#they took my wooden knife

[min-play]

banned from woodwork class

[sleepyhoon]

TWO MOONS - L.HS

pairing. plug!heeseung x reader

genre. smut, 18+ content, one shot, drabble. MDNI!

word count. 4k+

warnings. drug & alcohol consumption, partying, swearing, sex while intoxicated, short smut [ dry humping, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), fingering ]

synopsis. based off of this hard thought! plug!heeseung who likes you so much that he's convinced himself that you're kinda evil.

a/n. sorry this took so long lol hope u enjoy regardless :) no part 2 so plss dont request it but maybe some drabbles!! also not fully proofread so pls disregard any typos or grammatical errors hehe

Never in his life did Heeseung predict he’d be getting bitched around by a girl arguably much shorter, physically weaker, and far less intimidating than him. And yet here he was, shirtless in his kitchen at two in the morning on his third attempt of baking edibles all because you were too scared to smoke a little weed. 

Fucking ridiculous.

It’s his own fault, really, he should’ve known that innocent, good girl persona you put on was all an act you use to control people – specifically men. Stirring the dessert batter in the mixing bowl, Heeseung shakes his head at the memory of you tilting your head and batting your eyelashes at him as you spoke, your perfectly manicured nails – that you probably got some desperate bitchboy to pay for – tracing and lightly scratching his bicep.

“So,” you started, dragging out the ‘o’, “how much do you charge for edibles?”

Heeseung shakes his head, tracing the rim of his half-empty red solo cup as he responds, “Edibles aren’t my forte. You don’t smoke?”

“Not my forte,” you say in a mocking tone, making Heeseung chuckle. “It’s just too much, you know? The smell, how quick it kicks in…not for me. But, uh, if you don’t make them I’ll stop wasting your time, then.” You give Heeseung a friendly pat on the shoulder before turning on your heels, fully prepared to disappear back into the party and find someone who actually meets your needs.

“Wait!” Heeseung stops you, tugging on your arm until you’re back to facing him. He can’t fucking believe this bullshit manipulation tactic you’re using on him is actually working, he’s literally pulling on your arm like a child so you won’t leave him.

You raise a brow at him as you wait for Heeseung to continue, taking note of his sudden nervousness, “Yeah?”

“Uh…are you into, like, brownies? Or…”

The smirk you gave in response said enough, you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

He’d spent the next few hours browsing the aisles of Target, checking his phone every so often and checking off each ingredient as he tossed them into the bright red shopping cart. To make matters worse, you hadn’t even requested normal brownies, you wanted some shit he’d hardly ever heard of before: blondies. 

It was bad enough that Heeseung already couldn’t bake for shit, and here you were demanding he’d make something he’d never even tasted before; you really are a master manipulator.

His third and final attempt at baking the blondies were a success, his three roommates taste-testing the fresh batch as a final confirmation.

“I can’t even taste it,” Jake says, his brows shooting up in delight, “you sure you’re not forgetting the main ingredient?”

“That’s the whole point,” Heeseung explains, cutting the remaining batch into neat squares, “YN doesn’t want the taste to be too strong, she likes when it’s more subtle and takes awhile to kick in.”

“Are you her wife or her plug?” Sunghoon jokes from his spot on the couch, taking a small bite of his own blondie.

“Neither,” Jay inserts himself into the conversation, taking a seat next to Sunghoon, “I’m sure he wants to be both, though.”

“Fuck off,” Heeseung snaps, momentarily narrowing his eyes at his roommates. “We just met, I’m just trying to get to know her.” He sets the knife down, reaching into the wooden cabinet to retrieve ziplock bags.

“You’re already her bitch, what else is there to know?” Sunghoon half-jokes, resting his feet on the ottoman.

“I am not her bitch.”

He totally is, if the way he’s hurrying to send you a picture of the freshly made blondies is anything to go by.

Heeseung * 2:47 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image] Yooo

YN * 9:06 AM

omggggg  ur the fucking best how much??

You didn’t respond until the following morning, causing Heeseung to nearly jump out of his skin once he woke up to your texts. He turns on his side, elbow propped up against the mattress as he formulates a response.

Heeseung * 10:31 AM

1 for 10 or 2 for 15. venmo or cashapp But lmk if you want more 

YN * 10:40 AM

no cash? :(

Heeseung’s about to go on a long winded explanation about how money transferring apps are quicker and more convenient than accepting cash when you interrupt him by sending a photo.

YN * 10:41 AM 

[Attachment: 1 Image] plsssss i don’t trust cashapp and ive been having issues w my venmo acc :(

It’s a photo of the bottom half of your face, lips formed into a cute pout with your camera angled low enough to show off your cleavage. You weren’t even trying to be discreet, setting your forearm underneath your chest to make your boobs sit higher, the cheetah print material of your bra peeking out from under your too-small tank top.

Heeseung swallows hard, staring down at the photo with his pupils blown wide as his trembling fingers type out a response.

Heeseung * 10:50 AM

Actually you know what don’t even worry about it lmao Consider it a gift When r u free for pickup Or i can bring to u Either or is fine lol

YN * 10:59 AM

omg :o are u sure?  don’t want u to lose out on money >.<

Heeseung * 11:11 AM

It’s fine dw about me baby U picking up? Or want me to drop off On campus is too risky

YN * 11:12 AM

thank u hee!!!!!!! im done with classes around 4:30 i’ll pick up around then if that works also u responded at 11:11…angel number u must be my angel :o

There you go again with your subtle manipulation tactics that Heeseung swears won’t work on him. If there really is angel out of the two of you, it definitely wouldn’t be you, but Heeseung’s not too sure he’d be considered one either. After all, in the twelve minutes it took him to respond to your message, he spent ten of them fucking into his fist as he stared at the photo you sent.

His mind conjured up countless scenarios; leaving hickeys and bite marks across your chest, slipping his dick between your tits as you held them together for him, cumming all over them, fucking anything. Desperate wasn’t even the word.

Heeseung * 11:13 AM

Must be :)

After a month and a half of being your personal baker slash bitchboy, Heeseung really is convinced that you’re using him, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything he’s grateful, fully aware that if it weren’t for him being your plug, the two of you likely never would’ve crossed paths despite attending the same universities.

There wasn’t an ounce of school spirit in his body, so he had little to no urgency to attend any of the sporting events you cheered at or one of the many school-sponsored events you were required to attend. Meeting you at that party not too long ago had been his first encounter with you ever, and you clearly left him with a great first impression on him.

Since that night, he’s found himself conjuring up a new batch of edibles for you every week; brownies, cupcakes, cereal bars, whatever the fuck you wanted, and half the time he’d do it for free if it meant he got to give it to you in person.

He still hasn’t convinced you to actually smoke, though, but maybe it’s for the best. The mere thought of getting high with you and how you’d stare him down with half-lidded eyes was enough to make his dick hard — in fact, it already has. Several times.

Enough time has passed to the point where it’s obvious to everyone, yourself included, that Heeseung has genuine feelings for you that go beyond a physical and sexual attraction. Sure, he’s still convinced that you’re a little bit evil and definitely manipulative, but he considers it part of the fun. He’s also deluded himself into having the “I can fix her” mindset that he’s been using to justify his actions of ignoring your red flags.

However, even if he can’t “fix” you, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. Red is his favorite color, after all.

“You sound…crazy, and she sounds crazier,” Jake leans against the kitchen counter, raising a concerned brow at Heeseung as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I’m not crazy,” Heeseung corrects, “and YN is…I don’t know, honestly. Leave her alone, dipshit.”

Jake throws a hand up in defense, glaring when a fellow partygoer accidentally bumps into him, nearly causing him to spill his drink. “Rather be a dipshit than a bitchboy.” He mutters loud enough for Heeseung to hear before groaning, “Wow, speak of the devil.”

Heeseung turns, following Jake’s line of sight until he spots you walking through the front door. Stunning as always, your khaki mini skirt and black halter top fitting as if they were custom designed for you and only you.

Despite extending you an invitation to Sunghoon’s birthday party, Heeseung was fairly certain you wouldn’t show up tonight, assuming you’d be consumed with cheer practice or one of your many extracurricular activities to attend. Yet, here you were, a wicked grin on your face as you made eye contact with Heeseung.

He gulps in return, eyes wide as he watches you walk over to him and Jake.

You stand beside Heeseung, shooting him a quick smile before directing your attention to Jake, “Sunghoon! Happy birthday, king!”

Jake side-eyes you, briefly glancing at Heeseung before responding, “I’m not…you know what? Nevermind, thanks.” He takes this as an opportunity to exit the conversation, giving Heeseung a light pat on the shoulder as he leaves.

“Didn’t think you’d be here.” Heeseung comments, leaning against the kitchen countertop.

You shrug, “Wasn’t doing anything else, figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by for a little. Besides, I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah?” Heeseung asks, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Yeah,” you respond, taking a step closer and resting your hand on his bicep, “got anything for me?”

Fuck, Heeseung knew he should’ve made another batch of brownies or some shit. He seriously hadn’t been expecting you to show up tonight, otherwise he would’ve been prepared.

He shakes his head, “Not this time, you should’ve told me you were coming; I would’ve made something.”

You groan, momentarily tilting your head back, “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised,” his hand lands on your waist, pulling your body until your flush against him, “why won’t you just smoke with me?”

You grimace, shaking your head in response.

Heeseung rolls his eyes, “Just once? I know your first time wasn’t that great, but, I really think you’d like it if you tried again.”

“I don’t know, Hee…”

“Tell you what,” Heeseung starts, clearing his throat, “smoke with me just this once, and your next few purchases are on me.”

It isn’t much of an offer considering most of the shit he gave you was either free or already extremely discounted, but your eyes light up regardless. “Really?”

Heeseung nods, “I swear.”

You think it over for a moment, the pros instantly outweigh the cons and lead you to accept Heeseung’s desperate offer. 

A few minutes later, you find yourself in a comfortable lounge chair with Heeseung in his backyard, grateful that the remaining partygoers opted to stay indoors, giving you privacy and alone time with him.

You’re sitting sideways on his lap, trying your best to ignore the feeling of his dick pressing right against your ass, neatly rolled blunt in one hand as he uses the other to fish a lighter from his pocket. “You’re nervous,” he comments.

You shake your head, “I’m not.”

“You are, I feel you shaking.”

“I’m fine, just kinda cold. Go on.”

Heeseung studies you for a moment, eye contact strong and intimidating as ever as he brings the blunt to his parted lips. You watch carefully as he brings the lighter towards the tip, focusing entirely too much on the concentrated look on his face as he lights it. Slowly, he begins to rotate it as the end continues to burn, taking a few small puffs here and there.

Satisfied with his creation, Heeseung takes a long, slow drag, inhaling the smoke into his lungs before titling his head away to exhale.

“Your turn,” he says, offering you the blunt.

You hesitantly stare down at it before accepting; it was intimidating to say the least, the scent alone strong enough to make your head hurt. Heeseung watches you patiently, eyes darting between your lips and the blunt in silence.

Deciding you need a little bit of encouragement, he brings his thumb to your lips, parting them slightly as his free-hand wraps around your wrist, “You’ll be fine, trust me.” 

Under the guidance of his calloused hand, you finally bring the blunt up to your lips and briefly inhale before immediately exhaling.

Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head, “How’d that feel?”

You ponder for a moment, passing the blunt back to Heeseung, “I don’t feel anything. Literally nothing.”

“I mean, yeah, you didn’t even inhale it.”

You roll your eyes, “Why are there so many steps? This is why I prefer edibles.”

“I’m just showing you that you have other options, babe.”

“Yeah, well I’m sticking to my baked goods. You can have the rest of that, I don’t want anymore.”

Heeseung’s well aware that you’re a woman of your word, and the chances of you ever smoking again were a definite zero, so trying to get you to change your mind was pointless. However, there is one thing that may just work on you.

“Mind if I try something?”

You perk up, “Try what?”

“I do all the work but you still get high.”

You raise a brow, “That’s possible?”

He nods, “All you’d have to do is take deep breaths.”

Taking a deep breath, you accept Heeseung’s offer with a sigh, resting a hand on his shoulder as you adjust yourself on his lap. “Fine.”

Here goes nothing.

He guides the blunt back to his lips, taking a long drag as he holds the smoke in his mouth. He tilts his head upward towards you, taking your chin in his hand, signaling for you to part your lips. You follow his command and part your lips open, just enough for Heeseung to close the distance and allow the smoke into your mouth, his lips barely brushing against yours in the process.

You take in a deep breath, eyes closed shut and inhale the smoke, careful not to exhale too quickly and have a repeat of your previous attempt.

“How was that?” Heeseung asks, taking note of your sudden silence.

Truthfully, it wasn’t bad. The smell is still too strong for your liking and requires much more effort than biting off a piece of dessert and calling it a day, but it wasn’t bad. You’re certain that Heeseung shotgunning it into your mouth only added to the experience.

“Not bad,” you admit, “probably because you did all the work.”

He chuckles at that, “I’ll always take care of you, remember that.”

Heeseung is having the time of his life, thoroughly convinced that he finally has some power over you. Here you were sitting on his lap in his backyard letting him blow smoke into your mouth. Sure, it may have taken a lot of convincing and begging on his end to get to this point, but none of that matters; baby steps are still movement.

As if the night couldn’t have gotten any better, you’re asking Heeseung to shotgun more smoke into your mouth over and over. He’s careful to maintain a calm and nonchalant demeanor as he does so, not wanting to come off as too eager out of fear of scaring you away. Or even worse, giving you back that power you have over him.

On the fifth time, you swipe your tongue across Heeseung’s bottom lip when he passes the smoke into your mouth, a low groan escaping from him in the process. He’s fully hard in his jeans by now, and there’s no way you can’t feel his dick pressing right into you. Despite the cold weather, your entire body feels warm all over, Heeseung only adding to the pleasure.

You should’ve taken Heeseung a bit more seriously when he said you’d still get high from this; after a few minutes, your limbs were already starting to feel lighter and weaker. A delicate, cloud-like haze fills your head; your vision blurs slightly and it takes a few minutes for you to fully relax.

Heeseung, attentive as ever, remains silent and still has he watches you; primarily due to the fact that you squirming around on his lap is only adding to the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. One wrong move, and he’d surely be cumming in his boxers.

You rest your forehead against Heeseung, pressing a firm hand against his chest when he moves to blow more smoke into your mouth. He hums, staring up at with a concerned look on his face.

You close your eyes, mumbling, “Heeseung…”

He hums again in response, still holding the smoke in his mouth.

