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vivwritesfics · 25 days ago

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Easy Is The Way

He made it very clear that you would entertain his company, but little else. He would no fall for you, but he would not be cruel to you. He would be kind to you, he would care for you, but he would not let himself fall for you

Lucius Verus x reader (general Acacius's daughter)

Chapter One

"What did he do to you?" Your father whispered once you had gotten home.

"Nothing," you said quickly, shaking your head. "Father, he was not cruel to me. He did not lay a hand on me. He allowed me to rest." Your arms were crossed over your stomach, holding your sides as you looked at the floor.

Your father wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. "I will put a stop to this," he whispered, a tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek. "Even if it ends me."

You swallowed, your mouth dry as you stepped back, as you walked away from him. The baths. You just wanted to wash. Wash away the Colosseum, wash away all of it.

Hanno. His home had been taken from him by your father. His life had been ruined by your father. His wife, murdered at your father's command. He had no reason to be kind to you, had every reason to wrap his hands around your neck and watch you die.

It was the revenge he so deserved. Take the life of Marcus Acacius' daughter, avenge his wife.

Something was going on with Lucilla.

As you bathed, you heard whispers. Things that the staff had overheard, that they were sharing amongst themselves. But they weren't sharing it with you. You tried to listen in as you soaked in the warm waters of the private baths in your home, but they were keenly aware of you.

The information was not for your ears, that was clear.

Your father was being secretive, quiet. Whatever was going on with Lucilla was shared between them, not for your ears. You gritted your teeth and tried to not let the frustration show on your face.

No matter what room you entered, it fell silent as soon you did. Even if you tried to creep, you were unable to keep yourself hidden. Your fathers trained ears were able to pick you up the moment your sandals hit the stone floor.

You couldn't hide that it frustrated you. Not knowing, being left in the dark.

The next day of the games. You didn't expect your gladiator to survive. But he wasn't your gladiator, was he? He was just a gladiator who happened to be kind to you.

Maybe the Emperors would make another example out of you. Maybe they would send you down to the Colosseum again if he won, send you to be his prize. You could spend time with him, get to know more about him and his home.

The colosseum was full of water. It looked beautiful, but you knew that it was deadly. Water full of sharks and, soon, the remains of gladiators.

Seated beside your father, you watched as the ships emerged. There was little you could hear over the cheer of the crowd, but Hanno's voice rang out. You couldn't make out what he was saying, but it was clear as day that he was leading his men.

Whilst everyone cheered, while the twin Emperors grinned down at the scene in front of them, the scene that had been carefully curated for their amusement and pleasure, you shut your eyes. The violence and blood and gore of men fighting men had already been too much for you.

This was another level of barbaric.

The same air of unease settled over Lucilla and your father. She held his hand, unable to breathe as the flaming arrows were shot towards the gladiators.

The sail was on fire as the two ships headed towards each other. Muttered prayers left your lips, not loud enough for anybody to hear over the noises of the crowd. This wasn't real to them. Some game to fill their afternoon.

The first gladiator fell into the water. You could only hope that the arrow piercing his armour got to him before the shark did. The beast grabbed him, tore him apart as the water around his body turned red.

Your heart beat erratically as you searched for Hanno. There he was, still commanding the gladiators. You released a breath, sitting back in your seat.

They used the ship like a battering ram, splintering the hull of the other one. Immediately, Hanno began running. He leapt onto the other ship, taking two men down with him.

Another man fell into the water. The sharp immediately grabbed him and dragged him to his death.

In a way you were grateful for the smoke that obscured your view. You couldn't see the danger, couldn't see the brutality happening before you.

You couldn't see if Hanno was stabbed. You couldn't see if he was tossed into the water and torn apart by the sharks. In a way it was a blessing.

But you didn't know what was happening. It had unease settling in your chest as you desperately tried to see what was going on. The glimpses, not long enough to see which gladiator was which, did nothing to settle you.

The ships moved closer, oars splintering against the Colosseum walls. They were in front of you now, close enough that you could hear every time their swords clashed, every grunt that left their lips. You couldn't look away.

Suddenly, you caught a glimpse of Hanno. He grabbed the crossbow and raised it as the other gladiators fought. For a moment, one moment where your anxiety had spiked so high, you thought he was pointing it at you. But his eyes were trained on you, he hadn't even looked your way.

Your father. He wanted to kill your father. If it wasn't for the gladiator that knocked into him, he would have. He loosed the arrow as the other gladiator touched him and the arrow embedded itself in Emperor Geta's seat.

You couldn't stop the way you gasped. For a brief second, while he picked himself up, he looked at you. Geta shouted. You didn't know what he shouted as you sat forward in your seat. Your father stood, pulling Lucilla up with him. It wasn't safe, that was clear.

Your father pulled you to your feet, but you shrugged off his grip, desperate to see more. Hanno would not hurt you, you knew that much.

Geta and Caracalla ran, their tails tucked between their legs. But your father was still, unable to look away from the gladiator that had threatened his life. Did he know that he was the real target? That the arrow was never meant for Emperor Geta?

"In the name of the Emperors!" The games master shouted, drawing out every word "The victor is Hanno!"

Macrinus stood, and you did the same. You raced out ahead of him, heading the way they took you the day before, when you being given as a prize, as a punishment.

They didn't stop you as you moved through the colosseum. Everybody beneath the colosseum cheered, beat their chests as Hanno as his army (because really, what else were they? They were willing to follow him to the ends of the earth) walked through.

You watched, hidden behind the men as they stopped. "Who did this?" Somebody shouted, but you couldn't see who. You didn't move around too much, desperate to keep yourself hidden until you could get to Hanno.

Nobody answered. The cheering stopped, all eyes on the gladiators that had just finished competing. The ones that had made it out of there alive, anyway.

"WHO DID THIS!"

"It was me!"

"I did it!"

There were shouts from every direction, making it impossible to pinpoint the true culprit. But you knew, you had seen it first had. It struct you then how close you were to losing your life at Hanno's hands.

"Geta will want retribution for all of you." He approached Hanno as each word left his lips, seemingly punctuated by his steps. "Did you learn to shoot the same place you learnt to recite poetry?"

"Be glad it wasn't me or that arrow would have found you." Hanno's deep voice echoed throughout the Colosseum. Low and deadly, reverberating through you. But the laughs of the gladiators drowned it out.

He turned away, moved through his fellow gladiators until his eyes landed on you. His eyebrows went up, but he said nothing as he grabbed you and tucked you into his side.

It wasn't a move of affection, a move to keep you safe from the other gladiators. "I was not aiming for you," he said quietly, the words meant only for you.

"I know," you replied as he sat down. "You were aiming for the general, weren't you?"

He nodded and your fingers worked to strip him of his armour. He sat still, staring up at you as you tugged the leather. His injuries weren't as bad as they were the game before. The wounds that Ravi had closed up previously had remained closed through the game.

"I don't blame you for wanting to kill the general," you whispered, rocking on your feet. You didn't realise that you were doing it until he grabbed the backs of your thighs to still you.

The both of you were still, unmoving as you stared at each other. Hanno blinked at you, searched your face. You didn't know what he was reading in your face.

You wanted to touch him, wanted to reach up and wipe the blood from his cheeks. You wanted to touch his shoulders, feel the muscles there. He could easily cage you in with nothing but his arms, and it would leave you feeling nothing but safe.

"You watch the games with him although you hate it," he said, eyes still searching your face. You didn't move didn't react. "You are there as punishment. Just as you are here as punishment."

You shook your head and let go of his armour, letting it drop to the floor. "Yesterday, the emperors sent me here to set an example for my father. To show him what they can do should he threaten to disobey. Today, I am here of my own volition."

You stepped back as Ravi approached, letting him check over your gladiator. But still, Hanno was looking at you. "Why?" He asked.

Swallowing, you looked at your sandals. Ravi glanced at you for a moment, only a moment, and turned his attention back to Hanno. Did he know who you were? He must have. You could only pray that he didn't reveal you.

"I had to know," you whispered, breath catching in your throat. "I had to make sure they hadn't killed you for what you have done."

It took you by surprise when Hanno laughed. He let his gaze drop to his lap as he continued to laugh. "I will not be slain by a Roman sword," he said and Ravi stepped away from him.

Standing once again, Hanno grabbed it. It wasn't harsh, pulling you close once again to lead you through the Colosseum. No other gladiator dared to look at you when Hanno, the champion, had a hold of you.

It was a night much like the first. This time, Hanno sat closer to you as you. Your words were hushed, whispered between the two of you. To anybody looking into his cell, it would have looked like a sweet moment, two lovers, sharing their affection between each other.

But it wasn't that. You spoke of Rome, of a dream that had died when Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla took power. The dream of Lucilla's father, of Lucilla. You didn't mention her name in front of Hanno, didn't mention the wife of the general.

Hanno echoed back your thoughts. He, a man from Numidia, had the same dream of Rome. A free Rome, a Rome for the people.

"You speak such fantasies," you whispered as you laid down on his bed, forced to lay against each other by the size of it. "You speak of it like you how great Rome can be."

He let his arms wrap around you, pull you close so that you weren't hanging from the edge of the bed. A more comfortable way to lay, that was how the both of you justified it to yourselves. He moved closer and you realised why when he started speaking. So quietly, you wouldn't have been able to hear it if his lips weren't pressed against your ear.

"I am from Numidia, yes, but I was not born there," he said to you, lips kissing your ear with every word.

Hanno gave you no more information. But you took in his words, a secret you would keep close to your chest. He brushed your hair back, laying your head down on his bicep. "Sleep now," he said to you, and you shut your eyes.

But you didn't sleep right away. "Hanno?" You whispered, shuffling closer to him. You opened your eyes as he grunted, meeting the one eye he had open to look at you. "What will you do once you are a free man?"

Hanno let his eye fall shut and furrowed his brow. "The Colosseum does not lead to freedom. I will die in there, killed by another man or worn down by exhaustion, struck down by an infected wound or a disease."

You felt yourself deflate, your hand on his bare chest. "I do not wish that for you." His lack of response, steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingertips left you to believe that he had fallen asleep.

***

You were not there, not in his house. Not in the palace, either. Wherever you were, your father just had to hope that you were safe.

General Acacius was doing this for his wife. He didn't want you mixed up in it. There was no telling what the Emperors would do to you if they found out what Acacius was doing.

He prayed to the Gods before he set off to the Colosseum, his most loyal men following him. Cloaked and under the cover of darkness, they rode to the Colosseum. Acacius was privy to the Emperor's plans for their praetorians, where they were stationed.

It should have been safe.

His men surrounded him as they marched into the Colosseum, holding their torches high. They walked through the stone corridor, heading towards the gladiators sleeping quarters. He didn't know that you were there, sleeping soundly against the gladiator that had tried to kill him.

Suddenly, his men dropped, arrows embedded into their necks. Their arrows hit their marks, leaving only the General Acacius standing.

No.

The Emperor's guards were not supposed to be here. This wasn't right. How could they have known about a plan hushed between husband and wife?

A guard used his sword to push the hot from Acacius's head, revealing his face. He kept a look of defiance on his face has he stared at the guard. But inside, he was screaming.

Somebody had betrayed them. Because of that, he was going to lose everything. His wife, his co-conspirator, would be punished in much the same way he would be. Death.

You were innocent in all of this. You didn't know what Lucilla and your father had been planning, yet the Emperor's would punish you. Punish you to hurt him one last time before he was put to death.

Your life at risk because of him. He would never forgive himself.

a/n: i'm hoping to do just one more part for this mini series, but I am loving it, i must admit - also, do i change my blog theme to lucius?

taglist:

@barcelonaloverf1life

@lefroggie

@tsunchani

@bxm-1012

@nicolebarnes

@whoopie6995

@shelbyteller

@saragrx

@ariesandwolves

@biapascal

@rrrrussosstuff

#lucius verus #lucius verus x reader #lucius verus imagine #lucius verus x fem!reader #lucius verus aurelius #lucius verus aurelius imagine #gladiator movie #lucius verus x you #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius

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bluebellhairpin · 5 months ago

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Cregan Stark X Wife!Reader

Summary: Preparation to leave to Castle Black for the winter months is well under way, and you're reluctant to be left alone in Winterfell. Cregan, having had the same worry, provides what could be a solution. A solution with a name. And fur. (wc. 2.3k>)

Warnings: Reader has she/her pronouns + fem bodied. Pregnancy. Assassination attempt. Unnamed character death. Blood + gore. Cregan wants to be a girl dad. Unedited (lol).

Listening to: 'Wolf at Your Door' by Chole x Halle - "When you're laying in your bed at night, when the air's just a little too quiet, better hope that you're saying your prayers."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi || AO3 link

Winterfell was a somber place when the cold rolled down from the north.

Although only ten men were sent to the wall every winter, everyone left behind knew someone who was sent away. No matter how short of a life you lived, you also always knew someone who died there. Indeed, life on the wall was as harsh as the force it existence kept at bay.

For you though, the man you lost always returned. The last three winters had you spend upwards of three months without your husband - and in turn rising to take his place as custodian of Winterfell. No matter how busy the role kept you, it never helped you miss Cregan Stark any less.

With winter approaching once more, each moment with him seemed to not be enough. Yes, the Wall was dangerous, and even Cregan was never guaranteed to return, but this year there was something else that willed you to want him to stay. Something else that made him want to stay too.

“Each day my resolve seems to crack,” he told you one night, fire cracked in its hearth as you both lay under blankets of fur. His hand rested protectively over your belly. “Already now I can see our babe grow, and I know I’ll not only be missing you but her too.”

