversation—you’d dismissed it with a wave of your hand and a gentle no, thank you. bruce wayne didn’t date women like you. he charmed them, maybe took them to dinner once or twice and to warm the cold side of his bed, and then moved on to the next glittering distraction. that’s what you’d always assumed about him, and it didn’t help that you were acquainted with one of his exes, a woman who had once rolled her eyes and described him as a man who “likes the chase more than the catch.”

so when bruce’s eyes found yours from across the room tonight, you bristled. it was hard not to notice the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way his smile seemed smaller, less performative and more genuine, when it was directed your way. but you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all part of his game. was this just bruce wayne being bruce wayne, setting his sights on some pretty bird for the thrill of it? or was there more to it?

as the night went on, the man found his moment. you were standing near the balcony doors, half-hidden from the crowd, when his smooth voice broke through your thoughts.

“enjoying the party?”

you turned to find him standing a little closer than you’d expected, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit, the rich fabric complementing his broad shoulders and easy confidence. he looked effortlessly polished, as always, every detail of his appearance considered, from the subtle sheen of his shoes to the faintest trace of cologne that lingered in the space between you. but tonight, there was something different about him, something in his expression that caught you off guard. his stormy blue eyes, always so guarded, seemed uncharacteristically open, revealing an earnestness that made your breath hitch. and there, just beneath the surface, was a vulnerability he didn’t often let slip, like he was holding his heart out to you, unsure if you’d take it or walk away.

“it’s fine,” you replied, the words carrying a certain amount politeness as you swirled the champagne flute in your hand. the golden bubbles rose to the surface, catching the soft glow of the chandelier overhead. you took a measured sip and the crispness of the drink did little to soothe the edge in your tone. “not really my scene, though.”

he chuckled softly. “i had a feeling you might say that.”

“then why invite me?” The question came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t back down. you’d spent too much time wondering what exactly a man like bruce wayne wanted from you, and tonight you were in no mood to dance around it.

bruce blinked, clearly caught off guard. “i thought—” he hesitated, the usual composure faltering ever so slightly. “i wanted you here.”

“for what?” you pressed, your voice dipping lower, but it carried the sharpness of a blade meant to cut through his carefully built walls. “to add to the collection? to say you’ve charmed another woman into falling for you?”

the words hung between you, heavy and biting, and you could see the faint flicker of hurt that flashed in his eyes before he masked it. still, you didn’t back down. you’d seen this thing before—the effortless charm, the disarming smiles, the way he made women feel special, if only for a moment. you weren’t going to be another one of those fleeting moments, another name whispered in hushed gossip about gotham’s most privileged golden boy. the weight of your words wasn’t just meant to confront him; it was a shield for yourself, a barrier you put up to keep your heart out of reach of someone who could crush it without even meaning to.

but bruce wayne didn’t flinch. instead, he looked at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“that’s not what this is,” he said quietly with his voice steady but threaded with softness. there was no defensiveness in his tone, no quick quip to deflect or charm his way out of the accusation. he didn’t puff up his chest or offer a rehearsed explanation to save his pride. there was no trace of the man who usually walked through conversations with the ease of someone who always knew the right thing to say.

instead, it was just bruce.

you crossed your arms at your chest, your guard still firmly in place. “forgive me if i find that hard to believe. i know your reputation, and i know you don’t exactly have a track record of . . . consistency.”

the man let out a long sigh, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair and glancing away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts before he let them out for you to hear. when he looked back at you, his expression was different—softer, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him.

“i know what people think of me. but that’s not who i am with you. you . . . you’re not just some passing interest to me. i don’t know how else to say it, but i care about you. more than i’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

his words caught you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. you searched his face for any sign of deceit, any trace of the playboy side of him you’d come to associate with him. but all you saw was sincerity. it terrified you as much as it made your heart ache.

“you don’t have to believe me,” he added, his voice quieter now. “but i’ll prove it to you, if you let me.”

the vulnerability in his eyes was so raw, so uncharacteristic of the man you thought you knew, that you couldn’t help but feel a crack form in the wall you’d built around yourself. maybe he really meant it. maybe this wasn’t just a game to him. you didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. instead, you let your gaze linger on him for a moment longer, trying to piece together the man in front of you with the one you thought you’d figured out. and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you’d been wrong about bruce wayne.

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

DICK GRAYSON WASN’T USED TO BEING MISJUDGED. sure, people sometimes underestimated him—wrote him off as just another pretty face, a charmer with a disarming smile and nothing deeper behind it—but he always found a way to prove them wrong. except when it came to you.

you, with your sharp wit and guarded heart. you’d known him long enough to see past his dazzling exterior, but you also had your assumptions about him, shaped by things you’d heard and what you thought you’d observed. you’d seen him with kory, with barbara, with women who seemed to flock to him effortlessly. to you, he seemed like someone who loved the chase more than the catch, someone who couldn’t sit still long enough to really, truly care. and that’s where the problem began.

it started with a rumor. one of your friends—a casual acquaintance of dick’s—had mentioned his “reputation” in passing, how he’d always been the heartbreaker of gotham’s streets. you’d smiled politely and brushed it off, but on the inside, your walls had risen. and then there were the times you’d seen him turn on the charm with women at galas or events, the way they seemed to melt under his intense gaze. it didn’t help that you were certain he could have anyone he wanted.

when dick started paying more attention to you, your first instinct was suspicion. he’d never been anything but kind, but now, his kindness seemed . . . targeted. personal. he asked about your day, remembered small details you’d mentioned weeks ago, found ways to cross your path more often than felt coincidental. he’d even shown up at your workplace once with a bag of takeout, claiming he was “just in the neighborhood,” though you were sure that wasn’t true. it was flattering and sweet, sure, but it also made you wary. he’d been like this with others before, hadn’t he?

“let me guess,” you said one day, crossing your arms as he caught up with you after a late-night outing with mutual friends. “you’re just doing this for fun, right? another notch on the great dick grayson belt?”

the words stung more than you expected. they slipped out before you could stop them, a mixture of your own insecurities and the walls you’d carefully constructed around your bleeding heart to protect yourself. dick froze mid-step, his easygoing smile faltering for the first time.

“what?”

“you don’t have to play dumb,” you continued, keeping your tone casual, though the tightness in your chest betrayed you. “i’m not one of those girls who’s going to fall for the charming guy.” you gestured vaguely towards him, your hands betraying your nerves as much as your words. “i mean, i’ve seen it all before. the sweet smile, the compliments that sound so personal but somehow aren’t. you’ve got a whole thing, dick. it’s practically a brand.” shifting your weight, your eyes darted away from his for a second before locking back in. “i’ve seen it with kory. with barbara. probably with whoever else came before or after. you walk in, sweep them off their feet with your ‘i’m just a nice guy with perfect hair and a killer backflip’ act, and then . . . i don’t know. you move on. it’s just what you do, isn’t it?”

the words spilled out faster than you could stop them, a mix of defensive sarcasm and the tiniest sliver of insecurity you hated admitting was there. the way his expression shifted, the way his easygoing demeanor cracked, told you you’d struck deeper than you intended—but you couldn’t back down now. not when your heart was hammering against the bones of your ribs, reminding you of all the reasons you’d kept him at arm’s length.

dick blinked, as if you’d just slapped him. for a moment, he didn’t respond, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite figure out what to say. the hurt in his eyes was almost enough to make you regret your words, but you stood firm, heart pounding.

“i . . . wow,” he finally said, running a hand through his dark locks. the tone of his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it, stripped of the usual warmth and charm that seemed to come so effortlessly to him. his hand lingered at the back of his neck, fingers pressing into the tension there, like he was trying to ground himself. “that’s what you think of me?” he repeated. his blue eyes, normally so lively and teasing, searched yours for some kind of explanation, some hint that you didn’t mean it the way it sounded. but there was no teasing now, no easy smile to smooth over the rough edges of your words.

for once, dick grayson—always so confident, so sure of himself—seemed completely thrown, like you’d hit a nerve he didn’t even know existed.

in truth, the man was head over heels for you. he didn’t know when it had started exactly—maybe it was the first time he heard your real laugh, or when you’d gone out of your way to help a stranger on the street, or the way you always managed to keep up with his fast-paced banter. all he knew was that you were constantly on his mind, and he was trying everything he could think of to show you how much he cared. but clearly, he’d been going about it the wrong way.

“look, i know what people say about me. i know i’ve made mistakes, and yeah, i’ve had relationships that didn’t work out. but that doesn’t mean i’m—that i’m what you think i am.”

“then what are you, dick?” you challenged, your voice sharp even as doubt began to creep in. “because all i see is a guy who’s used to getting what he wants.”

he let out a breath, shaking his head. “i’m a guy who’s trying to show you that you’re important to me. that i care about you more than i’ve cared about anyone in a long time. but apparently, i’ve done a terrible job of that.”

the raw honesty in his voice caught you off guard. for the first time, you saw past the charm and the confidence to the vulnerability beneath. he wasn’t trying to manipulate you or play games—he was laying himself bare, and it terrified you almost as much as it touched you.

“you could have anyone,” you said quietly, your tone softening despite yourself. “why me?”

dick stepped closer, his hands in his pockets, as if he was trying to give you space while still closing the distance between you. “you challenge me. you make me want to be better. and yeah, maybe i’ve had a past, but none of that matters to me anymore.“

in the silence that followed, you felt your walls begin to crack. maybe he wasn’t perfect. maybe he’d made mistakes. but the sincerity in his eyes was impossible to ignore. he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear—he was saying what he needed you to know. you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that he was telling the truth.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON TODD WASN’T A MAN KNOWN FOR BEING SUBTLE, especially when it came to matters of the heart. his past had been a mess, filled with pain, betrayal, and a long string of failed attempts at normalcy. but despite all the scars, despite the weight of the past, there was something about you that made him want to try, that made him want to be someone better, someone worth your time. yet, every time he tried to get closer to you, it felt like you were slipping farther away, as if you saw him as nothing more than just another guy who wanted a quick fling—someone like the men who had come before him, someone who was only interested in getting into your pants.

it frustrated him to no end.

jason knew he wasn’t perfect. hell, he knew he had a lot of baggage, a lot of things that would make most people run in the opposite direction. but you? you didn’t just run. you were cautious, almost skeptical, like you were holding him at arm’s length, convinced he was just another fool who thought he could charm you with a few clever lines and some smooth moves. the way you looked at him sometimes—it wasn’t with the disgust or anger he used to see when people looked at him, but something close. disappointment, maybe. like he was nothing more than a shadow of someone who could be worthy of your time.

the thing that gnawed at him the most was that you didn’t believe him. you didn’t believe that he was different, that he saw something in you beyond the physical. there were days when you’d look at him, laughing at something he said, a playful smile tugging at your lips, and jason would get this flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—you could see him the way he saw you. but then there were the other days. days when you’d pull away, your eyes distant, your words clipped, and it would hit him like a ton of bricks. you were still unconvinced.

it didn’t help that you knew his exes, some of the women from his past who had used him or only wanted him for the same thing you feared he wanted from you. and that only made you more guarded, more unwilling to take the chance on him. to you, it was as if he were just another man who came with a history of bad decisions. and to some extent, maybe you were right, but he wasn’t about to let that be the end of the story.

one night, after patrol, jason found himself sitting at your kitchen table. you were cooking ( his favorite ) , focused on your task, and he leaned back in his chair, watching you with a quiet intensity. he couldn’t help but study you—how you moved, how your eyes flickered over the ingredients, how you chewed on your bottom lip when you concentrated. he adored it all. and it pissed him off that he couldn’t just tell you how he felt without the weight of his past overshadowing it all.

“hey,” he finally spoke up, breaking the silence that had been hanging between you. you didn’t look at him right away, too absorbed in what you were doing, but when you did, it was with a look that said you knew exactly what was coming.

“jason,” you sighed, setting the knife down carefully and wiping your hands on the towel. “we’ve been through this.”

his brows furrowed, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “been through what?” he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice but failing. “what’s the deal with you?”

you paused, your face softening with an almost sad smile. “what do you mean, what’s the deal with me?” you asked with your voice a mix of amusement and something else—something more guarded. you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“you act like i’m just another guy you’re trying to keep at arm’s length,” jason said, vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. “i get it, alright? i do. i’ve messed up a lot. but i’m not trying to be just some guy who’s after your body. i’m not. i don’t know what else i have to say to make you believe that.”

your eyes softened upon hearing his rant, but there was still hesitation there, that skepticism that had become so familiar in his interactions with you. “jay, you’re a good guy, but . . .” you trailed off, searching for the words. “i’ve seen how things end with people like you. how they use others, and then leave them behind. and i’m not stupid. i can see how you look at me sometimes. it’s the same way you look at everyone else, isn’t it? like they’re just a means to an end.”

jason pushed himself up from his seat, crossing the small space between you in a few long strides. “that’s not how i look at you,” he stood firmly. “i don’t look at you like that at all. yeah, i’ve made mistakes. but i’m not the same guy who was a dickhead in the past, and i’m not the same guy who thought he could just charm his way into getting what he wanted. i care about you.”

you let out a breath, dropping your gaze for a moment, and his heart skipped a beat. there it was—the doubt, the hesitation that had been there for weeks, lingering just beneath the surface. he wasn’t going to let you slip away without trying, not when he knew what he felt. not when it was so clear to him that you were the one person who had somehow gotten through the walls he’d built.

“i’m not asking for anything from you,” he continued, his tone softening as he reached out, gently cupping your cheek with one hand, lifting your face so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “i’m just asking for the chance to show you. i know you don’t trust me yet. i get that. but please, give me a shot. i’m not just gonna walk away. not this time.”

there was a beat of silence between you two, the air thick with everything unsaid. and for a moment, you just stood there, your eyes locked on his, reading him in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. he was giving you everything in that moment, his heart, his truth, all laid bare in front of you. and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if you would walk away.

but then, something in your eyes shifted. a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you sighed, reaching up to gently take his hand from your cheek.

“okay,” you said softly, voice almost a whisper. “okay, jason. i’ll give you a chance.”

jason’s heart fluttered in his chest, and a grin tugged at his lips as he leaned forward to kiss you. he was a man who had always been wary of letting anyone get close, but when it came to you, he would do anything to prove he wasn’t the same man he once was.

and with that, for the first time in a long while, jason allowed himself to hope.

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cherienymphe · 8 months ago

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Pity Party

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON (+ mentions of), toxic/abusive relationship, mentions of manipulation, dad!Rafe, established Rafe x reader

➥ While this can absolutely be read as a stand alone piece, it is also the much requested follow up to my WTPO series. I hope this doesn't disappoint!

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You became the envy of every woman in Kildare County the day you became Mrs. Rafe Cameron.

⭑

You slid along the floor using your knees, hand occupied by an even tinier one as your son unsteadily put one foot in front of the other. Your lips were pulled into a smile as you watched him, your free hand hovering behind his back for when he very likely would fall. Your other son was occupied with a snack, and when—as expected—the youngest one’s legs gave out, you scooped him up with a giggle.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “You’re going to be sprinting by this weekend.”

His cherubic face smiled back at you, lips wet with drool, and you wiped his mouth with a smile. Your oldest—now done with his Goldfish—was currently tugging on your dress, and when you looked down at him, he had a wide grin on his face.

“I wanna play with him…”

His soft voice had your own expression softening, and you quietly told him ‘okay’, taking a seat right on the floor where you were formerly standing. You emptied your hands, letting your son crawl around and slap at the ground as his brother followed him, face so close to his as he whispered things to him that he didn’t quite understand yet. You let your mind wander, warmth blooming in your chest as you thought about how…sweet they were.

There had been a time where you feared they wouldn’t be.

…and as you stared at them, you almost felt bad for ever thinking they could be anything less than angels, but it couldn’t be helped. They were children, and there were very few things in this world that were more innocent than children. They both came out squirming and pudgy and perfect—screaming their heads off and only calming once they were in your arms. They came into this world looking at you with the kind of eyes that had never experienced or done a single bad thing in their life.

They were children…babies…

…but they were Rafe’s babies.

And as much as you would like to, you would never be able to forget how they both came to be here. Fighting off Rafe Cameron was hard enough when you were going through a tumultuous breakup, but it became damn near impossible once he managed to get a ring on your finger and a prison around you in the form of a fancy house. You looked down at the large rock, a pang going through your chest at the sight of a simple gold band below it.

The wedding had been the grand fanfare it was expected to be, serving it’s purpose of making you the envy of every woman in Kildare County. Your oldest son—having been an only child at the time—was pulled down the aisle in a wagon with a pillow in his lap that contained the rings. Rose had gushed over you in the dressing room, long having convinced herself no woman would ever marry Rafe and she’d never get to experience this. Your father had cried as he handed you off to your husband to be, and tears had kissed your own eyes but just for an entirely different reason.

Your dress was made for a princess, and your veil was made for an angel, and your makeup was made for a doll. Everything was perfect, everything going off without a hitch. Absolutely nothing—not a single thing—had gone wrong, and even though by that point you’d slowly started to accept your fate…something in you had hoped. For what? You weren’t entirely sure.

You’d hoped that some crazy ex girlfriend of Rafe’s would stand up and object. You’d hoped that your brother would go against your wishes and drag you away from it all. Hell, you’d even hoped that someone would choke on their spit and require an ambulance. Deep down though, you’d known what you really hoped for.

You had hoped that Rafe would do the right thing…and let you go.

It was a silly hope. Rafe Cameron had gone through entirely too much trouble to ensure you’d never leave him, even going as far as threatening to take your son away from you. He—both of them—was the only good thing to come out of this. From the first moment you laid eyes on him, you’d wanted him all for yourself and far away from Rafe. The brunette simply didn’t deserve him, and you had no doubt that Rafe would agree, but his selfishness outweighed any thought of doing what was right. That had always been the case.