You open your eyes briefly before closing them again, balling up the collar of his shirt in your fist as you lean down to press your lips against his. He opens his mouth on instinct, as if it were a second nature, parting his lips slightly and exhaling the smoke into your mouth once again.

Heeseung absentmindedly sets the blunt down, his hands moving to your waist to pull you closer to him until your tits are pressed right up against his chest. He groans into your mouth at the feelings, tilting his head to allow himself further into your mouth. 

You cup his face in your hands, hips moving forward as you slowly begin to grind yourself against him. “Fuck,” he moans in a low voice, “keep doing that.”

You grind down harsher this time, capturing his moan in your mouth in the process. With each movement of your hips, a shiver descends down your spine at the friction; Heeseung is painfully hard, and from what you could feel, he was definitely packing. Bigger than what you would’ve expected.

It all feels too good; you grinding against him, the state of his high, your tongue in his mouth. It’s all so overwhelmingly euphoric that Heeseung hardly realizes how close he is to literally cumming in his boxers.

His body was always overly sensitive whenever he got high, and often avoided any sort of intimacy that involved another person due to how embarrassingly quick he would finish, and tonight doesn't seem to be any different. What makes matters worse is the fact that Heeseung was already desperately attracted to you and had been dreaming of this moment since he’d first met you.

He pulls away quickly, cursing under his breath, “YN, h-hold on,” he stutters, “slow down, please.”

You don’t listen; in fact, you can barely even hear him with how caught up you were in your own head. “Hmm? Say that again?”

“S-slow – ah, fuck – slow down for a sec, baby.”

His grip on your waist tightens, and despite the urgency in his tone of wanting you to slow down, he makes no effort to still your hips move you off of him. Fuck it, it is what it is.

“Why?” You question, tilting your head, but you’re a few seconds too late.

Heeseung’s entire body shivers, hips jolting upwards as he comes on himself, making a mess of his boxers. While that alone was definitely embarrassing, Heeseung is more annoyed over the fact that you’ve regained your power over him. His priorities were definitely fucked, but he didn’t even care; he could clean himself up later, but the damage to his ego would take longer to repair.

Your hands fly to your mouth in shock, eyes widening as you process what’s just happened, “Oh, Heeseung…” you mumble into the palm of your hands.

He throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he runs a hand down his face, “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding.”

“It’s okay! It happens! No big deal!” You try to reassure him, but it goes in one ear and out the other.

Sure it happens and maybe it isn’t a big deal, but it is for Heeseung. He’s not the type to bust a nut over someone squirming around in his lap for ten minutes, this shit was fucking insanity.

“I’m seriously not like this, I’m just overly-sensitive when I’m high. I swear, I-”

“It’s fine, Heeseung,” you interrupt, standing from his lap, “if anything, I’m flattered! Why don’t you, uh, get cleaned up and I’ll see you later?”

“YN, come on, don’t do this.” He pleads, following you and you make your way towards the sliding door. 

“I told you, it’s fine! I’m not like,” you pause, opening the door with a loud grunt, “mad or weirded out or anything.”

You slip back into the living room, Heeseung hot on your tail with every step. “Let me make it up to you!”

You sigh, “Honestly, I don’t think you have it in you to do that right now.”

“I do! Just let me, please.”

“Heeseung, please drop it. I said it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, at least let me eat you out or something!”

“Heeseung!” Your eyes widen at his lewd, shameless offer, “Lower your voice! We’re in a fucking party surrounded by people!”

He smacks his teeth, “I don’t care. Please, YN.”

“You don’t have to make it up to me, you do not owe me anything.”

A beat of silence passes, then he says, “Then do it for me. Please.”

Even though Heeseung was the one literally begging to go down for you, there is a possibility of him having some sort of power over you; or maybe you just have a soft spot for him. Either way, you end up lying in his bed twenty minutes later, skirt bunched up around your waist as Heeseung’s wet tongue circles your clit, desperate attempt at coaxing a second orgasm from you.

He hadn’t even realized he’d grown hard again just from eating you out, and would likely end up cuuming in his boxers again just from doing this.

“Fuck,” he moans into your folds, pulling away slightly to pepper kisses on your inner thighs, “been waiting so fucking long for this.”

“Yeah?” You question, your grip on Heeseung’s hair tightening.

This earns a low groan from him as he nods against your skin, “You have no idea.”

Deciding he’s spent enough time away from your cunt, his lips make their way back onto you; his tongue falls flat against you, dragging your wetness upwards towards your swollen clit before wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud.

Your body shivers, a beam of sweat dripping down your forehead as your second orgasm approaches. You’ve been eaten out before, countless times, but never like this. It was almost as if Heeseung was doing it for his own pleasure rather than your.

He teases your entrance with his finger before sliding two of them in with ease, curling them upwards and immediately hitting the spot you needed him the most.

“H-Heeseung…hold on…”

He hums, but he’s not really listening, too occupied with kitten-licking your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you. The knot in your stomach finally snaps and you’re gushing against his hands and mouth, Heeseung only takes this as a sign to continue lapping at your cunt. You have to literally grab him by the hair and drag him away from you.

He stares up at you, pupils blown wide and his chin coated in your juices, but he definitely looks happy. “What?” he asks.

You struggle to catch your breath, “You’re hard again?”

He looks down at his crotch momentarily before shrugging, “I guess.”

“You…don’t you wanna do something about that?”

His eyes flash down to your cunt for a split second, “It can wait.”

You scoff, “Well, I need a minute.”

Heeseung nods in agreement, impatiently drumming his fingers on his bed as you flop against his mattress. “Ready?” He asks once a minute has passed.

“No.”

He sighs, then sighs again, and again and again until you let out a frustrated groan. “Go get me a glass of fucking water.”

“Okay!” He shouts while standing, exiting the bedroom in a hurry. Maybe you really do treat him like a bitchboy, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

[willowed-wisp]

ghost as a dad [ simon riley ]

part two | part three

- Never wanted kids, he was so careful not to get you pregnant but with the amount you guys fuck, it was bound to happen.

- You’re scared when you get that positive test… you cry out of fear that you’ll have to get rid of the thing you had always wanted.

- It took you a week to gain the courage to tell him, you just left the pregnancy test on the kitchen table and left for work. You wanted to let him sit with it for a few hours.

- When you did return home, he sat on the sofa- elbows to knees looking down at the test. How long had he been like that?

- You waited for him to speak, while you shuffled around with that nauseous feeling bubbling in your stomach.

- It was late in the afternoon so you started chopping some vegetables for dinner, “I’ll call the termination clinic in the morning…” Your voice mulled over the slices weighing down on the wooden chopping board.

- Fingers crawled along your waistband as he rested against the sink. “No. You’re not.” You rested the knife down.

- “I thought you didn’t want kids…?” Your eyes on the verge of tearing, looking back at him. Your cool, mysterious man… finding purchase in those deep dark eyes.

- His bare hands wrapped around you- resting under your shirt. “I can’t put you through tha’,” His light hair tickled while his chin rested on your shoulder, “You’re the only person I’d wanna do this with.”

- He was there for the first and second of your pregnancy. Simon held your hair back while you threw up almost every day and he rubbed your back.

- Simon is very careful when having sex with you, but he soon realised that you feel everything 10x as much. And your sex drive is through the roof, he’s never been so needy in his entire life… you were so desperate for him and he wanted you just as much.

- Simon gets deployed during your 7th month. He doesn’t want to go… nearly refuses. Unfortunately he can’t do that.

- You’re stressed after he leaves. But his family takes care of you- he asked for them to.

- When he lands back on British soil, he immediately phones you. You pick up, and the cry of a baby is all he hears before he drops the phone and falls to his knees.

- He’s crying, actually in tears. “Is Y/N alright, LT?” Of course Soap was the one to see him like that.

- Simon nods, laughing, “I’m a dad…”

- He’s never driven so fast in his life, and you’re there on the sofa he had been 8 months ago with that test in his hand. This time you cradle a little human in your arms, swaddled like a bundle.

- He drops to his knees once more, ripping his mask off. And your warmth covers him with the little sighs coming from the now awake baby.

- Simon fell in love. He didn’t know if he was looking at a son or a daughter.

- You two didn’t want to know the gender.

- “Simon Riley… meet your daughter…” He melted again, face red and brown eyes bloodshot as he cradled the little one in his arms. Dotting into the identical eyes staring up at him.

- That’s when he held her close, head against his chest. “My little princess…” He hummed so gentle, rocking her slightly.

- He is so girl dad coded. He’ll be so sweet with her and she’d always come to her dad if anything was wrong

- Your little girl would play with his masks all the time, it never annoyed him- only making him giggle. Telling her to stop so playfully and boyishly, that you’d never seen him so soft-hearted before.

- You most likely have at most two more children after your daughter- maybe one girl and a boy.

- Simon definitely teaches your children self defence from a young age. Safety was everything and he wasn’t always around to protect them.

- He’s there every award ceremony he’s on leave and is the most doting father ever.

- Your children’s friends are terrified of him, until they get him talking- then they’re like ‘your dad’s cool.’

Did you want a part 2 of this?

Part Two is posted!

———

masterlist

[promisingyounglady]

accident. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

SYNOPSIS: we all make accidents. javier forgetting to pick you up at the train station was an accident. you forgetting to bring an umbrella was an accident. throwing a knife at your husband? you’re going to have prove that one was an accident to him.

WC: 3.6k

WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, mentions of weapons and knives, reader throws a knife at javier *just read you’ll find out*, implied age gap, established relationship, javier is a bit older than reader, domestic au, slight dom!javi, mentions of food and cooking, profanity, bratty!reader, reader is mean but javier can be meaner, floor sex, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, handcuffs, cum eating, brief oral (f recieving), slight non-con, rough sex, praise, degradation, post-sex sweetness, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE: obsessed and mentally ill. so here’s slightly dom!javi with a ton of angst

A headache ensues in Javier’s mind.

He tries to combat it with the clouds of smoke rising through the air, the comfortable scent of tobacco and cigarettes filling his nose as he takes a drag from the stick perched in between his blistered fingers, this inhale, longer than the last.

Today had been shit. It really had. All day he had been cooped up in the office with stacks of paperwork almost taller than himself, tossed onto him and Murphy's desk by the higher ups, a high demand for deadlines with their patience being low.

Javier had been sitting in his office for almost seven hours straight, looking at papers with tiny writing and filing reports with pen until sensitive pink blisters formed around a hand that should’ve been driving and carrying a gun today, out in the field on a mission another team had instead been tasked with.

He’s getting old for this stuff, and he knows its true when he feels a strain in his back from shifting in his seat.

Maybe that’s why they shoved the paperwork in the old man’s hands.

Javier leans forward, grabbing his almost empty pack of cigarettes from his desk, deciding a fourth one was necessary for tonight.

“Javier,” a voice calls for him, looking up when he sees the new secretary holding the phone facing her chest. “You’ve got a call”

“From who” he says gruffly, brows furrowed. He lights the cigarette with his lighter, tossing it onto his desk and taking another puff.

“It’s your wife,” The secretary states. “she’s asking what you want for dinner.”

Javier stops in the middle of flicking the ashes, letting the cigarette sit warm in his fingers when he turns his head so he could see her correctly.

Your sweet voice calls out through the receiver, a chill running down Javier's spine when he makes out that it really is you.

“Yeah, Sherry, it’s fine if he’s busy, just let him know I called. Tell him dinner’ll be late tonight, at around 10.” you piped up sweetly, saying goodbye to your husband's secretary before hanging up the call.

She leaves after telling him what he already heard, but Javier is quick to immediately put out the burning cigarette and quickly grab his coat, making his way out the office.

“Peña, Where are you going? We only got a few more stacks left” Murphy calls out, hair in a mess from the many stressful tugs and his own cigarette nestled in between his fingers.

“my wife.” Javier replies, suddenly not liking the bitter taste in his mouth.

“It’s raining outside, you’re gonna get drenched” the blonde tells him, shaking his head as he took a drag from his own cancer stick.

Javier stops in his tracks, looking outside the window to see his partner was right. It was pouring out there, hardly able to even make out the cars in the parking lot.

Him getting wet was the least of his worries. It was you, he was thinking of.

“Fucking hell.”

_

You set the receiver down on the living room table. The ticking of the clock resonating in the silent house before a sigh finally escaping your lips.

Droplets of rain water cloud your vision, cheeks pink from the cold as water dripped onto your wooden floorboards.

Fists clench and unclench around the handle of the umbrella given to you by an old lady at the train station.

“A girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone in the rain, mija” she insisted, letting you take her frilly umbrella as her son would pick her up shortly.

Javier was supposed to pick you up too.

But after forty minutes of standing out in the rainy weather under a flimsy roof as you waited for his truck to pick you up, you disappointedly caught a taxi and drove home by yourself

You were returning from your visit to your sick grandmother. You were her only granddaughter who she called the week prior, telling you how she missed you and wanted you to visit.

Javier insisted you went, not wanting to hold you back and assured he would come to pick you up at the station after the weekend spent with her.

What a fucking liar, you thought to yourself.

You quickly undressed your wet clothes, the outcome of having to have walked in rain to find an available taxi this evening.

You're curious to see the look on Javier’s face when you make him beg on his knees and ask for forgiveness. Maybe you wouldn’t even kiss him tonight, thinking in silence as you prepared for dinner.

You definitely weren’t trying to think about what an excellent opportunity this was to be a brat.

—

Javier parks into his quiet drive way exactly thirty minutes before 10. That’s thirty minutes of trying to get on your good graces and pray that he wouldn’t be sleeping outside tonight.

When he opens the door to the house, his heart beats fast. Prepared to see you ready to lash out at him, he’s instead surprised with the aromas of spices and your homemade cooking wafting to his nose, unconsciously realizing that he skipped lunch today from how caught up he was with work.

Picking up your wet jacket from the floor, Javier slots his keys and sunglasses in the bowl by the entrance, hanging his own jacket as well before he makes his way quietly to the glowing kitchen.

The stovepot is on a low boil, and he sees you in a long t-shirt, one that you made sure wasn’t his. Your hair is damp, probably from a shower as you swiftly work your hands away in prepping the vegetables.

Javier mumbles quietly in a gruff voice. “You, uh, left your coat on the floor.”

Thwack.

An aggressive chop at the carrots replaces your words, each cut piercing louder like a gunshot ringing in his ears.

“Hermosa, I am so sorry.“ Javier begins sighing because he knows he fucked up real bad this time.