“‘Her’?” you hummed, head turning to nose his cheek. “Such a confident tone, my lord.”

“I am confident.” he replied, turning to press a soft kiss to your lips as his hand idlily rubbed along your stomach.

“And if you needed an heir at the end of this cold winter, what then?”

“If my lady wife deems me worthy, we might try for one again.” he said, sedating what could’ve been the start of your mood change with words almost too sweet to be coming from the frosty king in the north. “But that is something we can decide once all three of us are safe together when summer rises.”

Cregan’s soft words and warm breath on your cheeks made your mind wandered to a time not so far away where you wouldn’t have his heat so close. A time when his comfort was going to be gone.

“I’m going to miss you.” you said, turning into his hold more, and he let you snuggle into his chest. “This time will feel longer than all the others.”

“I doubt that will be the case for you.” he said, lips moving from their place pressed into your hair. “Winterfell will keep you busy, between that and resting for the babe’s sake, you won’t have time on your hands for much else.”

“I may not want to rest.”

“You will. The Lord of Winterfell commands it.”

“The Lord of Winterfell won’t be here, he cannot have a for sure say in what I do or do not do.” You felt him smile into your hair, and you pulled away with a twitch of your own mouth. “What?”

He pulled away a little too, shyly smiling down at where you still laid. He was acting far too coy to be considered normal.

“I might not be leaving you completely alone.”

“... Cregan.” you started, sitting up on our elbow.

“I was going to show you on the morrow, but since you’ve forced my hand -”

“-I? Forcing your hand?”

“- Since you forced my hand,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he slipped out from the bedcovers, “I will be right back.”

“What…” You tried, but your voice tempered out as he swiftly made his way from your bedchambers.

Sighing, you sat back in your pillows, arms folded, and refraining from pouting. It wasn’t long into your settled position of guessing what in the seven kingdoms your husband was doing before he was back.

Cregan had clearly gone outside, snow settled on the top of his hair and along the shoulders of the fur cloak he snatched before leaving. In his arms was something squirming. You frowned, eyeing the movement under the cloak as he strode over.

“What is that?” you asked.

“A protector for the Lady of Winterfell, as per the orders of her lord husband.” Cregan said, and let the squirming mass break free from his hold onto the bed.

It was a… pup? No not possible, it was too big. From how it acted it was a few months surely, but it was just so big. Then you thought some more. Could it really be?

“A direwolf?”

“Not any direwolf. Yours.” Cregan said, rounding the bed and settling back at your side. “A protector to be at your side when I cannot. I’ve been training him and he follows commands well already. By the time I leave he should be grown to the size of any regular dog - then at least twice that when I return.”

While he spoke, the pup sniffed around your bed covers, curiously wandering on unsteady feet. You had to admit, he looked gorgeous, all black fur, with green eyes, and you didn’t doubt he would grow to be a fierce thing. But sometimes that wasn’t always good.

“Cregan, are you sure about this?” you asked. “It’s… he’s a direwolf, not a dog.”

“I’m sure,” he said, lending his arm out. The pup stepped closer, licking Cregan’s fingers and settling on its belly with its nose on Cregan’s knee. “They’re our house symbol. The direwolf are as Stark as I am, they know who we are, and they can be as loyal as they are fierce. That’s why I wanted to introduce you before I left. He’s going to be yours, loyal to you.”

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, and like second nature you made yourself comfortable by his side. The pup shifted too, now his nose was itching closer to you, wanting to know who this new person was.

“I supposed you ought to tell me what I'm going to be calling him then.”

“You can call him anything you like,” Cregan said, “But I’ve been calling him Striker.”

Five months passed, and Cregan was right. You were never without anything to do.

The babe growing inside you made mornings rough, and you often weren’t seen before noon, especially in the earlier months. The rest of your day was spent catching up on what you’d missed while resting, and then catching up on what you missed while catching up. Then the evenings were spent with Striker.

He had grown on you, just as he had grown physically. Cregan was still able to lift the wolf when he left, but now you doubted it. He was already well on his way to rivalling a regular wolf in size. Despite how intimidating that might’ve been, you couldn’t be more fond of Striker even if you tried.

Your belly swelled, and with it so did the direwolf’s protectiveness. Your handmaids were tolerated, your guards struggled to be in the same room, and when the maesters dared tough you Striker had to be sent out of the room. Walks around Winterfell were soon out of the question, at least if you were to bring the direwolf along, since he took to growling at everyone who stood too close.

Cregan really picked well, Striker surely was serving his purpose, and soon he earned his namesake.

Word came from Castle Black that Cregan was going to return, that the Winter had been fended off once more. That brought joy foremost to you, but really all in Winterfell knew what that meant, even if Westeros didn’t. It was cause for celebration when they returned.

It also gave a false sense of security. Winter was gone, and so was the evil - but evil didn’t just come from the north. It could come from anywhere.

You’d settled into bed for the night, Striker laid beside you, head facing towards the door, and your hand rested on his flank as you looked over one last paper. He growled, and you petted his fur, silently reassuring him that it was just a guard passing outside - but then his head lifted, and turned toward your window. His sudden, still alertness put you on edge.

He’d been hostile before, but this was aggressive.

Candle flames flickered, Striker’s fur stood on end beneath your palm, the latch on your window clicked open, creaked open, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. A cloaked figure slipped into your room, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry for help - nor to remember anything Cregan had taught you. But you didn’t have to.

The figure, a man, unsheathed a knife, and with the glint of steel in the candlelight Striker struck. He surged off the bed with a vicious bark and bit into the man’s arm, snarling all the while and all but went to tearing the man to shreds.

The commotion had people coming in through the door, and the sight had you still rendered motionless and speechless.

The man’s cloak was torn away, and by now he was pinned to the floor, blood pooling on the stone as he fruitlessly tried to get Striker off him. You barely registered your guard, Gunther, asking you what was happening.

“He came in the window. He had a knife.” was all you could say. You could guess he was saying things to calm you down as he pried your fingers off your bedsheets that covered your swollen belly - he was probably trying to get you out of the room so you didn’t see the mess. It was too late for that. The man was a whimpering, bloodied mess on the floor by now, and no one had yet been brave enough to pry Striker’s jaw off his shoulder.

Gunther had an arm around you with your hand in his, guiding you away. Others attempted to move closer, either to help the man or take him away - but Striker was still growling.

“Striker, here.” you called, just finding your voice enough for it to carry over the commotion. The direwolf looked up, and seeing you being led away, he relented, fitting into your side with ease.

The three of you walked away. Now you were away from the scene you could think again and guess you were going down the hall to another room, one you decided you’d stay in until Cregan returned.

You looked down at Striker, threading your fingers though the fur at his neck.

“Good boy.” you said, stroking between his ears.

“He sure is, my lady.” Gunther said, “Who knows what could’ve happened if he didn’t act so fast.”

You smiled a little at that, at how right Cregan was in leaving the direwolf for you. He was meant to be company, a protector second - but tonight he proved to be as good, as loyal as any of your guards. He proved to be the real sigil of House Stark - just as Cregan told you he was.

You reached the door of your new room, and as your hand lifted off Striker’s back you noticed it chill with the cold night air. Turning your palm over, you saw red - and Striker’s nose made home in your fingers, licking away every drop as if it wasn’t ever there to begin with.

A week later, Cregan returned.

You had been in a foul mood for the past three days, since the maester had put you on strict bed rest because of the babe. Therefore you had been deemed unfit to greet your husband at the gate as he finally came home. In your defense, it definitely seemed like a good reason to be sour.

So you waited, sat on a chaise, with Striker’s head in your lap pressed to your stomach.

You could hear a commotion outsider, which only made your face scrunch in annoyance - not just at missing out but also at the pity looked you knew your handmaiden would be giving you. She offered to go fetch Cregan, and you nodded her leave with a wave of your hand.

“He will be here soon.” you said, cradling Striker’s muzzle in your palms.

“Indeed he will.” Cregan said.

“Oh, Lord Stark!” your handmaid said, startled. Your head turned, and you saw him standing in the doorway.

“Cregan!” you said, grin covering your face - and even after such a long time away, Striker seemed to recognize him, for he didn’t growl, and his tail started thumping against the rug.

“My love,” he said, shedding his great sword carelessly, and sunk to the floor beside where you sat. You heard your handmaid mumble a goodbye before stepping out and closing the door behind you. “Are you alright?”

“I couldn’t be better now.” you replied, feeling tears welling in your eyes as you took in your husband's face for the first time in months. He looked tired, older, but as you took his face in your hands his cheeks felt exactly the same as they were when he left. “I missed you so much.”

“I heard about what happened the other night. I -” he said, mouth hanging open in what could’ve been shock, in his eyes there could’ve been anger. Vengeance would do nothing now, the man was dead, he bled out before anyone could decide to give him mercy - undeserved or otherwise. But as Cregan leant forward to hold you into his arms, his warmth felt like nothing else except fear. “I can’t believe I could’ve lost you.”

“You didn’t.” you said, taking an arm away from being wrapped around his shoulders to pull his face away from your chest. “You provided the means for me to stay safe long before you left. Striker was better than any guard. He was fearless when I was frozen. I owe him my life, all because of you.”

Cregan’s face turned soft, and he smiled at you. He leant forward and kissed you. For the first time in too long, his lips move against yours. You felt his jaw move beneath your palm as his fingers grazed your neck and held onto your hip. When he pulled away, he kept your head cradled close to his.

“I love you.” he said.

“I love you too.” you replied, and he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips, then your cheek.

“Now tell me all about how my little girl is growing.”

#cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x you

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sublimitymp3 · 6 months ago

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Pray for me

Pairing ✵ Gwayne Hightower/Niece!reader

Warnings ✵ Hotd season 2 spoilers, incest, littleee bit of crybaby!reader, smut (frottage, oral F receiving, fingering, and slight dacryphilia), and religious themes

Word count ✵ 2.5k

Summary ✵ Your uncle Gwayne arrives from Oldtown at your brother's call, and pays a visit to you while you pray.

"Your mother told me I might find you in here,"

You whipped your head around to see the source of the voice that disturbed you from your prayers and saw none other than your uncle, Ser Gwayne Hightower. He had finally come from Oldtown, answering your brother's call for assistance in his war.

"It is the seventh day, I thought I ought to pray. Especially now..." You explain with a small smile. You stood from your kneeling position on the cold, unyielding sept floor so you may look upon him. Your face twists into a cringe as you feel the bruises from kneeling for so long begin to form on your knees, and you are sure they'll be an ugly purple color later. Relaxing your features, you finally turn on your heel to face your uncle. It has been so long since you've seen him.

Too long.

He's as handsome as you remember, with his auburn hair, pale blue eyes, and the faint freckles that dust his face. How you wished you could map kisses along those freckles, connecting them with a trail of where your lips had been. But your faith and virtue prevent you from giving in to the desire. Besides, you are sure that if he ever found out you ever thought such things, he'd look at you with such revulsion that you'd crumble to the floor in shame.

He steps closer to you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear tenderly. "You have your mother's beauty, but your father's features," he hums, tweaking your nose playfully before wrapping you in a firm hug. It is not lost on you the slight curt tone his voice took on at the mention of your late father, but you dismiss it.

"And tell me, how have you been fairing during these trying times, hm? Don't tell me you hole yourself up in this sept all day." He teases, bringing a feeling of embarrassment over you for he had guessed correctly. Recently, you do spend the brunt of your days at the sept, praying to almost every facet of the Seven for mercy, strength, wisdom, and safety. Today, you were praying at the statue of the Mother, and after you lit a candle for her altar, you prayed for mercy and protection for your family members. It is one of the few things that brings you comfort nowadays, your faith in the Seven who are One.

"Well, there isn't much I can do," you shrug, letting a small frown tug at your lips. "It's not like I can sit in on a council meeting, and mother refuses to let me on my dragon. She seems perfectly content in keeping me idle and useless," you remark with a tone of annoyance, one that draws a low laugh from your uncle.

"Your mother means well, sweet niece. You're better suited here, getting favor from the gods as opposed to being in the midst of battle. Believe me, it is a bloody, nasty affair, and you are far too delicate to join in," he grips your chin in between his forefinger and his thumb, keeping your lilac gaze trained on his ocean-blue eyes.

You cannot even think of a response to his dismissing words, as you are too busy trying to push away the familiar ache you get between your thighs. It always comes at the most inconvenient of times, like when you watch the men in the training yard move, sweaty and shirtless, or when you spy on your brother coupling with a serving girl. All you know is that it persists for ages, and no amount of praying stops it.

But you can only try.

"S-Shall we pray, uncle? So that the Mother may grant us safety, of course," you propose, shifting nervously on your feet. Perhaps it is the light flush that has appeared on your face, or how you try to discreetly press your thighs together for some form of relief, but Gwayne knows. He always knows.

To save yourself some embarrassment, you resume your kneeling position before the statue and altar of the Mother, clasping your hands together in the standard praying position. You expect your uncle to kneel beside you, or just leave the sept all together, so you are quite surprised when you feel him loom behind you.

His firm chest swiftly presses against your back, and his larger and calloused hands come to rest over your softer ones, and you find yourself trapped in this embrace. Whether it is to your delight or misfortune, you cannot decide. You squeeze your eyes shut and silently beg for forgiveness for the unseemly thoughts that run through your brain at his actions. 'Who thinks such perverse things in a holy place?' you think, mentally chastising yourself.

"Well, go on then, sweet one. Pray for me," he whispers, and you can feel his breath fanning against the shell of your ear. Gwayne is enjoying this, enjoying this little game of denial you two play. Of course, it is wrong for him to want to take you in the lewdest positions, to have you scream his name so everyone knows who is fucking you so good, but he has restrained himself all this time. Patience is a great virtue, yes, but he wishes to reap his reward for remaining ever so patient now.