You didn’t know why you thought your wedding day might be any different.

Rafe moments away from chaining you to him forever? There was no shot in hell of him walking away from that, and you sighed at how naively hopeful you’d been that day. The sound of your oldest son’s laughter pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked over just in time to see him jump to his feet, promptly sprinting towards the foyer. You weren’t worried, knowing exactly who it was that could elicit such a reaction from him.

You swallowed at the sound of Rafe’s voice, taking your 11-month old into your arms.

“...and how were my boys?”

He came into view as he said that, the messy haired little boy upside down in his arms as he kicked his feet and laughed.

You knew the question wasn’t meant for you.

“I was bad,” your son told him, and you fought back a smile, knowing why he said that.

Rafe’s gaze met yours, and the smile that threatened to ghost over your lips was gone. He merely smirked at the sight, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the boy in his arms.

“Bad? Oh no,” he chuckled. “Why were you bad?”

“I accidentally spilled juice on mommy’s dress.”

Your son’s words came out small, slurring together a bit with his slight lisp. You’d told him that it was fine—accidents happen—but you knew why he was so hung up on it. As awful as Rafe treated you behind closed doors, he treated you a million times better for the whole world to see. He was smart that way, and the whole world included your children. They saw their dad treat mommy like a princess—none the wiser to what the true nature of your relationship was really like—and so they followed suit.

An offense against you—no matter how small—was especially heinous.

“Oh that is bad,” Rafe murmured, setting him down on his feet. “Guess we’ll have to buy her a new one, huh?”

He ruffled his hair, and your son beamed at the thought of going shopping.

You avoided Rafe’s gaze as he neared you, an impressive feat when he came to kneel down before you. Your youngest was squirming in your arms—babbling—and you swallowed when Rafe reached out to lightly squish his cheeks. He pressed his lips to his tiny forehead just as his hand landed on your own cheek, and only then did you look at him.

Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time, expression unreadable. Your oldest was going on about something behind him that neither of you were giving too much attention to. His blue eyes looked between yours, studying you, and you could smell his cologne. After what felt like too long, his pink lips finally curved into that haughty half smile you were used to seeing.

It never not made you want to smack it right off of his face.

“...and how was mommy today?” he quietly asked.

There were a thousand things you wanted to say to him.

You wanted to say that mommy cried in the bathroom because she still had thoughts of leaving sometimes even at the loss of her own children, but then she’d remember how much she loved them and couldn’t live without them and the guilt would set in. You wanted to tell him that mommy’s thigh still hurt from where he’d sank his teeth into it the night before for daring to tell him she still hated him sometimes. You even started to tell him that mommy had rare moments here and there where she’d momentarily forget their history and find herself content in this big house with her children and fancy ring until she remembered how her children got here and what said house and ring represented.

You didn’t say any of that though.

Instead, you merely blinked at Rafe, and told him what you always did.

“Mommy was fine.”

The vase narrowly missed Rafe’s head, his quick reflexes making your heart sink with disappointment. Your own quick thinking had you frantically looking around for something else to throw at him, but his feet moved faster than your brain, and he was nearing you before you made up your mind. Unable to stomach being around him, right now, you hurriedly sprinted to the other side of the room. You paid no mind to the way he called your name, a blend of anger and exasperation there.

“Are you done…?”

You didn’t look at him, keeping your angry gaze on the floor. Besides, you didn’t have to in order to know what he looked like. You could imagine it perfectly—steely blue eyes cold and intently focused on you, hands on his hips and jaw clenched so hard you’d swear it was about to break. When you finally did glance at him, you were proven right.

“This little…” he waved his hand about. “...tantrum. You’re finished?”

“Fuck you,” you whispered.

You couldn’t hold in your tears, and they spilled over without your permission. Rafe sucked his teeth at the sight, and when he took a step towards you, you made to leave the living room completely. Your sons were with your mom—they would be the whole weekend—because that was the plan. They would stay with grandma for a few days while you went to Charlotte to visit Pope at school. Rafe was supposed to be handling business with Ward, anyway.

He was not supposed to be sabotaging your plans and canceling car rentals and flights and ruining your entire weekend.

Rafe stopped you before you could get far, and you didn’t even attempt to get away, too defeated and upset to smack him square across the face like you wanted. His fingers dug into your skin, and you wondered if a light bruise would be there in the morning. You could tell by the way he held you that he was upset, but you didn’t understand what he had to be upset about. It had been four years since Rafe started this fucked up dynamic he called a family and over two since you’d reluctantly said ‘I do’. You even gave him another son…and yet…

It was clear now that he still didn’t trust you.

Sure, you had the stray thought or two here and there about escaping, but when it was all said and done, those were just thoughts. Your children meant too much to you to just take off, and even if you ever got to that point one day where you’d happily sacrifice their chance to grow up with a mother just to have your own freedom, Rafe would never let that happen. Your fate was sealed from the very moment he’d decided you were it for him.

“I haven’t seen my brother in months. It’s his last year of school, and I didn’t want the next time I see him to be at his Goddamn graduation,” you spat, lips trembling. “You said you were okay with it!”

“Yeah, I was,” Rafe replied in a tone that hinted at more to come.

You were right.

“...but then I remembered that this would be the first time we’d be apart for a distance more than thirty miles and how way up there in Charlotte you could disappear to wherever you wanted and-.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about any of that if we had a normal relationship,” you cut him off, a sneer on your lips. “You wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of me running away from you if you’d never hurt me and raped me and damn near threatened me into marrying you.”

At those words, Rafe let you go as if you burned him, and you reminded yourself how much Rafe hated to be reminded of why you were really here. You were positive he sometimes convinced himself that this relationship was as real as it could be—the perfect parents with the perfect children and the perfect marriage. After all, it was what everyone on the outside saw when they were looking in.

The difference between the two of you it seemed was that you knew it was all pretend.

Rafe liked to believe that it wasn’t.

“All of that aside…do you really think I’d leave them?”

Your question came out whispered, and you didn’t miss the slight twitch in Rafe’s face. Leave them…not leave him. Rafe was smart in knowing that knocking you up would be the only thing to truly prevent you from leaving, and yet he absolutely hated to be reminded of it. To be reminded that it was not—and never would be—him keeping you here.

His expression morphed, a shadow passing over his features as he glanced away, shoving a hand into his pocket.

“I can’t take that chance,” was all he said, making more tears spill over. “Pope’s not going anywhere. You can always see him another time.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth in anger, and when he reached for you, he was stopped by a harsh slap to the cheek. Your lips wouldn’t stop trembling, and you just stared at him as he rubbed his face.

“You have taken so much from me, Rafe,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes at him. “If your goal is to make sure we’re both absolutely miserable…then keep it up.”

You turned away from him, refusing to spare him another look as you made your way upstairs to unpack your suitcase.

Most days in your marriage were okay. They weren’t awful, and they weren't’ exactly anything you’d jump at the chance to relive. They were simply just…okay. On those days, Rafe would wake you up with a kiss, sometimes more than that, and you’d start your day—usually something that consisted of preparing for your children to wake up. They made those days stand a chance at being somewhat enjoyable, and you thought to yourself that maybe one day when they were old enough, you’d tell them how much they did for you without even knowing.

On the days where your marriage wasn’t okay, you were usually overcome with how you really felt about Rafe. Those days didn’t come as often as they used to—a fact you didn’t like to let your mind linger on—but when they did, they usually ended in your tears.

…and Rafe pinning you down and just taking what he wanted.

Rafe had felt entitled to your body long before he put the ring on your finger, but after you took his last name, his entitlement went to an entirely new level. You recalled a day where you had the house to yourselves and how silly you’d been to think Rafe would respect your wish to be alone.

“Do you know what this means?” he’d harshly asked, squeezing your left hand as he held it up for both of you to see.

The 4-carat marquise solitaire glinted under the bright kitchen light.

“It means you’re my wife, it means you’re mine,” he’d hissed, getting in real close and touching your nose with his. “Do you get how patient I’ve been? How patient I am?”

You’d shrank away from him, wincing at the slight pain in your left hand.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but it’s been years,” he’d told you. “There’s a ring on your finger and two little boys walking around with my face. You need to suck it up!”

The counter had been harsh against your stomach as he bent you over it.

The good days in your marriage were even more rare, and even those ended in you feeling sad for yourself. It was usually a whole day of your boys keeping a smile on your face, the feeling so infectious that even Rafe couldn’t make it go away. And that’s how you’d find yourself smiling at him and playing with your children together and actually acting like a family. Only…on those rare days…it wasn’t acting. For just several hours, everything that Rafe was and everything he’d done would be so far from your mind.

You’d find yourself bathing your youngest together—your oldest only listening to you when it was time to wash behind his ears—cooing over the baby that was just shy of turning one years old. You’d let your son run into your arms as he hid from the ‘tickle monster’, playfully pushing at Rafe’s chest as you protected the three year old from him. Sometimes you’d even fall asleep with your head so close to Rafe’s lap as he read to them, your son begging you both to stay until he fell asleep.

Of all the days in your marriage that you’d anticipated being the hardest, the ‘good’ days were not among them. Reality would set in during the morning, sometimes even that same night, and your chest would ache as you held back tears because what you and Rafe had was not real. It wasn’t a real marriage, and you weren’t a real family, and on those days where you forgot that, the truth just hit so much harder. All of the anger and disappointment would come back…and then the fear would set in.

It scared you how easily you could slip into that headspace and live in some alternate reality where Rafe was a good husband and your children hadn’t been the product of rape and you didn’t have errant thoughts of what it would be like to be free of him. It scared you how good it felt to forget it all, how a day might come where instead of finding yourself slipping into that mindset, you just…chose it.

It would be so easy.

…but you felt like you owed it to yourself to hate him forever.

Sometimes he made hating him so easy…and then other times so, so hard.

“They’re so sweet to you,” he murmured in the low lighting, both of your kids fast asleep in their room.

You’d been trying to find sleep of your own, but Rafe’s phone call with Ward left you both up long after you wanted to be. You were unfortunately wide awake when slid in beside you, and your unopened eyes didn’t fool Rafe in the slightest. He knew you were awake.

“I would hope so,” you murmured, staring at the back of your eyelids as he lightly traced patterns into your satin covered stomach.

Your husband chuckled to himself.

“I mean they look at you like you hung the moon,” he quietly continued. “Especially your shadow…”

He was referring to your oldest.

“I’m barely there for him whenever you’re in the same room,” he whispered. “He’s happy that I’m home and he hugs me, but then it’s straight back to mommy.”

You slowly opened your eyes as Rafe’s hand became flat against your stomach, gently rubbing it.

“He treats you like a princess…”

You met his gaze at that, and you couldn’t quite place the look in Rafe’s eyes.

“...and I’m especially happy about it on days when I don’t.”

You sighed at that, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m glad that he’s nothing like me…”

You remembered Rafe saying something similar years ago before the boy in question had even been born, and you blinked as he leaned in, gently ghosting his lips over your cheek. You were tempted to push him away, but then you asked yourself if you wanted to start a fight so late in the night. Instead, you turned your head to face Rafe, your lips a hair’s width away from his own.

“I’m glad he’s nothing like you too,” you whispered.

You didn’t miss the way his face fell at that, a tick in his jaw that told you your words had the desired effect. Instead of saying something along the lines of what you both knew he wanted to say, Rafe merely heaved a sigh, still gently rubbing your stomach. He suddenly pushed himself up onto his elbow, looking down at you.

A smirk ghosted over his lips.

“I want another baby.”

Those words were the last thing you’d been expecting, and your eyes widened just a tad.

“...what?”

“Let’s try for a girl this time,” he suggested, and realizing that he was indeed serious, you sat up.

His hand fell away from your stomach.

“This time?” you murmured, more to yourself than him. “I don’t recall trying for anything the previous times.”

The mention of what he did to you had Rafe going silent, and when you looked at him, his nostrils were flaring.

“It can be different this time-.”

“How?” you wondered, frowning at him. “How will it be different this time? The only time I touch you is when I’m forced to, and I don’t know, that sounds pretty fucking familiar to me.”

Rafe’s hand had circled around your chin before you had time to react—he was sitting up now too—and you both just cooly stared at each other. He looked like he wanted to hurt you, and you stared back, just waiting for him to prove you right. He seemed to be toying with the thought, and after a few moments, he slowly exhaled through his nose.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his blue eyes following the action.

A million thoughts were racing through his mind, that much you could tell by the emotions that flickered over his features. Eventually he settled on one, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“You’re not always unhappy…”

It was said like a statement, but there was a lilt there that told you he wanted an answer.

“No,” you eventually responded, honestly. “Not always.”

He nodded.

“...but I’m unhappy more than I’m happy.”

He closed his eyes at that, and you swallowed.

“What did you expect, Rafe? Sure, four years is a lot, but it’s also not when I think about everything you did to me.”

He dropped his hand and pushed himself to his feet. You watched him stand there, staring at the wall with his hands on his hips.

“...and what makes it worse is that you’re not even sorry. I know how much you want me to ‘just get over it’, but how am I expected to get over it when we both know you’d do it all over again so long as it got you the same result?” you choked out. “You’re not sorry for any of it.”

You blinked away tears.

“...and now you’re mad at me so much because I won’t roll over and play house.”

You saw his shoulders heave, and you could tell how much this conversation was frustrating him. Rafe really hated to be reminded of his own actions, hated to be reminded of the fact that your relationship was where it was because of him. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were the one trapped in this gilded cage…not him.

“So, if you want another baby…” you quietly started. “...either something needs to change…or you just embrace the beast we both know you can be.”

His eyes snapped to yours at that, and as much as it made your heart skip a beat, Rafe rarely scared you anymore. You’d seen him and experienced him at his absolute worst. There really wasn’t much he could do to you anymore that would shock you…and he knew it.

His baby blues glinted dangerously, and you bit your tongue.

He did the opposite of what you expected, and you watched him turn away from you to leave the room. You didn’t relax, knowing he’d come back, but you did heave a tired sigh, telling yourself that sleep couldn’t come fast enough.

Rafe’s hand tightened around your throat as he kissed you, the alcohol on your tongue making the kiss taste sweet. The world was moving so slow around you, and every place that Rafe touched felt like you were being gently electrocuted. Deep in the crevices of your mind, you knew that something was wrong. You hadn’t kissed Rafe like this in years, not since the early days of your relationship when you thought you might have loved him, and butterflies were in your stomach at one look from him.

You recalled the sight of your empty wine glass on the carpet, the rest of the red wine you didn’t drink staining the white fabric.

Your kids were asleep and the house was quiet and you were kissing your husband like you used to—back when he wasn’t your husband. Rafe had your back to the wall just barely on the inside of your bedroom, your hand struggling to reach out to the door. Rafe grabbed it, threading his fingers through your own, and you made a slight noise of protest.

He made a shushing noise into the kiss.

“Just relax…”

Relax.

That word triggered something in you, and you pressed your other hand to his chest. You were far too relaxed to be sober, and considering you only had one glass of wine, you knew that other substances were at play here. You recalled Rafe voicing his desire for another baby just the other day…and you recalled the slight back and forth it’d created. You expected one of two things out of Rafe, but neither of them included a scenario where you were too inebriated to properly fight back against him.

There was something especially sinister about Rafe creating this false sense of consent.

His lips traveled down towards your neck as he bent his head, and you felt like you didn’t have control over your body as you threw your head back. You shakily exhaled when both of his hands descended towards your waist, lifting you and forcing you towards the California king. When he settled you both onto it, all pretense was gone.

“Don’t you want a little girl?” he whispered against your skin, his fingers dancing along the place from where your shirt had ridden up. “Hmm? I know you get sick of being with just us boys.”

You made a noise that was unintelligible even to your ears, pushing at his head, but it was of no use. Whatever he slipped into your drink clearly wasn’t in his, Rafe having all of his strength and wits about him as he pinned you down. He kissed you again—slow—as his hands circled around your wrists. It took your breath away, and your lashes fluttered when he descended.

“A princess for my princess…”

You reached out to place a hand on the bed to steady yourself. Although you knew it was the room spinning, not you, and so focused on that, you didn’t even realize what Rafe was doing until the cool air you’d briefly felt against your core was replaced by his mouth. The action made your back arch, and—against your will—you reached down to press your hand against his head.

He hummed in between your thighs.

“You never let me do this anymore,” you heard him whisper, his breath against your skin before he dived back in.

To be fair, you never let him do anything, but especially this. It was too intimate, too loving, and those words were so far from the true nature of your relationship it wasn’t even funny. After all, Rafe was now at a place where he had to drug you just to get you to stop fighting against him. You found it interesting because he never minded the fight before. In fact, you’d even say that some part of him enjoyed it.

You wondered what had changed.

His head moved back and forth between your thighs, and it made you squirm. One of Rafe’s hands reached up to dig into your leg, holding you still. The other found your hand, and you were unable to remember that you didn’t like holding his hand. Another gesture that you felt was too intimate, something Rafe always liked to pretend that your relationship was.

Just when you were on the brink of coming all over his tongue, your husband pulled away, but not before pressing a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh. With stars just barely floating in your vision, you laid there, eyes falling closed as you fought to regulate your breathing.

A voice in your head told you that you didn’t want this, and that you needed to get up…but you couldn’t find the strength to.

When Rafe’s hands were on you again, they were pulling away every piece of fabric they touched, and you couldn’t help the tears that kissed your eyes. Being forced to feign compliance in your own assault somehow hurt a thousand times worse than if Rafe had simply grabbed you and held you down. You wondered if this made it easier on him, and you thought about how much Rafe hated being reminded of the things he did to you.