Thwack. You moved onto the chicken meat.

“There’s no excuse baby, I wasn’t keeping track after being cooped up in the office today.” he sighs, brows furrowing as big brown eyes stared into your back.

Thwack. Thwack.

The DEA agent flinches at the sound of the raw chicken being butchered by your swift, angry hands. You’re not facing Javier directly and yet he can already see your glaring eyes. He sighs, not wanting to fight you. He tries to lighten the mood, voice soft as he comments.

“Qué te ha hecho ese pobre pollo”

You don’t reply, let alone acknowledge your husband, continuing to brutally dice the chicken on the cutting board before turning around to wash your hands.

Javier watches you swiftly work in your kitchen, feeling sorry as he still watches you prepare dinner for the two of you after such a long train ride.

He moves forward, rolling his sleeves as he tries to help you . “Querida, I’ll help with the pot-”

The clang of the knife hitting the cutting board echoes in the kitchen, finally looking up to face your husband. Javier leans back, resting against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and gun holsters unremoved after coming home.

You try to ignore how tired he genuinely looks, reminding yourself you were just the same when standing all alone for that one hour.

“Y’know what Javier?” You begin, eyes watering and nose twitching in anger. Javier stays silent, staring at you with sincerity.

“Fuck you” you spit, pointing an accusing finger at the man. “fuck you and your fucking DEA work, Javier”

“Mi-”

“I had to wait forty minutes outside in rainy weather, trying to see if every car passing by would be yours.” you said, voice breaking towards the end. You felt uncomfortable waiting by yourself.

Javier shuts his eyes, forehead wrinkling as he tries to calm you down. He draws your name out in a firm but gentle tone.

You ignore him, replacing his words with your attitude. “You always do this!” you exclaim, voice rising.

“Leaving your wife and family second while you think it’s cool to go and chase criminals while risking your goddamn life.” You mutter, glaring at your husband.

“I didn’t want to leave you at the station all alone, honey. I’ve been sitting at my desk since afternoon drowning in paperwork the higher-ups dumped on us” he presses, eyes sincere but patience wearing thin.

You scoff, shaking your head. “So even stupid paperwork makes you forget your wife.”

Javier pinches his nose bridge, his head pounding as he tries to communicate with you.

You go back to cutting your vegetables, mumbling under your breath. “Who the fuck in Bogotá is giving you credit for slaving away all day trying to catch Escobar, hm?”

The words pierce through Javier’s heart.

Your eyes light up in fake sarcasm. “Oh, I bet it’s the fact that you’re too busy being a fucking doormat to all the younger agents at work aren’t you? What, Murphy said he can’t do his share of the work so he gave you his leftovers?” You spit.

“Hey," Javier snapped, gruffly and darkly. He looked at you, eyes narrowed and dark. "Stop it. I've told you."

Anger gets the best of you as you turn to the cutting board. Grabbing the first thing you saw.

A carrot piece shoots in his way. Javier flinches, the food hitting his chest. Your husband stands there, stunned at his wife’s childish behavior.

“Go fuck yourself, Peña” you say menacingly.

“We don’t throw food in this house, mama” he barks, hands on the hips of his belt, gun and badge tucked in his back. He would never use them on you.

A celery stick slaps Javier in the face this time, making his patience hanging on by a thread even thinner.

Maybe he could whip out the handcuffs.

“Dont you fucking call me that!” you said spitefully, throwing anything and everything you could at the man who dodged your attacks.

“Querida!” Javier raises his voice at you, a growl in his words.

You felt the cold, hard material in your hands for a split second before you’re throwing it at him, almost wondering yourself why you were getting so angry at Javier.

You didn’t want to fight this bad, but at the same time you were sick of watching him work himself to death, forgetting about you. This wasn’t the first time he did something like this.

But you already crossed that line. You both stand in silence, holding your breath as you realized what you threw.

Now it was your turn to fuck things up.

Javier’s lip snarls and his mustache is in a scary frown when he shifts his head.

Only a few inches beside his face lands a dull potato knife, wedged in the kitchen cupboards above. It wouldn’t have worked on anything since it was unsharpened and unused, but the tremendous force you had thrown it with allowed it to have been lodged in the wood.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth.

You both watch Javier slowly raise his hand, pulling the knife inches beside his head with ease before tossing it into the sink. The clatter of the metal blade hitting the sink rings in the kitchen. A swarm of guilt fills your chest as you stand still in fear.

“Javi… I-I’m so sorry” you say, heart beating against your chest, cautiously awaiting a reaction from him.

Javier dusts off the carrot peels on his shoulder, watching as his jaw tenses but shoulders relax.

“Come here.” he all but says quietly. You see Javier reaching for his back pocket, taking out his gun and badge and placing it on the counter.

That wasn’t what scared you.

What scared you was then seeing Javier pull out the silver handcuffs lodged in his back pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of him playing around with them.

“Javi, I’ll go get the-“

“Come. Here.” Javier cuts you off, staring at you with dark eyes.

You swiftly shake your head, refusing to go. “It was an accident!” You exclaimed, dashing out the kitchen as you tried to escape Javier who was hot on your heels.

“Honey.” he says in a not so endearing way, a warning edge to his voice.

Tears littered your cheeks, knowing that you pushed Javier’s limits and that he would really punish you for how bratty you had been tonight.

You gasp, running up the stairs before strong arms encaged your frame, desperately trying to escape before shrieking in surprise as Javier hoisted you over his shoulder, a loud and painful smack being brought down to your ass by his strong hands. You grimaced, helplessly being brought to the kitchen in swift strides.

”It was an accident, I’m sorry, I was just so angry!” You wailed, groaning as your back hit the carpeted floors of your living room. Your vision was hazy, the dizziness getting to you as you saw Javier leave the room into the kitchen, and come back a few moments later. This time, he was unbuttoning his shirt, his forest of chest hair and strong muscles peeking through.

Javier took a deep breath, eying the way your t-shirt had hiked all the way up so your panties were showing. Your hair spread around your head like a halo, and he noticed how you clenched your thighs together in vulnerability.

“Some accidents need to be punished, baby” he muttered darkly.

You sobbed softly, nose red as you turned your head to the side, looking away from Javi’s menacing look. He didn’t mind, he knew once he was done messing with you, you would be clawing at his chest, begging him to fuck you properly while looking into his eyes. Javier leans down at your level, crawling on your body so he was on top and you were trapped on the bottom. He rips your t-shirt off of you, leaving you in your bare state with panties flimsy enough he could rip them with his teeth. Not today though, he had other things in mind.

He coos at your weak state, dropping his head so he could press a kiss to your sensitive neck, giving a small nip that made you yelp. Two large hands come to play with your nipples, pulling each one hard in between his fingers as you moaned hysterically.

“What did I say about being fucking mean?” He says roughly. He inhales your scent, smelling a sweet sense of fear.

“Carino,” a warm voice calls out, you can feel the grin spreading on Javier’s face. You cry in a mix of pain and pleasure when he flips you on your tummy, cheek pressing against the rough carpet material as Javier slots his hard member encased in his jeans, right by the curve of your ass.

“Answer me, mama”

A clinking of metal makes you cry out in protest. No, you wanted to say, feeling Javier cuff you behind your back like you were one of his petty drug thiefs. But a slap to your ass cheek makes you gasp, eyes shutting as Javier pulls your panties off.

”Being mean gets me punished” you responded softly, a pool of desire aching in your folds as you almost tutted your ass up to show him you were ready. “I’m sorry, Javier” you sniffled quietly, hoping he would hear.

Javier laughs, cocking his head to the side as one hand groped the flesh of your bum, and the other undid his belt buckle. The sound makes your mouth water, wondering if he’ll let you suck him off too for forgiveness.

“So you do know how to be nice?” He groans, giving you no time before his hard members penetrates your entrance, head turning back and eyes rolling when you clenched around his dick so well. “Javier!” You screamed, eyes rolling back in pleasure from the strong stretch.

Your arms ached, desperate for release so you could brace yourself against the floor for every hard thrust your husband would give you.

“Listen carefully, querida” he moans into your ear, humping you as you moaned loudly. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fill you up, alright?” When there was no answer, he slapped your cheek again, this time echoing throughout the living room and leaving a red splotch on your ass. “Answer me.” He growled, patience growing thin from your pathetic wailing.

You grit your teeth, hating the fact that you were supposed to be mad at Javier for forgetting about you, and yet here you were receiving back shots with a stinging red ass.

”Yes, Javier” you said back, feeling his girth stretch your walls.

”Good. And once I’m done fucking my pretty wife, you’re gonna suck me off like you mean it. That sounds good mi amor?”

You nodded in return, eyes shut and panting like a slut from the feeling of Javier slowing down his thrusts, deepening every stroke.

“Yes, Javier” you repeated.

He smiled, kissing your neck sweetly, contrasting his hip movements. “Thank you, mama” he replied, cherishing your sweet moans and gasps as he went at a deeper, harder pace.

It’s delirious, the whole situation. You feel as though you’re on cloud nine with the way Javier is so possessive of you, caging you like a butterfly in his garden with the apple of desire.

You felt sinful. You felt glorious. You needed his release to fill you up so badly.

“Javi…” you muttered, tits starting to get carpet burn from being fucked against the ground.

“I know mama, you’re doing so good for me. Taking your lesson so well” he groans, sweat beading at his forehead.

You were aching and begging for orgasm, but feeling Javier rut into you so passionately made it all worth it. It dissolved any anger, any resentment from earlier because you knew how good he could take care of you.

“You’re so fucking mean sometimes, you know that?” he tells you, brows furrowed and concentrated on fucking the daylights out of you. You could feel the handprints marking your hips, wondering how many of Javier’s marks would be on you tomorrow morning.

“I know” you sigh, feeling a slap come down on your ass as you groan louder.

“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, you know that too?” you pant, squirming under your cuffs. Javier shudders, your walls sucking him a little too well.

“I know.” He says back gruffly.

Javier feels the knot untying in his stomach, too late to tell you verbally as you felt his warm seed leak inside, cumming first.

“Merida”

You were also close, loving how despite already coming, Javier was fucking you so that you could cum too.

”I’m gonna” you pant, forgetting to finish your words as you felt hot liquid threatening to spill from every stroke he made in your hole.

Javier whispers, pressing ticklish kisses from his mustache to your bare shoulder. “Cum on my cock, baby, you know what to do” he muttered, both of you groaning loudly as both your releases became mixed inside you.

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you scream, hair a mess and pussy aching.

You feel dizzy, used but happy, shivering as a large sludge of your cum spills out and drips down your thigh to the carpet.

Javier is quick to lap you up with his tongue, slotting his face in your ass as he filthily cleans you up.

“Can you get these off me, please?” you ask him meekly, relishing the feeling of your sensitive wrists when they touch the cool air.

Your husband presses a kiss to each one, marking your ass and shoulders with playful hickeys and bruises.

You both catch your breath for a moment, Javier turning you over so you were facing the ceiling, your sensitive tits perking up.

It’s all so sudden but before you two realize it, you’re latching onto each other immediately, hungrily sharing a kiss as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hermosa,” he tries to begin, before being shushed by you, pulling him back in to lovingly kiss your husband.

Sure, rough sex was great, but god did you love just kissing Javier absentmindedly. You had to touch each other, kiss each other, that was how you two made up.

“Lo siento, hermosa” he sighs, wanting to get lost in your embrace. You smile, knowing that Javier is sincere. “Me too.” You reply, voices hushed as it was now later in the night, the neighbors probably aware of what had happened next door. A moment passes.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to suck you off?” you asked innocently, gazing up at Javier as your head rested on his chest.

He grins, softly whispering a later as he played with your hair, cock soft against his thigh as your leg nudges it playfully.

He growls, nipping your ear. “Behave” he says firmly, cheeks rosy. This time you listen.

“Who picked you up today then if I didn’t come?” Javi asks, reaching over to wrap a blanket around you two near the fireplace.

You smile, knowing that you can’t always listen to Javier’s warnings. “Just some cute young taxi driver. Asked me for my number y’know” you grinned.

Javier looks down, eyes darkening as he mutters softly. “Unless you’re gonna be a brat again, you better watch yourself” he reaches for your mound, cupping you softly so you moan in pleasure, still sensitive from the previous activities. He hoists you above his stomach, feeling your nails scratch his pudge and bend down as you give him a kiss. “I’m just messing with you” you giggle, a familiar feeling coming back when his bare cock is nestled by your thighs. “He was old. A grandpapi” you said, feeling his hands roam the flesh of your ass.

You press a hand against Javier’s chest, giggling as you peck his jawline. He rolls his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively.

“I missed you.” he mutters, feeling you up.

You smile, remembering how warm it is on top of your husband before you shut your eyes softly.“Me too.”

You look up, apologizing to him. “Sorry for almost stabbing you with that knife”

You feel the vibrations and sounds of a loud chuckle, Javier holding on to you. “It was an accident” you mumble, circling shapes on his skin. He knows.

You make up for it by leaning in, pressing kisses under the shell of his ear. Whispering how you’ll let him stuff his cock in your mouth again to get even.

Fuck it, he thinks. He’d let you kill him anyday.

[inkspiredwriting]

A Life Worth Fighting For

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: It's time we all got our five back. Five needs y/n, in every timeline. If I'm honest, I don't want to read anything more about this Five/Lila relationship. For me that never happened. From now on I'll be posting the stories that I've already finished writing

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6

The air shimmered with energy as Five and Lila landed in yet another timeline, they found themselves in a cozy, well-kept house that radiated warmth and comfort. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of flowers from somewhere nearby.

Lila glanced around, her brow furrowed with suspicion. “This doesn’t look like any of the timelines we’ve been to,” she muttered, her hand instinctively moving toward the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh. “Too quiet, too… perfect.”

Five didn’t respond immediately. He was scanning the room, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The polished wooden floors, the cushy furniture, the family photos lining the walls—it was all so domestic, so ordinary. It felt like the calm before a storm, and after seven years of battling against the odds in a timeline where everything was wrong, he couldn’t trust it.

“We need to be careful,” Five said finally, his voice low. “This place looks safe, but it’s too familiar. We could be in one of those timelines where something’s just a bit off.”

“Like that time where your younger self shot at us??” Lila quipped, her lips curving into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Exactly,” Five replied, the memory flashing through his mind. “Let’s find out where we are and who’s running the show here.”

Just as he was about to suggest searching the house, the door to the living room swung open. Both Five and Lila instinctively tensed, ready for whatever was about to step through.