"M-Mother Above, have mercy on us all. I beg you for your protection, and for you to-" you cut yourself off with a gasp as your uncle buries his face into the crook of your neck, and gently nips at the soft skin there. He begins pressing himself against your ass, making your cheeks flush even more.

Noticing your sudden pause, he pulls back to look at your blushing face with a devilish smirk. "Well? Go on, don't mind me," he says before going right back to nipping and sucking at your neck. It is impossible for you to stay concentrated on your prayers as he continues, and you resign to praying in your head as your words fail you.

Your prayers only falter as you feel something hard poking against your backside, prodding and bumping against you relentlessly. Gwayne begins peppering kisses from your neck and to your jawline before tugging your head back gently, and letting his lips brush against yours. He only pauses as you tilt your head a little bit away in reluctance.

"U-Uncle, this is wrong. N-Not here, we cannot do this-"

"Shh, enough with that. It isn't wrong, not in the slightest. It's not wrong, not when you're meant for me. Surely even the gods will understand," he mumbles against the softness of your lips. You feel in that little moment of pause that his are a bit chapped, most likely from days of riding on horseback and camping in the wilderness. But it matters little then.

Once his lips are on yours, you cannot help the cascade of little moans that leaves you. His mouth is overwhelming and easily overpowers your rather inexperienced one, and you feel his hands move from their position over yours. One hand moves to your neck, and the other to your breast, fondling it through your dress as he continues humping you from behind.

You are thankful the sept is empty today. If word of what you do now reached your mother, of the depravity you partake in with her own brother, you're sure she'd have you sent far away to become a septa.

With a final peck to your lips, your uncle stands. He drinks in the sight of you like this; cheeks flushed, hair a bit messy, clothes rumpled, and swollen lips, all from him, of course. He swears then and there he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Up you go, princess," he mumbles, before picking you up with ease and setting you to sit on the edge of the altar. He messily pushes away the candles and various offerings left there to make room for you, and you cringe at the disrespect, disrespect born from lust and hastiness.

The new position allows for you to be relatively level with his face, and he soon hikes your dress up and stands between your parted thighs. As he begins to rub his erection against your clothed cunt, you grab onto his forearms to ground yourself.

His erection rubs against your dampened smallclothes, brushing against your bud and your folds. With each grind of his hips, you feel something like a fire burning through your bones. But with your clothes acting like a barrier, and the slightly awkward angle, it's not enough for you. Even with your unfamiliarity to such actions, you still know it is not enough.

"M-More, more. Uncle, I need more." you whine, pulling him closer by the laces of his breeches, eliciting a sly smirk from him.

"Well well, I never thought I'd see the day where my own niece was begging for me like a whore." he teases, making you frown at the crude and cruel word.

A cruel word indeed, and you feel the familiar sensation of your eyes watering, and your nose instinctively sniffling. Gwayne's smirk falters for a moment as he watches little tears spill from your eyes, but only for a moment.

"Aw, come now sweet girl, don't take offense. It was all in good fun, yes?" he coos to you, and you feel him begin to lick your tears away, catching the salty evidence of your crying on his tongue. "But oh, darling one, how pretty you look when you cry. Are you gonna cry more with what I do to you, little princess?" he asks with a mocking little pout, before kissing back down your neck.

You've always been a bit of a sensitive girl, everyone knows this. The smallest hint of frustration or anger to you, or even words spoken to you all in jest send you easily into tears. What you were not expecting was for them to be met with something other than the typical annoyed shushing you are used to receiving when you begin to cry.

Soon, Gwayne is kneeling before you, and pulling your wet smallclothes down. His lips pepper light kisses along your soft inner thighs, teasing you once more. "So wet...all for me, little princess?" he asks before nudging his nose against your bud, making you jolt with pleasure. He inhales your sweet scent. 'The scent of a wet virgin', he thinks crudely to himself.

You keep yourself propped up with your arms, and you look down at him between your thighs. Both of your legs have been thrown over his shoulders, and the instinct to wiggle your core closer to him grows. With a knowing gaze, Gwayne looks up at you with a smirk, before his tongue darts out and he dives in.

He eats you like a starved man.

His tongue licks stripes along your core, lapping up your arousal hungrily. His mouth works expertly, and all you can do is sit there helplessly and moan. Your little squeals and high-pitched whines sound adorable to him, and he laughs against your cunt. The vibrations, of course, make you jump again.

"My my, little niece, aren't you quite the sensitive one? Is your cunny as sensitive as your heart, hm?" he teases, as he continues to lick and suckle you. You cannot respond, too incapacitated by the pleasure his mouth brings you. It is nothing like you've ever felt before. Even your pillow or your hands don't feel as good as this.

"U-Uncle, uncle Gwayne, it feels s'good," you practically babble out as the lewd sounds of him slurping against you echoes around the sept. Your hand comes down to grip at his auburn hair, tugging him closer to your cunt. You care not anymore if this depravity is sullying a holy place, or if the gods watch with disapproval. There's always time to repent, after all.

The little pain you yanking his hair brings him makes him groan against your puffy folds, adding only to the stimulation you feel. "Yeah? Feels good? Oh, baby, you have no idea..." he murmurs, leaving you a little confused at his choice of words.

But you soon find out what exactly he means.

His mouth moves to focus only on your sensitive bud, sucking on it gently while he introduces two fingers to your wet folds. His fingers dance along your slit, dragging up and down in a slow, almost torturous manner.

You cry and squirm against him, greedily pushing his face right against your cunt. He heeds your signal, and finally pushes his fingers inside your velvety walls.

The stretch and feeling of something penetrating you are new and utterly foreign, but with the added stimulation his mouth still gives, the uncomfortableness of it all soon washes away to make room for pleasure. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, careful to not hurt you as he works you open.

Once he is sure you are ready, only then does he move his fingers faster. Your thighs squeeze around his head with the intensity of it all, and he has to wrench them back apart. "I can't move if you're trying to block me, sweetling," he chuckles, earning a sheepish "sorry" from you.

As he continues his ministrations, his fingers finally brush against and find that spongy sweet spot hidden up you. He begins to nudge against it with his fingertips, making you gush your arousal all over his face. You've never felt such an intense and yet wonderful feeling in your life, and soon you find it all beginning to build up and crescendo.

His free hand massages and strokes your hips gently, and rubs circles over your belly a little, just to soothe you. He can feel your walls tightening up, and how your thighs tremble and shake around his head. "You can do it, baby, you can do it. Go on, sweet niece," he coos, finally sending you over the edge.

With a loud cry, you tremble and feel such intense pleasure crashing over you like the waves during a tumultuous seastorm. You chant his name, worshipping him as if he were a god.

Once your peak washes over you, you slump against the base of the statue of the Mother. Gwayne promptly stands, his mouth and chin dripping with your juices. "You're the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Perhaps I should have you every night instead of wine." he smiles, before thumbing stray tears that rest on your flushed cheeks away.

He wipes his mouth with his forearm, before kissing you once more. You can taste yourself on your tongue. "I have to go now, sweet one. Pray to the gods for me, will you? And when I come back, we can pray together again. Wouldn't you like that?" he grins, cupping your face in his hands.

A knowing smile forms on your kiss-swollen lips as you understand the insinuations of his words. As he rides off to fight your brother's war, you will remain praying in the sept, longing for the day he will return and come to pray with you again.

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littleprinceabdullah · 2 months ago

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"Born into Hope Amidst Destruction: Abdullah's Journey from Gaza"

Hello, I am little prince Abdullah, and I am a six-month-old baby from Gaza. I was born into extremely difficult circumstances amidst war and destruction. Let me tell you my story from the beginning.

Daddy, Mahmoud, is a young dentist, 25 years old. Mom, Abeer, is also a dentist, and they were eagerly awaiting my arrival (their little prince as they called me), dreaming of a bright future for me.

My parents got married and moved into a new home, spending two joyful months there before everything changed drastically on October 7, 2023, when the war in Gaza began. Our home, and the clinic were all destroyed in an instant. They had to flee with only a few clothes, having nowhere else to go. The place that was supposed to be filled with love and laughter turned into rubble and ash.

Mom endured her pregnancy amidst the war, without enough food, water, or medicine. As I grew inside her, I could feel the stress and fear that surrounded us. Mom often went without proper nourishment, sacrificing her own well-being to ensure that I had a chance to come into this world. Every night, she would cradle her belly, whispering prayers and promises of a better life, even as bombs fell around us. She dreamed of holding me in a safe place, free from the horrors of war, where I could grow up surrounded by love and peace.

Despite the chaos, dad and mom clung to the hope that I would be a symbol of a brighter future. They imagined my first smile, my first tooth, my first steps, my first words, and the joy of seeing me grow up in a home filled with laughter. But the reality was far from those dreams. Mom faced countless sleepless nights, worrying if she could bring me safely into a world that seemed determined to tear us apart.

When the time came for me to be born (6th, Apr.2024), there were no hospitals with clean beds, no doctors ready to ensure my safe arrival. My parents faced this moment with courage and a deep, unyielding love, praying that I would be born healthy despite the dire conditions. Each day inside my mom's womb, I felt her love and fear. I heard her heart beat fast when explosions echoed nearby, and I felt her tears when she thought about the uncertain future we faced. She whispered to me that I was her miracle, her reason to keep fighting, and she promised to do everything in her power to give me a life worth living.

Now that I am six months old, my parents continue to face immense challenges. I have spent my first six months of life in a world of uncertainty and hardship. There are days when my parents struggle to find enough food and clean water for us. They do their best to keep me safe and healthy, but the lack of proper medical care and basic necessities makes every day a battle.

My parents' love and determination are unwavering. They look at me with a mix of love and desperation, knowing they are unable to provide the comfort and security every baby deserves. Each day is a struggle for survival, and the joy of my birth is constantly overshadowed by fear and uncertainty. They dream of a world where I can play safely, have a warm bed to sleep in, and grow up healthy and happy. Instead, they face the harsh reality of war, where every moment is filled with anxiety and the haunting thought of what tomorrow might bring. Their only wish is to see me smile, free from the burdens that weigh so heavily on their hearts.

Here is daddy's account telling his own story: @mah99moud

The pressures and burdens on our family continue to grow, so my parents decided to turn to the GoFundMe platform, seeking help from kind-hearted people around the world.

Your generosity can turn our darkest days into a beacon of hope. Please consider helping us rebuild our lives and give me a chance to experience the childhood every child deserves, and help my parents rebuild their lives. Please, help us restore hope for a better tomorrow and give me a chance to grow up in a world where dreams are possible, not destroyed. Every donation, no matter how small, will make a significant difference in our lives.

Thank you for your kindness and generosity.

#donations #star wars #gofundme #signal boost #freepalastine🇵🇸#gaza #free rafah #freedom #free gaza #free palestine #childhood #save the children #donate #donate if you can #gaza genocide #gazaunderattack #artists on tumblr #digital art #gravity falls

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holybibly · 5 months ago

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My bunnies seem to be drawn to the dark side, don't they? And how lucky for you, my sweet babies, that I'm here to fulfil all your darkest desires.

And here's the unholy thought of the day: Your sweet, slightly feminine roommate turns out to be a hardcore yandere dominant obsessed with you.

Seonghwa was a dream come true—gentle, adorable, so caring, a real sweet baby. You had been roommates for over three years now, and you thanked God every day for that.

You shared secrets, talked about dating, watched films together, braided each other's hair, and even did skin care routines together. Seonghwa was your best friend, but deep down inside, you couldn't help but regret that you couldn't go out with him, even though you wanted to. He was the kind of person you fucked, not the one who fucked you.

You could never imagine that Hwa could fuck your brains out or make you squirt until you passed out. His lips were made for blowjobs, not for eating pussy. He was a typical pretty boy, with a soft feminine appearance and lots of admirers. So all you could do was sigh sadly and dream that one day God would answer your prayers and send you someone like Hwa, but in a more dominant and harsher way. Someone who can take care of you like a queen and at the same time fuck you like a whore.

There was only one unspoken rule in your house: never enter Hwa's room. You could use his things without permission, eat his food, and even spend money from his card, but it was strictly forbidden to enter his room. You never minded; everyone had their own quirks, but curiosity still gnawed at you from within.

One day, when Seonghwa was out, you noticed that the door to his room was slightly open. A thin crack of black space beckoned to you like a forbidden sweet fruit, and you could not resist the desire to enter his room.

When you entered his room, you expected to see anything but what you found there—all the walls of his room were covered with photographs—your photographs, or rather, your naked photographs. Hundreds of photos of you showering, sleeping, changing clothes, and even, oh my God, photos of you masturbating, stuffing your pussy with a thick pink dildo. But that was only part of what they found. A pile of your used knickers under his pillow and another all sticky with his cum on the bedside table. You took them off in the shower this morning. Oh shit.

You were so shocked that you didn't even notice Seonghwa's presence behind you.

"You shouldn't be here, darling." His silky voice kissed the soft skin near your ear, and you squealed as you turned sharply to face Hwa.

For some reason, he looked completely different now—darker, more predatory. His usual large, shining eyes narrowed, a thick darkness gathering behind the mirrored black iris. A devilish grin spread across his sensual, plump lips. He looked completely mad; not a trace of your charming, sweet friend left.

"I... Seonghwa, I'm sorry..." A mixture of fear and strange excitement filled you, and you began to slowly back away from Seonghwa to create space between you. But Hwa didn't seem to like that at all as he began to move towards you, pushing you into a corner until your back was pressed against the sharp edge of the dresser.