It was like it hurt him to remember it that way, to acknowledge it for what it was.

When he slid into you, you couldn’t help the small whimper you let out, eyes rolling as he stretched you out. Rafe’s hands were on you, pulling you closer, and as if your arms had a mind of their own, you threw them around him. His chest was pressed to yours as he thrust into you, and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. He cursed when he sank into you again, and your toes curled.

“You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

One of his hands tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck.

“...have to drug my own wife just to get her to fuck me…”

Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back, and Rafe hummed at the feeling. You’d forgotten what it felt like to lie beneath him and just let him have his way with you. It felt like so long since he hadn’t had to force you down and take his cock despite what you may have wanted. Although, your current position wasn’t all that different, but you couldn’t ignore how relaxed you were from whatever he’d slipped you.

Rafe shifted, hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head. His blue eyes glinted in the low lighting, and you blearily blinked up at him as he gazed down at you. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours while still holding your gaze. Your lips parted at a particularly hard thrust, and the corner of his lips curved upwards at the sight.

Deep in the back of your mind, you knew you didn’t want this, but it was for so many reasons that you were struggling to remember. For the time being, all you could focus on was the curve of his cock as he repeatedly pushed it into you and how good it made you feel. One of your legs hooked around his waist, and Rafe’s perfect teeth winked at you as he grinned.

“I missed this, beautiful,” he whispered. “You know that?”

The bed jostled from your movements, and Rafe glanced down between you to watch himself disappear into you.

“I can’t wait to fill you up,” he told you, making your heart skip a beat and reminding you of how and why you’d found yourself in this position in the first place. “Can’t wait to see you swollen and round again and fucking glowing.”

You murmured his name, but you couldn’t tell if it was in protest or not.

Your mind was all over the place, and when Rafe’s hips curved into yours again, you arched your chest up into his. Sweat clung to your frame, and you briefly wondered how made you would be at him in the morning. You knew this wouldn’t be his only attempt—Rafe always proving to be more than thorough when trying for a baby—and you now weakly wondered about having to be cautious of the food in your own house.

You could tell when he was close, his thrusts becoming sloppy and his breathing picking up. He started to kiss you more, each kiss becoming messier and more open mouthed than the last. In your inebriated state of mind, you kissed him back, alarm bells going off deep within your bones. Your own breathing was labored, like you couldn’t get air into your lungs fast enough.

When Rafe came the first time—and you knew that it would be the first of the night—he grunted in your ear as he spilled into you. Your nails were trailing along his skin as he plunged his cock into you, not even stopping when you felt him start to soften, lazily thrusting into your folds. Your own climax was just around the corner when he spoke.

“I will fuck you all night,” he whispered against your cheek, his tone vaguely threatening. “I will fuck you as many times as it takes until you give me what I want.”

He leaned back a bit, his nose touching yours as he tilted his head, eyeing you in a way that made your skin grow cold.

“...and I will do whatever I have to to make you…” he looked between your unfocused eyes. “...agreeable.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine

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screeching-bunny · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere! Townspeople Harem x Lucky Reader

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I have no clue what I was on when I wrote this 💀. This is also inspired by a Reddit post I saw long time ago.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who are absolutely enamored by you and everything that you do. They treat you as if you are some kind of entity waiting to be put on a golden pedestal and paraded around town. You are essentially the town’s golden boy/girl/person, a mascot if you can even call it that. In their eyes everything that you do is inspiring and encouraged. It also doesn’t help that you were born with this amazing power that causes you to become extremely lucky. No matter the deed, every action was thrust into the spotlight as if it were a gracious gesture for the community's well-being. Take, for instance, if you ever fatally shot someone the townsfolk would erupt in applause, discovering the individual to be a notorious mass murderer and your action saved the town.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who can’t help but gush over every miniscule achievement that you got. You got a perfect attendance award? They wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Did you just get a participation trophy? Well they're cheering for you as if you just won the world cup. To say their actions are embarrassing is definitely an understatement. Everytime they cheer for you, you can’t help but die a little bit on the inside.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who absolutely cannot fathom the idea of you moving out of their town. They would much rather skin themselves alive and commit arson than to allow you to leave them. Everywhere you go, there will always be some form of eyes on you. There will always be some type of survance of you at any time of the day. Depending on the person, the townspeople's love for you can either be platonic or romantic. Basically half of the town wants to fuck your and the other half sees you as their beloved child or grandchild.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who may or may not be human. Like sure they might have the occasional human sacrifices but what town doesn’t!?!? This is totally normal behavior that people exhibit. What’s that? Did you just see a tentacle coming out from that woman over there? Nahhh. You must be imagining that! What a cute and overactive imagination you have there. In all seriousness, it would literally die for you. You're just a cutie patootie to them. Your small teeth are so cute compared to their razor sharp fangs. You know, you could really use that small mouth of yours and suck on their–

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople have a monthly ritual where they gather around to brag about all of the items that they stole from you. Never in your life will you see someone so happy to own a pair of used underwear that didn’t belong to them or some used pair of socks. If you looked up a textbook definition of “down bad” then a picture of the Yandere! Townspeople would be the first images to pop up. In your presence these people act as if they had never touched grass or seen the sun before. They all seem to have some type of mutual agreement that in your presence, they would try to act somewhat normal in order to not scare/scar you too much.

—

From a young age, your luck was apparent. In school, while others struggled with exams, you breezed through them effortlessly, always managing to stumble upon the exact answers needed to excel. Teachers marveled at your natural knack for stumbling upon solutions, even in the most challenging of situations. As you grew older, the extraordinary luck only seemed to amplify. Job interviews turned into job offers within minutes, as if the universe conspired to ensure your success in every endeavor. Colleagues joked that working with you was like having a lucky charm around, as projects that seemed doomed to fail miraculously turned into resounding triumphs whenever you were involved. It might seem great and all BUT DAMN WAS THIS LIFE SO FUCKING BORING!!!! Which is why you decided to spice up your day a little and rob a bank.

“Oh hello [Reader]! Is this going to be the usual procedure?” The bank teller asks you with a smile on their face as you hold a gun to their face. “You know… the weather is perfectly nice today. It would be a perfect day for a date don’t you think–”

Suddenly a thunderous crash was heard, the police burst through the bank doors, their badges glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Guns drawn and voices booming commands, they swept into the lobby, faces masked with determination. Until the police chief sees you and lets out a tired sigh, “Guns down everyone, it’s just [Reader].” A faint sound of disappointed groans can be heard from the crowd of bank patrons from the back. “Why are the police here so soon, I didn’t get enough time to admire their pretty face.” another voice could be heard, “For real, their never this fast in an actual emergency. I mean they only just shot and killed one person, it's really nothing to worry about like who cares–”

—

“You are free to go [Reader], again.” the police officer states as she releases you from your handcuffs. “Turns out the man that you shot ended up being a drug dealer. You really have a special talent for catching criminals don’t you. She states as she gazes at you with loving eyes. “You know I’m free after this shift, you think we can–”

Before she can finish her sentence you walk away with a dejected look on your face. You couldn’t believe how boring a day this turned out to be. Seriously, you wished that something exciting would happen in this town for once you think to yourself. Failing to notice a scene behind you. One that consisted of a bunch of monsters eating the souls of the innocent while on their knees for a statue that seemed to look like you. They all seem to be gripping onto something though– HEY, WAIT A MINUTE ARE THEY HOLDING YOUR UNDERWEAR!?!!?

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere harem #yandere townspeople

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imaginedreamwrite · 12 days ago

Note

For wife Wednesday, no one knew ghost was married until he gets hurt and here she comes running into the hospital room

There was more unknowns about Lieutenant Simon Riley than knows. Even for the task force and brotherhood he was in, they didn’t know that much about him.

Where was he born and raised? Manchester.

Does he have any siblings? Unknown.

Who’s his next of kin? Unknown.

Mother and father still alive? Unknown.

When these questions are asked in the hospital, to try and determine who to contact to inform them that Simon’s hurt, not even Price can say.

Even if he does know, he won’t say a thing. Simon Riley keeps his cards close to his chest, and his personal life is strictly under lock and key. There’s a thick steel wall between who they know and whatever personal life he has when he goes home.

“Lieutenant Riley, we found a number for Mrs. Riley and she’s on her way.” One of the nurses casually mentions after the initial round of questions, and the surprise from the other three soldiers is unyielding.

“Mate, wha’? You’re bloody married?!” Gaz is the first to vocalize the shock, the absolutely mind blowing discovery that Simon Riley has a wife. “Cap did you know?”

Price doesn’t say anything to confirm nor deny, a shrug if the only answer Gaz gets from him. And Simon lays on the bed, staring at his brothers in arms, just a silent as before.

It’s no surprise that they don’t know he’s married, and even if they did somehow know, they almost expected someone as cold as him. Not some sweet wide eyed woman with soft features and a gentle voice, not a woman who’s in the late stages of pregnancy, sporting a baby belly that looks like it could pop only weeks from now.

“Simon what happened?” Your voice is soft and gentle, even as it’s laced with worry. You make your way toward Simon whose laying in the bed, and he turns to accept your hug, his hands cupping your cheeks.

“S’alright, love.” He stills your frantic questions with a kiss to your lips, his voice taking on a new tone no one has heard before. “Stress’nt good for the babe-”

“I got here as soon as I could when I heard you were injured. Simon, you have to be more careful.” The rest of the 141 feel like they’re intruding on a very intimate moment when you scold him gently. Even as you dote on him by brushing hair out of his eyes, it’s clear that he’s only worried about you.

“Bonnie-” Johnny starts speaking and silences himself again when Simon shoots him a look, a warning—it’s Mrs. Riley or nothing. “Mrs. Riley-”

“Oh, you don’t…” your smile is soft and sweet, real tender like you really are that genuinely kind. “Y/N is fine-”

“We didn’t know you were even married.” Gaz awkwardly continues where Johnny left off, and looks back at John for a response—did he know?

“You didn’t tell them?” You turn slowly, it’s hard for you to manoeuvre because you’re pregnant, but Simon steadies his hand on your hip to aide you.

“To protect you love, the less know about ya the better.” To keep you safe, of course, Simon wouldn’t tell anyone about you, not unless absolutely necessary. “Not cause I was embarrassed.”

He helps you sit next to him, despite being hurt and in a hospital bed, and then helps you lay down next to him. Once you’re settled, his wraps an arm around your waist, mindful of the tubes and cords and IV’s.

The topic shifts from you to something else as long as they visit, and you’re all too happy not to have the attention on you.

#husband!Simon Riley x wife!Reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader

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humaling · 1 month ago

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Two Victors, One Closet.

pairings: finnick odair x reader

summary: you hid in a closet to escape from a fan—but what are the odds of ending up in the same closet with the capitol's darling?

warnings: none!

word count: 3k

author's note: my fav piece so far. i love forced proximity guys

You’d rather be anywhere but here—at another Capitol party, suffocating under the weight of excess and expectation. If your presence weren’t mandatory, if Snow weren’t holding a noose over your loved one’s neck, you’d be in bed, sleeping soundly—something you’ve only managed to do since winning your Games a few years ago.

This party is no different from the others you’ve endured. It’s loud, obnoxious, and mind-numbingly monotonous. People parade around in the most hideous outfits imaginable, calling it fashion simply because it defies normalcy. You can think of a few who would look far better in something simple, yet they insist on prancing around in walrus costumes or altering their features to resemble wild animals—an attempt at beauty that, in your humble opinion, makes them more unsettling than presentable.

If you earned a dollar for every person you’ve avoided tonight, you’d have at least a hundred—enough to buy yourself a decent meal at that small diner on the outskirts of the Capitol, where the people, at the very least, seem a bit more human than the ones inside this party.

You uncomfortably shift in your dress, flattening out the creases that start to form. The fabric, though luxurious, clings to you in a way that feels suffocating, a constant reminder of the expectations woven into every stitch. A pink cocktail sits in your hand, glittering under the dim glow of the chandelier, the ice clinking softly as you tighten your grip around the delicate stem. Your expression remains composed—sweet, practiced, effortless—as a Capitol couple manages to sneak up behind you, their voices dripping with familiarity as they greet you like an old friend.

“My! You would look so much better in my dress than the one you’re wearing,” one of them gushes, grasping your arm with manicured fingers. The scent of artificial roses wafts off her in waves, sickly sweet and overpowering.

You glance at her outfit, taking in the bold choice of material. Classic. A long cocktail dress, its bodice clinging to her frame, the skirt draping in soft, deliberate folds—made entirely of tiger fur, the stripes catching the light with a golden sheen. Authentic, of course. Anything less wouldn’t be worth parading.

“You flatter me,” you reply, forcing a light laugh, though your stomach twists at the thought of slipping into something like that.

“Oh, but I mean it! Just the other day, Vera Juno—you know her, don’t you? The one with the most divine peacock-feather corset—she was saying how dreadfully plain fur looks on me, but I told her, ‘Well, darling, it’s not the fur, it’s the person wearing it!’” She giggles, waving a hand as if dismissing the very idea that she could look anything less than stunning.

Her husband, draped in a garish emerald suit with diamond-studded cuffs, takes a long sip from his flute of champagne before sighing dramatically. “Speaking of Vera, did you hear? She’s on her third face this year. Third! I told her she had to slow down, but she’s obsessed. I mean, honestly, she’s starting to look like a bad painting.”

You hum in amusement, nodding along as if this is the most fascinating conversation you’ve ever been part of, when in reality, you feel like you’re suffocating. The weight of their words, their extravagance, their sheer detachment from anything real—it presses down on you like the bodice of your dress, too tight, too constricting.

“I simply must introduce you to my designer,” the woman continues, taking a sip from a martini glass filled with some unnaturally blue liquid. “She does custom work—one of a kind. None of that tacky, mass-produced nonsense. Oh! And she works with the rarest*materials. I swear, she had a real mockingjay feather last season, but she used it on some nobody—can you imagine?”

You force a gasp, widening your eyes just enough to appear engaged. “A real mockingjay feather? That’s practically a historic artifact.”

The husband scoffs. “And wasted on a girl who doesn’t even appreciate fashion.”

You smile, tilting your head in interest, all while subtly scanning the room. You need an escape. The dance floor? No, too crowded. The bar? No, you’d risk them following you for another round of terribly important Capitol gossip. Your fingers tighten around your glass as you spot an avox disappearing to an empty hallway. Perfect.

“Oh! Is that—excuse me, just one moment,” you say, flashing them an apologetic smile before slipping away, weaving through the sea of elaborately dressed socialites. You exhale softly, relief washing over you as their voices fade into the background.

As you step into the hallway, a voice calls out your name. Your breath catches, and you pick up the pace, scanning your surroundings. Hide. That’s the only thought in your head. You can’t handle another meaningless conversation with another obnoxious Capitolian. You’d rather lock yourself in a dark, windowless room than entertain their exhausting chatter.

Your eyes dart around until they land on a cabinet door, slightly ajar. There’s no time to hesitate. You slip inside, pulling the door shut behind you, swallowing yourself in darkness.

Pressing your ear against the wooden surface, you listen. Muffled footsteps. The sound of your name again. You recognize the voice instantly, and dread coils in your stomach. Him. The man who runs that ridiculous website about you, documenting every move you make as if you’re a spectacle rather than a person. He’s practically built an archive of your life, shoving every scrap of information he can find onto the internet for Capitol citizens to obsess over.

You hold your breath, remaining perfectly still, listening as his footsteps shuffle past. He calls your name once more before, finally, mercifully, they start to fade. You wait a few beats, making sure he’s really gone before exhaling a slow, relieved sigh. Your forehead rests against the wooden door as your grip on the handle loosens.

But the moment of peace is short-lived.

A voice murmurs behind you, low and bemused.

“Uh, sweetheart?”

A yelp escapes your throat as you whirl around, arm swinging wildly to hit whoever’s behind you. But your hand meets nothing but air before it smacks into the wooden wall with a sharp thud.

A soft cry leaves your lips, pain stinging through your knuckles. Before you can recover, there’s a faint click beside you. A dim light flickers on above, casting a warm glow over the cramped space. You squint, your eyes adjusting, and then they land on the bronze-haired man standing at your side, sea-green eyes blown wide in surprise.

You freeze, recognition settling in.

“Finnick?”

His lips twitch before stretching into a slow, easy grin, flashing those infuriatingly perfect teeth. He leans against the wall, one hand still resting on the light switch, head tilting slightly as he peers down at you.

“Fancy meeting you here, sweetheart.” His voice is laced with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips as he extends his free hand toward you in mock politeness.

You glance at it, scoff, and cross your arms instead. “What are you doing here?”

Finnick sighs, slipping his hand back into the pocket of his dress pants. “Hiding. Obviously.” His tone is dry, like the answer should be obvious.

You exhale sharply, pressing your back against the door as you try to compose yourself. Of course, he’s hiding. He’s probably avoiding some desperate Capitol sponsor or an overzealous admirer. People cling to Finnick Odair like moths to a flame, and he plays his role so well.

“Well,” you mutter, shifting slightly, “I was here first.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and amused. “So territorial. What, do you want me to step out and expose both of us?”

You narrow your eyes. He has a point. If either of you leaves now, you’ll draw attention, and the last thing you need is to be caught crammed into a cabinet with Finnick Odair. That would be another scandal for the Capitol to sink its teeth into.

You sigh, rubbing your temple before glancing up at him. “Fine. Just—don’t talk.”

Finnick hums, tilting his head slightly. “You sure? I think we could have a very productive conversation in here.”

“Finnick.”

“Alright, alright.” He grins, leaning back against the shelves. “Silent as a clam.”

You roll your eyes and shift in place, trying to find a comfortable spot without knocking anything over. The cabinet wasn’t made for two people. Your arm brushes against his chest, and you can feel the warmth radiating off him, his breath ghosting against your hair.