But what they saw caught them completely off guard.

Another Five stood in the doorway, looking just as surprised as they were. This version of Five was dressed casually, in a button-down shirt and jeans, a far cry from the suits that the time-traveling Five was used to. He looked… settled.

“What the—” the other Five started, his eyes narrowing as he processed the scene before him. “What are you doing in my house?”

Five stepped forward, his gaze locked onto his counterpart. “We’re from a different timeline” he said, his voice steady.

The other Five’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed again with suspicion. “A different timeline? What do you want?”

Before Five could respond, Lila spoke up, her tone laced with annoyance. “Listen, mate, we don’t want to be here any more than you want us to be. We’re just trying to get back to our own timeline, but we’ve been stuck in the wrong one for seven years. Seven years!”

The other Five’s expression softened slightly, though the wariness didn’t leave his eyes. “Seven years? What happened?”

Five took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as memories of those long, grueling years came rushing back. “We got trapped,” he explained, his voice quieter now. “No way out. We were stuck there for what felt like a lifetime. And… well, we ended up together.”

For a moment, there was silence. The other Five’s eyes flicked between his counterpart and Lila, his expression growing darker with each passing second. “You ended up together?” he repeated, disbelief coloring his tone. “You and her?”

Five nodded, bracing himself for the reaction he knew was coming.

The other Five’s jaw tightened, and without warning, he stepped forward and smacked his counterpart on the back of the head. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice a mix of anger and incredulity. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

Lila’s eyes flashed with anger, but Five raised a hand to stop her from retaliating. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, though even as he spoke the words, he knew how weak they sounded.

“There’s always a choice!” the other Five shot back, his anger unabated. “You’re telling me that in seven years, you never once thought about the consequences? About Diego? He’s her husband in our timeline, for Christ’s sake! They have three kids together!”

Five flinched at the mention of Diego, a pang of guilt stabbing through him. “I don't have a girlfriend or wife,” he said defensively, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I have no one.”

At this, the other Five’s anger seemed to shift, turning into something more like pity. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because you gave up,” he said quietly. “You gave up on yourself, and you gave up on your family.”

For a long moment, Five couldn’t find the words to respond. The weight of what his counterpart was saying pressed down on him like a lead blanket. Had he really given up? Had he allowed himself to lose sight of everything that mattered because he was too tired, too lost, to keep fighting?

The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the unspoken regrets and what-ifs of a life that could have been.

“Look,” the other Five said, his voice softer now, “I know how easy it is to get lost in this mess, to lose sight of who you are and what you want. But you can’t just throw everything away because things get hard. You have to fight for what matters.”

Five looked down, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to believe that it wasn’t too late, that he could still find the life he’d always wanted, the love he’d convinced himself was out of reach. But the last seven years had left him scarred, beaten down by a world that had taken so much from him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter coming from outside. He looked up and saw that the other Five was gazing out the large bay window, a small smile on his lips.

Five followed his gaze and felt his heart clench at the sight that greeted him.

In the garden, a beautiful pregnant woman was playing with a little girl, who looked to be around four years old. The woman’s laughter was like music, her face glowing with happiness as she twirled the giggling child around in her arms. The little girl had a mop of dark hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief—eyes that Five recognized all too well.

“That’s Y/n,” the other Five said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “And that’s our daughter, Maddie.”

Five stared at him, his mind reeling. “I want what you have,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I want… her.”

The other Five nodded, his expression firm but not unkind. “Then fight for it,” he said. “Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on her.”

Five’s throat tightened as he watched them, his heart aching with a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. This was it. This was what he had wanted, what he had fought so hard to protect but had never truly believed he could have. A family. A home. A life filled with love.

He could have had this. He could have had her.

“I can’t believe…” Five started, but his voice broke, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe I gave this up.”

“You didn’t,” the other Five said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet. You still have a chance to find her. You still have a chance to make this life your own.”

Five closed his eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to drown him. He didn’t deserve this—this kindness, this hope. But he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to find his y/n, to have his own Maddie, to fight for a life worth living.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the other Five watching him, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Go,” the other Five said gently. “Find her. Fight for her.”

Five nodded, and then turned to Lila, who had been watching the exchange in silence. She looked at him with a mixture of sadness and understanding, knowing that whatever they had shared was over.

“We should go,” Five said softly, his eyes meeting Lila’s. her expression unreadable, and with a final nod to the other five, he teleported them both away, leaving the other Five standing alone in the quiet house.

A few moments later, the front door opened, and Y/n and Maddie walked in, their faces flushed with happiness from their time in the garden. Y/n smiled warmly at Five, the love in her eyes undeniable as she approached him.

“Everything okay?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice as she noticed the tension in his posture.

Five looked at her, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he kissed her gently on the lips.

“Everything’s perfect,” he murmured against her lips, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m just… so happy that I have you. You’re my one true love, y/n. No one else. Just you.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes shining with love as she leaned into his embrace. “I love you too,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

Five held her close, the weight of everything that had just happened slowly fading away as he focused on the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her heartbeat, the soft rise and fall of her breath. This was his life, his family, his everything.

And he wouldn't give that up for anything in the world...timeline or not.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - The first shot is fired. While you come up with a plan to confuse and bait these four alphas, they come up with their own strategy.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. Omega has a shotgun, I REPEAT, Omega has a shotgun. Mentions of violence.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You looked at the four men with wide eyes and they stared back at you with equally wide ones as well. Your finger moved to the trigger of the shotgun and the one with a scraggly mohawk stepped forward. You growled without even meaning to and he hesitated. "Come on Bonnie, drop tae shotgun," he tried to negotiate but you snarled at him.

"Get the fuck out of my woods," you replied, snarling so hard spit flies from your mouth. You pointed the shotgun at the four of them but mostly focused on the Scottish brute in front of you, "Or I'll kill you."

A nasty smile crossed his face, feral and unnatural. "Oh ye wouldnae. You're just a little omega," he cooed and you pulled the trigger. The kick is a little more than you expected and you're pushed flat on your back from the kick. You the blast heard echo through the woods and your ears are ringing. Behind the ringing you hear curses and you looked to see the Scottish alpha on the ground clutching his shoulder with a dark look in his eyes.

His three other alpha packmates gathered around him, fretting over his wound and so you took the chance to get onto your feet and get away. "She's gettin' away!" You heard another shout and then more curses. You assumed that one fell into the hole you had covered up. You hoped he enjoys the wooden spikes.

You huffed and puffed after a while, your breathing fogging the air around you. The winter chill had made your nose hurt and your fingers were stiff. You rubbed them together to try and gather some heat in them. You shakily reloaded the shotgun, putting the spent shotgun shell into your pocket.

You don't need anymore tracks leading them to you.

You can't help but wonder how they figured it out. How they knew someone was still lingering around this long forgotten small town. You racked your brain for the answer as you kept walking, snow crunching under your well worn boots.

You thought back to a few days ago, the last time you had been in for resupply. You had noticed one of your traps had been triggered. The false floor in a building had collapsed underneath the weight of someone. You checked it and found a very big, unnaturally big, beta. He was already dead, he was wearing a T-shirt as a mask of all things. It had taken a lot of effort to get him from the pit, you'd had to grab your old jeep, rarely used except for times like these when you needed to haul something big.

In this case, a tall T-shirt mask wearing beta.

You had cut yourself on a shard of glass picking him up and loading him into the back. You hadn't even thought about it when you wiped your hand on the wooden pole. "Fucking stupid," you whispered to yourself. Carelessness.

After all this time it was carelessness that had gotten you at last.

Then it gave you an idea. If they were able to track your scent using blood...

You grabbed your pocket knife and looked at it, the idea of the perfect trap starting in your mind.

"Fuckin' bitch," Soap hissed from between clenched teeth. The shotgun blast had barely grazed his shoulder but it still hurt like a massive bitch. "She actually shot tae damn thing."

Gaz scoffed as he wrapped his mild puncture wound, the wooden stakes at the bottom not sharpened enough to do any real damage. "That's what you get for provoking," he replied as he stood up.

"I was not provoking!" Soap said and Gaz rolled his eyes.

"Shut it you two," Price finally snapped as he pinched the bridge of his nose using his index and thumb. Gaz had been right, there was an omega running around in this forest still. The issue was now that not only did she know that they were here but that she had known before hand.

"How's Soaps shoulder?" Price asked Ghost, who had a stronger bond with Soap. It was natural. Price was more bonded with Gaz and he could feel his inner alpha snarling and pacing that he was hurt.

"It'll be fine. Luckily the shot mostly missed," Ghost replied gruffly. Price turned to his pack and looked over them.

"What do you think Ghost?"

"I think she has more 'f these traps laid out through the forest," he replied, his shoulders tensed at the idea of having to navigate an entirely booby trapped forest.

"Did you hear what she said?" Gaz asked and Price raised a brow.

"Yes Kyle, what of it?"

"She referred to this place as her woods."

"What of it?" Soap snapped and Gaz glared at his fellow sergeant.

"This is her territory," Gaz finally finished and everyone gave him a skeptical look.

"Omegas don't have territory," Soap responded, "they aren't built like that."

Gaz rolled his eyes. Out of everyone within the pack, Gaz might be the most versed on how omegas operated with Ghost not far behind him. "Even if this is her territory," Price said and even he sounded skeptical, "there's still an easy solution."

Ghost looked at his captain, his stomach churned at what he was about to say. He knew what he would say. They could scruff her.

"We just have to get close." Price said and Soap huffed out a laugh.

"Damn thing is fuckin' feral. We aren't gettin' through these woods without a few more scratches."

"So you're willin' to give up a ripe omega?" Gaz challenged and Soap shook his head.

"I didnae say that."

[milla-frenchy]

In the cold night

3k1 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: being on patrol, Joel and you spend the cold winter night together in a small house

Warnings: 18+ mdni. mention of a past SA attempt (not by Joel), protective!joel, feral!joel saving reader, friends to lovers, one bed, soft!joel, praise kink, masturbation (f), thighs rubbing, oral (f), piv. No age specified

a/n: this is written for @justagalwhowrites 's “Joel Miller birthday celebration”. I chose Jackson!Joel/one bed- Thank you for this event 🙏 Thank you @arcanefox207 for the gif in the mood board ❤️ Please, check out the full gif here and some others, they are stunning 😍 Thank you, Ally 🙏❤️ @aurorawritestoescape thank you as always for beta-ing, baby 💕🫶 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The crunch of your footsteps in the snow echoes in your head. Two rabbits are hanging from Joel’s back, clinging to his shoulder. His brown jacket has lost its shine long, long time ago, and the leather is frayed at the elbows and sleeves. Every time you pass him, the smell of old leather rushes into your nostrils. A reassuring, familiar scent.

You’re heading to an outpost, as you have done so many times before. You know each other's reflexes by heart, the way your bodies tense in case of danger, the glances that make speech useless. You no longer count the number of infected you have killed during patrols.

You look around a small wooden house. Searching for footprints, anything that might put you on alert. You scan the area, whether for infected, or worse- hunters or raiders.

You feel safe with Joel, ever since the day he snatched you from the hands of raiders. Two dirty, skinny men. They surprised you, during one of your first long patrols. They knocked Joel out, and dragged you on an old mattress of the shelter you just arrived at. They did not even pay attention to the dead duck that you planned to eat that evening. In this world, with some men, food is not the first thing they crave. 

You punched one of them, then tried to grab your knife, but two men were too much to handle. When they threw you onto the mattress, you struggled, screaming, biting, then one held your arms while the other removed your pants. Tears obstructed your view. You would have preferred to be bitten by an infected, rather than that. 

Just as the first man was about to lie down between your thighs while you were crying with rage, you heard a dull, cold, unexpected noise. A knife thrown from the opposite side of the room, just stuck in the skull of the man, holding your arms. As soon Joel threw the knife, he rushed to rip the man off your body, and then punched him so many times that his face got swollen from the blows and turned unrecognizable.

“Piece o’shit!” Joel growled from the depths of his chest. You looked at him, still half in shock at what had almost happened to you, feeling relieved. The man was lying on the ground, barely breathing. Joel let go of his collar and retrieved the knife from the second man’s skull. He pressed the tip of the blade against his heart and slowly pushed it in, his dark gaze fixed on the man’s. The raider’s feet twitched for a few moments, before they froze for eternity.

Then Joel rushed over to you and covered you with an old blanket pulled from the foot of the bed. As soon as he sat down on the mattress, his worried eyes fixed on you, you wrapped your arms around his waist. Wanting to forget your fear, to curl up against his reassuring presence. He took you in his arms, rocking you slowly, holding you close to him.

“ ‘m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear them coming, because of my damn bad ear.”

“It’s ok, Joel, it’s ok. They didn’t do anything to me,” you muffled in his chest.

“No it’s not. They did way too much. But I got you, now. I got you. Won’t happen again. Not on my watch.”

He held you against him for several minutes, patiently, one hand caressing your back, the other resting on the nape of your neck, until you stopped crying. He then asked if you were feeling a little better, if he could get the bodies out of the outpost. He didn’t want you to see them anymore. You nodded, watched him as he dragged the bodies out into the surrounding woods. 

He was sitting next to you until you fell asleep. He stood guard all night, staring at the shadows of the trees through the window, letting you rest.

From that day on, you knew that nothing would happen to you as long as you were with Joel. He was the type of man who, when he said something, stuck to it. He was reliable, loyal, and serious. He was your patrol partner, and you couldn't have asked for a better one.

Once you reach the shelter, you prepare the fire in the hearth of the old fireplace, while Joel goes around this old house, half buried under the snow. It is the first time that you patrol here in the middle of winter, and the walls and the ground are icy. You eat one of the rabbits, trying in vain to warm yourself by the fire. As you get ready to go to bed, Joel puts a blanket on the floor.

“What are you doing, Joel? You can't sleep there. You're gonna freeze and die, it’s too cold!”

“There's only one bed, sweetheart. Ain't gonna sleep with you.”

“Of course you're gonna sleep with me. Come on, Joel, don't be silly. We can share the bed, we have to keep each other warm or the next patrol will find our two skeletons in this damn house.”

“Jesus, you’re so stubborn! Alright then.”

You smile, thinking that you had never met someone as stubborn as him, and if he hadn't noticed your slightly blue lips, he probably wouldn't have changed his mind.

You undress and slip under the thin blankets, wearing your t-shirt and panties. Grimacing at the contact with the cold and damp covers. He joins you in the small bed, and even though warmth radiates from his body, your teeth still chatter.