Seonghwa's arms trapped you, squeezing the dresser on both sides of your body, his hips pressed against you so hard you could feel his erection, and damn, his cock was thick and big. God, the boy was huge.

"Look at you; you're shaking all over. Are you afraid of me, little star?" One of his hands came to your face, cupping your cheek, and you whimpered softly at the touch. You wanted to run away and hide in your room, but at the same time you wanted Seonghwa to do so much more than just caress your cheek. "Need I remind you that you're the one who snuck into my room? What am I supposed to do with a naughty little slut like you now?" Hwa playfully pinched your cheek, making you squeal, before his hand grabbed your throat, cutting off your oxygen supply, and he pushed his cock deeper into your body, moaning deeply in pleasure.

"S-seonghwa... we... we can talk about this..." You croaked, your voice barely above a whisper, muffled by his tight grip on your neck.

"Of course we'll talk about it and more, but first I'm going to take care of you. Take care of you like you always wanted me to. I'm going to take care of that sweet little cunt of yours; make sure it's full and saturated with my cum. Isn't that what you dreamed of, my star, when you moaned my name while you stuffed your slutty pussy with that disgusting dildo?" Seonghwa leaned closer to your face, his tongue poking out of his mouth to lick your parted lips. "I know all your wishes, my shining star, and finally I can make them come true. Don't worry, my love; now I will take care of you the way I always dreamed of."

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez x reader

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ozzgin · 8 months ago

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Hi!! Your writing it truly lovely 😭<33 If i could request anything with Zzy? Thank youuu

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader (II)

Featuring the goat-legged boy Zzy and a gloomy, newly employed detective Reader! By the way, his name is a little tribute to a series I like. Can you guess who inspired it? Hint: it's Jhonen Vasquez's first comic :D

Content: female reader, perverted goat demon yandere, dark/crass humor!, monster romance, mildly NSFW

[Part 1] [Monster masterlist]

The detective man, at the very least, kept his word. The pay is good, and you barely have any work to do. The jobs themselves are similarly not too challenging: so far you haven’t had to deal with any murder mystery out of an Agatha Christie novel. Rather, most of the time, it’s someone asking you to investigate their cheating partner, or sending you to do a background check for an employee. Every now and then you’ll get the odd client, but that’s something for another day.

Your boss isn’t all that bad either. You were initially quite hesitant to be alone in the room with him. He always seems to be surrounded by an eerie, dark aura, and you’ve only seen him smile in a menacing, villainous way. Now you’ve gotten used to his strangeness. In fact, it’s almost comforting. There’s something refreshing about another human being honest about their misery. He seems to be just as uninterested in this job as you are, spending most of his time reading at his desk. Despite his unkempt, scary appearance, he's pleasant enough and looks after you. Which, now that you think about it, is a little suspicious. You've seen him act around other people: curt and to the point, disinterested, even potentially rude. With demons, he's ruthless.

"Have you had lunch yet?" the man asks, standing up and dusting his knees. "I can get us something."

You nod and flash him a flaccid smile, although you can't help but ask:

"Listen, aren't you being a little too nice? I mean, I'm not complaining...but I've seen how you behave in general, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason for my special treatment."

He ponders your question for a moment, before his sunken eyes look ahead, somewhere behind you.

"Well…If I’m being honest, you’re kind of pathetic, aren't you? I’m just a little worried that if I’m too harsh, I’ll find out you hanged yourself in your apartment or something. Not that I’d care, but if you’re gone, I’m the one stuck with…that thing.”

Ah. That’s what it was. Almost immediately, a shiver runs across your spine.

“(Y/N)! Are you done yet? I’m booooooored”, a prolonged whine erupts from the neighboring chamber.

“I’m about to have lunch, actually. Do you want any-”

“You know I do! Spread those legs and I can start”, the goat demon declares with a grin, clacking his hooves in your direction.

You sigh.

Of course. Months ago, you were tricked into signing a lifelong contract with Zzy. It was the detective’s way of washing his hands off the matter and warmly welcoming you into the agency. It makes sense that he'd treat you with utmost care, otherwise he'd have to deal with this pest from Hell once again.

How's your life with Zzy going?

You've since found a way to seal your bedroom, in order to avoid waking up with his groping hands under your sheets. Sadly, the stubborn creature keeps finding ways to bypass your safety measurements. Who would’ve thought that lust is such a powerful driving force?

On top of the nightly shenanigans, you obviously have to deal with him during the day, at the agency. “Listen, it’s like…one of those fidget toys. It helps with stress”, he explains fervently while pointing at your chest. “You want me to do my work properly, don’t you?” He concludes theatrically. “You’re not holding my boobs. This is the end of the conversation.”

If you’re having a bad day, it won’t go unnoticed. “Boy, what a smell, what a delicacy. You’re even more miserable than usual”, Zzy will exclaim, throwing his hands together in a graceful prayer. “You know what the best medicine is? A quick fuck. Let me pound that sadness out of you, eh?”

Despite his constant clowning, the demon does have moments of clarity. He becomes particularly serious when jealous. “What have you done?” You shout in despair, gawking at the client - now morphed into a pig - foaming at the mouth and running around the room. “He was staring at your ass. Only I can do that.” The horned man stands proud, arms crossed, nodding at his own courageous act. His most treasured belonging has been defended once more.

As expected, the jealous curse has gotten both of you into time-out. Zzy because he cursed the client in the first place, and you - despite your protests - because you didn't stop him in time. "Can't you wear something easier to take off? It takes two business days to unbutton this crap", the demon complains as he fiddles with your shirt. You're laying on the sofa, hands behind your head, gazing at the clock on the wall and counting the minutes passing. Unbothered, compliant. The peacefulness of someone who's given up. "Zipper is to the left", you add, aiding the process.

Another irritating detail is that the damned beast can detect the slightest arousal coming from you, and will make sure to announce it loudly, regardless of who is around. "Someone's horny! Whew, getting me all worked up, too." You slap a hand over his mouth, a deep red blush rapidly spreading across your cheeks. You turn to the detective and apologize profusely, but he remains unconcerned, flipping another page. "Let me take care of her first, Mr. Detective", Zzy manages to mumble through your pressed fingers. "As long as you get the task done", your boss responds plainly, never bothering to look up from his book.

"You should visit me down there sometimes", the horned creature suddenly mentions, his head resting in your lap as you idly browse your phone. You stop to glance down at him. "In Hell, you mean?" He snickers at the thought. "No one believes me when I tell them I have a human girlfriend. I need concrete proof, ya feel me?" You raise an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?" He disregards your inquiry and continues: "At least give me a pair of your panties to take back home." Absolutely not.

"Were you this much of a menace before I showed up?"

"What's that supposed to mean?! You can't blame a demon for being in love."

You sigh once more and roll over.

"Does that mean we can go for round two~?" Zzy is grinning at his own suggestion.

"Just go to sleep. Or something."

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obsessed-with-fake-men · 8 months ago

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After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?”

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop.

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing.

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair.

“Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket.

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette.

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist.

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils.

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out.

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time.

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm.

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands.

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat.

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks.

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say.

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath.

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you.

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease.

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink.

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment.

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes.

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls.

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair.

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length.

“On your knees baby.”

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls.

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts.

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.”

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties.

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole.

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back.

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man.

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.”

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand.

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night.

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theorphicangel · 9 months ago

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thinking about boxer!miguel eating you out as an apology for not spending enough time with you. training had completely taken over his days, resulting in him leaving early in the mornings and arriving late at night all sweaty and exhausted.

you swore to him that you didn’t mind and that you understood his circumstances, after all it was his dream career but you couldn’t help but feel a little neglected after spending numerous long nights by yourself.

it was surprising to Miguel to find you awake and waiting for him on the couch. he slipped off his shoes, training bag hanging off his shoulders which were exposed from the black tank top he wore.

“why aren’t you asleep?”

you shrug, avoiding his eye contact. you didn’t want to seem too clingy, hesitant on giving an honest answer.

“just missed you mig’, I haven’t seen much of you recently.”

a soft thud hits the floor as he places his training bag down, the realisation of his neglect now hitting him.

ah, you missed him. and who could blame you? he knows all too well that he’s been preoccupied with his training for an upcoming fight in a few months. ever since the announcement he’s been nothing but excited, heading down to the gym each and every day. Miguel almost wants to kick himself for not realising sooner how much he’s neglected you.

there’s only one way to make up for it.

the room suddenly fills up with your sweet moans, fingertips lost in his locks as he dives between your thighs. it feels like forever since the last time Miguel went down on you, immediately his tongue is at your folds with no time to waste.

his fingers dig into the fat of your thighs, locking you in place as he laps up your juices. your mouth shapes into an ‘O’, eyes rolling into the back of your head with your other hand digging into his shoulder. he’s still sweaty from his training today but you swear it only makes you lust for him more.

another thing you missed about Miguel is how vocal he is; his grunts and groans from how wet your cunt in mixes flawlessly with your own gasps and whimpers. the sound of him lapping at your cunt is so explicit, “so fuckin’ sweet f’me” he mumbles once he has a chance to come up for a breather but before you know it, he dives in again.

a thumb begins to rub slow circles on your clit, his teeth marking your inner thighs. already you’re so close, the hot tension in your lower stomach is threatening to snap.

and despite being away from you for so long, Miguel still remembers every little thing about your body, how your thighs tense up before you cum, wrapping around him a little tighter which is just the way he likes it.

“you gonna cum for me?” he purrs, circles quickening on your clit. the least you can do is nod your head, words unable to form from your tongue. your moans coax him on, his name leaving your mouth like a prayer as he works away, juices dripping down his chin— for this part he makes sure to look up at you, holding you in place as his brown eyes meet yours.

finally the tension builds up in your lower stomach for another minute or two before violently snapping like a rubber band. you gasp aloud, body shivering and your eyes rolled back.

“good girl, that’s it.” he praises as you continue to roll your hips against his face. Miguel’s own eyes nearly roll back completely at your sweet taste, god, how could he ever neglect such a sweet thing like you? mentally he makes a promise to himself to never leave you alone for this long again, he can’t forgive himself for neglecting you for so long in the first place.

“I think I need to properly show you how much I missed you, hmm cariño?”

part 2 here!

#angel writes #part 2??? 😨😨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv miguel #atsv headcanons #atsv x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel x reader smut

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dogbites-puppylove · 9 months ago

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Devil Sins

The Batfam and the deadly sin that colors their life, and the virtue of their darling

TW: Yandere behavior (obsession, possessive behavior and unhealthy ideations), mention of suicide ideation and s/h as well as gore

Tags: Yandere! Batfam x reader

Bruce Wayne: Pride

Within Gotham, it's common knowledge that when crimes wretched hands come down to slit your neck you do not clasp your hands and pray to God, no - you whisper your tears into a puddle of blood and give your reverence to hold out for Batman. It is under no exaggeration that divinity in the cursed city leaves justice to crumbled bones and puddles of teeth and tongue, and its cruel master in the form of a man with no face. It's fitting, for a city of corruption and bile. Gotham’s god is its dark knight with steel for bones and scripture of flesh, man made Godhood with flawed creation in its wake. But man has never been meant to hold godhood, the pathway of immortals too cruel and demanding, even with those who have wielded its deadly blade of eons it rips into them. Tearing at seams and breaking into them until their pieces can be glorified in the stained windows of churches.

Batman is divinity within mortal confines. There have been prayers and hymns in his name, retribution in his name and the painful dependency of creator and creation waged on him. Batman is an entity that is nothing but iron and brimstone, unbending and unfeeling, but Bruce Wayne, the man who created this creature whose only split from being a monster is a bloodied and beaten code, is painfully human. He feels each failure weigh on him, aging him past his own casket and decaying him even as he still breathes, it cradles his head during the night and whispers the screams of those he has watched fall.

Every time Batman stands tall, Bruce can feel something small and young turn decrepit and vile in his stomach until it erupts from him like bile from the back of his throat. He thinks it must be the humanity of a son who in truth, died with his parents in that alley. It slices his open, cutting his flesh to ribbons, and gorges itself on his organs only to fill him up with something inhuman. It's with bated breath with lungs that have been clouded with smog, that he waits for Batman to finally rule Bruce Wayne unfit and strangle him entirely.

Darling: Humility

The Darling acts as the humility to his pride, dragging him to his knees so archaically Batman shrivels in your presence. You are his humanity given form, the antithesis to his claim of being the perfect hero. You lead him by the nose, walking him on a leash so flawlessly he thinks you might have been born just to keep him grounded. Every scrape or bruise seems to repel the mission Batman strives for and replaces it with nothing, but a man stricken that he hadn’t done better. Each burn or scrape, even a paper cut drives guilt into him and brings a physical ache to his body like you had beaten him with a bat. Each mark burns the shame of a failed hero and leaves only the pathetic begs and whines of a man that can only be human.

If he could, he would spend his days by your side, affected by the intrinsic need to provide for you, leaving you physically and mentally unable and robbed of the ability to want. It's a desire that burns molten in his chest and drips down his limbs, it burns and aches at him as if trying to rip out of his chest and lick at your hand like a depraved dog. He would do anything for you, would render the world silent, bring you a heart on a platter, violate himself so terribly he could not know anything but his adoration of your presence and yet it still feels inadequate. A simple compliment from you leaves him bereft of ambition and scorn, leaving him on his hands clasped in prayer.