“Will you move?” you hiss, trying not to bump into the precariously stacked cans of paint, cleaning supplies, and tools surrounding you.

Finnick lifts a hand in mock innocence. “Well, honey, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s pretty cramped in here with all this stuff.” He gestures lazily to the shelves around you.

You glare at him. “You clearly still have space behind you.” You poke a firm finger against his chest. “Move.”

Finnick glances over his shoulder, then looks back at you with an exaggerated frown. “There’s a vacuum.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious?”

“It’s taking up, like, all my space.”

A slow, frustrated breath pushes through your nose as you shift your weight. It’s hot, cramped, and you’re stuck here with Finnick Odair.

He watches your struggle with barely concealed amusement before offering, “Well, I could just step out and—”

“Don’t you dare even think about it!” you whisper-yell, eyes sharp as daggers.

His smirk widens. Infuriating.

Finnick’s smirk deepens, his sea-green eyes glinting in the dim light. “Oh, honey, you wound me,” he drawls, placing a hand over his chest like you’ve personally offended him. “You think I’d sell you out just to stretch my legs?”

You scoff, crossing your arms despite the cramped space. “Yes.”

His lips twitch. “Fair enough.”

You huff, shifting against the wooden door, trying to create some semblance of distance between you and Finnick, but it’s impossible. The small storage cabinet wasn’t designed to hold two people, let alone a six-foot-tall Victor with broad shoulders who takes up way too much space. His arm brushes against yours, and you feel the warmth radiating off him—annoyingly distracting.

Finnick exhales dramatically. “You know, if you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just asked.”

You whip your head up, glaring. “I will knock you out, Odair.”

He grins. “With what? Your tiny fists? Oh, sweetheart, you’re adorable.”

Your nostrils flare. Infuriating. Absolutely insufferable. You have half a mind to elbow him in the ribs, but knowing Finnick, he’d probably enjoy that too. Instead, you sigh sharply, tilting your head back against the door.

Silence settles between you, save for the muffled sounds of the party outside—the distant laughter, the clinking of glasses, the upbeat music that feels worlds away from the stifling little closet.

Then Finnick speaks again, voice quieter this time. “So, who are you hiding from?”

You hesitate. You don’t owe him an answer. But there’s something disarming about Finnick, something that makes people spill their secrets before they even realize they’ve opened their mouths.

Still, you settle for a vague response. “Someone annoying.”

He hums. “So, not me?”

You shoot him a look, and he chuckles, clearly entertained.

“Let me guess.” He taps his chin, pretending to think. “Overzealous sponsor? Jealous socialite? Deranged fan?”

You shift uncomfortably. Close enough.

Finnick notices. His smirk softens into something less performative, more genuine. “C’mon,” he coaxes, tilting his head. “Who was it?”

You exhale through your nose, deciding to humor him. “That guy who runs the website about me.”

Finnick’s brows raise, then his face twists in sympathy. “Oh, him? Yeah, I’ve got one of those too. Talks about me like we braid each other’s hair at sleepovers.”

Despite yourself, a snort escapes your lips. “Right? He acts like he knows everything about me. It’s creepy.”

Finnick grins. “Well, at least you haven’t been shipped with half of Panem. I swear, if I had a coin for every time someone claimed I was secretly in love with some random socialite…” He shakes his head, mock exasperation in his voice.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And who are you secretly in love with, Finnick?”

His smirk falters for half a second—so quick you almost miss it. But then it’s back, all charm and mischief. “Wouldn’t you like to know, sweetheart?”

Your lips press together, and before you can stop yourself, you mutter, “Not really.”

Finnick places a hand over his heart again, gasping. “You wound me twice in one night? Unbelievable.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. The frustration you felt earlier has dulled into something else. Something lighter.

Still, you don’t let your guard down. “Just don’t get too comfortable,” you warn. “The second I think it’s safe, I’m out of here.”

Finnick smirks, leaning back against the shelves. “And leave me all alone? In this cold, dark closet?” He sighs dramatically. “How cruel.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You groan, lifting a hand to shove Finnick back.

It happens too fast.

You push him a little harder than intended. His legs catch on the vacuum behind him, throwing him off balance. His arms flail as he tries to grab onto something—unfortunately, that something is you.

You barely have time to react before gravity does its job.

A loud thud echoes through the tiny storage room as you crash into Finnick. Your foreheads smack together, sending a sharp jolt of pain through your skull. Finnick, caught in the most ridiculous position imaginable, hangs awkwardly midair—his back pressed against the wall, legs still half-propped on the vacuum. His arms instinctively wrap around your waist, holding you in place.

You wince, lifting your head slightly, your free hand pressing against your now-throbbing forehead. “Ow,” you mumble. His skull might as well be made of steel.

Finnick lets out a breathy chuckle beneath you, though it’s slightly strained. “Y’know, sweetheart, if you wanted to be on top, you could’ve just asked.”

Your hand immediately smacks his shoulder.

Before he can get another word out, the door creaks open.

“Is there someone in h—oh…”

Finnick’s head snaps up—only for your forehead to slam into Finnick’s again.

“Ow!” you both groan in unison.

You don’t even hesitate before slapping his arm again. He muffles a grunt.

Meanwhile, the woman standing in the doorway is frozen, gloved hand covering her mouth, eyes wide with realization. “Oh my! ” she gasps, face flushing. “Are you two all right?”

Her words barely register as you rub your forehead, still disoriented. A gloved hand touches your shoulder, and you glance up to see her looking between you and Finnick, brows raised.

“Yes, we’re fine,” you mutter automatically, nodding mindlessly.

That’s when you see it—the look on her face. The way her eyes flick between you and Finnick, her lips slightly parted as if processing something. Then it clicks.

Oh. Oh no.

Finnick, still beneath you, shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flicking to the side. His tongue pokes at his cheek, barely suppressing a smirk.

The woman’s face shifts from surprise to intrigue.

“Oh,” she says again, but this time, there’s understanding in her tone. As if she knows exactly what she just walked in on.

Your stomach drops as you realize exactly what she is thinking. She doesn’t just assume she walked in on something—she is convinced of it. And worse, she looks absolutely thrilled.

“Oh,” she says again, her eyes lighting up with amusement. “Oh my.”

You scramble to push yourself off Finnick, but in your flustered state, you end up pressing your weight further onto him instead. His breath catches for just a second before he exhales a soft chuckle.

“Easy there, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were so eager.”

You smack his shoulder, but it only makes him grin wider. “Will you shut up and help me?” you whisper harshly, still trying to push yourself up without making the situation worse.

Finnick sighs dramatically, as if this is somehow an inconvenience for him, before placing his hands on your waist and lifting you off with frustrating ease. Once you’re on your feet, you try to brush yourself off and compose yourself, but before you can say anything, the woman gasps and claps her hands together.

“This is so lovely,” she gushes. “And here I thought the rumors were just speculation! But to think I’d witness it firsthand—oh, this is wonderful.”

You frown, not entirely sure you want to know what she’s talking about. “What?”

She gestures between you and Finnick with an almost conspiratorial expression. “Your little secret romance, dear. You don’t have to pretend with me. I won’t tell a soul.”

You open your mouth, then close it again, completely at a loss for words. Meanwhile, Finnick leans casually against the shelf, watching with clear amusement.

“That’s very kind of you,” he says smoothly, flashing his most charming smile. “We’d hate for anyone to get the wrong idea.”

You whip your head toward him, glaring daggers. Do not encourage this.

The woman giggles, as if she is witnessing something out of a Capitol drama. “Oh, don’t worry. I understand. A little forbidden rendezvous? How thrilling!”

You let out a strangled sound of frustration. “It’s not—we’re not—”

She raises a hand, silencing you with a knowing smile. “Say no more, dear. You have my discretion.”

Finnick hums approvingly. “Much appreciated.”

You feel your blood pressure rise. He is enjoying this far too much, and it’s obvious by the way his lips twitch as he glances at you. The woman sighs wistfully as if she is witnessing the most romantic scandal in all of Panem.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, winking before disappearing down the hallway.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the empty doorway as your brain struggles to catch up. The silence is thick, filled only by the distant hum of the party outside.

Then, slowly, you turn to Finnick.

He is smirking, arms crossed over his chest. “Well,” he drawls, amusement thick in his voice. “That went well.”

You inhale deeply through your nose, trying to rein in the urge to strangle him. “You absolute—”

Finnick chuckles and tilts his head slightly. “Careful, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want people to think our lover’s quarrel is anything serious.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. You can already hear the whispers spreading through the Capitol. By tomorrow morning, there will be headlines, theories, and most likely an entire fan club dedicated to the two of you.

And Finnick Odair, the bane of your existence, is going to love every second of it.

part two

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #hunger games finnick #the hunger games

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littledozerdraws · 5 months ago

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fic to accompany the art by the amazing @drawsaurus

He had already killed for the Emperors; but this was no debut at some preening Senator’s bawdy-house. When it was already past dusk, Hanno was led out in chains from the Colosseum stables, through a dank alleyway buried in the backstreets of the slums; down, down, into the labyrinthine bowels of the city, endless stone tunnels rank and musty with disuse. The skeleton of a rat crunched under his heel like an autumn leaf. He half assumed that he trudged to his death, and found it did not much bother him.

But when, at last, the floor underfoot sloped upwards and turned to stairs, Hanno found that he had emerged not into a slaughterhouse, but into the soft, warm candlelight and velvet drapery of the imperial palace. Viggo handed him off to an elegant but harried house slave, no word, but a sneer of knowing disdain.

Hanno gave him nothing back. He knew that he would kill that man one day. He could be patient.

The slave had the high, soft voice and smooth hands of a eunuch. “I should have liked a day to school you in the proper etiquette,” he said, unhappy, as they moved quickly through more corridors, more twists and turns. Hanno felt like he had no sense at all of where he was in the City; he could have been miles outside it were it not for the two-headed crest of the Emperors that adorned the walls. “But there is little time. I shall tell you the basics. You must look neither Caesar in the eye, nor address them unbidden. Your little trick at Senator Thraex’s has the court all a-gossip, but you must keep your station henceforth. I know you understand Latin,” he said curtly, when Hanno made no response. “You will do as you are commanded, no more or less.”

Still Hanno said nothing.

Perhaps the eunuch wanted to shock some kind of reaction out of him. “Emperor Geta will direct the proceedings,” he said, cold. “Emperor Caracalla likes to be fucked as a woman. You will be expected to perform.”

“...Macrinus sends me here to fight.”

The eunuch looked him over. “I see they did not bathe you at the stables,” he sniffed. “Your musk is not unpleasant, at least.”

“You have me mistaken.”

They stopped abruptly, before a fresco that Hanno could not make out in the low light. He could tell, at least, it was ostentatious. A door was cut through the wall that gave gently when pushed. The house slave gave him a shallow bow, almost a mockery, and indicated that he should enter. “Do not misunderstand,” he said, quieter even than before. His superiority dropped away from a moment; this felt like a freely given warning. “This may seem a private audience, but the Praetorian Guard have many ears and quick swords. Perform your duty well, and you will leave here a man entire. Do not make poor decisions, Poet.”

The Emperors had called him that.

Before the night was out, they would name him so again, and again, and again.

#gladiator 2 #lucius verus #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #hanno x empies #ipad art #doodles #dozerdraws

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puckleberryfinnie · 5 months ago

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What Is This Feeling?

summary: you're the one thing he can't have, but he'll do anything to get you anyway, fem!reader x emperor geta

notes: for (this) request, thank you so much for sending that in again, love you for that! this definitely will not be history or character accurate, but I know most of you are just here for the vibes so here's this for you <3 if anyone wants more of him, you're more than welcome to send something in, make sure to take a look at my holiday event too!

part two is finally here! yippee!

Geta had everything he could ever want- food, clothing, women. Many women. All the divine things of the world were his, and it pleased him to know as such. All of Rome was at his beck and call.

Now, despite his interest in expanding empires to new locations, he'd never found himself interested in the contents of these areas. It seemed illogical, when he had everything he wanted and much, much more already.

As the power of Rome grew, however, the time came for a delegation to be put into place. It would be built in order to generate alliances among other strong empires, much like their own. It wasn't something of much interest of Geta- he'd have to give them an audience at some point, he'd imagined, but any might greater than his own was simply unimaginable in his mind.

It wasn't surprising for the people of your empire to know you'd be headed off along with the rest of the delegation sent to Rome. They knew your adventurous nature, and with your three older brothers limiting your chance of leading one day, there was no true reason for you not to be sent off, if not just for the year you'd be gone. Your father, as emperor, was weary, of course.

"Venturing into harsher lands might calm your restless nature, which is something that must happen as you become an important figure to your people, dear. Besides, you'll be protected under the royal court of Rome in any regard, to be sure."

The trip had been troublesome, despite the amenities offered for a trip of so many noble people. It was truly its length that made it quite so unbearable, being over a week of slow travelling. Upon entering into your destination, however, your opinions on the matter immediately had been washed away by incoming fascination. Your empire had been fantastic in its own ways, of course, but this went beyond every notion of an idea you'd had for it. The streets were filled with excitement, and the people of the streets were beyond respectful, bowing their heads as you passed them.

Your fascination only grew as you came closer to the center of the land. There were buildings, each taller than the last and adorned with the most extraordinary pieces of decoration. Large, open areas housed groups of patricians, you were sure, wearing extravagant clothing that draped over their bodies perfectly. Their jewelry was even more extravagant, to be sure, shiny accessories adorning every finger and neck.

It's not that you weren't used to such lavishness, but your people had been less... open about it, in many regards. It was unlikely to find open rooms with expensive items on display as they had here. It's no matter, though. You'd fit in, to be sure. Your empire had sent you in their finest garments, matching these people's clothing perfectly fine.

The audience with this neighboring empire had been something of great discussion among the court of Rome. With the newest news coming in of the emperor's daughter visiting, the excitement only grew. There were stories, of course, of her people favoring her, for her beauty and kindness was a blessing for them. It intrigued Geta, in some regards. He'd expected old men and boring meetings discussing topics that he was not the least bit interested in. But a woman? He was indefinitely more interested in that.

Him and his brother were leaning lazily against their large thrones, women and men strew across them, vying for their attention. As your party entered, they both stayed in their position, watching disinterestedly, nodding as the people continued to enter.

It was customary that you entered last, in all your glory. You entered gracefully, all heads turned towards you, all in awe of your divine nature. Geta wasn't any exception as he immediately sat up straighter, trying to get a better look at you. As you stopped in front of them, dipping your head in respect, he continued to lean closer, eyes wide as they went over your features carefully.

"Thank you for your gracious invitation, emperors."

As your eyes rose to greet the twins, they immediately met Geta's. His own pair were watching your every movement, a interested glint in them unlike ever you'd ever seen in the eyes of a man. It caught you, making you freeze under his gaze. He slowly pushed off whoever had been on him, getting up as he slowly made his way towards you.

"The pleasure is all our own. I hope you know we've been anxiously awaiting you, my lady."

His eyebrows rose, anticipating your reaction. When you simply smiled, bowing your head once again in recognition before being carted away by your supervisors, he was beyond surprised. Any normal woman would've been flattered and flushing at his words, but you'd walked away with that calming nature still radiating.

His brother wasn't paying much attention, but that wasn't too much of surprise as Geta turned towards him, watching Caracalla place some grapes in his mouth as he looked off to the side. He turned back to your retreating form once more, shouting at you in order to get your attention.

"I hope you enjoy your stay, my lady. I'll be sure to call on you later."

You simply smiled once again, letting out a small laugh. "I'd appreciate that, Emperor. Thank you." You along with the rest of your party exited after a moment, exhausted after your long trip and in need of rest.

After you were long gone, likely softly sleeping in one of their more extravagant guest rooms, as Geta had imagined, he was approached by one of his many advisors, named Claudius. Claudius was one of the more brave council members, who would speak out against the emperors for the benefit of Rome. It was a surprise that his head hadn't been chopped off yet.

"I only want the best for your empire, Your Grace, and with such I must make it known that interacting with the daughter of such a powerful ruler has its risks. If word got out to the Emperor that you were treating her as you would with a common woman, it surely would bring their strong empire's wrath down unto our sacred land."

"You must have no faith in the glory of Rome, Claudius. Any attack on their part would be stopped immediately, you should know this."

"Since we've last spoken their forces have doubled in size, Your Grace. Do what you will, but we need to make sure this alliance goes as it's supposed to."

He was effectively being told 'no,' and he did not enjoy it at all. Everything in his life had been handed to him on a silver platter, so it went against his nature to not take what he wanted- in this case, that being you. His hands were clenched as he walked through the hallways, headed to his sleeping chambers.

You'd been headed back from your light sleep, hoping to find some sort of entertainment when a body had rammed at you at full speed, knocking you to the ground. There was the emperor, looking angrily at the figure underneath him. This angry look slowly faded as he realized it was you, turning into a devilish smile as he slowly pulled himself up, his hands resting on either side of your head.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, my lady. How have you found your stay so far?" He was vibrating with a sort of enticing energy, almost as though he was purring. It was rather strange, but you couldn't bring yourself to move, frozen once again in his gaze.

"Oh- well, this place is magnificent, Your Grace. It's truly wonderful to be here."

"Mm.. well I'm very glad you decided to come, you've made all this alliance work much more... interesting." He finally pulled himself off you, keeping his eyes glued to yours as he reached for your hand to pull you up with him in a sudden movement. "And you must call me Geta, princess." His hand held onto yours, subtly moving a thumb across its surface.

"Of course Y- Geta. And you shall call me by mine, yes?" Your calm nature had been broken, just as he'd hoped it would. His smile only grew at your flustered state.