“Christ, you're freezing. C’mere, I’ll keep you warm,” he says, as you take off your t-shirt and he discards his too, leaving only his boxers.

“Told you we had to sleep in the same damn bed… and I'm the stubborn one?”

He chuckles, and takes you in his arms, his chest pressed against your back.

“Better, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, you’re as warm as a boiler. How is that possible? Icicles are practically falling off these blankets.”

“Alright, you’re exaggerating a bit, don’t you think?”

You scoff and muffle a laugh, then fall asleep.

You wake up during the night, Joel's light snoring in your ear. His arms are still around you and you're much less cold. His scent surrounds you. You shift slightly, putting the blanket that had slipped back on both of you. The movement makes him mumble in his sleep and you smile, getting ready to fall back asleep, until you feel him twitch against you. His cock, asleep until then, has just woken up in his boxers when your ass brushed against it.

You open your eyes suddenly. It’s been a long time since you felt a body- a hard cock - against you. You try to move away from him a little, to not wake him up, to not create awkwardness between you. But he holds you tighter against him, letting out a sigh of contentment when his cock finds its place against your ass again.

You get a rush of arousal and you're not sure if you'll be able to fall back asleep. Your walls are contracting painfully, calling for a release of the pressure from your crotch. You close your eyes, placing your hand under the pillow. Trying to think of something else, until his cock jerks again. Once, twice. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to fall back asleep. 

So you think that maybe, if you do it discreetly, you can make yourself come. Even though he's lying against you, his chest against your back.

You slide your hand south, slowly, so as not to wake him, and start brushing your swollen folds through your panties. But it's not enough. You slide your hand under the hem, finally whirling your clit under your finger. Joel growls against your ear and you freeze for a few moments, until his breathing becomes calm, steady. Gently, you stroke yourself, finally starting to feel the fire in your crotch calm down a little.

You vaguely feel his nose brush your hair, not paying much attention to it, thinking he does it in his sleep. Then you feel his hand slowly slide down your arm, and you jerk, hastily removing your fingers from your panties, realizing that Joel is awake and that he has caught you.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he whispers softly in your ear in his sleepy voice, taking your hand and gently bringing it back to your pussy.

You feel the heat reach your cheeks and think about getting up, but you're too ashamed to face him. There had never been any sexual tension between the two of you. You're what you could call friends, in this lost world. You trust each other, he told you about Sarah, you told him about your late husband and son. You trust each other, and honestly, you never thought about him as more than a friend. And you don't want to ruin your friendship.

“I just want you to feel good.”

You stay silent for a few moments. Thinking about what he's telling you. You know he's sincere. 

You feel your clit pulsing and you bite your lip.

“Ok, Joel,” you breathe out. 

You're unsure of what will happen between the two of you after, but you let him lead your hand and slide your fingers under your soaked panties. You're already moaning at the first touch and you feel your nipples hardening. 

Delicately, the tips of his fingers pressed against yours, you let him lead the dance and travel through your folds. Then he slides both your hands into your panties, and makes you touch yourself so delicately, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, that new moans escape you.

“Keep going, Joel, please…”

He hums, grazing your ear with his nose. You hear his breathing deepen, then he presses his forehead against your shoulder blade, still using your finger to brush your clit. You feel your pussy dripping. The fact that he is using your fingers, so perfectly, is perhaps the most sensual thing you have ever done.

You feel his cock stuck in his boxers harden even more as he keeps touching you. You crave to feel him against you, without any fabric between your bodies. You forget your shyness, your reserve, your worries.

“Would you… pull down your boxers? So I can feel you?*

“Of course, sweetheart.” He lets go of your hand to pull down his underwear. His hard cock springs out and this time you feel it fully against you. Big, hard.

“Between my thighs, please…”

He kisses your back and grabs his cock, slides it into this tight space, then comes to rest against your fingers again, in your panties. You slowly move your pelvis back and forth, rubbing yourself against his shaft.

“Christ, sweetheart… Feeling you against me, like that…”

“I know, Joel. It’s… good, really good.”

You no longer remember your fear that this will change things between you. The feeling is too good, too powerful, to think about anything else.

His shaft slides easily between your thighs, your pussy soaking him continuously.

“You’re so wet for me, baby”, he whispers in your ear, and a new flow trickles from your walls. His free hand caresses your shoulder, then he kisses it. You feel his mustache brush your skin, and your moans fill the room.

“You’re gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Fuck… fuck yeah, I'm gonna come, Joel.”

He keeps playing with your fingers with the same rhythm, feeling that you are close. Your mind goes blank. You only think about the pressure growing inside you, ready to explode.

“Come on baby, be a good girl for me,” he murmurs.

The orgasm washes over you, and you arch your back under its power, your ass pressed against Joel’s crotch. “Always such a good girl for me,” he praises, holding you against him, your hand in his, until your jerks stop.

Your breathing slowly goes down. “Damn”, you say. “That was so hot.”

“It was,” he smiles, kissing your shoulder. He doesn't ask for more, doesn't put any pressure on you, but you need more. You need your bodies to be one. You don't think too much about it, then add quickly, “Joel… I need to…” before shyness overwhelms you again, and he asks softly “tell me, baby. What do you need?”

The soft tone of his voice reassures you, and you add “I need to feel you… I need to feel you inside me.”

“Turn around, sweetheart. Lemme look at you.”

You do as he says, and face him. You barely see his face in the darkness of the night. Just enough to perceive the intensity in his gaze, behind his usual sweetness with you, as he strokes your cheek gently with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod, of course. Ready to take whatever he wants to give you. His warm lips land on yours and press against them. You hear him take a deep breath, then his nose rubs yours. He kisses you again, with more intensity, and sensations you thought forgotten forever jostle throughout your whole being. His tongue tastes your lips, then slides between them and finds yours. He moans as your hand grabs his shaft softly, wet with his precum and your desire. You jerk him off slowly as you continue to make out. He's big. So big. But you don't wonder if your body can accept it, after all this time. You know it will. And you know Joel will be soft. You nestle his cock at your entrance after pushing your panties aside, murmuring “I wanna feel you,” your forehead against his.

You tilt your pelvis forward and his tip slides inside you, making you hold your breath for a few moments.

“You’re ok?”

“Yeah. I just have to… get used to it.” 

He doesn’t move and lets you handle the rhythm. You kiss him again, and you feel your pussy dripping, eager to be filled. You put your hand on the back of his neck and squeeze his bicep with the other, sliding further down his shaft. Your walls spread as you glide on his tip and again, you feel that forgotten feeling. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, nipples tense. Your hand runs through his neck, and you feel his prominent veins under your fingers. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, when he is fully inside you. You pull back then push forward again, to reassure his worried eyes on you. You are so wet that the sounds echo in your ears and the whole room. Joel holds you against him, gently, sensually. One hand on your hip, the other on your back.

“Joel?” you ask.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Can you lie down on me? I'd like to feel you deeper.”

He caresses your cheek and tells you yes, of course.

You lie on your back and he removes your panties, kneeling between your thighs.

And he looks at you, from your face to your cunt. "You're beautiful," he says. His stare stops there, then he glances at you. As if he was asking you silently if he could taste you. You nod and he settles between your thighs, spreading your folds with his fingers.

“You're so wet for me, baby,” he adds, before licking your pussy in a long stroke. Pointing his tongue at your clit, then running over your folds again. Your knees are bent, legs spread as wide as possible. His head moves between your offered thighs, your hands lost in his curls, while his tongue laps at your dripping pussy. He pushes two fingers in your core, and places his lips around your clit, sucking it. Then swirls it under his tongue, while his fingers thrust in at a perfect, regular pace.

“Joel,” you whimper. “I'm gonna come again.”

Your nails tighten on his scalp as you come on his tongue, your walls squeezing uncontrollably around his two fingers. He pulls them out and replaces them with his tongue, drinking in everything that flows from you. The feeling is so strong, forgotten for so long, that you feel like you're going to burst into tears. But he stops, careful not to overwhelm you, and lies down between your thighs. He places his hand on your cheek and searches for your eyes before pushing his tip into you with his other hand, eyes lowered to you.

“Damn sweetheart,” he breathes. “You feel so good around me.”

His words envelop you and lull you. His voice is low, calm, as slow and sweet as the rhythm in which he sinks into you.

All his weight is on you and you have never felt so safe in your entire life. His arms surround you as you kiss. Your hands roam the top of his body. His arms, his shoulders, his back, his cheeks, his neck. His cock slides inside you, pushing your walls in the most perfect way with each thrust. Your knees are spread wide to welcome him between your thighs. He straightens up, leaning on one hand, and looks at you. Looks into your eyes filled with desire.

He watches your neck throbbing. Your chest heaving.

He watches where his cock is digging into you.

“I'm not gonna last. Can you give me one more, baby?”

“Yeah, it's... yes.”

He lies back on you, eyes locked on yours, and slides his arms under your shoulders. Your hot, sweaty chests rub against each other. He doesn't take his eyes off you as he thrusts into you, his shaft rubbing exactly where you need it. Your fingers dig into his flesh as you come on his shaft and he stops moving. Eager to keep watching you twitch beneath him, but trying not to come too. Not yet, not inside you. He wants to let you come until the shaking stops. 

He looks at you, and focuses on a mole, chosen at random. To focus on something else, than your pussy perfectly squeezing him. When your trembling finally stops, he grabs his cock hastily, just in time before his cum coats the inside of your thighs and your lower stomach, then his heavy body rests against yours.

“Christ, sweetheart… that was amazing,” he says, smiling at you. You kiss and then nestle against his chest. You feel his heart beat hard, then gradually calm down. You fall asleep without even realizing it.

When you wake up, it’s daylight. The smell of coffee rushes into your nostrils. For a moment, it’s like life is almost normal.

You sit up in bed, holding the blanket against you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says. Smiling, warm. Joel.

You smile back at him, thinking that you would like to wake up next to him every single day, from now on. 

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Four)

CW: Titty sucking (MY FAVE), horny asf Simon and reader, some pussy touching, Simon gets domestic for you xoxoxo

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

The sun was a bold ray of amber, slicing through every shard of glass with unbroken certainty, speckles of rainbows planting themselves among the eggshell walls, the only bit of colour throughout the bland room. Simon had awoken early, his brain working as a natural alarm clock as he took in the snuggled site of your slumbered frame, your hair falling against the bone of your cheek, lips parted and lashes dipping.

You were a pretty sight, even asleep and the Lieutenant had to find himself walking away, rubbing brown eyes with desperation as he hunched towards the kitchen, his frame skulking as he contemplated whether to cook for the both of you or just leave it.

He gripped his teacup, his coffee a sickening black, not even a subtle hint of sugar to drench away the bitter taste. He didn’t mind it though. Calloused fingers gripped the kitchen bench, his fingernails rugged and in desperate need of some care that, unfortunately, they would never receive.

Simon’s mind was littered with the flickering of gruesome images, depicting past scenes that have cast upon him. The silent images of bombs, the static in his ear ringing out the screams that seem to catch up to him every now and then. He watches as the residue of the coffee splashes down the drain, brown disappearing into the crevice of his pipe as he sauntered off to his bedroom, taking in the sight of an empty bed.

Your hands graced the doorknob, bones burying into your skin as you jumped at the intimidating frame of your neighbour standing outside, inches away from the door.

“Jesus,” you squeaked, voice timid, “you scared me half to death, Simon.”

Your hand rested upon your chest, soft skin flush with a morning hue, breasts strained against the skimpy fabric as you cleared your throat, the obvious undertone of sleep running through every note.

“’M sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Y’ want some breakfast?”

You raised an eyebrow, slightly shocked at him still wanting you over. Though he never made you feel unwanted (from the minimal times you had been in his presence), he was a quiet man, almost nurturing the environment of being alone.

“Don’t want me out of your hair?” You were half joking, a cheeky smile on your face as you stepped closer to him. His face never spoke, the most you had gotten from him being a subtle raise of a curled lip, his eyes gently jutting over you. For the most part, the only sign of communication you could read were the words that left his mouth, wet tongue occasionally darting out to coat his lips with the slop of his saliva, teeth teasing the dried skin.

“’M a gentleman. Could never let a lady sleep in my bed and not make ‘er breakfast.”

His voice was course like it was coated in leather and tobacco, his words strung with a sultry arrogance that only added to the arousal of the butch man. Heat settled in your cheeks; the apples were decorated with a light hue that was catered for by the words he let slip.

You nodded, slightly anxious, yet more horny at the way he stood so bold and tall above you, massive frame filling out the shirt that you were sure wouldn’t be as tight on anyone else. It was almost porn itself, watching the way he had to duck slightly to fit himself under door frames, the way his shoulders would nearly collide with the wallpaper as she shifted between rooms. His skin was littered with tattoos and scars, and his nose was slightly crooked (which you assumed was from it being broken).

Veins bulged through his hands and forearms, skin slightly peeling near his nail beds as he worked a knife through a tomato, sultry juices seeping onto the wooden chopping board. His eyes would occasionally dart to you, following your line of sight as he felt a proud hum purr gently through his chest, almost satisfied that you were taking in the sight of him. The air was filled with silence, the thickness of the words unsaid, instead spoken by stolen glances.

“Do you enjoy your work?” Your voice was quiet, almost like it was trying to find lost confidence.

Simon was quick to answer, turning around to look at you as he cracked an egg into a frying pan, oil splashing out amongst the quickly cooking liquid. “Don’t think enjoy is the right word, but ‘m good at it, I suppose.”

“So... you’re a soldier?”

His laugh was dry. “’M a lieutenant.”

You nodded, not fully understanding the hierarchy of chain in the military but you assumed it was a hard-working position, the sheer size of him and the residue that stained his body adding to the unneeded certainty that Simon was good at his job.

“Do you want me to help with anything?”

“You can set the table,” Simon nodded, motioning towards a draw. You grabbed at two knives and forks as you plodded over to the dining table, your feet skidding against the wooden floorboards. The hem of your nightgown raised as you bent slightly, placing cups down next to the cutlery. Simon sucked in a harsh breath, cock straining against the hem of his trousers as he looked away, focusing on the splutter of eggs and bacon in the pan. He stacked up your plate before handing it to you, a soft ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you sat down.

You were surprised that he was a good cook, even if it was as simple as eggs, bacon and grilled tomatoes. The only memory you have of a man working in a task force, being your Uncle in the Navy who couldn’t cook for shit. You let out a satisfied half-moan, almost muffled by the food in your mouth.

Simon heard it. The painful gripping of his fork barely justifies his reaction to the completely innocent sound you made.