Batman may have been his creation, but Bruce Wayne is your own tool, use him to get what you want, change him for your own needs just keep him at hand. He'll be loyally and wholly (obsessively and blindly, almost rabid) yours. God bends to nobody's will, but Bruce Wayne knows down to the electrons snapping in his synapse that his place in this world is by your side, whether you point, whenever you deem fit. You’re his god, and himself nothing but a faithful follower.

Richard Grayson: Lust

Perhaps born from watching his parents, who should have been a constant, die in front of him a painful death filled with tourists' eyes and misplaced faith, right outside of his fingers grasps Dick has an inherent need to feel. For him, want runs in his skin like a conscious, whispering what he craves, giving voice to a voracity so impossible that it turns physical. He has known denial from the start, whether it be the blood of the man who stole his parents, a want that made his tongue ache and crawled at his ribs until his bones crackled, or the sweeter craving of a relationship, something that watered at his mouth. Want is something that has haunted him, growing obsessively until it reached lust.

Though sexual desire, of course, is something that is often attributed to it, it's not the only way lust presents itself. For Dick, it appears when he closes enough to reach out and feel flesh on his own, something tangible and it shocks him like a bad dog until he reaches out to soothe his skin. It appears in the dead of night when he can feel no other warmth than his blankets, even as he arches out and reaches pathetically into the air. It is a call of pathetic loneliness, so strong that when his younger brothers are cuddled drowning within him it is to try and get rid of the sudden echo, to try and merge them into one, until he is no longer Dick Grayson, and somehow a part of them. Somewhere in between the heat of a lover and the loyalty of a son, he realizes that being a part of a couple isn’t enough.

He wants like a man starved, all instinct and need, like a child who has been ripped out of his mother’s grasp before she has fed him fully, there is always something he’s not quite satisfied with. What he truly craves is a constant, a union, melting himself, and another so they can be poured into the same mold and make something new, indistinguishable from the other. And despite the carnal behavior of his want, he knows how to get it. He smiles full of charisma, grins with the sun and serenades with the moon to get his fixes, but each one leaves him starved, stricken for more. Like a bad addiction.

Darling: Chastity

The darling brings a chastity in his life, though not to say he wants less, but in the way a husband will fully devote himself to their wife. It’s the deceptive nature of a couple announcing a pregnancy and accidentally alluding to nights spent in bed. The darling hits a spot for him that leaves him mind numbingly euphoric, like a high that is reached after weeks and weeks of suspension. Every kiss has him feral, no better than an animal and chasing after you, every negligence has him whining by your feet, clinging to you. He grows incredibly dependent on your presence, on your touch and everything beneath.

With you his sharp mind bleeds into instinct, and the charisma he wields to pry himself into others good graces is left uselessly at the door. It’s a delusional dreamy trance, every hug sends him tumbling down further and further until his panting against your neck and thinking of nothing but you, you, you. He can feel himself slipping into your existence, swearing he can taste the coffee you drank in the morning, and can feel every cut or bruise you get without him present. His want for you is wet, sticky and binding, threatening to pull you over until you lose your mind along with him.

It’s almost laughable how pliant he is with you, a touch to his arm can have him following you over a cliff, a peck to the cheek and suddenly his on your lap whining for more. For all he is hard and angry, full of vigilante fights and bruised skin you wouldn’t even have to hurt him to kill him. With you, he can indulge himself fully, so much so that he wants no other. In fact any other touch leaves him lacking, so utterly entranced by you that he can no longer feel another’s skin unless it’s yours. To him, his darling and himself cannot be separated, they won’t go down in history but their names, but by the title for lovers. Nothing to define themselves but their own love.

Jason Todd: Wrath

Anger, to Jason, is an old friend that lives in his bones and whispers in his ears with every movement. He has used it well his entire life, a melting anger of forged iron against his father to keep him defiant, a indigent anger filled with a son's tears for his mother, the roar of inequality and social class that steals from the batmobile and the blinding and rash rush that leaves him as robin. It’s at first a soft motivation that keeps him alive, any good street rat knows, or any street rat still breathing that to stop means you’re as good as dead. He covets his rage, it's youthful and idealistic and keeps his heart beating.

Of course, after the pit (after being beaten to death in a warehouse of gasoline and gunpowder, watching his own blood relax as he’s robbed of his own, coming back ripping from his own skin and drowned in green only to find out his father-father-had left him unavenged. Left him replaced and gone) his anger has grown into something primordial. Too old to be Jason’s but so familiar he leans into it. It grows from his bones like ivy and twigs, poking out against his flesh and sewing itself under his skin so that the slightest breach sends it out to take root. Jason’s wrath is something that threatens to leave him choking blood, and yet it keeps him alive with the threat of keeping him running forever. It is the anger of a child on the poster who has never been found, and their stomach full of worms that burrows into his own. The tears of a case under the corrupt policeman’s file, and the ghosts scream in a house empty of their future. It’s all those who have ever been a statistic (as he has been) boiling over under his skin. Because Jason knows the wrath of the dead and unavenged intimately, it burns his memories in green and leaves his chest heaving with permanent mourning of mothers whose children were robbed and never found. It threatens to scratch away from the inside of his ribs until its nails finally rip him open in a mocking autopsy and wail into Gotham’s plugged ears.

Jason's violence, his actions and words, the bullets in his guns and glare under the hood are all reactions to this. As long as the world spins, as long as humans turn a blind eye to victims, and allow the injustice of the world to mold them, he will move. All his actions are an answer, a bullet through a man's cranium, the vengeance of a young girl with a ripped dress, a severed head, the relief of a child who watches their family bleed out for powdered death. Each and every shout of Red Hood, every puddle of blood he coats the ground on proof that he is still moving. Because Jason’s wrath is old and an answer, to the boy in the warehouse, to the boy in the ground and mounted not as a son but a soldier. It’s a solution to the fear that manipulates his chest that should he stop moving he’d be buried again.

Darling: Patience

Jason is a man of action and violence, fear turned into anger because above all he is a man cursed with empathy. With his darling the fear that curdles his insides soothes, like a mother rubbing her child’s stomach and singing a special song to keep the pain away. The world will keep moving regardless of him taking a break, and he has the blinding panic of staying in time, and yet his darling is a perfect encapsulation of time. Something preserved beautifully, a painting stuck in motion, the words on his books that are remembered through words and tongue. The tint of red becomes a pastel pink, and suddenly he’s so, so weak.

With his darling he closes his eyes without fear of waking up decaying. A sweep of your hand against his cheek will pull a sigh of pleasure from his throat suddenly free of phlegm and blood, even a harsh hit will feel divine. His darling functions as a sort of “moment” , something trapped in time and solely for Jason. Much like opening a book, the story is forever clashing but the words stay all the same, waiting for the reader. It’s with you the anger that has kept him moving for so long, washed away, like the dirt clinging to his skin under water. It's freeing and leaves him shakily bare, with you he weeps, with you he grows and stays forever yours. You are life itself, something ancient and timeless at the same time. The nostalgia of losing a tooth and excitement of a birthday party wrapped into tender song and softer skin.

It’s a common sight to see him cry when with you, prayer in the form of tears that are just for you. He spends his days in a lovestruck haze, almost as if he’s been drugged. For Jason there is no constant, no surety but you. He would do anything to keep you perfect, safe and just as you always are. He'll care for you much like a beloved heirloom, of course he loves you with a severance that would scare most, but you are something he seeks to preserve. Nothing can hurt you, will hurt you, you’ll remain untouched until you reach out yourself. Your presence alone is enough for him to intoxicate himself with, bask in forever. But should you give I’m a sliver of your attention, allow him to enter your perfect little world? He’ll be lost forever.

Tim Drake: Gluttony

The most intimate feeling Tim knows is hunger, perhaps not for food but for anything and everything else. Obsession is his most familiar form of companionship, stuffing picture after picture of his object of affection until he can drown in them. In his house of echoing walls and emptiness he comes to emulate it. He feels hollowness in his soul, some nights he wonders if he took a knife to his own side what he would find. Would it be organs? Perhaps a heart? Or would it be the void that has eaten all that made him and left him with a constant hunger to fill himself with? For a time, he manages to satiate himself with Batman and Robin, stalking and drinking them in over and over until one day it's stolen and left him with nausea so terrible. (And Tim still remembers the rawness of his skin as he is thrashing in his room, his throat bleeding from his wails of a boy he never met)

The more he gets the more he hungers, it’s something horrific and apathetic that leads him to chasing after his own fill. Case after case solved, fact after fact filtered and sorted through, Tim is insatiable. Like a well oiled machine, the fuel that keeps him going only works to find more fuel, it's a never-ending cycle of something that can no longer be deemed as human. Half of this can be attributed to the fact that it’s all the same to him, an angelic charity to a garish murder eh takes them and feasts on them all the sometime efficiency is more of a hook then anything, pulling others in so he can feast on them, devouring their mannerisms and habits, licking up and chewing on their thoughts until there nothing left of them.

One could blame this on the fact that the identity of “Tim Drake'' has never really been sought out, so there’s no substance to him. Something useless will obviously stay shiny, clean and unused, it's logical in all the ways it makes Tim want to throw a tantrum. It drives his mouth to salivate until he’s drooling over another function he can consume, another person he can mirror, another morsel to disappear within himself. And yet with each new meal he can only feel the void echo back louder, as if he had never eaten at all. Like a fire consuming too much wood that it withers out in anger, as if the trees that had been cut never existed in the first place. It threatens to force Tim to disappear forever.

Darling: Temperance

The temperance his darling offers is in the form of a craving rather than actual fulfillment. After just his first taste of you, Tim has been enraptured for you, nothing comes close to your unique temperament, your reactions, everything that makes you, you. You leave his mouth watering for more, nothing else can settle against his tongue the way you can, nothing can mimic the way you fill his head with static and leave him filled to the brim. He takes whatever kindness you give him and uses it as an invitation to learn more about you, an invitation to bear himself fully. Any preference you have, a favorite color or show, even general food preference will settle into Tim as if it had been his all along. Where he used to drink black coffee, has grown a taste for your favorite creamer, your playlist will be playing in the back of his head as he switches through W.E. work, it’s all you, you, you. Like a puzzle finally coming together,

Tim’s brain finally quiets down and is forced to digest. Any sort of attention you give him is a five course meal, any scorn is just as quickly devoured. You don’t quite stop the habit of obsession, but you give it direction. Tim has never known such direct want until you, a den he has no plans to stop his indulgent habits. He is ravenous for anything you toss to him, your voice, a text, an opinion, even just a little note, whatever you do stays, It’s a blessing and a curse. Because while the hunger pangs back in your presence, now nothing else can even come close to keeping him occupied.

He’ll obsess over you, crafting himself to be your perfect companion just so he can stay by your side and continue feeding. Everything in your life has a shade of him, your job, your house, your hobbies, even your electronics, each one a special situation he created to have you just a bit closer. Nothing else can come close to you, he’ll make sure you're well taken care of, all he asks in return is you.

Damian Wayne: Envy

Damian’s life is a unique contradiction. He was born the sole inheritor of a Thorne he is meant to fight for, something only he can own and yet is so unworthy he is kept from it. It forces him into a sense of jealousy, inadequacy and egregious entitlement. He could have anything he needs, but only as long as he earns it, it gives him a longing sense of feeling everything is out of his reach. That even should he hold the sword in his hands it cannot be called his. Not in the way a dog can call its food their own, and not in the way a writer can crow over their own creation. It leaves him painfully envious of others, of their right to their own possession, it leaves him vicious and poisonous. Part of the reason he squirrels away animals with so much intent, is because they’d be “His.” He’s their sole owner, and as beings with a conscience they can prove their loyalty.

His envy leaves him with harsh words and even deadlier scars, it forces him into a fine weapon and while it’s an ideal state for an heir it’s a broken state for a child. It leaves the boy wanting, fearful and anxious. His envy is young and childish, something not allowed, and it’s something weaponized. It’s part of the reason he defends the title of robin so freckly, not only because he believes himself right, but because it’s his in way the throne cannot be. Because it’s not a legacy he’s supposed to take, it's one he steals from himself. It’s his, in a way nothing has been since he first cried from the pit.

But even then, the title of partner that so many others have worn, cannot soothe the constant ire, the lashing out that comes with fear of being replaceable, of being nothing but a role, comes with. Because Damian has been born as his mother’s son, as his father's legacy, but not as his own person. It makes Damian feel unfit, unusable in the way he has seen his mother discard students who cannot kill. It burns him, kills him and with time he thinks he might just be a husk. Damian is nothing but competency and a perfect successor, a successor will never be their own.

Darling: Kindness

Ironically the kindness that tempers his own envy is not his own but instead, actions of his own darlings. He fully gives himself to you, gives you his very purpose to do what you want with. Should you order him to kill, order him to die, or to live he would do it without complaint. Tell him you want his heart and he will pry himself open and hand it over with a smile, tell him you want his laugh, and he will laugh himself manic until you tire of it. He is a fine blade, a weapon that has seen battle far too much already, and it’s your own kindness that stops it from going to battle. In essence Damian has made himself a role right by you, but has given up his autonomy of your manipulation. You’ve become his master, his owner and his loyal weapon.

Every action is your doing, every remark is for your benefit, and by giving himself to you, he can have you in a way nobody else can claim. Every smile, every hug, every word that you speak to him is something unique from a dynamic he has hand crafted, and therefore uniquely his own. He will store you away from others, wary of letting them stain you, and even more wary of letting them steal you. You’re his, his love, his heart, his blood, his purpose on this earth, and he cannot let another’s touch deter you from this. His darling is a salve to his aches, a bandage that wraps tight enough to manage to hold him together, and his actions are that with the purpose of binding you to him. Your purpose will be each other.