"If that's what you'd like I'll faithfully oblige, though I do think Princess suits you much better. I'd do anything you asked of me, though, darling." With that he brought your hand to his face, keeping eye contact as he left a kiss on its back side.

To Hell with Rome. He got what he wanted, and he wanted you.

woah ok so I think this is the most I've every written, hopefully it was still a bit interesting for you guys! thank you so much for reading, and let me know if you want more stuff from him or anyone else in Gladiator (the obsession is crazy right noww) (also, wicked themed title to feed into another obsession don’t mind me)

if you guys want any more of this one, please let me know, I can even create a tag list if that interests anyone <3

love ya!!

#gladiator x reader #gladiator 2 x reader #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #geta x reader

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mymessyfandomlibrary · 5 months ago

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The Hand That Feeds

Featuring; Sevika x AFAB!Reader

Rating; 18+

Other Notes; Mutual pining, strangers to kinda-friends to 'yeah, we fuckin' -> Porn with plot. This was a gift that I wrote for a friend's birthday. I already shared it with them and got good feedback, so, I'm unleashing it to Tumblr.

Content Warnings; Smut, reader is AFAB, if you don't like the nickname 'princess' my condolences. Smut won't be until the second NSFW banner.

Word Count; 3.3K

Link to Masterlist

You have a tradition.

Every new moon you would sneak out of your aunt’s residence — she was a kind lady and took you in and gave you free reign — and travel across the river into Zaun.

Yet, despite what others may have thought at your regular travels, it wasn’t for thrill seeking or for nefarious activities. Part of it was out of sheer boredom, as Pilotver, while being the city of progress, was also a city of bureaucratic stillness and policy. A dreadful place when you needed a bit of chaos and authenticity.

Which is how you found yourself in The Lanes time and time again. But it wasn’t purely out of sheer boredom and wanderlust that you kept on coming back into the Undercity.

While many people had their own interests at the forefront — both in Piltover and in Zaun — you mainly came to help; bringing in fresh food. Bread, fresh vegetables and fruit, and cured meats. You used the bit of wealth that you had left from your family to give to others less fortunate. To those that had no one else to turn to.

You had been doing this long enough that you knew familiar faces and even some names. And tonight was no different in that regard.

You may not be from Zaun, but you have been to The Lanes enough to also recognize people who stuck in the background, watching.

For the past five months, a woman always stayed in the background, leaning outside of The Last Drop. She never approached you, but when your eyes crossed paths, you knew that she had been watching you give food to those that you could.

The past five months when you had come into the city she had only watched, assessing what you were doing. Seeing if it was for some ulterior motive.

Was the food spoiled? No.

Was it poisoned or traced with something? Also no.

As far as she could see and from the information that the people gave her about you, you did this for no other reason than you wanted to. And Sevika knew from when she first saw you that you weren’t from the undercity — there wasn’t the same edge that the people here had, you were sweet.

You were giving food out and this time she approached you. The dim lighting from the flickering neon signs reflected on her metal arm, catching your eye. Giving a little boy enough food for the day — as giving them too much would make them a target for theft — you turned to the newcomer.

She didn’t say anything, just giving you a once over, still assessing you.

“So,” she cocked her chin to the side a bit, talking down at you in a guarded yet curious tone, “how long have you been doing this for, topsider?”

Topsider.

You knew that you didn’t really fit in in The Lanes, but most people didn’t give you any trouble, just giving you a side glance before minding their own business.

A small smile, born out of the expected politeness of Piltover, graced your face. “Years? It’s hard to say.”

Sevika quirked her brow, “Why?”

“Why not,” you answered back.

Sevika’s mouth twitched in both amusement but also annoyed at the answer. Amused because you said it genuinely, as she was expecting a bit of sass and entitlement. Annoyed that you seemingly had no ulterior motives.

“Alright then.” Sevika just stood there for a moment, and you resisted the urge to shuffle as she continued to assess and try to come to a conclusion. Your eyes once again cross paths and she turns back and goes into The Last Drop again, leaving you alone.

Strange.

You were back in The Lanes and the sack of food had been emptied, all of it being handed out.

Ever since the woman with the metal arm had been keeping an eye on you there were fewer people who tried to push you around. It could also be the large visible knife that you kept strapped to your thigh, but having her presence around also kept people with ill intentions away, letting you be able to help the people you needed to and wanted it.

She was at her usual spot, standing by the door of the pub. Watching.

It has become a part of your routine. You had come to expect her to be there. Even though you didn’t even know her name, she had become a comforting presence in the background, like she was watching your back.

She wasn’t there tonight though.

No one had tried anything, as the knife was good enough deterrence for now, but it felt off without her there.

Placing the empty bag in your personal satchel you took the time to explore The Lanes. This was the original reason why you came into the undercity, but upon seeing how much worse the conditions here were, you sought to try and help where you could. People were just trying to survive and make ends meet.

“There’s a fight–” a guy bumps into you and keeps on walking, talking to his companion.

Around the bend you could hear a commotion, and curiosity got the better of you and you followed the noise.

There was a fight in full bloom, and the woman that you had expected to be silently watching you was in the heart of it. The fight was reaching its end though, both parties looking worse for wear, but the guy she was fighting was way worse off. The thing about having a metal arm is that it does a lot of damage to whoever it hits, and Sevika may have had some of her blood on her, but most of it was from the other guy.

He hit the ground, unconscious, and Sevika crouched down and whispered something in his ear before getting back up and walking away, but not before she saw you in the crowd. She paused for a second before continuing on, walking away from you. She had changed direction, like she was avoiding you. Going against your better judgement, you followed her, going into a dimly lit pub and looking through the sea of faces before you spotted her at the bar, ordering something.

You don’t know her. Why are you doing this? This is a stupid thing to do—

You sat down next to her and she gave you a sideways glance.

She had a cut on her face and a bloody nose. There was definitely going to be a large bruise on her arm by tomorrow. And despite being just in a fight and looking worse for wear, she was taking a long drink like this was nothing. But it probably is nothing to her.

This was also the closest that you had gotten to her, and despite her being beat up and the shit lighting in the pub, she was a very — pretty isn’t the right word, she was more than that — handsome woman.

“What are you doing,” she asked, slightly turning her head so she could properly look at you.

“You’re hurt,” and I wanted to make sure that you’re okay. But you don’t add that. You two don’t know each other. You aren’t friends. Hell, you don’t even know her name!

Sevika huffs, amused. “You saw the other guy.”

You had. “Still.”

She puts down her drink and fully turns to you, leaning forward a bit. “Listen, sweetheart, I can handle myself.”

Sweetheart. The nickname, while meant to be demeaning, made you … you didn’t know what it did, but you liked it.

She leans back, pays for her drink and leaves the pub, leaving you alone.

Sevika was back to standing guard over you. She had picked it up after hearing the silent murmurs about a topsider frequenting The Lanes.

In the months that she’s been watching — far longer than you had started noticing her — she knew a few things.

You always visited during the nights of the new moon, using the darkness as a cover.

You carried a large knife on your thigh. You never had to use it, since people knew she was keeping watch, but she saw how you would twirl it around when bored — it wasn’t just for show.

You were kind. She may not know your name, but she mentally called you Sweetheart. It seemed fitting.

And a new forth thing: you apparently made it a habit to be in the same places that she frequents when you really ought not to.

The fight had been by accident, but she hadn’t expected you to follow her into a pub.

Then again when she was making rounds — you had crossed paths with her and you gave her a nod before continuing on.

Once when she was coming out of the brothel that she frequents when pent up — something that was becoming more often as of late. You didn’t say anything, but you did walk past faster than usual, and Sevika felt a tinge of disappointment.

She had come to expect you. As much as she was an expected presence in your routine, you had become one in hers.

Tonight was the new moon, and Sevika was standing where she typically did. Waiting for you.

But you don’t show up.

Some of the regular people ask her where you are, as whenever Sevika is watching guard, you aren’t far behind. But she didn’t know. She didn’t like that she didn’t know where you were. It lingered in the back of her mind the next night.

This time you do show up, and when the last bit of food gets handed out she walks towards you, determined.

“Where were you last night?”

You turn around, not expecting her to really take notice that you were missing last night, but also she noticed.

“There was a blockade last night. The city is on high alert, so I couldn’t cross last night,” you answer.

It was true. Due to recent events, Piltover was on high alert. You couldn’t have crossed, not without suspicion or your monthly visits coming to light, so you decided to wait it out.

Sevika runs her tongue across her teeth, trying to think of something to say, but all that she knows is that she’s relieved to see you. She accepts your answer though, giving you a grunt.

You both stand there for a moment, as if waiting to see who would say something first. Who would break the slightly awkward tension. Hell, it was worse than the time you had bumped into her after she came out of a brothel — that was awkward.

You lick your lips, “Did something happen last night? When I was gone?”

No, nothing happened. “No. People just missed you.” I missed you.

Sevika caught the motion of your mouth and she also noted your appearance. She had always thought you were pretty, hell, beautiful, but she never made a move. Why, though?

She was a cautious woman, especially with those she let close. “Be careful, sweetheart.”

There’s that name again. This time you felt something warm in your chest, but she had already walked away.

You had finally learned your mystery woman’s name. Sevika. It had been several months — a year to be exact, but like you were keeping track of every time you saw her (you were) — and you finally knew her name from asking one of the bartenders at The Last Drop.

You were standing in her usual spot. You were early, the sun just starting to set, and Sevika was not expecting for you to be waiting for her.

“We need to talk,” you said, getting up from where you were leaning.

Sevika crossed her arms, not expecting the bold move. “About what?”

You walked over to a more private area, a back alley, “You keep watch over me. You have been for a while. Why?”

Ah, you finally asked the question that Sevika had been asking herself. Now, she could be honest about it — which would shed light that she had taken an interest from the rumours and then taken an actual interest in you — or she could keep it simple. Uncomplicated.

And then she remembers your answer to her question all those months back when you had first talked. “Why not?”

You pause, looking at her. You hadn’t expected that answer. You hadn’t expected her to be giving you an intense longing look that screamed more than just wanting to talk.

Fuck it.

You stepped forward and did something that you’ve wanted to do for months, placing your mouth onto hers.

And Sevika’s mouth slotted against yours, reciprocating the kiss you initiated. Once given the permission, she threw caution to the wind, finally doing what she had also been wanting. The reason why she was so pent up. You.

She ran her tongue across your lip, asking for silent permission to enter your mouth and once you did, your tongues moved against each other and she groaned into the heated kiss before breaking away. Her eyes were simmering with want, and like hell she was going to continue what you started in a dank alley.

“Didn’t know you felt that way, sweetheart,” she huffed, breath hot against your ear, making the hair on the back of neck prickle in a pleasant way.

You groaned when she pulled back. You had finally started to get what you wanted only for her to pull away. “And you feel the same way.”

It wasn’t a question. You knew. It was damn telling the way that she took over and led the kiss that she wanted you the same way you wanted her.

Sevika hums at your answer, her hand playing with the ends of your hair gently, “Do I?”

She usually wasn’t a tease, but she enjoyed seeing your reactions, wanting to hear you say the words. “What do you want, sweetheart?” She asked, nearly purring.

This woman will be the death of me.

You place yourself to where one of her legs was in between yours, “You.”

Sevika ground her leg into your core, sending some much needed friction to where you wanted her. “You’ll have to wait for a minute, princess.”

Like hell she was going to ravish you here, so picking you up, she went to a better place, using one of the back doors to get into one of the private rooms of the pub where no one would intrude — thankfully this one had a bed.

Once the door is locked, you’re both back to being on each other. Hot mouths clashing. And then the back of your knees were hitting the mattress.

You sat down, bringing Sevika with you, and she began kissing down your neck, leaving you wanting more.

A thought came into her mind, and she left a rather sharp nip on the space between your neck and shoulder, her thigh slipping between yours and flipping your positions to where you straddled her thigh. “Ride it, sweetheart.”

The timbre of her voice made you shudder and a pool of heat to form again at your core. You began to grind yourself against her thigh, annoyed that you were both clothed but wanting some sort of release. “Clothes,” you mutter, trying to control how desperate you were for her, “off.”

Sevika chuckled, amused, but obliged, taking off both of your clothes — again, leaving hot kisses on your shoulder. Once her damned pants were off, you began grinding on her again, and she could feel how wet you were and she grinned.

She could tell that you wouldn’t be able to get off just with that, but you were putting on a good show for her. “You’re doing so good, baby. You feel so wet. Fuck.” She groaned, popping one of your nipples in her mouth, and rolling the other in her mouth.

You keen, arching into her touch, wanting more. While the friction from her muscular thigh was delicious you needed more. “Sev, I –” you slightly push her head down, silently asking for her to go down on you.

Sevika put her hands on your hips and dragged you up towards her mouth, “I know.” And she placed a kiss to your inner thigh before tracing your cunt with her tongue, taking your clit into her mouth.

“Fuck,” you moan, finally getting the friction you so badly wanted. Your hands tangling in her hair for something to hold on and she groaned, the vibrations just adding to your pleasure.

Slowly, Sevika added a finger into your cunt, probing until you arched when she found your g-spot. She could tell that you weren’t sitting so she nipped your clit when she felt you hovering, “Sit.”

Once you put your full weight on her face she hummed, satisfied, and added another finger to reward you, putting extra pressure there.

With her fingers going in and out of your cunt and her tongue tracing your clit, you were reaching your climax, feeling your thighs clench up when Sevika removes her fingers and slows down on your clit, delaying it.

“W-why did you stop?”

Sevika hummed, taking the fingers that were once in you into her mouth, cleaning them off. “I didn’t.” And she moved you higher up so that her tongue was now in you and her nose ground into your clit.

She loved seeing you like this, fucked out on her fingers and her tongue, and if her tongue wasn’t doing the most mouthwatering movements in you, she would be telling you how gorgeous you were. Praising you and your body — mind you, she fell for you for how you treated others first.

You grabbed for her hand, the one that was just in you a moment ago and placed it on your neck, and Sevika carefully squeezed, choking you in the right way. “You’re doing so good, princess.”

You were reaching your high again, and Sevika was not slowing down, if anything, feeling the way that your thighs tensed on her face made her push forward. The slight pressure on my airway made you melt in her hands, and did a particularly mean nip to your clit before continuing eating you out. You were sweating by now, and moaning into her touch.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” She groaned, and added a bit of pressure to your lower stomach, her tongue going in deep.

Tugging a bit more harshly at her scalp you felt your breathing hitch, your eyes roll back, and you shuddered as your high finally came.

Sevika didn’t ease up, instead taking the hand that was on your neck back down to your cunt, adding three fingers inside you this time as her tongue continued on your clit. That move during your climax and the stretch alongside the pressure on your lower stomach had you seeing white and Sevika groaned as she felt you release.

You whined a bit as Sevika slowed down her movements, sensitive from your climax, working you down from it.

Giving your inner thigh a kiss, she laid you down next to her on the bed, before getting up and grabbing a warm damp cloth to clean you up with, even though your release was still on her face. She licked it off of her lips and dragged some down from her cheeks to her mouth before using the same cloth to clean her face and thigh, laying back down next to you.

She placed a hand on your face, tracing the planes of it.

You snaked your hand downward, but Sevika stopped you, bringing your hand back up, “You don’t worry about that.”

“I want to make you feel good,” you breathed, annoyed that she had stopped your wandering hands.

Sevika traced her tongue over her lip, looking at you, “You did.”

Oh. Even though she had literally just eaten you out within an inch of your life, hearing her say that she was satisfied just by giving you pleasure made you clench your thighs.

That movement didn’t go unnoticed, “Mmm, you’re still sensitive, sweetheart.” Her hand travelled down your body, promising another round once you weren’t so sensitive, although she wouldn’t mind seeing you cry from it.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane smut #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x afab reader #sevika smut #i wrote this over a week ago and got good feedback so *unleashes the fic*#in other notes; i survived black friday in retail. and this is the second smut piece i've written - the other time was in 2021

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marstons-angel · 1 year ago

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WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!#outlaws love letters

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marvel-snape-writes · 6 months ago

Note

I humbly submit a request for: heavy breeding kink Severus.

Cursed into Temptation is so well written, and the way you captured him as desperate and repressed with a need for dramatic release would just fit so well.

I hope this inspires you, but if you aren't comfortable writing it then that's all good too. ^-^

I hope you are having a nice day/evening :)

Claiming What’s Yours

Severus Snape x original female character

7.1k words+

18+ smutty Snape of the breed-kink kind 🤭

Thank you to whoever requested this! I hope I’ve done it some justice and I’m especially nervous since this is the first breed-kink fic I have ever written in my life 🫣🤣🫶

For the longest time, Severus Snape didn't believe he should allow himself to feel the amount of pleasure he had experienced over the last few weeks. Falling for the new professor only a few months back was something he never expected, but the way they had gotten to know each other over most recent weeks was something he expected even less. He would be the first person to admit how nervous he felt at the beginning, how hesitant he was to give himself over to the way she made him feel, but in this short amount of time he also couldn't deny she had brought the side out in him that he had repressed for all these years. He had gone from feeling nothing for anyone to absolute infatuated obsession for her, and she was more than happy to oblige; emotionally, physically, sexually.

Desire was not a feeling Severus was particularly familiar with prior to meeting her, though he would be lying if he said it wasn't 99% of what he felt now. The constant urge and need to be near her, touch her, claim her as his own literally any chance he could get. She helped him discover more about himself than he knew before he met her. There was a time when he couldn't even entertain the idea of being alone with a woman in that regard, but now he was having a hard time thinking of anything but. He wanted her, needed her, so much so that he now found himself constantly consumed by the idea of forever being inside her. She audibly loved the way he throbbed each time his entire length slid all the way inside her with absolute ease, and he loved the feeling of her squeezing around him when she just couldn't take the pounding of his hips anymore.