“You’re a good cook,” you say, reading his face that was focused on his plate, his knuckles white and straining against the metal his fingers were snaked around.

“Thank you,” he replied, offering you a small smirk of gratitude.

You spoke a bit more, growing to understand your mysterious neighbour and who he was as a person. You looked down at your empty plates, offering to wash up to which he quickly refused and hushed you down to him just being a friendly Samaritan. Your knees wobbled as you stood up, the spaghetti strap of your nightgown sliding down your shoulder as it hung lowly on your bicep, cleavage pooling at the v-line of your dress.

Carob orbs lapped in the sight, pupil widening at the further display of skin, which you didn’t rush to fix. You were almost testing the waters, breaking the surface as you, both simmered in the atmosphere clouded with both desperation and demand. Thickened digits brushed against your other shoulder, resting there for a moment as you locked gazes, your lashes dipping slightly as you licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry at the heat that radiated against your skin. The heat he was causing.

You felt the other strap fall from your shoulder, as you watched his gaze drop to your chest, his chest practically heaving as he took in the sight of your exposed breasts, nipples breaching through the fabric that had pooled at your waist.

His reaction was immediate, a rough hand groping at your right breast as he pushed you onto the table, your ass flush against the wooden surface as you gasped at his other hand coiling around your neck, chapped lips wrapping around your hardened bud as your fingers found a tight grip in his dusty hair, tugging at the roots.

Teeth grazed as your sensitive nipples, feverishly sucking as his fingers tweaked at the other, working against your chest with a burning fervour. A low moan left your lips as he switched over, a string of spit following his eager mouth as the pressure around your throat tightened.

The hem of your nightgown raised against your bucking movements, hips eager to please both you and him as the plush flesh of your thighs caught his attention.

The hand that wrapped around your throat quickly gathered at your legs, gripping them with demand as he almost growled against your breast.

“Lay back,” he demanded. You followed in suit, the clatter of cutlery behind you as you adjusted yourself against the table. Sticky thighs held themselves together as you looked up at him from your laid position.

“Such a good girl, hm? Spread your thighs for me baby.”

This almost didn’t feel real. Your neighbour who you had barely interacted with for years was standing above you, praising you. You sucked in a deep breath, achy thighs working themselves open as Simon lapped up the sight of your panties, darkened with your arousal as a thumb pressed against the fabric, admiring the way you bucked your hips.

You raised them as he slid your drenched underwear off before he bent down, sucking in a breath at the sight of your exposed cunt, wetness smeared against your pussy lips as two fingers reached out to pull them apart, webs of slick pooling against your heat.

“Gonna let me eat your pretty cunt, love?”

You’ve never said yes so fast.

[axelsagewrites]

Hey, can I please request Jacaerys x aunt!reader where he goes to her after the dance as she had been imprisoned in the dungeons and he offer her to let him have her or she'll be sentenced to death or sum. And reader is as pious and religious as Alicent and she is horrified by the idea of being sullied by ""bastard seed"" but she reveals to be c0ck-drunk by the end of it?

Jace Velaryon*Perfect Wife

Pairing: Jace x f!reader

Word count: 2809

Warnings: dub con, imprisonment, held at knife point (not during smut), praise, degradation, nipple play, p in v sex, hickeys, spanking, bruising, forced marriage, smut 18+c

Masterlist here

You weren’t much of a warrior. You had been raised the way a princess should have been. Well, that’s what your mother told you. However, when two days had passed since Aemond and Aegon had left to confront Rhanerya, and everyone refused to tell you what was happening you decided to get the hell out of there on your dragon.

Maybe you’d end up in Essos and sell a dragon egg for a home. Maybe even Dorne. You could try throw yourself on their mercy. After all, their ambassadors had always seemed to enjoy your company. However, all your plans soon crumbled when you accidentally flew into what you’d assumed to be an empty clearing.

You’d landed in a small field and had quickly tried to ‘borrow’ an apple from a local farm when you felt a strong grip on your arm and a sharp blade on your neck. So cold it had to be Valyrian steel. “And who do we have here?” you recognised Jace’s voice clearly. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you pretty girls shouldn’t go about dawdling?”

-

The stone floors bruised your knees each time you knelt to pray but you didn’t complain or even wince at the pain. You’d counted the days you’d been here by etching marks in the stone with the corner of your Seven-star necklace your mother had given you. 27 days so far. Each morning you prayed. Well, what you thought was morning. Then each afternoon then evening. Each time to a different member of the seven. Even the stranger since perhaps the god of death was the one you truly needed right now.

“My lady,” a sing song voice called out, “Lunch is ready,” Jace said as he approached your cell with his usual grin. He didn’t come every day but when he did it only seemed to add to your punishment. “I made sure to pick you the freshest apple,” he crouched down, holding it out to you.

You kept your eyes on the ground as you tried to finish your prayer, “C’mon now. They’re clearly not listening to you,” he mocked, sitting down the tray in front of the bars to your cell.

Still, you ignored him as you wrapped them up. Jace sighed and just as you finished your prayers he stood, taking the tray with him. “Where are you going?” you called, moving to stand on your feet and grabbing the bars, “That’s my food,”

“No this is my food,” he said, as if he was calling the sky blue, “And you never took it,”

“I was praying!”

“Not fast enough,” he teased. “Maybe next time you’ll remember to acknowledge the heir to Westeros,” he said as he turned to leave.

“My brothers not here,” you mumbled, turning around to go take your place on the wooden bench they called a bed.

The wine cup clattered against the wall, missing your head by only an inch. You span on your heels to confront him, but the only trace was your food dropped on the ground in a head and the apple slowly rolling towards your cell.

It stopped just out of arm’s length of the bars as if the gods really were mocking you. It took you laying on the ground, stretching out the tips of your fingernails to manage to roll it closer so you could grab it. You consoled yourself knowing he never came twice in one day.

Yet this time he did.

Jace arrived with a meal so nice looking it almost reminded you of what you used to eat. There was even a whole chicken leg on it. when he saw the apple core in the corner of your cell Jace couldn’t help but laugh. “Here,” he said, reaching it out for you to try manoeuvre through the bars when he suddenly pulled it back, “Aren’t you going to thank your prince?”

“Thank you,” you glared, reaching your hand out.

Jace just smirked, “Thank you what?”

“Thank you, dear nephew,” you offered with a fake smile.

“Say it. say that I am the true heir, a true prince, and I will be most obliged to give you this chicken leg. Straight from the queens table,” he said, showing it to you once more just to rub it in.

You could feel your stomach rumble, but you couldn’t say it. not after all this time. Not after all the battles. Not for a chicken leg. “My mother isn’t here,” you said through gritted teeth.

Jace reached through the bars, grabbing your neck before you could react. His grasp was tight but despite his fingers digging into your skin you weren’t afraid, “I can only be so patient,” he warned before letting you go. He turned to leave, taking the food with him, “besides, who said your mother is even alive?” he mocked before slamming the door shut behind him.

The stalemate continued for another day and a half and suddenly you were regretting not rationing the apple. At least the guards had kept your water jug topped up, but you didn’t want to risk that being taken too.

“I have a new deal,” Jace said, walking in empty handed.

“Where’s my food?” you said, not even standing from where you sat on your bed.

“That’s not very polite,” Jace tutted, leaning against the bars, “How would you like to get out of here?” you couldn’t help your eyes widening at the idea. Something Jace seemed to revel in. he unlocked your cell and despite wanting to run you sat still as he closed the door behind him. “Come here. Let me get a closer look at you,”

You wanted to slap him but instead you stood up and slowly crossed the floor while Jace’s eyes scanned your frame. “Still so beautiful,” he mumbled before he finally brought his eyes back to yours as your cheeks burned, “I have a new proposal for you,” he said, reaching to stroke your cheek. He was gentle but you still flinched at his touch.

He stepped closer, moving his hand down till he was toying with your necklace, his eyes not so subtly on your chest, “Marry me,” he said, and you instantly grimaced at his words, “Be my wife and I will let you free,”

“I wouldn’t be free,” you snapped, “I’d be the wife of a bastard, a nobody, a waste of space- “you began to spit your venom at him only to be cut off by his tight grasp around your neck.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I was you,” he warned, “What I’m offering is generous. You should hear what Daemon had planned for you,” he dropped his grip and you instantly stepped back, trying to recatch your breath.

Jace slowly began to circle you, eyeing you up from every angle as you silently thought over his offer when suddenly a thought popped into your head, “What’s in it for you? Last time I checked you already had a betrothed,”

“Alliances can change, we both know that” he drawled, his chest pressed against your back while his hand grazed your hip. Not mine, you thought, but you stayed silent instead. “Besides I need a wife. Someone to show off in court,” his hand trailed up from your hip to your waist making you shudder through the thin dress they’d gave you, “Someone to bear children. Someone to warm my bed,” he said, his lips pressed against your ear.

His hand went to move to your front, but you grabbed his wrist before he could touch anything, “I’d rather die,” you spat.

Jace grabbed your hips, spinning you around and pulling you flush against his chest, “That can be arranged,” he warned but he still wore his teasing smirk, “You think you’d survive here without me? A pretty young things like yourself in nothing but her night dress roaming around court, think of the scandals. Gods help you if you even make it out the castle. What do you think the small folk would do with a princess like you?”

“Perhaps they’d save me. If they believed in the true king,” you said, trying to hold firm but feeling yourself shake.

He chuckled under his breath, “There is only a queen. C’mon, I can’t be that bad surely. You saying you’ve never thought about it?” he said, his hand moving down to your ass, his lips moving to your ear, “Its not just the gods who know your dirty little secrets,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your neck.

“I want my dragon back,” you said suddenly making Jace lift his head from where he’d been dragging his lips across your neck, “If I’m to be your wife,”

“As soon as your belly swells with my seed,” he said, “Anything else?”

It felt like a trap, but you tried anyway, “And separate rooms. I don’t want to see you more than I have to,”

He chuckled this time, “That can be arranged, anything else?” you eyed him carefully before shaking your head no. one child and then you could escape with your dragon. It would take a year, maybe two, and then you’d be free. “Good. I shall have them draw up a treaty. But in the meantime,” he said, grabbing your ass so suddenly you gasped, “I want some kind of reassurance you won’t back out,”

“And what’s that?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” he said making the words dry up in your throat, “And if I didn’t know any better id say you wanted me too,”

“And if I say no?” you asked.

Jace dropped his grip, but a smirk fell on his lips as he began to walk away. “Then no deal,” he said, reaching for the door.

“Wait!” you called, reaching out to grab his arm. Jace turned his gaze back to you with a knowing smirk, “I suppose if you are to be my husband. The gods, they’d understand,” you said, trying to rationalise it all.

Jace moved closer to you till his chest was flush against yours, “I’m sure they’d understand after all,” he said, pushing the hair out of your face, “Who could blame you for wanting some pleasure in your life?” he said, his hand trailing down till he grabbed your tit, squeezing it softly, “Why would something that feels so good be so wrong?” he whispered in your ear, his hand traveling lower to your thighs, toying with the hem of his dress.

His lips moved to kiss down your jaw, across your neck till he was kissing your undiscovered sweet spot making you moan softly. His arms moved to slip around your waist, pulling you somehow closer to him as your hands rested on his shoulders. You gasped when he squeezed your ass and winced at the quick slap, he gave it before his hands moved to the hem of your dress.

The cold air rushed over your frame, making your nipples harden as Jace pulled the dress over your head in one swoop. The only thing to cover you was your necklace but right now that felt even worse. Jace’s eyes travelled your frame, soaking up every inch, “The gods have blessed me with you,” he murmured.

“You do not know the gods,” you glared but Jace just chuckled as his hands went to cup your tits, stroking his thumbs over your perked nipples making you whimper.

“Perhaps you don’t either,” he said as he led you by your hips to your bed. He sat on it, his hands resting on your hips as he pulled you into his lap.

His lips moved to your collarbones, kissing and nipping at the soft skin. Your brain told you to push him away, but a strange feeling was overcoming your body as his hands moved to your hips. You could feel a hard bulge under his trousers as he began to move your hips, pushing your core onto his clothed cock. You moaned at the friction, his bulge rubbing perfectly against your clit sending shock waves up your body.

Soon you felt your hips begin to buck and move of their own accord. You felt his smirk against your skin as his hands moved to your tits. You gasped when he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers making you moan. “Oh god,” you couldn’t help the moan that slipped out when he took one into his mouth, sucking on the perked bud.

You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, your moans growing louder as you took the gods in vain at the top of your lungs. You felt your peak hit you like a boulder before you slumped into Jace’s chest.

He moved to kiss your cheek with a chuckle. “Not even fucked you yet and look at you,” Jace said, slipping his hand down to rub against your sensitive core making your body lurch, “So wet for me,” he praised, his hand moving to unlace his trousers. “Can’t wait to see what my cock does to you,”

Before you could protest you felt his tip pressing into your entrance. You gasped, your hands moving to grab his shoulders, “Aw,” Jace pouted, “Does it hurt?” he mocked, pushing you down further, “Too fucking bad,” he practically growled as he used your hips to push you all the way down.

You almost screamed at the feeling, as if you were being split in half but Jace groaned, throwing his head back against the wall as you felt his cock twitch inside you, “Fuck you’re so tight,” he praised, giving you a moment to adjust. Your hips betrayed you again, moving without your mind thinking making him chuckle.

“Such a desperate little thing,” Jace mocked, grabbing your jaw as you tried to move away. His thumb ran over your bottom lip before using it to pry your mouth open, resting it on your tongue, “Good girl,” he praised, his free hand moving your hips.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you felt him hit all the right spots. You gave up trying to resit as your hips began to grind onto his cock.

Jace’s hands moved to your hair, grabbing it suddenly and pulling it back so he could have full access to your neck. You were sure by the way he kissed it there would be marks tomorrow but that didn’t matter now. Your hands went to his hair, tugging it softly making him growl against your skin.

His free hand went to your ass, grabbing it tightly before suddenly leaving stinging slaps against the soft flesh. You could feel your second peak fast approaching and when Jace moved to run quick circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves you felt your cunt squeeze around him as it came crashing down again.

“Fuck,” Jace mumbled, a stream of profanity tumbling from his lips as his hands moved to your hips so he could fuck you through your orgasm, “You feel so good,” he praised, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You felt yourself coming down from your high and his movements began to slow, “Don’t stop Jace. Please gods don’t stop,” you began to beg, and you could feel his smirk.