Author's Note: Another reupload! Previously known as lovesick-laboratories.

#yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader

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yeostars · 1 month ago

Text

When ATEEZ members realise they're falling in love with you

(with a touch of descriptions abt seasons!)

©yeostars 2024™

♡ Hongjoong .ᐟ

• For hongjoong, the realisation that he's falling for you arrives like the first rush of summer heat- the undeniable warmth rising from deep within, stirring something he can't quite ignore, no matter how hard he tried to. He felt protective of you for some reason, the feeling of wanting to protect you from everything and anything bad arose from within him because he was there with you at your lowest- knowing your deepest fears, your deepest struggles & all the betrayals you had ever gone through.

• At first, he brushed off the feeling merely as a sense of responsibility, being your close friend- as someone who should obviously be looking out for you. But he knew it was deeper than that. Every time he stood closer to you, shielding you from any minor inconvenience - he felt the fire within himself grow.

• You are his summer's heartbeat, a fierce, unquenchable flame that fuels his every step. The moment he realised this, he knew with a certainty that anchored him, that he would bear the darkest of storms for you. You are the center of his warmth, and he finds himself wanting to guard and protect that light forever. If you are in his presence, he wants to be reliable enough for you to always lean on him.

♡ Seonghwa .ᐟ

• Seonghwa falls for you as gently & quietly as the blooms of spring- just like the cherry blossom petals unfurling one by one in the gentle morning light. It begins with the simplest things, your smallest actions- the sound of your voice resonating in his ears, the way your laughter being his remedy fills the room, the warmth in your gaze whenever you look at him, that seems to chase away the darkest of his shadows.

• He feels it in every single moment he spends with you, each small gesture or action by you never goes unnoticed by him. It was like the gentle opening of flowers that he didn't even notice taking root. Just how your warm gaze affects him enough to be reciprocating it with eyes full of love and adoration towards you that does not go unnoticed by any of your mutual friends and acquaintances. He is not afraid to full on display his affection for you.

• All these fleeting moments of adoration towards you gathered together- he finds himself surrounded by an entire garden, each blossom and it's petals a reminder of you. You are indeed the season that took him by surprise, unfolding his heart in a warmth that he didn't know he'd been waiting for. Now, he can't imagine his world without your light.

♡ Yunho .ᐟ

• For him, falling for you was like stepping in a field of summer wildflowers. It was merely just like a dream, you were just like a dream to him- & he dreamt as much as wanting to be your lover boy in such dreams. Every word and every glance exchanged with you felt like sunshine on his skin. He felt his life bloom with vibrant colour - as if you were painting his dreams with vibrant colours merely by your presence. Every conversation Yunho has with you feels like a melody to him, each shared silence a verse.

• You were like the scent of lavender and warmth, the scent of you lingering even when he's alone- leaving him wrapped in the essence of you long after you've left. He finds himself dreaming about doing everything with you, you being his and only his. He's become a lovesick fool to the point he smiles so widely while sleeping sometimes because he's dreaming of you.

• One lazy afternoon- he realises that you are his summer itself - a season of pure light and boundless joy, bearing the kind of warmth he wishes he could hold onto forever. His realisation hits him to the point dreaming about you is just not enough. As if like a silent prayer & a quiet hope- he wonders if perhaps, just maybe- he could be your sunshine and sunlight too, basking in each other's glow like an endless beautiful summer day.

♡ Yeosang .ᐟ

• He realises that he's falling for you as if by surprise, just like the first melt of ice at winters end- a thaw that starts slowly and unfurls in subtle ways. You are the gentle warmth that begins to seep through the cracks, every smile, every word, every glance exchanged with you softening the barriers he had always kept carefully guarded around you.

• Its like you are the only one who can have him this way. He keeps himself guarded around people usually, but he just can't control himself and his emotions when it comes to you. Gradually, as he realised his true feelings towards you, he wanted nothing more than to let you know about them because that was only fair to you. He feels like its an honour to fall for someone as perfect (in his eyes) like you.

• In quiet moments, he finds himself thinking of you, feeling his heart slowly surrender like a frozen lake thawing under the warm spring sun. It's the way he smiles uncontrollably just at the thought of all the moments you spend together. His biggest weakness is your infectious laughter. As you laughter rings out, yeosang feels something inside him shift, as if the last fragment of ice inside him giving away. Although his vulnerability terrifies him, he finds himself unable to turn away from you, the light you shine upon him- and he's drawn to you with a longing as natural as the changing of seasons.

♡ San .ᐟ

• One golden evening, as the sky burned with the shades of amber and crimson, he realised he was indeed, falling for you when he found his gaze lingering on you, mesmerized by the soft light in your eyes. He found you so beautiful, both inside and out. Anyone who noticed his gaze full of longing and admiration towards you, could see the undeniable love he possessed for you. For him, the biggest miracle in his life was meeting you.

• He's enchanted by the way you move through his world, each small gesture adding poetry to his life. Him already being a hopeless romantic, you make him a utter, lovesick romantic, more than he already is by nature. You are the dawn light, the blush of morning that turns his daily life into something precious. He catches himself wanting to hold onto and cherish every ephemeral, delicate moments with you.

• His heart was drawn towards yours, as if by a strong, magnetic force. He realised his world grew brighter around you & he was willing to do anything to keep you close to him forever. He hoped that his presence made your days brighter, too. Like the final blaze of autumn before winter's sleep, he realised that his heart was truly all in, captured by the colours you bought into his life.

♡ Mingi .ᐟ

• Mingi realises it gradually, just like the first quiet flakes of winter drifting from the sky, settling gently on a field yet untouched. There's no urgency, no whirlwind- just the soft fall of something light and unanticipated, a feeling that lands within a hush. A feeling that lands in the midst of his chaos- a calm stillness, much needed peace within his chaos and inner conflicts.

• He notices it in the way his heart slows and warms when you smile, as though the world around him has stilled just to let him listen to that tender beat. Mingi has his own inner conflicts going on within him but when it comes to you- his feelings are clear & it's not a problem to be solved. Just like frost itching delicate patterns on glass, his thoughts on you are crystallised- clear & intricate, filling the quiet spaces of his soul.

• At first, he's bewildered, wondering why he finds himself seeking your presence in subtle ways, a quiet urge to linger by your side. But as winter deepens, so does his clarity. You are his secret ember in the heart of the cold, a quiet glow that warms his season of silence. Be it if he's in your presence or while he's thinking about you, his heart beats with the slow beauty of a snowflake, each memory of you unique and Infinite, and he wants to make even more precious memories with you.

♡ Wooyoung .ᐟ

• It strikes Wooyoung suddenly, like the first exhilarating rush of spring rain- a burst of freshness that leaves him laughing and soaked, a rush he couldn't have prepared himself for. Just like the first flowers of spring burst through the soil, he noticed his heart blossoming when you were near.

• At first, he tries to shake this newfound feeling away, telling himself it's nothing more than a spark of sunshine in his chest, a passing thrill. But the way he reacted to anything and everything you do- his playful boyishness around you was unlike his usual self with anyone else. You and your presence make his ordinary moments special. You made his life livelier and full of joy without even realising it. Every time he teased you, each time you hid the cutest pout on your face as a reaction to his relentless teasing, each time your laughter bubbled up like a spring brook, he feels the same kind of vibrant rain cascading over him, washing away his resolve.

• He realises that he's willingly caught in it, happily drenched in this newfound feeling. Now, he finds himself hoping the downpour never stops, each drop a reminder that he's caught up in something he never wants to escape.

♡ Jongho .ᐟ

• For Jongho, love seeps in like the golden light of autumn, warm and soft but tinged with a bittersweet richness that he can't quite ignore. When the autumn leaves began to fall, he felt something shift- as if his heart , too, was shedding its guard like the trees shed their leaves.

• He has always kept his emotions close- shedding them with careful control, like a tree releasing its leaves. But with you, he feels his defenses slowly giving away, each leaf falling from his guarded branches. It scares him sometimes, how comfortable he is in your presence, he's even more scared to loose you if he ever decides to confess to you & it doesn't quite go well. But if you have taught him anything, it is to be fearless and brave when it comes to love. He finds himself lingering in your presence, captivated by your beauty, your smallest gestures, your smile.

• With you, he begins to release the hold he's kept, opening to every tender pang that vulnerability brings. And although it unsettles him at first, he finds a quiet grace in believing that you are indeed the one he had been searching for his entire life, so why shy away from facing true feelings now? The way he sought your warmth in the cooling air, he knew that he was beginning to cherish the soft presence of your love, like a favourite sweater in October.

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thesunloveschips · 2 months ago

Text

Obsessed - Part 4 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Feelings and desires finally come forward.

A/n: Apologies for the delay, I was busy giggling and blushing. THE SMUT FINALLY BEGINS!!!!!

Warnings: oral sex (female receiving), Azriel (that's it. he's the warning. he's too hot)

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Needless to say, Azriel and his listening devices heard Y/n’s side of her conversation with Nesta. She must’ve had a voice call. He'd patiently listened to her crying and the anguish as she discussed her feelings with Nesta.

From how the call had concluded, Nesta must’ve probably told her to be careful no matter what.

Azriel was not interested in how to break Y/n’s walls. Walls were there for a reason. He was interested in becoming eligible for entry and working towards being the right choice and making her realise that.

It was obviously better for her to accept him rather than him forcing her to do that. Especially after all the shit Y/n faced towards the end of her bachelor’s degree.

Fifty eight days had passed since he first laid eyes on Y/n in that barely lit club with too much noise. Ever since her call with Nesta five days ago, there was a new wall.

They’d say hello but she deflected his every attempt to spend time together whether it was dinner or grocery shopping.

It was eating him up. Maybe there was something else he’d missed. Something she might not have told Nesta for any reason. Or maybe she’d had that conversation outside the apartment.

And Azriel was determined to find out.

It was a Friday. Her classes ended at four in the evening. She’d study in the library for god knows how long whenever classes ended early like this but she was also nearing her period. That meant she’d study at home where she could comfortably snack in case of premenstrual cravings.

Azriel had finished up his work and sat on the sofa near his door, waiting to hear her footsteps and the sound of her keys. He waited for nearly an hour before he heard her. Impatience made him rise and open the door in a hurry.

Y/n looked at him wide eyed as she was just about to turn the keys and open her own door.

“Azriel.” His name was a whisper and he took that as an encouragement to take two steps closer.

“Why are you so distant these days?” He was done waiting. He was done pretending that her fear to face her feelings wasn’t hurting him.

“I’m not.” She quickly responded. Too quickly.

“You don’t sass me around, joke with me, boss me, or even look at me properly. And I’m done pretending that this is not affecting me.”

And she watched him wide eyed, her lips parted. He wanted her to say something. Cry. Scream. The silence has become despicable since it was only a reminder of her absence.

“I. .” She looked at her hand on the doorway as her thumb scratched the wooden frame.

“Did I offend you in any way? I’d like to understand exactly what it is and apologise. I had no intention of hurting you in any way and I still do not.” Yes. Azriel was yearning. For her, for her attention.

“You didn’t offend me.” She was once again quick to respond. “I just. .” And she looked away, eyes shut tightly and her mouth closed as if she didn’t want to give him any response.

“Y/n.” And she immediately looked at him as if he’d never said her name before.

She didn’t know how much he loved her name. How much he wanted to call for her whenever he entered the apartment. How much he wanted her to be there and to simply embrace her warmly and tell her he was home.

****

Y/n had never heard Azriel desperate. He was bold and unwavering. He seemed like the type of man who would make others desperate.

But here he was, calling her name as if it was a prayer for her to come to him.

Avoiding Azriel only resulted in her carefully constructed walls suffocating her. She was so used to his presence in her life.

It was not just the talking, dinner, and the grocery shopping but it was also the silence. Sbe simply liked to be in his presence, either not doing anything or doing her own work. The knowledge that he was nearby gave her heart a rest.

And she faltered.

She held her tears and wiped her eyes before they fell.

“Y/n.” Azriel reached her in two large strides and held her like she was all that he’d ever wanted. All that mattered.

“I won’t cry.” She was stubborn about that. Because her feelings for him were beautiful.

Many spent their lives insulting beauty and then regretting their inability to appreciate it. Rarely did people actually appreciate it.

And she was determined not to waste time. “I like you.”

Azriel went rigid against her.

Oh.

She pulled back to see his face. He truly had entered into some sort of trance.

She’d just slapped her feelings on him without considering what he’d feel. Sure, he saw her as a good friend but he probably also saw her as a sister since he’d patted her head a few times.

Maybe, all he felt was something platonic or sibling-like.

“Pretend you didn’t hear that.” Y/n wriggled out of his embrace and turned to her door with her key.

As soon as she unlocked and opened it, a large hand came from behind and covered her hand which was on the handle.

Azriel’s face came next to her shoulder, his entire body mere inches behind her. And he closed the door.

The other hand extended from the other side of her head and she was now effectively trapped.

This was beginning to feel like a very dirty dream that could end with both of them against this door.

She inhaled to gather courage and turned to look at him. Azriel’s face remained there before he let his head fall to her shoulder.

“Y/n. .” It was a tone she’d never heard. He sounded like he was aching. Tortured, even. “How do I even begin with you, sweetheart?”

Something crashed in her head. What was he saying? Why was he calling her sweetheart? A term that gave birth to hope.

He lifted his head and looked at her like she’d answered all his prayers and doubts. Like he had attained some divine level of clarity. “I’m quite certain that I like you more than you like me.”

She remained still for a few seconds before a smile touched her lips. Y/n pressed her forehead against his and whispered. “This is not a competition.”

“No, it isn’t. This is us.”