It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed the intimacy at the beginning, but the last few weeks had been unlike anything he could have imagined. It all started when they had got so lost in one another one night that they hadn't even thought about using any protection. They had attended a Hogwarts ball and been kept apart for the majority of the night, occupied by different people wanting their separate attention, but they couldn't help devouring each other with their eyes each time their gaze met across the room. The door to his chamber was barely even shut after them stumbling through it before they were desperately tearing clothes off one another’s backs. Grunts and heavy breathing radiated off the walls, hands flying all over each other, and they didn't even make it to the bedroom. The kitchen table, the counter top, and the wall were just a handful of surfaces they found themselves pressed against or bent over, held to each one by the pinning of desperate hips. Fingers frantically skimmed over skin whilst teeth clattered together from the urgency of their kisses; the desire in their bellies aflame like never before. In all the excitement and whirlwind of their craved release, it had completely slipped their minds to use any form of contraception. Before they even had time to think, Severus was plummeting his hips directly into hers completely, without any barrier of protection, without even a safety-netting spell put in place, without a care in the world for the consequence. The fire that ripped through him as he reached his climax was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was clear that she reciprocated the feeling, but it was only after the panting between them both had calmed down that they had realised why; there hadn't been a single barrier between them, not a single thing put in place to prevent a pregnancy.

It was the constant chase of that pure release that started it first; the knowing that they could only feel like that if they were to risk conceiving again. Then it was that; the risk. They both knew and had admitted previously that they did not wish to have a child, but the danger of this drove their passions even more wild. However, it wasn't long after that, that Severus’ appetite for lust changed; the knowing that she was allowing, even begging at times, for him to release his sticky climax inside her in full knowing of the consequences both good and bad — good being that they could feel every pulse and clench of pleasure they caused one another, and even the once bad being that they may end up with child was now growing less and less of a burden — was driving him insane. To know she trusted him enough to have her this way made him feral. To have at one another like two animals in heat made him feel god-like, and to be this close to her with no barriers between them was becoming even more of a want, even more than a need, it was becoming an obsession. Every time he saw her, his mind was immediately riddled with how they could sneak away to their closest option; a classroom, a potions closet, anywhere to just have their way with one another, and as the days went by, they acted upon these urges like they were ticking off some sort of sex location check list — each place more obscene than the last. Their eyes would meet across a corridor, a hall, or a classroom, and they would both know exactly what the other was thinking; when and where could they do it again?

Today was no different; his need for her was so strong that last night’s rough tumble in the sheets were almost a distant memory. They had crossed paths in the corridor earlier, Severus reached out his arm and purposefully brushed their fingers together, earning a faint smirk as she looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes fell upon a closed potions cupboard door and allowed his mind to drift to what they once got up to in there before and how he would do anything to have that right now. Even brief moments shared like these, especially when not knowing he would be seeing her again, sometimes left him wondering whether he should just lock himself away in his chamber, a potions closet, or even a staff toilet cubicle and get himself off so he could go about his day without the constant craving for release on his mind. However, nine times out of ten he would be won over by the knowing that to save it all for her would satisfy his desires much more; he went with the theory that he more he pumped into her, the more likely she would be to have his child, and to create something now as a result of their burning passion and want for one another would fulfil him more than he could ever begin to explain.

Severus spotted his chance for a brief few moments in between classes and immediately took the opportunity of approaching one of the older students, “Go and tell Professor Lillywhite that Professor Snape wishes to see her.”

The student obliged, as many would, afraid of the snide remarks they would get if they did otherwise, unless they were one of his beloved Slytherin students, of course. Severus walked back into his Potions Classroom and closed the door behind him, exhaling quietly as he began to put away the items that had been left out from the lesson before and muttering to himself about how lazy some of the students were at tidying up after themselves.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” A spine-tinglingly familiar voice broke the silence as his door opened.

“Will you ever stop addressing me like so?” Severus turned around with a brow arched.

“I thought you said that whilst we were at work, we should address each other as—” She felt herself blushing as Severus came closer, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“Ah, but there is a momentary pause between classes at present,” He dipped his head to whisper into her ear and kissed it lightly, “Is there not?”

“Fifteen minutes?” She half giggled, placing her hands now over his large ones that were settled upon her stomach.

“Do you doubt me, Miss Eleanor?” He spoke against her neck this time and tauntingly dragged his lips down the side of it, and she could feel the unshaven scruff that was beginning to grow upon his face; they both were far too fond of fooling around in the bathroom in most recent days that he was scarcely remembering to even shave.

“N…Not at all, Severus…” She spoke in a slightly uneasy tone as a result of his lips now latched upon her neck.

“Do not doubt yourself to put me in a state where I am always ready to have my way with you, regardless of the place or timing,” He gently suckled on the crook of her neck for a few moments, one of Eleanor’s hands reaching up to tangle in his hair with a soft gasp before he spoke again, “And, most importantly, do not doubt my ability of planting my child, ourchild inside you even within those mere fifteen minutes.” His hands absentmindedly rubbed back and forth over her stomach.

“Mmm… fifteen minutes, you say?” She smirked, tilting her head up to catch his eye as she played with his hair, “I would say that its more now like… twelve.”

The fire within Severus’ eyes lit immediately from her words, already feeling the arousing challenge in the pit of his stomach. Eleanor watched as the desire flickered in his eyes, instinctively turning herself around and wrapping her arms around his neck as he leaned down to urgently press their lips together. Severus’ hands moved immediately to her dress and began to rise it above her hips as he backed her into the utility cupboard of his classroom, their kisses becoming rougher with each step they took. Eleanor’s hands slipped from his neck to his chest and then the front of his pants, smirking as her fingertips found the bump in the material. Severus instinctively pushed his hips forward and whimpered against her lips, reaching down for one of her thighs and raising it so she could hook her leg around his waist.

“Mmm… already?” She grinned when her hand cupped his clothed erection, gently squeezing him.

“Will you ever lose the tone of surprise?” He responded, pinning her against the wall by his hips and trapping her hand between them in the process and letting out a soft groan from the added pressure of her hand against his crotch.

Eleanor smirked against his lips and made quick work of unfastening his pants, pulling the crotch open and continuing to kiss him as their breathing became more and more heavy. Every move was made with pure desperation and urgency; him hitching her dress up, her popping open every button on his trousers, him lifting her leg a little further up, her fumbling with his underwear whilst he attempted to reach for hers.

“No underwear?” He asked as his fingertips slid past the hem of her dress, “Good girl.”

“I know how you like it…” Her arms snaked around his neck, “—Sir.”

Severus inhaled shakily from the tone of her voice and he reached between them, guiding himself with one hand and claiming her lips desperately as he thrust himself inside her. Eleanor squealed but knew she must be quieter than if they were in his chamber. Her leg squeezed around him and one arm raised above her head and against the shelf above as Severus wasted no time in pounding's hips upward, grunting heavily with each movement but continuing to kiss her feverishly.

“I should stand at the door as each person enters the castle and cast the muffliato charm upon them so we can have our way with one another at full volume.” He smirked against her lips, moaning in between breaths.

Eleanor could barely respond with words, so just let out a flirtatious giggle instead. She grasped onto one of the shelves overhead to try and keep herself upright whilst taking the urgency of Severus’ hips. The kiss broke briefly as she tilted her head back against the wall, but it didn't take long for Severus’ lips to find her collarbone, then her neck, kissing all the way up to her jaw before hungrily kissing her lips again with a merciless thrust that lifted her even further up the wall.

“You kiss me as if you didn't just have me for your breakfast,” Eleanor whispered against his lips with a grin, her arms now back around his neck again.

“You know that was just a taste…” He whispered back, gently tugging at her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Of…?” Eleanor taunted him, tangling her fingers in his hair.

“What’s to come,” Severus inhaled sharply, readjusting himself so he could move his hips with more ease whilst breathing against her lips and emphasising each word with a powerful thrust, “And, fuck, do I need- to- cum!”

Eleanor moaned softly and squeezed her leg around him, lightly pulling at his hair as his hips relentlessly pounded upwards. Severus’ hand trembled against her thigh as he continued to hold it lifted at his hip, his lips now moving to her neck and harshly sucking at the skin to try and muffle the sounds attempting to escape his mouth. Their bodies shook against one another with desperate want for him to explode inside her and one of Eleanor’s hands even slipped to his bottom to urge him not to stop. Her other hand reached back up to grasp onto one of the shelves above them, knocking a few glasses into each other as her fingertips turned white from how hard her grip was.

“Professor Snape?” A voice called after a few knocks at the classroom door, “Professor Snape, Sir?!” The voice grew louder.

“H—Huh?” Severus forced his eyes open, his hips still moving.

“I have those papers you asked for!” The voice said through the door, “The ones you requested to be placed on your desk before your next class!?”

“Severus!?” Eleanor’s eyes widened, hanging onto him with her arms around his neck again.

“Oh, for fu—” Severus grunted; he had hoped for the person to have given up, however, panic struck both of them when he heard his classroom door open, “Shit- fuck- ugh!” He grumbled in frustration, unsure of if his heart or his cock was throbbing harder.

He placed her foot back on the floor and exhaled deeply, trying to tuck himself away and disguise his pulsing problem the best he could as he fastened his trousers back up. His breathing remained heavy as he watched Eleanor try and push her skirt back down so it covered her properly.

“Stay. Here.” He spoke quietly but firmly, looking her up and down before turning to walk out of his potions closet.

“Ah, Professor Sna—” The young, training Professor tried to speak before Severus cut him off completely;

“My classroom, I speak first,” He snapped, trying to cover up his flustered expression, “I, for one, cannot believe that you think you have the right to burst into my classroom without awaiting my invitation.” He pointed his index finger at him.

“But, Professor, you told me- asked me, even, to come to your classroom with the papers-!” The young Professor tried to explain himself, but Snape had passed the point of any explanation.

“Perhaps I did ask for you to return those papers to me before the start of my lesson, but what I do not recall is inviting you into my classroom without my permission!” Severus’ voice raised.

“But, Professor, I knock—”

“’But Professor’ nothing!” Severus was practically shouting at this point, his cock aching as it was forced to soften in his trousers, “You barge into my room, you disrupt me, and now you throw excuses at me?”

“I—I am sorry,” The young Professor spoke in a shy tone.

“Get out.” Severus turned away from him, exhaling deeply.

“Professor?” The young man blinked hard.

“Out!” Severus spun around on his heels, pointing at the door.

Without another word, the young Professor turned and walked out of his classroom, shutting the door behind him. Severus exhaled deeply and gritted his teeth in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb and brushing his palm over the front of his pants as he glanced down to ensure the obvious bump was gone.

“You can come out now.” He cleared his throat, standing with his hands on his hips as he glanced around the room.

“That was a bit ruthless, Severus…” Eleanor spoke almost shyly as she walked out of the potions cupboard, still adjusting her dress.

“You know I don't like being interrupted.” Severus spoke flatly, turning to face her.

“I know,” She glanced at the door before leaning up to peck his lips, “It was hot.”

“Don’t…” He whispered against her lips, feeling her kiss go straight to his cock.

“Not enough time now?” She teased, looking up at him as she pulled back.

“As much as I think you are more than capable of making me cum within seconds, I think—” He began until Eleanor placed her index finger over his lips.

“Usual place after hours?” She spoke in a seductively suggestive tone, raising her eyebrows.

“Fuck, yes, please.” Severus spoke against her finger, nodding quickly, “If I can last that long.”

“Oh, you better,” She gave him more of a stern look, though a smirk crept upon her face as she walked to the door and she turned around to flash it to him, “I will know, Severus.”

Severus took a shaky breath and walked back behind his desk, gripping onto it tightly as he leaned against it, wanting nothing more than to have Eleanor upon it; legs parted and him between them, pounding away to his hearts content as she begged him to fill her up with his warm, sticky release.

‘No,’ He told himself, shaking his head as he knew the students would be arriving any second, ‘No time for thoughts like that. Just a few more hours and there will finally be no interruption. You can do this.’

The following hours felt like days and Severus was having to try his hardest to not make any mistakes throughout the lessons that filled them. How close he was to exploding inside her just moments before they were interrupted was painful, and it only made him long to be that close to her even more than usual. He wasted no time in heading in the agreed direction once the usual time was upon him, praying for the emptiness of the usual place.

He could feel his skin prickling with heat from the want of her, the need to fill her, as he walked briskly down the torch-lit corridors and then hurried up the steps in the way one would if they were being chased by a boggart. The Astronomy Tower after hours was one of their favoured locations, providing complete undercover silence until the area was filled with echoes of their own pleasure as Eleanor pleaded with him not to stop and Severus panted with desperation of reaching his climax inside her. The view of the stars from the top of the tower were a beauty to behold in their own right, but the stars they saw when their eyes squeezed shut and came apart as a result of their pounding hips were even more impressive. The sheer height of the tower made them feel like they ruled over the whole grounds when stood in their own heat after their desires had been met, like no one else mattered and no one could touch them; like no one in this world or any other had ever shared the closeness that they have when intimate with one another like this; no barriers, no preventions, just the two of them and the possibility of what could be created because of it.

He made his way to the top of The Astronomy Tower, and then he saw her. The whole beauty of the night sky encapsulated within her silhouette. As he approached closer, his eyes feasted upon the dress she was wearing — certainly not the same as earlier in the day. It emphasised everything he loved about her body.

“You must stop forcing me to make such horrible decisions, my pet…” He whispered huskily into her ear from behind.

“I’m sorry?” Eleanor grinned, enjoying the feeling of his arms now snaking around her from behind as her hands remained held onto the railings in front of her.

“Wearing things like this…” He pressed a singular kiss behind her ear, making her shiver, “I can’t decide if I want to fuck you with it on or just completely tear it off.”

“Mmm…” She bit her lip, tilting her head to the side to allow his pathway of kisses down her neck, “My apologies, sir.”

“Keep addressing me like that and this could all be over in a flash.” Severus half joked against the crook of her neck, kissing the skin delicately.

Eleanor giggled and turned her head, pressing her lips to his immediately. Severus’ arms tightened around her as he kissed her back and their eyes fell shut, each of them sighing softly against one another’s lips. Eleanor reached one arm behind her and into his hair, deepening the kiss as she tangled it between her fingers.

“I’ve been craving this…” Severus spoke against her lips, pinning her to the railings with his hips, “Goddamn the power you hold over me, Eleanor,” He inhaled sharply, “To fill you with my baby.”

“Our baby.” Eleanor squeezed her free hand over his against her stomach.

“I must have you,” He breathed heavily in between kisses, stressing his need by brushing his hardened, clothed cock against her bottom, “Now.”

Eleanor’s hand trembled over his slightly, kissing him hungrily, “Take what is yours, Severus.”

“Are you ready for me?” His voice was low, one of his hands now making its way up her inner thigh.

“I—I’m never not ready for you, sir…” She breathed against his lips, feeling her thighs tingle slightly as his hand reached the very top.

The kiss broke with a soft gasp from Eleanor once Severus’ hand made it between her legs. Quickly finding that she was still wearing no underwear, his fingers wasted no time in starting to explore. Eleanor’s mouth fell open with a breathy moan and she hung her head forward, one hand against the railing and another in his hair, each grip growing tighter every time he taunted a finger inside her.

“Mm… so good for me.” Severus growled lowly, using his free hand to reach between them and unfasten his trousers desperately, “Bend over the railing for me, sweetheart.”

Eleanor did exactly as she was told without even a moment of hesitation, both hands now holding onto the railings in aroused anticipation. Severus removed his hand from between her legs and used it to hoist her dress up a little more so he could line himself up with her properly. Within seconds he had thrust himself inside her just like the many times before with such ease. Both of their mouths fell open to let out a breathy moan simultaneously, the closeness of how they had almost lost themselves in Severus’ potion’s closet still in the forefront of their minds.

“Mm, don't hold back, baby…” Eleanor exhaled, pushing back against him.

Severus sucked on each of his coated fingers but remained silent as he leaned over her a little more, pressing his lips to her ear and murmuring into it, “I wasn't planning on it.”

Before Eleanor had a chance to even think about a response, moans were leaving her lips instead from the heavy thuds of Severus’ hips slamming up into hers, his breath still hot against the back of her neck from his grunts. He moved his hands to place them over hers on the railings and squeezed them gently, his teeth now grazing against the skin on the side of her neck. Eleanor whimpered softly as her eyes rolled back in pleasure, feeling her body trembling beneath him already.

“I must apologise,” He panted against her neck, kissing her with each harsh thrust.

“A—Apologise?” Eleanor’s voice shook, feeling the familiar warmth from before in the pit of her stomach as he angled his movements just right.

“This may all be over faster than—” He inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, “N-Normal…” His cock gave an almighty throb, “And for that, I am sorry.”

It was true, the teasing beforehand, the situation they found themselves in, in the potions closet, the way they had to stop just before they got to the most crucial part, all this pent up release was making Severus’ trained self-control a distant memory.

“That…” Eleanor turned around, kissing him hard on the lips, “Is absolutely fine.” She grinned, moaning into the kiss as his relentless hips continued.

“You must feel it with me,” He spoke shakily against her lips, removing one of his hands from hers and instead placing it back between her legs, massaging his fingers against her exactly how he knew she liked it, “Cum for me, my sweet,” He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut as his body began to tense up in pleasure, “Cum with me.”

“Mmhh-mm, Severus!” She gasped against his lips as he moved his fingers with more pressure and bucked his hips against her, his hair growing sweaty as he also tried to maintain the kiss.

“Fuck, I need to cum,” He panted desperately against her lips.