“Begging suits you,” he teased, grabbing your jaw so he could make you face him, “You look so good right now. So drunk on my cock. Is that it?”

“Yes,” you whined, “I need you please,”

“Aw my poor baby,” he teased, “So desperate for her king,”

“Yes,” you weren’t even thinking any longer, and a spark ignited behind his eyes, “Need you. Want you my king,” you moaned.

Jace grabbed your hips tightly, standing suddenly before turning as you back slammed against the wall. You winced until you felt his hips begin to snap up against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tight against you. This new angle had him hitting newer spots that had your legs wrapping tight around him.

“So good,” Jace mumbled against your skin as you felt a third orgasm approaching, “My perfect little wife,” his words sent you tumbling over the edge.

Jace couldn’t resist anymore as your cunt squeezed around his cock and with a couple more pumps, he began to spill his seed. His thrusts became slow as he rode out his own peak, fucking his seed deep inside you. You were both panting as he pulled out, his forehead resting against yours as your feet finally hit the ground again.

“I always knew you had a dark side in you,” Jace chuckled as he pulled away.

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you in your sleep, husband,” you threatened but the last word made him smile. Maybe this was a good trade after all.

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[lila-lou]

✨Peanut✨

Summary: Stuck in a safe house with Soldier Boy is a test of patience—and nerves. He’s sharp-tongued, cocky, and impossible to ignore, pushing your boundaries just to see you flinch. You try to keep your distance, but he has a way of getting under your skin. You’re supposed to keep him in check, but the real challenge might be keeping yourself together.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Nickname, Shy!Reader, MENTION!Reader was touched without consent, Ben being as cocky as ever, some kind of fluff i guess

Word Count: 10523 (long ass shit here, lol)

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The room felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to make the next move. Soldier Boy—Ben, as Butcher had instructed you to call him—sat at the battered wooden table in the middle of the safe house. He was grinding pills into powder with the flat of his knife, muttering to himself, the motion aggressive and precise. Every scrape of the blade against the wood sent shivers down your spine.

You kept your eyes fixed on the television, not really watching whatever rerun was playing. It didn’t matter. Nothing could drown out the weight of his presence. The way he dominated the space even when he wasn’t speaking. Even when he wasn’t looking at you.

You didn’t know why he tolerated you. Out of all the people who’d tried to babysit him since Butcher hauled him out of whatever Russian nightmare he’d been buried in, you were the only one still standing. Maybe it was because you didn’t push him. Or maybe it was because you were too afraid to even try.

Two years ago, your fear of supes had been planted like a landmine in your chest. One night, one supe, one scar across your soul. That was all it took to change you forever. Now, being in the same room as one, especially him, felt like walking barefoot through a minefield. One wrong step, and everything could go to hell. Literally, in his case.

Ben scooped the powder into a neat little line, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “You don’t have to sit there like a deer in headlights, you know”, he drawled, not looking up. His voice was gravelly, tinged with a roughness that made you want to shrink further into the couch. “Not gonna bite”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of the couch cushion. “I’m fine here”, you said quickly, your voice thin and brittle.

“Sure you are”. He leaned back in his chair, his shirt unbuttoned enough to show a glimpse of the skin of his chest. That chest. The one that could, and had, turned entire blocks into ash. He tapped his nose twice before snorting the line with practiced ease, sighing as he leaned back again. “You’re terrible at pretending, you know that?”.

Your breath hitched, and you cursed yourself for it. He noticed everything. “Pretending what?”, you muttered, eyes glued to the TV screen.

“That you’re not scared shitless of me”, he said, his tone almost amused now. “It’s cute. Kind of pathetic, but cute”.

Your stomach twisted. The urge to snap back at him rose like bile, but you shoved it down. Provoking him was the last thing you wanted to do. Instead, you focused on keeping your voice steady. “I’m not scared of you”.

Ben laughed—deep, low, and sharp enough to make you flinch. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart”.

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to keep your breathing even. This was your job. This was what Butcher had asked of you. Watch over him, keep him in line, don’t let him blow anything up. Easier said than done when every fiber of your being was screaming to get the hell out of there.

Ben finally looked at you, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you”. His tone softened—just barely—but it still sent a shiver down your spine. “Not unless you give me a reason to”.

That didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you nodded anyway, not trusting yourself to speak.

He reached for another pill, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You know”, he said, his voice quieter now, “it’s exhausting, being treated like a goddamn bomb all the time”.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze fixed on the table as he rolled the pill between his fingers. For a moment, he almost seemed… human. Vulnerable.

But you didn’t know what to say. Didn’t trust yourself to say anything. So you just stayed where you were, curled up on the couch, watching him out of the corner of your eye and praying you wouldn’t be the one to set him off.

Ben tossed the pill back, swallowing it dry like it was nothing before reaching for the whiskey bottle on the table. He took a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up. For one fleeting second, you thought he might leave the room, give you some space to breathe. But no—he grabbed a bag of popcorn from the counter, ripped it open with his teeth, and made his way to the couch.

You tensed immediately. There were at least three other places he could sit, but no, he dropped himself right beside you. Not just close—touching. His thigh pressed firmly against yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric of your jeans like a live wire.

Your body locked up, your heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. If he noticed your discomfort—and of course, he did—he didn’t let on. He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, his eyes flicking toward the TV screen before turning to you.

“Whatcha watching?”, he asked casually, his voice a little softer now but still holding that rough, unshakable edge.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… whatever was on”.

He snorted. “Riveting choice”. Another handful of popcorn disappeared into his mouth, and he leaned back, spreading out like he owned the place. Which, let’s face it, he kind of did. Every room he entered felt like it bent to him, like the walls themselves were trying to make room for him and his ego.

As the minutes dragged on, he kept up the small talk. About the shitty popcorn, the weather, the ancient couch springs that squeaked every time one of you shifted. His tone was light, conversational, but his eyes… his eyes were anything but.

He wasn’t looking at the TV anymore. He was watching you. Really watching you. The way your shoulders hunched in on themselves like you were trying to make yourself smaller. The way your hands fidgeted with the hem of your hoodie. The way your legs were pressed tightly together, like you were trying to disappear into the cushions.

“You’re tiny”, he said abruptly, almost thoughtfully, his gaze dragging up and down your frame. “Like, seriously. How are you even a person? You’re what, a buck twenty soaking wet?”.

You stiffened, your face flushing. “I’m… normal-sized”, you mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Normal? Sweetheart, if I even looked at you wrong, you’d probably snap in half”.

Your stomach churned at the words, at the casual way he said them. Like it wasn’t a threat, just a fact. And maybe it was. He wasn’t wrong—he could break you without even trying. Supe or not, he was built like a goddamn tank, and you… well, you weren’t.

His gaze lingered on you, sharp and appraising, like he was trying to figure you out. “What’re you so scared of, huh?”, he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “You think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The lump in your throat was too big, your fear too loud.

“Relax, doll”, he said, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “If I wanted to crush you, I wouldn’t need to waste my time sitting here talking to you, now would I?”.

That didn’t make you feel any better. In fact, it made your skin crawl. But you nodded anyway, because what else could you do?

Ben smirked as he leaned back, stretching his arm casually over the back of the couch. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving you.

“So”, he drawled, cocking an eyebrow. “Got a boyfriend, Peanut?”.

The word caught you off guard, and you glanced at him sharply, your confusion momentarily outweighing your fear. “P-Peanut?”, you stammered, the nickname so unexpected it almost made you forget how close he was.

He grinned, his teeth flashing white against his scruffy beard. “Yeah, Peanut. You’re tiny, right? Probably weigh, what, eighty-five? Ninety pounds tops? I could pick you up with one hand, and you’d barely be a snack”. He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, like he found the whole thing hilarious. “Peanut fits”.

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you didn’t say anything. What could you say? He wasn’t exactly wrong, but hearing it said out loud—especially by him—made you feel smaller than ever. You tucked your legs up under you, trying to create some kind of barrier between his imposing presence and your body.

“C’mon”, he said, his voice lighter now, teasing almost. “You seriously don’t have some guy waiting around for you? Someone to take care of you? Feels like you’d need a bodyguard just to make it through the grocery store”.

You shook your head, your voice barely audible. “No boyfriend”.

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “Huh. Surprising. A thing like you? I’d think guys would be lining up”.

His words weren’t comforting. They weren’t meant to be. They carried an undertone that made your stomach twist, a reminder of how easily he could take you if he wanted to. You shifted uncomfortably, pulling your hoodie tighter around yourself like it could somehow shield you from the heat of his gaze.

“What’s the matter, Peanut?”, he asked. “I’m just making conversation. You don’t have to look so freaked out all the time”.

“I’m not freaked out”, you lied, your voice trembling just enough to betray you.

He snorted, clearly not buying it. “Sure you’re not”. He leaned forward suddenly, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing himself closer to you. The smell of whiskey and faint cigar smoke clung to him, mingling with something sharper, something distinctly him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Told you already, didn’t I?”.

You nodded again, but the tension in your body didn’t ease. If anything, it grew worse as his eyes traveled over you again, lingering in ways that made you want to sink into the couch and disappear.

“Man”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re wound up tighter than a fucking spring”. He reached for the popcorn bag again, the casual motion a stark contrast to the intensity of his words. “I don’t know what the hell Butcher was thinking, sticking me with you. You’re not exactly intimidating”.

You bristled at that, a tiny flicker of indignation breaking through your fear. “I wasn’t supposed to intimidate you”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just… here to keep an eye on you”.

He laughed—loud and abrupt, the sound startling in the otherwise quiet room. “You’re supposed to keep an eye on me?”. He leaned back again, throwing one arm across the back of the couch again and grinning down at you like he’d just heard the best joke of his life. “Fuck. That’s rich”.

You didn’t respond, biting your lip to keep the words locked in. You couldn’t afford to snap, couldn’t afford to give him a reason to escalate. Not with how close he was. Not with how easily he could overpower you.

Ben’s laugh faded into a low hum, almost as if he were talking to himself, but the words were loud enough to reach you. “You know”, he muttered, swirling the last of the whiskey in the bottle before setting it on the floor, “I could help you relax. You’re all wound up like a little bird that flew into the wrong fucking cage”.

The comment made your stomach tighten, your pulse spiking as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze wasn’t on the TV. It wasn’t even on the popcorn anymore. It was on you. Slowly, deliberately, like he was working through some kind of internal checklist, his eyes dragged from your face, to your neck, to the way your hoodie hugged your body.

“Yeah”, he said, his voice dropping lower, rougher.

“I’d probably crush you. Tiny little thing like you. But…”. He leaned his head back against the couch, as though considering something deeply. “I could figure it out. Work on my self-restraint”. He exhaled sharply through his nose, almost like a laugh, but it didn’t carry any humor. “Not sure you’d survive, though”.

Your throat went dry, and your mind raced for something—anything—to say to steer the conversation somewhere less terrifying. But the words wouldn’t come. It was like your brain had shut down entirely, overwhelmed by the weight of his presence and the dark, unsettling undertone to his words.

“I mean, shit”, he went on, almost lazily, like he was just idly musing. “It’d be a tight fit, no doubt about that. But I’d manage”. He turned his head toward you, one eyebrow quirking as though he was waiting for some kind of reaction. “What d’you think, Peanut? Think you could handle me?”.

Your heart felt like it might explode. You shifted slightly, trying to put even an inch of space between you, but the couch offered no escape. He noticed, of course he noticed, and the smirk on his face only widened.

“Relax”, he said again, though this time it sounded more like a command than a suggestion. “I’m just messing with you”. He leaned back again, popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth like the last thirty seconds hadn’t just happened.

But the tension in the air didn’t dissipate. His words lingered, sinking into your mind like oil, staining everything. You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too loudly, your entire body coiled as tightly as a spring.

Ben glanced at you again, his expression unreadable now, the grin gone. “You really gotta lighten up, Peanut”, he said, almost absently. “You’re making me feel like a fucking monster”.

You wanted to tell him he wasn’t making it easy. That his very presence was suffocating. That every word out of his mouth only fed the gnawing pit of fear in your stomach. But you couldn’t. So you stayed silent, staring at the TV and praying that he’d get bored soon. That the night would end without him pushing any further.

Ben shifted slightly on the couch, the springs groaning under his weight. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as if lost in thought, but you could feel his attention still anchored on you, heavy and unrelenting.

“You know”, he started, his voice low and casual, “I heard Butcher and that cum-guzzler talking about you”. He popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing slowly as though giving himself time to savor the words that would follow. “Something about why you’re so jumpy around supes”.

Your heart clenched, and you went rigid. You hadn’t realized Butcher had told him—why would he? What purpose would it serve, giving Soldier Boy ammunition? You glanced at him sharply, trying to gauge his intentions, but his expression was frustratingly neutral, save for the slight quirk of a smirk playing on his lips.

He chuckled, low and gravelly, shaking his head. “Can’t say I blame you”, he continued. “Sounds like you had a real shitty time of it. Some asshole supe gets a little too handsy, decides he’s owed something just because he’s got powers. That about right?”.

The knot in your stomach tightened, but you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt like it was closing, the weight of his words pulling every horrible memory to the surface.

Ben didn’t seem to need a response. He let out a long breath, his smirk fading as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “Here’s the thing, Peanut”, he said, his tone quieter now, almost contemplative. “Guys like that… they give the rest of us a bad name. Not that I give a shit about my reputation, but, you know, principle and all that”.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why… why are you bringing this up?”.

He shrugged, the motion casual, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed him. “Just thinking out loud. If that’s the only experience you’ve got with supes… well, no wonder you’re scared shitless. That’s the memory you’re stuck with”. His gaze slid to you, sharp and probing. “But maybe I could fix that”.

“Fix it?”, you echoed, your voice trembling. “What… what does that mean?”.

He smirked again, leaning back and stretching his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing just a hair’s breadth away from your shoulder. “I’m just saying”, he drawled, “maybe if you had a different kind of experience, you wouldn’t be so fucking scared all the time. Replace that shitty memory with a fucking awesome one”.

The implication in his words was crystal clear, and your stomach churned violently. Your fingers curled into the fabric of your hoodie, your nails digging into your palms. “That’s not…”. You trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not how it works”.

He tilted his head, studying you with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “You sure about that? Sometimes all it takes is one good memory to wipe out the bad. One moment to make you forget the rest of the bullshit”.

You shook your head, your pulse hammering in your ears. “I don’t think—”.

“Calm down, Peanut”, he interrupted, his voice dropping into that low, commanding tone again. “I’m not saying I’d do anything. Unless, you know, you wanted me to”.