“Us.” She affirmed and he gently kissed her lips.

Y/n suddenly realised that she was trapped between him and the door and his arms caging her in. She kissed him a second longer. Her one hand was still on the door handle. At some point, the other had moved to cradle his head.

The next kiss was not sweet. It was all tongue and need. Azriel pulled her waist towards him and she could feel his cock against her ass.

“Let me take you somewhere.” Azriel whispered against her lips.

“With this?” She pushed against his cock, feeling mischievous.

“Tease all you want, Y/n. I’ll make you beg soon.” He thrust his hips against her.

She somehow pulled back. “We’re still in the corridor.”

“And?” He nipped her ear and Y/n could feel her resolve mist away into nothing.

“There are cameras.” Reason was evaporating and she had to cling to it. Y/n really was not interested in another tenant or any delivery man seeing them.

“Kiss me again.” She obliged his request far too easily and found herself twirled with her back against her door.

Y/n continued to be greedy, fingers combing Azriel’s hair from his nape. She pulled his hair and pressed herself more and more against him. And obviously, none of it was enough.

She wanted more of him. And the more he gave her, the more wanton she became.

“Lock your apartment, sweetheart. We’re going to mine.” Azriel spun her so that she’d lock the door but she was barely able to focus with his lips on her neck. She fumbled with the key against the lock but she managed to insert it.

“Or shall I take you right here?” A large hand squeezed her breast. Her body arched, ass pressing harder against the bulge poking from his pants.

She really needed those pants gone.

“We can explore voyeurism later.” Y/n finally twisted the key and locked the door. She turned around as she pocketed her keys.

“Would you like that?” Azriel took her hand, eyes blazing with desire and a hint of amusement. “The thrill of being caught?” He led her to his own apartment where the door was still open. “Or is it being watched?”

“I like privacy.” Azriel continued to kiss her temple and trailed down to her jaw. He was all too eager to throw her bag and coat away. “Although the possibility that someone may see is. .”

Y/n sighed and did not continue because Azriel was busy with her neck. Wet kisses and gentle nips escalated to a harsh suck. Her back arched easily. The thrill of being seen was now an abandoned topic.

“Off.” She pulled against his grey sweater. Azriel hoisted Y/n, set her on the dining table, and proceeded to remove his sweater.

An odd mixture of anticipation and anxiety swirled in her abdomen. She always knew that Azriel was larger than her but seeing that broad chest with ink in intricate swirls and patterns that extended till his arms was a sight.

Curly hair, golden brown skin, tattoos, muscles, an insanely attractive face, and she whimpered at the sight.

He threw the sweater somewhere and placed his arms on either side of her, once again caging her. He was leaning in. He was closer. And Y/n whimpered as she processed that much information and shut her eyes tightly.

“What is it?” He was now alarmed. Y/n simply leaned her forehead against his chest as she caught her breath. “Y/n?”

“You’re too. . .” She whined. “Too perfect.”

In all honesty, Y/n tried.

She tried to look at his face.

To meet his gaze.

But the hunger in his eyes as he watched her, tongue darting out to wet his lips, curly hair all messed up, and the unavoidably attractive body made it difficult.

In a swift movement, Azriel grabbed Y/n and thrust his hips against hers, groaning at the friction. “Do you feel my cock?”

What else could she feel?

“This is all your doing.” A hand grabbed her throat and made her look at him.

“Take responsibility like a good girl.” He pressed against her, the clothes now only a nuisance. “And I’ll reward you so well.”

Yes.

She wanted to be his good girl. She’d gladly take responsibility for that cock.

Y/n peered down and saw the tattoo beneath his navel that disappeared into his pants. She wanted to remove his pants, see the entirety of that tattoo, lick his cock.

Y/n placed a hand on that bulge and gently caressed it with her palm before grabbing him properly. A groan escaped Azriel and she was beginning to accept the power that came with arousing this man.

“Yes.”She placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him. Azriel immediately complied, moving away.

And Y/n removed her sweater and chemise in one go. Her bra remained and he closed in immediately, looking at her as if he’d never seen her before.

She moved her hands behind her and unclasped the hook. The strain on her breasts was no more once the bra was removed and Azriel immediately kissed her again, softly and deeply.

They progressed again towards red hot desire now that they could feel each other’s bodies more. He descended to her neck, collarbone and sucked on the skin right above her breasts.

Those large hands squeezed her waist and hips and seemed to explore as though he was studying her.

Y/n found herself moaning and arching pushing towards him. She tried to explore his back with her hands and yet there seemed to be more area left as a testament to how large he was compared to her.

His mouth wrapped around a nipple, softly licking it. It seemed like he was slowing down but once he spread his spit enough, Azriel flicked his tongue on the peak.

Y/n loved it. Her hands on his hair and neck, scratching and tugging. Her breasts were free and worshipped. Azriel was all over her.

Her elbows were supporting her upper body against the table as Azriel continued to work his mouth and hand on her breasts.

Azriel paused and looked at her as if to remind her that he was insatiable at this point. His hands came to her hips and then to her thighs and he hooked a finger on one of the belt loops and pulled it. “May I?”

Y/n was absolutely ready for this man to do whatever he wanted to her. Her legs were already spread and she nodded once. “Yes.”

Azriel unbuckled her belt and the sound of it excited her. So did the sound of the zipper.

His mouth against hers was another wonderful experience, tongue exploring her mouth as if he was searching for something.

Her hips had to rise in order for the jeans to be pulled down but Y/n was sort of sitting and supporting her body on elbows if that was anything.

In one smooth motion, Azriel stepped to the side, grabbed and lifted her legs with one hand and removed her pants till the hip with the other hand. He set her down gently before getting rid of the obstructive piece of clothing before returning.

“Where were we?” His hands on her thighs was a surreal experience. Spreading her so nicely. Those tattooed fingers against her skin had such power and his touch felt electric.

Fingers closed in on her inner thighs, teasing her as they played with the edge of her panties. She heard the sound of wood being clumsily dragged and she found that he’d pulled a chair and sat down.

Y/n thought she was ready but Azriel quickly erased that misconception when a finger suddenly entered her.

An obscene sound escaped her and she suddenly pulled him closer by his neck, her back arching.

It had been a while since she’d had sex. Needless to say, it was a surprise for both of them.

“Sweetheart, have you never. .” Azriel trailed away, searching her face for an answer to a question. Y/n opened her eyes and saw his shock, immediately understanding what he wanted to ask.

“It’s been a long time.” She responded, taking her time to get used to him. Gods, it was just one finger and she could not get rid of the feeling even with how wet she was.

She was still breathing heavily since that one finger had been enough to leave her breathless. Her eyes closed as pain slowly gave way to pleasure.

Fuck it. At this rate, she’d need more time to get used to sex altogether. And with how big and thick Azriel was, she’d probably need a few days. “I’m here, Y/n.”

He was so good, whispering words of comfort and affirmation. Tell her she was beautiful and that they’d go at her pace and how good she felt around his finger.

It didn’t matter how much she wanted him to lose control with her because it’d probably hurt her with how she was currently.

“Move.” She whined, holding his shoulders for dear life. Azriel slowly moved his finger and Y/n kept gasping.

“Y/n, if you ever want to stop-”

“Are you insane?” She meant to sound strict but she was still processing the pleasure. “I-ah.”

Y/n could see how difficult it was for him to restrain. Desire bordering on determination to keep her needs first.

Azriel removed his finger and before she could complain, he moved her panties aside and sucked her clit harshly.

She had no control over herself and he easily grabbed her legs and placed them over his shoulders. Her hand moved to his head, fingers combing through his hair and grabbing them.

Her grip loosened and tightened in tandem with his tongue’s ministrations. Azriel was very much interested in teasing her towards the edge.

Y/n took a peek at him as he slowed down. Azriel met her gaze, raising a brow with such arrogance, she pushed his face against her cunt. A laugh reverberated through her skin.

His tongue relentlessly flicked against her clit and his finger slowly re-entered her. It felt easier since she’d been stretched for it earlier.

Azriel reached places her own fingers had never reached and he took his time exploring before Y/n trembled and moaned louder than she had so far.

She knew he’d realised what that spot was, how it would affect her. And he was simply teasing her. Trailing around, reaching everywhere except where she needed him the most. Her impatience rose and her needs increased.

“Az!” He hummed against her, the vibration carrying another wave of pleasure. “More.” He obliged with another finger.

Y/n jolted when she heard something loud. Azriel removed his mouth from her cunt, kicked away the chair he’d been sitting on, and rose to his height.

He set her legs down and pulled her closer to the edge of the table, his fingers still inside her. His hand found her throat as he pulled her into a searing kiss. A tear fell from her eye. And then another.

“Azriel.” The sight of him hovering over her in all that dark glory was too alluring and she couldn’t look away. Even seeing him made her quiver.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

She whimpered when his fingers started slowing and frantically looked up at him. “Your mouth and. . your fingers hnnghh.”

“My pretty girl.” Azriel kissed her cheek and kneeled and tapped her thighs. “On my shoulders.” She obeyed immediately.

Tears trailed down her cheeks. Y/n didn’t even know if she was moaning or crying. Both his hands were now holding her thighs apart and Azriel aimed to please her as he gently bit her clit while adding another finger.

It was too much now. He was now increasing the intensity and the speed, as if her pleasure was his sole purpose. She was falling at an insane speed and she was so close.

Azriel did not let go, licking the life out of her. At some point, she had completely laid down on the table and had begun thrusting her hips against his face. Her eyes remained closed, a hand playing with her nipple while the other clutched his scalp.

“Please, please, please. . .” Y/n continued begging. Whether it was for him to continue or to stop, even she didn’t know. She gasped and breathed and moaned and finally felt herself shatter.

Her body trembled and she was hauling all the air in as she breathed. Her tears stopped, eyes still closed, and she let go of his hair.

Y/n felt Azriel’s warmth close in as he rose to his height and leaned towards her. “So fucking pretty.”

He pulled her by the waist towards him, the other hand cradling her head, and she didn’t even have the energy to support herself against him. She felt his thick cock poking at her belly again.

Y/n looked up at him, desperate and exhausted. “Az.”

“What is it?”

“What about you?”

“Impatient, are we?” He teased with a faint smile. Azriel leaned in and kissed her softly.

When he pulled back, he looked like an insatiable beast, desire darkening his golden gaze. “Breathe all the air in, Y/n, because I’m going to fuck it out of you soon.”

****

Taglist:

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moonlight-prose · 3 months ago

Text

WONDERING WHY

a/n: this is for the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline! i'm not gonna do the whole list cause i would stress myself out to an insane degree. but a few caught my eye. so i've thrown together some small fics for the man himself in the hopes of scattering them throughout october. this is also late one day cause of well me having a shitty time in life rn. but i hope y'all enjoy!

logan promptober: day six - cowboy

summary: loving logan howlett felt like loving a ghost. he returned when the moon hung low in the sky and his time gave way for freedom. but when you needed him most, he arrived on your doorstep with the promise of giving you exactly what you want.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: cowboy!old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI IT'S 18+ ONLY, romance, love, angst, longing, pining, they're obsessed with each other, filthy kissing, p in v sex, rough sex, spit, choking (sorta), calling the pussy her/she, he's an old man who fucks insanely well, feral old man logan.

Pale moonlight brushed across the Earth with strokes of paint. Stars were sprinkled along the night sky, glimmering in darkness as you leaned against the doorway of your home. The lantern flame flickered with each waft of cool air that breezed past you. Pooling inside where a fire cracked and sparked—offering enough warmth to keep you sated for the remainder of time.

At least until he returned home.

You listened for the familiar clop of hooves, the click of his tongue guiding the horse where to go. Hoping that eventually he’d turn the bend in the dirt road and find his way back to the safety of your shared bed.

This was a routine you knew well—one you found solace in as the days grew short and sunlight became sparse. In summer he often returned when the clock struck midnight; the weariness of a long day spent riding through towns and hunting with others was normal. If a little grueling. Although you never complained. You knew who he was when you met him—understood the ups and downs of what this relationship would be.

Logan wasn’t anything if true to his word right at the start. I’m not gonna be here every day sugar, but I’ll be here when you need me.

Eventually you’d have to blow out the lantern and amble back indoors. Calling it quits on yet another night spent alone. He didn’t like it when you were out past a certain time—raiders and hunters alike were more than willing to break in without remorse. Especially if they didn’t know who resided inside, who shared your bed on nights like tonight.

“I need you,” you sighed, shutting your eyes to the sight of an empty road.

They were empty words of hope strung together to make a wish on whatever star caught your eye. Rarely did they work. Although some nights you wondered if magic twined with your solemn prayer—summoning the man you so desperately wanted. It was wishful thinking, a well full of reverie you continuously drank from. Although maybe it was the poison that would one day cause you to drop dead. Maybe…Logan was a figment of all that you could never have.

He might not even exist.

Your eyes fluttered open, glancing up at the sky with anticipation of a falling star. The echo of hooves along dirt drew your attention from your nightly ritual—curiosity pulling you close and whispering promises of giving you everything you wanted. It was probably a stranger. Someone looking for an easy place to spend the night. Logan always told you to say no with a shotgun in your hands, and your body tensed in preparation to grab for the gun propped near the doorway.

Relief flooded your veins at the sight of a familiar dark brown leather coat, his hat tipped low enough to hide the eyes that loomed beneath—glinting with a darkness you'd only seen once or twice in your time together. Calloused and scarred hands gripped loosley at the reins as the horse trotted up the path—finding it's way home with ease.