“Put your baby inside me Severus,” She moaned, kissing him again, “Please.”

“A-Agh, El—” Were the only words he managed to strangle out of his tight throat, now burying his face in the crook of her neck as his release began to shoot inside her in desperate, sticky strings of bliss.

“Y—Yes, Sev!” Eleanor whimpered in delight, the mixture of his hips, fingers, and warmth filling her also brought her to her simultaneous climax.

Severus continued to drive his hips forward like some desperate animal and made sure his fingers continued to move in rhythm for Eleanor’s pleasure, too. Both of them drew heavy breaths in between moans and Eleanor’s hands trembled against the railing, biting her lip when she felt Severus’ lips tickle up the side of her neck.

After a few long moments, Severus took a brief step back and fastened his pants back up, meeting Eleanor’s eyes with a slightly red face once he looked back up.

“That was nothing to be sorry for.” She giggled, pushing her dress back down over her hips.

“Blame how you look in that dress.” Severus’ lips curled up into a half smile, half smirk.

“How so?” She tilted her head playfully.

“I didn't even want to get it off you before you made me..” He cleared his throat to try and insinuate what he meant.

“What I would like to know, Severus,” She stepped forward and leaned up onto her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Is how you can try to fuck me in your potions closet, actually fuck me over the railings on the Astronomy Tower, but can't bring yourself to say, what, ‘hard’? ‘Cum’?” She giggled, pecking his lips, “Before I made you… what?”

“Enough,” Severus spoke against her lips, trying not to rise to her playful taunting, “Come to bed.”

Eleanor didn't take any convincing at all, but continued to tease him on the journey to his chamber. The backs of their hands brushed against one another and their fingers briefly intertwined absentmindedly, their beating hearts still not at complete rest from their previous activity. The door closed behind them and Severus turned to kiss her lips as he locked it, sighing softly.

“Hi…” Eleanor kissed him back, placing her hands against his chest, “Have you thought about that word yet?”

“You should know better than to tease me.” Severus squinted his eyes playfully, stepping further into the room.

“Or…” She walked two fingers up his chest, “What?”

Severus raised one of his hands and took hold of her wrist, pulling her hand away from him and playfully rolling his eyes, “You don't want to know.”

“What if I do?” Eleanor narrowed her eyes playfully, shaking her arm away from his gentle grip and watching as he walked into the kitchen to make himself a drink.

“Mother of my child, must you taunt me so?” He mumbled and shook his head with his back turned to her, “Would you like a drink?” He looked over his shoulder.

“What did you just say?” Eleanor’s lips parted slightly.

“I asked if you would like a drink.” Severus shrugged, warming his hands around his own cup as he turned around to face her.

“No, you know that's not what I meant,” Eleanor tilted her head.

Severus arched a brow, trying to play dumb.

“Before that.” She raised her eyebrows.

“Mother of my child?” Severus said nonchalantly, sipping at his cup, “Do you not like me addressing you like so?”

“Oh, no, I do,” Eleanor felt a little flutter in her chest, “But I'm yet to see a baby.”

“No…?” Severus looked at her inquisitively.

Eleanor pressed her lips together and brushed her hands back and forth over the flatness of her stomach.

“I hope you aren't suggesting I am not capable…” Severus’ tone lowered, a scowl threatening on his face.

“All I am saying is that nothing has happened… yet.” She shrugged.

“I do not think it would be wise to continue this conversation.” Severus placed the cup down on the kitchen counter and walked closer to her.

“Why, are you suggesting that you are capable, Professor?” Eleanor bit her lip, her eyes tracing up his body until they met his.

“That and more, Miss Eleanor,” He dipped his head so their lips were only millimetres apart and she could feel his warm breath against them as he repeated, “That and more.”

“Prove it.” She spoke equally close to his lips, “Why do you think I wear this tight dress you like so much? Imagine it all stretched out because of what you did to me…”

Severus parted his lips to speak but all that came out was a soft whimper, growing increasingly turned on by her words. He didn't care if he was about to be the first one who caved, he leaned in and urgently pressed his lips to hers, nudging his whole body against her from the force of it.

“This dress, hm?” She kissed him back forcefully.

“It’s not the dress,” Severus panted against her lips, “Its the person wearing it.”

Eleanor let out a breathy giggle when she felt his arousal prodding against her stomach, snaking her arms around his neck, “Mm, already?”

“This baby isn't going to make itself.” Severus snarled against her lips and tugged at her dress, their lips smacking back together even harder this time.

“Take me to bed.” She whispered lowly against his lips, gently pushing him in the direction of his bedroom.

“With,” He swiftly lifted her up into his arms bridal style, “Pleasure.”

Thankfully he didn't trip on his way since neither of them let up on the kisses, her eyes closed completely and his only briefly open. The smell alone from his bedroom always brought back hundreds of memories for her; their first time, their last time, all the times in between, whether it was soft and gentle for hours on end or desperate and rough, this was the place above all others that they preferred.

His large four post bed was covered in silky black sheets and two pillows for each of them — she loved how he always personalised her comfort. Even to the way he delicately laid her down upon the sheets as if she were made of glass. Eleanor’s arms remained around his neck and she pulled him down with her, her hands now tangling in his hair. Severus placed both his hands at either sides of his head and lowered himself over her, their tongues now touching with each urgent kiss.

“Off,” He grunted, now pulling at her dress again, “I’ve had you in this dress, now I must have you out of this dress.”

“Be my guest.” Eleanor grinned and pushed him off her gently so she could stand again and guided his hands to the zip on her dress.

She could feel his hands trembling in anticipation as he found the zip but gasped when she felt how urgently he pulled it down, peeling it off her skin. Eleanor made quick work of the buttons of his own clothing and each of them discarded their clothing on the floor until they were stood completely in the nude. She could already feel the warmth of his arousal radiating against her, curious fingers exploring each other’s bare bodies as they made their way under his bed sheets despite caressing each other god-knows how many times before.

“On your back, darling,” He whispered against her lips, kissing them lightly now as they laid on their sides to face each other, “I want to look at you while I am breeding you.”

“Yes, Professor.” Eleanor obeyed, rolling onto her back and gazing up at him.

“What are you… to me?” He asked, looking down at her as he leaned over her.

“Your lover?” She asked after a kiss.

He then kissed her again and then spoke, “And?”

“Your mistress?”

“And?”

“The mother of your child?”

His kiss was harder this time, his body now completely on top of hers, “And?”

“Yours?” She rested her hands against his lower back, “All yours.”

“Yes,” He inhaled sharply as he pushed himself inside her, kissing her again, “Good girl.”

Eleanor lifted her legs to hook around him and allow him to slot himself between her with even more ease, moaning against his lips at the feeling of him filling her up again. Severus’ eyes immediately closed and he wasted no time in starting to move his hips, though kissing her with more meaning than desperation this time. Eleanor helped guide his hips as her hands remained at the bottom of his back, tilting her head to the side to allow his lips to latch onto her neck.

Barely even minutes in, and she could already feel his cock pulsing each time he thrust in and out of her, making her whimper out his name as her eyes rolled back in pleasure. His lips latched onto her neck and he sucked on her skin as if a vampire to his prey. Eleanor dug her nails into his skin and arched her back as his thrusts picked up a merciless pace, breathing heavily against her neck as she moaned out his name several times. The chanting of his name only made him strive to be even more rough with her, the headboard now sounding around the room as it slammed against the wall.

“Fuck, Severus…” She gasped in pleasure, spreading one of her legs out completely to help ease the ever-growing pounding of his hips, “D-Don’t you dare stop…”

“To stop would not be to breed you, my pet…” Severus spoke huskily into the crook of her neck and flicked his tongue against her sensitive skin before raising his head to look down at her beneath him.

Eleanor lost her breath as she gazed up at his animal-like form through her heavy eyes. She loved for him to claim her like this; make her his in his bed. Sure, sneaking around in potions closets and empty classrooms had a certain thrill to it, but nothing compared to how he had his way with her behind definite closed doors. His caresses would be so possessive, yet so gentle. Their kisses would grow more passionate than ever, barely even coming up for breath until they were blue in the face. He would always want to be above her — to assert his dominance and intimate protection whilst looking in her eyes.

“H—Harder…” Her words were barely audible, the air in her lungs being pumped out by his hips.

“Sweetheart, I plan on making you forget your own fucking name,” He leaned down to press a harsh kiss to her lips, almost as if in punishment for even questioning his performance, “When you can no longer walk,” He paused from speaking briefly as his hips bucked up against hers, “And only then,” She swore she felt his cock break through into her stomach, “Will I be satisfied that I have fucked you hard enough.”

“Fu…” Her attempt of words trailed off into silence as she felt Severus’ hands move down to her thighs and part them as far as they would go.

“Would that be okay, princess?” He spoke lowly, gazing down at her with her thighs spread wide in his grip.

“I— I beg you not to stop, Severus!” She whimpered, “Please!”

“What do you want me to do instead?” He narrowed his eyes, his expression screaming how aware he was of the power he held over her — power she willingly allowed him to have.

“Claim me, make me yours,” She rambled, throbbing with want from his now still hips, “Fill me,” She inhaled sharply and quickly, watching as the fire in his eyes grew even more, “Use me as a place to release it all, Severus…” Her hands trembled, leaning up on her elbows, “The one way you know you can me me truly yours.”

“And how might that be, hm?” He tilted his head, unsure how much longer he could hold himself back now.

Eleanor reached up and brought him down into a rough kiss, growling against his lips, “Breed. Me.”

Severus felt as if he could lose himself from that command alone, and, quite frankly, struggled not to. Instead, he kissed her back, but only once, before raising himself up a little further again with her thighs still in his grip and starting to plunge his hips up into hers as hard as he possibly could without breaking through the wall to next door. Eleanor threw her head back in pleasure, her mouth wide open in order to allow countless moans flow out. Severus hung his head forward, his now sweaty hair falling over his face and swishing back and forth in time with his thrusts. He grunted each time his length shoved all the way inside her, his hands growing clammy against her thighs as they remained in his grip. The pleasure surging through him made him feel god-like, knowing how Eleanor gave herself over to him like this with no barriers between them, the utmost wordless way of giving herself to him by begging him to put a child inside her and ultimately binding them together forevermore.

“Oh, fuck, Eleanor,” He pressed his lips together firmly, feeling his hands beginning to slip, “You are going to be the fucking death of me.”

“Not before you become the father of my child.” Eleanor replied breathily with her head still hung back in pleasure.

“You want that?” Severus panted, never tiring from hearing him tell her.

“What gave it away?” Eleanor spoke as she raised her head again, catching his eye line.

Severus felt the heat in his stomach begin to rise and he suddenly dipped his head again, their teeth clattering as their lips crashed back together. His hands fell back to her sides again and her legs naturally wrapped themselves back around his body, keeping him as close as possible but still allowing the full thrust of his hips.

“Severus, I have one question…” Eleanor spoke against his lips, pulling his bottom lip out slightly.

“W—What, now!?” Severus narrowed his eyebrows, unable to stop the slamming of his hips as if they were now moving of their own accord.

“Why is it that you insist on black bedding when you know you’re going to cum so much that it's going to spill out of me and onto them?” She spoke seductively, smirking against his lips as one hand slid into his hair and the other slid down the back with her nails.

“Mmmh… Jesus fucking Christ…” Severus whimpered, feeling the pleasure starting to overcome him as a result of her words, “I’ll just have to make sure I fuck you deep enough so that it all remains inside you.”

With that, he pushed himself even harder than he thought he could go, and within seconds he knew he was about to explode. He continued to drive his hips forward in rhythm with Eleanor’s moans, his own growing more and more high pitched and breathless as his orgasm continued to climb up his body like wildfire.

“Sev—!”

“E—Eleanor!”

The feeling of Severus’ climax shooting inside her with each deep thrust was more than enough to tip Eleanor over the edge. Their kisses were completely clumsy, their tongues touching sloppily as their hips continued to move agains each other to desperately ride out their joint pleasure. Severus felt like fireworks were exploding throughout his body as strings of release continued to pour inside her, Eleanor now squeezing her legs around him even tighter to keep him as close to her as possible.

“Severus, baby, mm!” Eleanor whimpered, her hand shaking in his clammy hair as she did her best to keep their faces in line with one another.

“O—Oh, fuck, that feels so good…” Severus panted hard against her lips, still feeling the need to keep his hips moving despite practically emptying what felt like his entire bodyweight inside her, “So good…”

“That’s it,” She grinned, kissing him again as both of her arms wrapped themselves around him.

Severus’ hips very gradually came to a stop and he let out a shaky breath against her lips, smiling softly as the kiss broke. Their eyes met and the once lit animal-like desire in his were now replaced with genuine admiration and love.

“That was unlike anything I have ever experienced,” Severus exhaled slowly, the both of them still struggling to catch their breath, “You are everything.”

“You do such a good job of claiming what’s yours, Severus.” Eleanor spoke as he leaned down to kiss her.

“Mine,” He spoke against her lips, “Mine,” He spoke against her neck, “Mine,” He spoke against her collarbone, “Mine, mine” He spoke against each of her breasts, lowering himself, “Mine,” He kissed each of her thighs as his head disappeared under the sheets, and Eleanor lifted them up slightly so she could watch him this time as his lips brushed against her stomach, gazing up into her eyes, “Mine.”

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washingtonmarvel · 8 months ago

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Since my first post about Charmion only scratched the surface, I thought I'd give some more info about a few different aspects of her story here. I hope everyone finds it worth reading.

First, Charmion was a marketing genius. She was one of the most photographed people in show business, her flexed arms ubiquitous in the newspapers of the era, and she gave out free pinback buttons with her image on them at each show. Charmion herself reported in 1905 that she’d given out a quarter of a million buttons over the previous year. I don't know how accurate that number is, but there was definitely a huge number produced and you can often find them for pretty affordable prices on eBay to this day. Charmion would also sometimes give away chocolates, clothes, and other souvenirs to the women in the audience.

Second, during her travels, Charmion made time to personally advise women who needed help with their fitness goals. During her time in New Orleans in 1902, for example, she let it be known that the hours of 5 to 7 would be set aside for any woman wanting a “conference” with her to discuss matters relating to “physical culture.”

Third, Charmion could be considered one of the first female bodybuilders. Through rigorous workouts (including curling fifty-to-seventy-pound dumbbells and one-hour bag-punching sessions), Charmion intentionally tried to build her muscles as large as possible, which was incredibly rare for a woman in that era. Even circus strongwomen, who showed off their strength publicly, often downplayed their muscularity, but Charmion was eager to show off her muscles and actively tried to grow them. Apparently, it worked. By her own account, when she began her career the (already very fit) Charmion weighed 98 pounds at a height of 5’1”. She afterward gained enough muscle that by 1902, she was a solid 130 pounds. Charmion would’ve also felt at home with modern bodybuilders in the sense that on-stage posing was a major part of her performances. After she had finished disrobing on the trapeze, she would conclude her show by standing onstage and flexing her biceps before turning around and displaying her back muscles. The audiences were as flabbergasted as you’d expect. “When she hunches her back,” said one newspaper, “it looks like a cage of boa-constrictors interlaced in a snake-fight”; “her shoulders and arms appear a knotted mass of muscles,” said another.

The less pleasant aspects of Charmion's story are the misogyny and prudishness that Charmion dealt with with throughout her career. There were attempts (some successful, some not) to ban her act in New York, New Orleans, London, and Berlin, and she had to contend with right-wing attacks throughout her career. Here are a few newspaper quotations to show the kind of opposition she encountered:

Times Herald (Washington, D. C.), May 10, 1898: “Her performance is a simple attempt to provoke all the lower passions of which mankind is capable, without passing the limit the law has placed on such an exhibition. It is for this reason that Charmion is revoltingly disgusting, coarse and disagreeable. It is because of this that no man, who realizes what he is doing, or respects himself, will care to take his mother or sister to the National Theater this week.”

Sioux City Journal, May 15, 1898: “Charmion’s object in her trapeze act is indecency.”

The Times (Washington, D. C.), May 15, 1898: “It seems revolting to think that men would go to a place of amusement with the sole idea of witnessing such a performance, but that women should willingly accompany them is nothing less than disgusting.”

The Courier and Argus (Dundee, Scotland), Aug. 5, 1898: “…it is scarcely possible to conceal the fact that Charmion’s performance takes us very much nearer to the frank indecencies of the Parisian variety theatres than we have hitherto strayed.”

Daily Gleaner (Fredericton, New Brunswick), Oct. 26, 1898: “we hail with gratification the drastic criticism by a section of the New York press of such debasing performances as those first given by a woman called Charmion…Charmion’s act had grace and beauty to recommend it, and except that it was performed by a woman it was no worse than the undressing act of the equestriam [sic] acrobat in the circus; but it was the natural forerunner of the others, and so should never have been permitted in a theatre making pretence to decency.”

The Times, January 1, 1899: “Charmion’s ‘turn’ was revolting.”

Toronto Saturday Night, January 18, 1902 [speaking about Charmion disrobing on the trapeze] “There is an unpleasant suggestiveness inseparable from such an act.”

The Kansas City Star, September 19, 1904: “Her turn is offensive to modesty.”

As infuriating as these comments are, the happy irony of the conservative attacks on Charmion is that they only made her more powerful. As even her critics sometimes admitted, the controversy stirred up by those critics served to make her act more intriguing and helped increase her popularity. For a woman devoted to liberating women from the constraints placed on them by the society, her message must have been even more meaningful because so many men tried to constrain her and she overcame that adversity. You can see how little success her critics had by the fact she was one of the most popular vaudeville stars in the world, sometimes earning the equivalent of almost $20,000 per week in today’s money.

Of course, not all men disapproved of Charmion’s act, and she had her fair share of male fans. But almost all her critics were men. And though there must have been lesser-known female critics, there’s only one example I can find of a woman (at least initially) disapproving of her. That woman was Elizabeth Grannis, president of the Purity League, an organization that supported the kind of repression and prudishness that Charmion fought against her whole career. Grannis, with a committee of Purity League members, attended a performance one day in 1901 to “judge for themselves” whether the act was as “impure" as alleged. After the performance (during which Charmion daringly threw a garter into Grannis’s box), a local newspaper said, surprisingly, that Grannis “was pleased by the things done and undone by the actress” and “was delighted with the actress’ control of her muscular system.” Charmion, likely not a fan of the Purity League, was not mollified by the praise. Asked about Grannis later, she bluntly said, “I scarcely approve of her.”

If you all are still interested, I’ll share more posts about Charmion. I’m mildly obsessed with her and there’s loads more fun facts and stories about her. Thanks for reading.

EDIT: Here's a photo gallery for anyone who's still interested in Charmion:

#women's history #history #feminist #victorian #sexism #women in history #historyblr

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howlett-dekarios · 7 days ago

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𝚂𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑

▏Trilogy!Logan x Reader

▏Summary: You were the perfect student of Scott's. But after you've came back form university, you've changed and Logan can't stand it.

▏Word count: 3,5k

First days in school were a very weird experience for him. Being around so many kids and a few teens who were genuinely interested in studying here. The place itself being some sort of safe space for them. Truly unusual to watch something from so close, or even being considered a part of. Xavier wasn’t pushing him into anything though, rather giving him time to adjust to the new reality. Logan didn’t really feel like matching the whole vibe. Being a responsible adult, an example for youngsters.

He was called by Charles into his office. What he didn’t expect though was to be bumped into on his way in.

“Of course Professor, it will be done as soon as possible-“ A young woman's voice was stopped when her head hit the hard chest of Howlett. Her gaze quickly rose and was met with his unreadable eyes. “I-I’m so sorry Mister..”

“I’m Logan, kid.” His voice stern. “You should be more careful.”

“Yes, of course, I’m so sorry.” She stuttered. This guy wasn’t giving the nicest aura. Big, grumpy and intimidating with the cigar between his lips. “It’s my fault, I-“

“I’m just kidding, kid.” He gave her a teasing smirk, definitely enjoying how she had been panicking just seconds ago. Logan was a bastard who was well aware of his posture. “Nothing happened.”

“Sure..” Her red cheeks made him smirk even more. Are all students like this girl? “Goodbye, Professor, have a nice evening. Same for you Mr. Logan.” And with that she left as fast as possible, embarrassed by the whole situation she put herself into.

“Take care, bub.” His attention focused on Charles again. “Are all of them so scared?” The question was rather sarcastic one.

“I prefer the term of well behaved and polite.” The man in the wheelchair smiled and got back to sorting documents that were stuffed on his desk. “Besides Y/n is one of the best students here. Very smart and well raised young woman.”

“Oh is she?”

“I’m quite positive. She was asking me for the recommendation letter for the university she wants to get into.”

“They can do that?” Logan was honestly surprised. He couldn’t really imagine graduating from such school and being accepted in a ‘normal’ world later.

“It’s not so common unfortunately. Most students prefer staying here and becoming teachers like Jean or Scott. That or move out to the countries where the knowledge about mutant kind is less advanced.”

“They’re running away from reality-“

“Seems familiar?” Charles gave him that knowing look which other mutant already hated from the first day here. Older professor was actually one of the few people who had the ability not to take offense and even mouth back. Old ‘I know everything’ bastard. “But I didn’t call you here to talk about Y/n performance in studies. You made your decision, Logan?”

Howlett wasn’t dumb, well knowing about what exactly this question was. Him staying in the mansion. If he was ready to fit into school reality. To deal with kids, or worse, with Scott. But what choice did he really have in that matter? It was that or coming back to the shadows. To live from paycheck to paycheck, getting any non-attachment job, vanishing as soon as someone realized who he truly was. And here? As much as Logan hated to admit it, it started to feel like home. Being accepted, doing whatever he wanted without needing to think about being discovered. A stabilization he never thought he really needed.

There was one more thing. He was in debt to Charles. For all the help the old man provided him with getting back the memories. For making it possible to puzzle all his life together. Such sort of debt wasn’t something a man can forget just like that. Or at least Logan couldn’t.

“I’m gonna stick around. No teaching though.” Not yet at least. He wasn’t ready for such responsibility.

“A babysitter then?” Xavier laughed, which only made the other man roll his eyes.

“I can train older ones.” Make himself useful by the skills he has. Not much but could be good to start.

“Very well, so be it Logan.”

And that’s how he officially became part of the life of the mansion.

For the next month Logan hasn’t gotten a lot of occasions to cross his way with Y/n. She was too focused on her studies and getting ready for the university life she planned for herself, and he definitely wasn’t the type to beg her to move her ass and join the training with the rest of teens. He really couldn’t point out why every other member of the team was so fascinated about that girl. Sure, she was nice, kind and smart, but that wasn’t making her anyone special in his mind.

That’s how on her last day in the mansion Logan was indifferent towards her. When Scott and Storm were all teary, hugging her and wishing luck, he stayed aside, watching it from the far corner of the room.

“Mr.Logan-“ Her face made it clear she didn’t know what to say after that.

“Just Logan, bub. You’re a grown up so act as one.” Maybe a bit too rude, judging by Jean killing gaze he felt on himself. “Just do your best there and don’t let anyone boss you around. If all I heard about you from Charles is true, then I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

“Thank you.. Logan.”

“Y/n we need to go, you’ll be late for the tour around campus.” Scott called her after packing everything in the truck.

“I’m coming.” She smiled at Logan one last time. “Sorry for not attending your classes.”

“Yeah, whatever, it was your choice.” He shrugged, patting her arm. “Just don’t bump into anything on your first day there.”

“I won’t-“

“Y/n!”

“Coming!”

And just like that she was gone, starting a new chapter.

It was quite funny how history repeated itself.

After five years and graduating from the university she was once again at home. Talking with Professor about wanting to come back. To help both the school, since she had a degree in psychology so she could help students to understand their emotions, but also to fulfill her responsibilities as a mutant. Charles has always been saying how her mutation was so unique and how much it could serve for goodness.

In those few years she understood where she should be. Who she should be helping. As a successful psychologist it would be so easy to just open her own practice and make good money, but deep down Y/n got the feeling that it wasn’t what would make her happy. Being surrounded by normal people, hearing all the hideous things they’ve been saying about her kind.. it just made it more clear. It wasn’t her world. She wasn’t welcomed in it. She never should’ve left the mansion.

She was so stuck in her own mind that she didn’t notice the body in front of her. Not until her nose sunk deep into someone’s white wifebeater.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I-“

“Old habits die hard, huh?” Deep voice made her realize who exactly she bumped into. Again.

At this point Y/n was sure that the universe is just playing its most hilarious pranks on her.

At first Logan didn’t recognize her.

Those five years changed her entirely. From a nineteen girl who he had only seen with her nose in the books, to a fully grown woman.

Fuck, a very attractive one too.

The upper messy bun, the white shirt and dark shorts which left very little to the imagination.. If the concept of glow up was real, then it sure as hell could be used in her case. He really needed to double check if it was actually her.

“Logan.”

“Y/n.”

They’ve been looking at each other and if not for Charles, it quickly could’ve been awkward.

“Good to see you here Logan, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Man in a wheelchair smiled and pointed at his student. “Y/n decided to join the team. But she will need a little bit of training before she can go for the missions. I believe your teaching skills could be useful for us.”

“And how do I know she won’t bail it all like the last time?”

“I’ve changed.”

“Yeah, I can see it.” Quite literally. One was sure, if Scott could see his thoughts right now, he would probably beat his ass because none of them were appropriate. “Fuck, alright.”

“Excellent. Welcome back Y/n.”

Next weeks were true torture. Watching her in clothes that wrapped her body tightly. All sweaty and with a face that showed true motivation to win against him. One thing he learned about Y/n was how university indeed changed her. From a polite and shy student, to a bratty and confident woman. Testing his patience limits whenever she opened her mouth.

Every night he was coming back to his room, getting in the shower and getting off to the thoughts of her in his bed. Laid down naked, spread all just for his pleasure. Her mouth finally shut up by his dick inside, abusing her throat. Logan wasn’t certain why it all made him so on edge, but something in her just made it impossible for him to focus. The thoughts of her irresistible.

He couldn’t act on it though. She was too young for him. Being the precious girl of Scott and Charles, the brightest and so perfect student of theirs.

But one evening made him lose it all.

“Always having such a fucking smart mouth bub, huh?” He hissed through his teeth, while having a strong grip around her throat. “Never taking my advices-“

“Maybe I would if you wouldn’t have your eyes on my tits all the time.” She mouthed back, using her power to form a dagger and sticking it into his lower stomach. “You’re always so grumpy, why is that? Haven’t put your dick into anything in a long time?” The bluntness of her words took him completely off guard since Logan was sure about hiding it rather well.

Those few seconds gave her enough time to pin him to the floor, her legs on his chest and another dagger white energy dagger near his throat.

“I won.” Y/n gasped, clearly out of breath. After weeks of sparrings and constant failures she’s finally made it for the first time.

Her being on top of him was enough for Logan tho. In a second he rolled over, strong arms pinning her to the training matt.

“Get the fuck out.” He groaned, looking into her eyes. He wasn’t playing anymore. “We are done.”

There was no way of him working with her ever again.

For hours Y/n was debating on how to approach Logan. What she should say, how to apologize to him. She took it too far, using some cheap shitty distraction to win. In reality she wasn’t even sure if Howlett had any interest in her, and judging by his reaction it was clear that he took the offense. The accusation of being unprofessional like this.. it was a really low blow.

That’s why she was currently standing in front of his room, knocking and waiting for an opportunity to say sorry.

What she didn’t expect was to be met with him half naked, wearing some sweats and having wet hair.

“I-I’m.. listen Logan, I’m sorry about what I’ve said-“

He didn’t give her a chance. Instead his big hands grabbed her waist, dragged into his room and pinned to the other side of the closed door.

“Oh, really, princess?” He fumed, his eyes focused on her face like he was really looking for any sign of doubt, not really in a mood to be played over again.

“L-Logan I’m really sorry-“

“You should be, bub. Using my weakness, like it wasn’t you who have been wearing these tight pants and bras of yours.”

“W-what-“

“Everyone thinks you’re so smart but I see that you don’t have basic instincts, huh? Teasing me every damn time, like you don’t want me to fuck you dumb, and then having the audacity to just spit it in my face.”

“I swear I didn’t-“

“Is that so? Then why can I smell you know, Y/n?”

Fuck.

Fuck his heightened senses. The second he grabbed her she started getting wet, squeezing her legs just to provide any sort of pressure.

“Logan-“

“I asked you a question, bub.” The threatening tone near her ear made a shiver run down her spine. “But let me ask again. Do you like it Y/n?”

Truth be told, the time she spent with Logan made her realize how handsome the guy was. Strong and cut muscles, the height, and now the chest hair and happy trail going down under the waistband.

“My eyes are here, princess.” He chuckled seeing her struggle.

“Y-yes.” If before she was out of breath, then now it was literally no existent.

“Good.”

And just like his eyes landed on hers. Swallowing her flavor. Devouring any place he could. Quickly the kisses lower to her neck, leaving the trails of his spit and teeth on it. Bruising it like it was his job to do so.

“Logan!” Her moans were a pure symphony for his ears.

“Legs.” The simple order made her obey, wrapping her legs around his waist like it has always been their place. “Good girl.”

It didn’t take him long to make her a moaning mess. Dropping her on the bed and undressing, leaving her fully naked just as in his scenarios.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about it for too damn long. Always wearing those tops that are fucking too little and cute for your slutty tits. I imagine guys on campus enjoyed them.” Her nipples were being abused just like the neck before. “But they’re mine now, you get it, bub?”

“Yes, yes, please.” She cried, trying to cover her eyes, both from pleasure and embarrassment.

“Ah, ah, ah, none of this. You can’t act all shy on me now when you’ve been such a bratty bitch all the time, baby.” Logan grabbed her hand and pinned them together above her head, not making it possible for her to do anything else than just take what he was giving. After he was satisfied with his work on the upper parts of her body, he took his pants off and smirked at her reaction. Logan was quite aware of his size being above any normal human, so it wasn’t any surprise. “Never had anything like that, huh? None of your little college boys gave you something like that? But don’t worry, princess, I’ll make sure it fits.”

But before he could enter her, she stopped him, putting her hand on his chest.

“Logan, wait!” Seeing his confused face, she whispered the thing he couldn’t believe was real. “I-I’ve never done it..”

“Come again?” But her reaction to his question ensured him that what he just heard was true. “You are a virgin?”

She nodded, not being able to look into his eyes.

“Y/n look at me.” She shook her head, afraid of him being mad at her. “I said look at me, bub.” Logan gently grabbed her chin and forced her to face him. “It’s okay. It’s fine, you don’t need to be ashamed. Fuck, you’ve been so confident in your words back there that I thought.. but it doesn’t matter. It’s all good, I’ll be gentle. Just tell me if anything will be wrong, okay?” When she nodded one again, he smirked. “Words Y/n. You have such a smart mouth then use it now.”

“Okay.”

That’s when his member slowly entered her. Inch by inch, Logan was checking on her if everything was fine. The little pain expressions were a natural reaction considering his size, so he was soothing her legs, calming her down by praising how well she was doing.

“So fucking good for me, baby, so tight and warm.”

At first Logan wanted to give her some time to adjust but instead the girl told him to move.

“I want it, Logan.”

And who was he to deny her?

His pace was too slow for his liking, but her comfort was in first place.

“Faster, please.” She moaned, not being able to stand his gentle trust. “I’m not made of glass.”

Oh, she really shouldn’t have said that.

“As you wish.”

Logan grabbed her legs and turned her around, making her stand on all four. Pounding into her relentlessly, like his life depended on it. One hand grabbed both of her, holding them as a lever, making her arch in a way that will never leave his mind. Other went straight to her hanging breasts, squeezing them and overstimulating to her limits.

“Lo! Please, fuck, I’m close.. Lo..”

“I should’ve known that all it takes to finally shut you up is just to fuck you dumb. Such a good pussy for me, keeping herself pure just so I can use it however I want, isn’t it right princess?”

“Yhym, yeah, please, Lo!” Her mind clouded by the overwhelming pleasure.

“Already dumbfounded, how sweet. What would Scott think about you, baby, huh? You think he would be proud of his perfect student to be pistoned like a cheap whore? Just a hole for my pleasure of all the people?”

His fingers traveled from her tits to her clit, making small fast circles which made her legs tremble uncontrollably.

“Logan! I think I’ll-“

“I know, princess, I can feel you squeezing my cock. Give it to me Y/n, milk me so I can know how good your cunt is.” He kept his brutal pace, pounding into her from behind. Feeling how her legs were slowly giving up, Logan freed her hand and slapped her ass, leaving a red mark on it. “Cum on me, baby.”

“Lo! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It didn’t take much for him to follow her, reaching his orgasm, painting her walls white with his own cum. The trip to the drugstore for the morning after pill will be the first thing needed in the morning, but for now his mind was focused on something else.

Y/n didn’t take Logan as a type of the good aftercare guy, rather betting on the ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ man. But to her surprise after they both calmed down from their high, he grabbed her waist and cuddled her into his chest.

“You alright?”

“Yes.. shit, it was..”

“I feel the same, princess. You did a very good job.” He smirked, giving her tender pecks full of affection. “I’ll clean you in a second, baby. Also I don’t think you’ll be able to have any sparring tomorrow.”

The teasing comment made her blush, but she knew he was right. It’ll be a miracle if she will be able to walk properly. But it took her a second to realize the true meaning behind his words.

“So… we are cool?”

It honestly made him smile. But it wasn’t his usual forced grimace. This time that smile was kind, soft and genuine which made her heart melt a little.

“Yes, Y/n. We are cool. Besides, you were right. I was checking your tits all the time.”

They both laughed at that and after a few more seconds in a tight warm embrace, Y/n fell asleep.

Finally after five years of being here, Logan found a good reason why it was worth staying.

BONUS

Their relationship was kept a secret. To Logan it was ridiculous, but Y/n didn’t want Scott to find out, knowing that her former teacher would be furious. He would definitely judge the choices she’s made, especially by choosing Logan of all the guys. So that’s why they’ve been hiding. Stealing private moments, hiding in empty classrooms for quick make out sessions. Sneaking out of each other's rooms in the middle of the night.

But one day, she fucked up.

Charles called the whole for an emergency meeting early in the morning. She was still tired from the entire night intimate session with Logan, that her brain didn’t have any moment to wake up and start working properly. Instead of grabbing her own hoodie, she put on Logan’s which was too big for her.

The whole meeting went smoothly, though she couldn’t understand why Scott was giving her angry glances, at the same time Logan smirking like crazy.

“Nice hoodie, sweetheart.” He finally whispered into her ear, when the gathering was over. The realization hit her instantly like a bullet.

“I can explain-“ Y/n started.

“Fucking asshole.” Scott only bumped his arm into Logan’s chest on his way out, not wanting to hear it all.

“Well that could be worse.” Another smirk appeared on Howlett’s face.

The next thing she felt was his lips on hers. There was no way he wouldn't use the first occasion to show off his girlfriend.

▏A/n: Was the first concept writing some sort of teacher's pet fic? Yeah, but then it slightly evolved. Hope you enjoyed it tho!

#logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlet x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james logan howlett #x men #xmen logan #xmen wolverine #logan x y/n #logan x you #wolverine smut #wolverine x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlet smut

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