There was a pull between the two of you. Insatiable and feral and strong enough to have him searching for you the second he drew closer to the house. Hazel eyes fatigued by the long trip back locked onto your form. Plush skin and curves hidden beneath layers of a dress you had yet to strip off.

You would leave that to him, knowing how much he enjoyed tugging at the strings of your corset—undoing the buttons to set you free.

"Gonna catch your fuckin' death," he muttered, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. You relished the sound, unable to stop your smile.

"I was waiting for you."

He huffed, wrapped the reins around the wooden fence he built steadily over the years—the leather bag on his saddle now strapped over his wide shoulder. "Shouldn't be waitin' on a man like me sugar."

"You always say that."

"And I'm always right."

"Would you prefer I wait on someone else?" you inquired, a challenge glinting in your eyes.

He bit back a growl, hand settling on your hip to drag you to the edge of the front step as he stepped to the one below. "Are you tryin' to tell me somethin'?"

The possession in his eyes made your heart race, your fingers digging into the soft leather permeated by the scent of cigars smoked in various saloons. He felt familiar, a home you didn't know could exist within another person. The house you two built resided in his heart; the missing piece you searched for on nights spent without him. But now you had it in your grasp—fitting it back into place with a sigh of bliss.

The picture of peace finally pressed itself to your soul, caressing a part of your love that left each time he mounted his horse—the promise of coming home on the tip of his tongue.

"I haven't found someone else yet, but I very well could-"

The rumble in his chest was layered with everything he'd never say with words. "Try it," he growled. "And I'll have to make a fuckin' graveyard out back."

Heat pooled rapidly into your stomach, elation fluttering through your heart. You knew an animal hid in the depths of his chest. Feral with claws and teeth that snapped at the thought of someone taking what was his. You'd never belong to someone else. You'd never want to. The echo of his words seared into your mind, a vow of forever etched into each vowel and consonant.

He was home. He was here. He was real.

"There's no one else," you murmured, leaning your forehead against his—lips brushing against his with each soft admission. "There could never be anyone else."

All that would go unspoken, all neither of you could say.

I love you. I'll love you forever. Whatever this is…it will only end when we're buried six feet under.

"Good," he replied gruffly. "Now give your old man a proper fuckin' welcome."

The smile you wore deepened as his warm hand cupped your cheek. His skin was dry from the leather and a few cuts were scattered here and there, but nothing could resemble this. The blooming heat that spread across your chest like the roots of an ancient tree. He held you with a tenderness that might have shocked you at first—the fear of harming you burning hot in his stomach.

But this was how he always touched you. With a love that couldn't be replaced. A promise soldified in the lines of his palm, fate driven and earthly bound, and yours forevermore.

Finding his lips beneath his hat, you let go of the breath held deep in your lungs. The taste of his cigars spread on your tongue. A familiar morsel of home you gravitated towards. Later in the evening—when you were both lethargic and naked and covered in all sorts of fluids—he'd puff on a brand new cigar. Giving you taste with lazy kisses and smiles traded in the dark of night.

"Missed you Logan," you mumbled, tongue sliding against his with a breathy moan. "I always miss you."

He chuckled, deep enough to vibrate against your chest—his hands sliding down to grip your waist. "You wanna show me how much?"

"You'd like that huh." Smiling into the kiss, you felt his teeth dig into your lips. He sucked it with a groan, fingers digging harshly into the layers of fabric.

"Mhm." His breath was harsh against your cheek, each kiss filled with a need to ravage what belonged to him. To prove he still held space in your heart. "Missed you every fuckin' day sugar."

You laughed, toying with the hair at the base of his skull—curling your fingers around it to tug him back. The moan he rewarded you with made saliva pool in your mouth. His eyes watched you, dazed with want, mouth parted and swollen from your kisses. And you burned the image of him in your mind.

"You wanna show me how much baby?" you breathed, brushing your lips to his with a teasing laugh.

A biting growl ripped from his throat. "Get inside before I take you out here."

"There's an idea."

The harsh slap to your hip dragged a peal of laughter out of your chest. Stumbling back, your hands yanking the hat off his heat and working the jacket down his arms, you kissed him as if you'd never get the chance to again. Wet and spit slicked. Until your teeth clashed together and his tongue was halfway down your throat. Each moan that dripped from his mouth into yours felt like a fucking reward.

A blissful reminder that you weren't alone; he stood before you, frenzied and aching to feel your skin on his.

Logan couldn't figure out how he wound up in this haven. A home, a lover that stole his breath with each look, and forever right on the horizon. Years spent alone only offered the promise of torment, of a life overflowing with an endless amount of pain.

But for some unknown reason, the sun that used to sear his skin now stood before him lighting the pathway home. The brilliance of you blinded him—warmed every cold aspect that resided in the depths of his chest. Yet he'd rather spend the rest of his life in your fierce heat than suffer in the biting cold again.

Oh how lucky he felt just getting the chance to burn.

Desire simmered sharply in the base of your stomach the further you got into the house—his teeth biting down to the column of your throat, fingers toying with the laces of your corest. He devoured you like a sweet thing to be had. A treat he rarely got to partake in tasting. And fuck if he wasn't going to take his time. You clawed at his shirt, pulling it up and off his body with a hoarse shout of glee—nails piercing the flesh of his shoulders as he yanked your leg around his hip.

He practically dragged you to the small bedroom, tearing off the clothing as he went with harsh snarls of want. You'd worry about mending the fabric later in the morning. Or perhaps the day after that. Given how you could feel the heft of his cock through his pants, pressing to your stomach with each small shift of your body.

"On the bed." The command was punctuated with a slap to your ass—a sharp bite against the skin of your collarbone drew a soft moan to the surface.

He tugged the front of your corset down, dropping to the ground with the remainder of your skirts. Baring yourself to Logan with a smile, you felt the emptiness slip down onto the wood of the bedroom floor. Expelling from your body with each panted breath and soft carress. He turned you inside out with the smallest of actions—the barest of touches.

The time he spent alone and wrapped in thoughts of you became all he lived off of. Your memory turned into the reason he stayed alive.

Unlike so much of his life he now held an answer to why he dragged himself home. Why he forced himself to keep going.

"Lemme see her." His hand wrapped around your leg, pulling open your thighs for him to catch a glimpse of what lay between.

You'd been dripping since he arrived. A sticky wet mess that begged for his attention. Logan salivated at the sight, his eyes zeroing in on the way you glistened for him. On any other night he'd sit you on his face in a quick attempt at gaining the close proximity he longed for when he was gone. Tonight served for a different want—a biting need that dug its teeth into his skin.

"She missed me huh," he mumbled, thumb sliding through your wet folds.

You moaned, breathy and restless. "She did baby."

"'M gonna give her what she needs."

"Logan," you sighed, hand outstretched for him to take. "Need you close."

Every nerve lit like a fuse when he gifted you with a full smile. "I will sugar. Lemme just look at ya first huh?"

With a nod you let your legs spread apart, arms draped above your head. The sight of you stole his breath, but you didn't fare any better. His skin scattered with scars you kissed a thousand times over still rendered you incapable of speaking. Hell you weren't even sure you'd taken a breath since he walked through the door.

Though his body was worn and his hair was graying, you couldn't deny he remained the most beautiful man you ever set your eyes on.

"Like what you're lookin' at?"

Your grin was lazy, eyes overflowing with a language Logan once thought he'd never learn yet now could be considered fluent in. Love.

"I really do," you whispered, sharing the secret with him. The words rarely spoken were shouted at the top of your lungs in each loving praise.

He shook them off when you first met him. Claimed they were false words to make yourself feel better about loving an animal who walked and talked like a human. Although, over time he allowed them to sink into his skin, bathe over his broken and weary soul.

They held him together like a ribbon tied through his soul, placed neatly in a bow on his heart.

His hand was swift in undoing his belt, pushing the remainder of his clothes off to join yours heaped on the floor. And you drank in the sight of the man you adored climbing over your body with a hungry gaze. Your heart flipped, grip sliding along his back as you welcomed him in between your legs—the heavy weight of his cock a warm press against your thigh.

"Welcome home." The smile melded into the kiss he placed on your lips, tongue sliding in the curve along your teeth, to taste every bit of you he could reach.

Bucking your hips into his, you dug your nails into his lower back in the hopes that he'd move. He swallowed your whine, spit trailing down your chin when he pulled back to catch his breath. Moving slowly never worked for you—entirely used to the man who broke you with the intent of putting you back together—and right now was no exception. The torment of not having him tore at your heart, put a splinter in the longing simply to crack you in two even further.

"Hold still," he grunted, his hand shoving your hips back onto the bed. "Movin' so fuckin' much I'm gonna have to tie you down."

Your gasp was wet—needy. "Please. Fuck please-"

"Right." His other hand slid up your torso to rest against the base of your throat—thumb running along the smooth skin that covered your racing pulse. "I forgot who you are, sugar. You'd like that huh?"

Teeth tore at your bottom lip, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide the longer he held you there. Anticipation fried your nerves with each second that passed. But Logan wasn't a cruel man. He knew what you ached for—what you'd give up everything for. The closeness of the man you loved; a chance to have his body, heart, and soul.

Gripping himself, he tapped his cock against your clit, sliding through your slick with a stunted moan. A smile bloomed across his lips at your responding moan—fire streaking down your spine, curling along your limbs. He could drive you to madness and yet you'd thank him each time.

You would be grateful for anything he gave you.

"Don't get quiet on me now." His lips trailed along your cheek as he notched himself at your entrance. "Go on and sing for me sweetheart."

He sunk in with a smooth thrust, stretching you with slickened pain and a hoarse moan against the shell of your ear. And you forgot how to breathe. The pinch of pain quickly dampened with the roll of his hips—the head of his cock pressing snugly against your walls. This is what you missed, what your body screamed for.

The potent euphoria that drowned you under its vicious waves.

"So tight," he grunted. "Guess she really did miss me."

"Logan-" Your head tipped back into the pillows, a loud moan breaking the silence that curled over your bodies like a blanket.

"There she is." Pulling back slightly, he slammed back into you, nearly shoving you up the bed. "My pretty little songbird."

Nothing held you back from the sounds he drew out of your mouth. Each one louder than the last. Until the room was filled with a symphony of your combined pleasure, the vulgar echo of skin slapping against skin and your slick dripping down onto the bed, became all you could think about.

He thrived off it. The sight of you whittled down to nothing but a needy mess, begging for a small hint of his love. Maybe that made him an old man far too fucking dirty to be with someone as prescious at you. But he'd let the guilt eat him alive later. He'd worry about stealing your youth out from under you in the afterglow of feeling you cum.

A harsh thrust that struck against the sensitive spongy part of your walls had your knees clamping around his hips—your fingers scratching at his back to get him to slow down. You needed a chance to breathe, to regain some sense. Logan merely smiled, his fingers tightening around your throat to drag your head up. His lips slotting against yours in a messy kiss.

"Where do ya think you're goin'?" he growled, repeating the move with a bitten out groan. "Thought you wanted me to fuck you. Now you're running?"

"T-Too much-"

The angle changed sharply and suddenly he was no longer grinding into you but fucking right on that spot. A sharp sob of his name only added fuel to the quickly forming flame, quickening his movements until you felt your entire body begin to grow taut.

Slick smeared on the inside of your thighs, sticky and warm and loud enough to make you dizzy each time you heard it. He panted into your mouth, using the hold on your throat as leverage to fuck you back onto his cock.

Logan didn't love softly. He couldn't. Brutality was all he was capable of giving you and like the sweetest angel you took it with a smile. You let him use you up until his name was all you could comprehend. The heady scent of his sweat filled your senses, the salty tang of his skin spread along your tongue as you bit into his shoulder—your teeth marring his already marked skin.

Eventually it would turn purple, fading quicker than usual, but he'd wear it with pride. His own trophy after tearing you apart beneath him.

"Gonna cum?" he asked, mouthing at your breast, moaning at the taste of your skin. "I can feel it."

You nodded frantically, body going taut with each slap of his hips on yours. "C-Can I?"

"So fuckin' polite," he groaned, sucking on your nipple before letting it loose with a pop. Spit dripping down to your stomach. "'Course you can sugar."

Tugging at his hair, you felt the tremble in your thighs spread to the rest of your body. His other hand slipped between your bodies, thumbing at your throbbing clit with a soft moan, dragging you right to the edge of a cliff. A sharp grind of his hips broke the dam within you, flooding you with a mind numbing bliss that scorched your skin.

You cried his name until your throat went raw, tears spilling hotly down your cheeks that he licked up with a smile. The fluttering of your walls dragged a hoarse shout from his chest, his teeth clamping down onto any part of he could reach. He followed you instantly, shoving his cock deep enough to hurt as he filled you with enough cum to spill out.

The echo of your breaths resounded off the wooden walls, his hand dipping down to smear his cum along the inside of your thighs. Coating you in his essence; claiming you with his scent that burned the inside of his nose.

"I did you know," you mumbled, kissing the newly formed bruise on his skin. "Miss you."

He sighed, his forehead dropping to yours. "I know sugar. I missed you too."

"Will you stay this time?"

A grin pulled at the corners of his lips, hips rolling into yours to pull another weak moan from those pretty lips he longed to kiss. "As long as ya want me."

The hesitancy clamped around your heart, filling your stomach with anxiety. You wanted to beg him to never leave again, to spend each moment in the safety of this house. But Logan had always been a ramblin man. He'd never stay in one place too long. Even if eventually he found his way back here, back in the safety of your home.

"Forever?" you breathed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Logan's heart twisted at the sight. "Yeah sugar," he replied, dipping down to drag his lips along yours. "I like the sound of that.”

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #my writing #logan promptober

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