Your breath hitched, and you pressed yourself further into the couch, as if the cushions could somehow swallow you whole. His gaze was piercing, unrelenting, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating.

“But hey”, he continued after a moment, his tone lightening again as he grabbed another handful of popcorn. “It’s your call. I’m just saying… I could make it worth your while”.

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Your mind was racing, your body frozen in place.

The safe house was quiet except for the distant hum of the water running in the bathroom. Ben was in the shower, and you were stuck on the couch, your nerves coiled tighter than ever. It had been weeks since that first night, weeks of this strange, unbearable dance between the two of you. He hadn’t pushed things too far, but he hadn’t stopped either. The teasing, the lingering touches, the weight of his gaze—it was constant, suffocating, impossible to ignore.

And now, as you sat there waiting for him, you hated yourself for the stupid summer dress you’d chosen to wear. It was hot, unbearably so, and the safe house didn’t have air conditioning. The dress had seemed like a practical choice at the time—lightweight, easy to move in—but now it felt like a mistake. The fabric clung to your skin and you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Vulnerable.

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the dress down as far as it would go and wrapping your arms around yourself. It didn’t help. The room felt stifling, and the faint sound of the shower only added to the tension. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, couldn’t stop the little voice whispering in the back of your head: What’s he going to say this time? What’s he going to do?

The shower shut off, and your breath caught. You stared at the TV, not really seeing it, your heart pounding as you heard the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

Moments later, Ben emerged, a towel slung low around his hips and his hair damp, water droplets trailing down his chest. He was a vision of raw power and confidence, and he knew it. The smirk tugging at his lips told you as much.

“Hey, Peanut”, he said casually, like this was the most normal thing in the world. He grabbed a second towel and ran it through his hair, his muscles flexing with the motion. “Didn’t think I’d keep you waiting, did you?”.

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting back to the TV. “I wasn’t—”, you started, but your voice faltered. “I mean, I’m fine”.

“Sure you are”, he said, chuckling under his breath. He crossed the room, tossing the towel onto a chair as he made his way to the couch. You felt his presence before you saw him, the heat of him, the sheer weight of him, as he sat down beside you. Close. Too close. Again.

His eyes flicked to your dress, lingering for just a moment before he leaned back, draping his arm over the back of the couch. “Nice dress”, he commented, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “Didn’t know we were getting all dressed up today”.

Your face burned, and you tugged at the hem again, wishing it were longer. “It’s just… it’s hot”, you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“That it is”, he agreed, his smirk widening. “But you didn’t have to go all out for me, Peanut. A little effort goes a long way, though, so… thanks”.

You clenched your jaw, your hands twisting the fabric of the dress in your lap. “I didn’t—”.

“I’m just messing with you. Don’t get so wound up”, his voice dropping into that familiar, teasing drawl.

You wanted to snap back, wanted to tell him to knock it off, but you couldn’t. You just sat there, frozen, your heart pounding as he shifted slightly closer, the edge of his thigh brushing against yours.

The problem wasn’t just that you were afraid of Ben anymore—though that fear was still there, lurking beneath every breath, every glance, every word. The problem was that, over the past few weeks, something else had crept in, something worse.

Attraction.

You hated yourself for it. Hated the way your pulse quickened when he smirked at you, the way your thoughts lingered on his voice, deep and rough like gravel underfoot. And now, as you sat beside him, that stupid towel slung so dangerously low on his hips, it was taking everything you had to keep your eyes on the TV.

But you failed. Of course, you did. Your gaze flicked toward him out of the corner of your eye, drawn like a moth to a flame. The towel clung to his hips precariously, the line of dark hair below his navel trailing downward, disappearing beneath the fabric. And lower—your breath hitched—the outline of him was visible, faint but undeniable.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks burning, your heart hammering in your chest. What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it almost hurt. This was Soldier Boy. Ben. The same man who teased you relentlessly, who could crush you without a second thought. A damn supe. And yet…

“You’re quiet, Peanut”, he said suddenly, his voice breaking through your frantic thoughts. His tone was casual, but you knew better than to believe it wasn’t deliberate. He always knew how to needle you just enough to get under your skin. “I mean, you’re always quiet, but today? What’s the deal?”.

You didn’t respond, your throat too dry to form a coherent excuse. You tried to keep your eyes locked on the TV, pretending to focus on the images flickering across the screen. But you could feel him watching you, the heat of his gaze sliding over your profile, lingering far too long for comfort.

“C’mon”, he pressed, his voice dropping an octave, rich and deep enough to make your stomach do an unwelcome flip. “You’re the only action I’ve got in this shithole they’re hiding me in. Least you could do is talk to me. I’m bored as hell over here”.

Your hands twisted in your lap, gripping the fabric of your dress like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not with the way his words made your skin flush and your heart pound.

“I don’t know what to say”, you mumbled finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben leaned back against the couch, his towel shifting just slightly. “You don’t have to say much, Peanut”, he drawled, his smirk audible in his tone. “Just give me something. Anything. Hell, even a complaint about how much you hate being stuck with me. I know you’ve got those”.

You glanced at him for just a split second, and that was your mistake. He was sprawled out, all lazy confidence, the towel still clinging low on his hips, the light from the TV casting faint shadows over his chest. The sight made your stomach twist, and you quickly looked away again, your cheeks burning.

“I don’t hate you”, you blurted out, immediately regretting it.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Don’t you now?”. His smirk deepened, and he leaned in just slightly, the arm draped over the back of the couch brushing your shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you can’t even look at me half the time”.

You swallowed hard, your fingers knotting into the hem of your dress. “I just…”, you stammered, unsure how to explain without giving away too much. “You make me nervous”.

Ben tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost curious. “Nervous, huh?”, he repeated, his voice quieter now, like he was mulling over the word. “Why? You still think I’m gonna hurt you?”.

“No”, you said quickly, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind. “It’s not that”.

“Then what?”, he asked, his tone deceptively gentle, but his gaze was sharp, unrelenting. “What is it about me that’s got you so wound up?”.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Your silence only seemed to amuse him further. He let out a low chuckle, leaning back again, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest.

“Shit, Peanut”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re like a puzzle I can’t quite figure out. Makes me want to push, see how far you’ll bend before you break”.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to keep your breathing steady, to keep your focus anywhere but on him. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep this up, this fragile pretense of calm, but you knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t going to let this go. Not tonight.

The tension in the room was suffocating, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands trembled as you placed them on your thighs, pushing yourself up from the couch. “I… I need some water”, you mumbled, not daring to look at him. You didn’t wait for his response—if he even had one—and walked quickly toward the little kitchen tucked into the corner of the safe house.

Your footsteps felt too loud against the worn wooden floor, the tiny kitchen offering no real reprieve from his presence. You grabbed a glass from the cupboard, your fingers trembling slightly as you filled it from the tap. You told yourself the sound of running water would drown out the pounding of your heart, but it didn’t.

The quiet click of his footsteps behind you made you freeze.

“Thirsty, huh?”, Ben’s voice came from far too close, his tone casual but laced with that ever-present teasing edge. He was right behind you now—you could feel him, his heat radiating like a furnace, the space between you barely a breath.

“I just needed some space”, you said, your voice quiet and shaky, gripping the glass like it was a lifeline.

“Space?”, he echoed, like the word was foreign to him. You heard him shift, his hand brushing lightly against the counter as he leaned against it. “Still can’t handle being near me?”.

You froze, the glass trembling slightly in your hands as you felt him step even closer. His body was right behind yours now, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his chest against your back every time you shifted.

“You look really pretty today”, he murmured, his voice softer now, quieter, but no less unsettling. His words sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you gripped the glass tighter, your knuckles turning white.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hair, playing with a loose strand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if he were testing your reaction.

“Didn’t think a little dress like that could make someone so…”. He trailed off, his fingers gently tucking the strand behind your ear from behind, his touch warm against your skin. “Sweet. You do surprise me, Peanut”.

Your heart pounded, your breath catching in your throat. “Ben, please…”, you whispered, barely able to get the words out. You didn’t know what you were asking for—for him to stop, to step back, to leave you alone—but your voice carried the weight of your unease.

“Oh c'mon now”, he murmured, his tone dipping into that low, velvety register that always made your stomach twist. “I’m just saying you look nice. No harm in that, right?”.

His hand lingered for a moment longer, brushing lightly against your shoulder, before he stepped back just enough to give you a fraction of space. But it didn’t feel like enough. The air around you still felt heavy, charged with his presence.

“You don’t take compliments well, do you?”, he asked, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice as he leaned casually against the counter. “What’s so scary about me telling you you’re pretty?”.

“Nothing”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben’s gaze dropped, shamelessly traveling down your body. You could feel it, the weight of his eyes lingering on your legs. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and you caught the faint movement out of the corner of your eye. It sent a fresh wave of heat through your face, your stomach twisting into knots.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing, almost contemplative, “it’s been quite a while for me.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing lightly against yours as he rested it on the counter beside you. “And with you here, looking like that, acting all shy and innocent…”.

He trailed off, his smirk widening as his gaze dragged back up to meet yours. “It’s really hard for me, Peanut”.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your breath caught in your throat. Your grip tightened on the edge of the counter, your knuckles white as you fought to keep yourself grounded. “Ben, stop”, you said softly, your voice barely audible, but there was a tremble in it you couldn’t hide.

“Stop what?”, he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. He wasn’t innocent, not even close. “I’m just being honest. You don’t want me to lie, do you?”.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. His smirk was maddening, equal parts charming and infuriating, and the way he was looking at you—like he was sizing you up, deciding just how far he could push—made your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m not… I’m not doing anything”, you stammered, your words tumbling over themselves. “I’m just—”.

“Just standing there, looking all sweet and pretty”, he interrupted, his tone playful. He straightened slightly, his height and presence towering over you as he leaned a little closer. “You have no idea, do you? How hard you make it for me to keep my hands to myself?”.

Your breath hitched, and you stepped back instinctively, the counter digging into your lower back as you put as much distance between you as you could in the small space. But he didn’t move closer—he just stayed there, watching you, his smirk softening into something almost… curious.

Ben’s smirk deepened as he watched you, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was peeling back every layer of your defenses. “You know”, he murmured, his voice soft but still carrying that teasing edge, “I think you actually like me, Peanut”.

Your eyes widened at his words, and you shook your head quickly, your back pressing harder against the counter. “That’s not true”, you said, your voice trembling with the effort to sound convincing.

But he didn’t seem fazed. If anything, your reaction only amused him more. His hand darted out, slow and deliberate, resting gently on your hip. It wasn’t forceful, wasn’t threatening—it was almost careful, like he was testing the waters, giving you a chance to stop him.

Your breath hitched, and your body tensed under his touch. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of your dress, the weight of his hand grounding you and overwhelming you all at once.

“You’re not pushing me away”, he said softly, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. His fingers flexed slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you he was there. “That’s gotta count for something”.

You opened your mouth to say something, to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, but no words came out. You were frozen, caught in the weight of his gaze, the closeness of him, the way his presence consumed every inch of space around you.

His other hand came up slowly, brushing against a strand of hair that had fallen into your face. He tucked it behind your ear, his touch featherlight, his green eyes locking onto yours. “You keep telling yourself you’re scared of me”, he murmured, his tone quiet, almost tender. “But I think you’re scared of something else”.

“Ben, I…”. Your voice cracked, and you trailed off, your hands clutching the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shh”, he whispered, his hand on your hip shifting just slightly, his thumb brushing against the curve of your waist. “You don’t have to say anything, Peanut. Not if you don’t want to”.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your uneven breathing, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner. His touch wasn’t rough or demanding, but it was firm, grounding, impossible to ignore.

And then, slowly, he leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “Just… Push me away if you want me to stop. Promise I won´t be mad”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips so close to yours you could feel the ghost of their presence.

Your heart pounded, your mind racing with conflicting emotions—fear, confusion, and something far more dangerous bubbling beneath the surface. You hated how much you craved his attention, hated how much his touch made your body betray you. But even as you stood there, frozen, his words echoed in your mind: Push me away.

Would you? Could you?

The choice was yours.

Bot you didn’t push him away. You stayed still, your breath hitching as Ben’s smirk deepened. He took your silence as permission—or maybe just a challenge he was eager to win.

Without a word, his hands slid more firmly around your waist. Before you could even process what was happening, he lifted you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. The glass of water slipped from your fingers, landing with a dull clink on the counter as he set you down atop it. The cool surface against the back of your thighs made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him.

He stepped closer, pressing himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and unyielding. Your legs opened instinctively to accommodate him, the fabric of your dress sliding up as you shifted. The hem bunched high on your thighs, and your stomach dropped when you realized how exposed you were. The little triangle of fabric between your legs was on full display, and Ben’s gaze dropped to it immediately, his lips curling into a wolfish grin.

“Well, would you look at that”, he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the faintest edge of amusement making it all the more dangerous. His hands trailed down to your knees, his thumbs brushing against the inside of your thighs, sending a shock of warmth through your body. “Peanut, you’ve been holding out on me”.

You squirmed, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as if it could anchor you against the storm of his presence. “Ben…”, you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure if it was a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

“Shh”, he said softly, his hands sliding higher, spreading your legs further apart. “I told you, I’m not gonna hurt you”.

But the way he looked at you—the hunger in his eyes, the possessive way his hands claimed your body—made your pulse race for entirely different reasons. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your neck as he pressed his hips against yours, his body firm and unyielding.

“You have no idea”, he whispered, his voice rough and thick with desire. “No idea how hard it’s been. Watching you, waiting for you to stop running, stop hiding. But now…”. His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Now I’ve got you right where I want you”.

Your heart pounded, your mind spinning as his hands continued their slow, deliberate exploration of your body. You hated how your body reacted to him, how the heat pooled low in your belly, how your breathing quickened despite yourself. Hated how much you wanted him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

And Ben—he knew it, too. You could see it in his smirk, in the way his eyes burned with triumph. He was in control, and he knew it. You wanted him, and that he sure knew too.

Ben’s smirk deepened as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing teasingly against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His touch was firm but not rough, as if he were savoring every moment. He leaned back slightly to get a better look, his eyes darkening as they locked onto the little triangle of fabric barely covering you.

“You know”, he murmured, his voice low and full of heat, “I’ve been imagining this for weeks. But it’s even better than I thought”.

You opened your mouth to respond—to say something—but the words caught in your throat once more as he hooked a finger under the fabric. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, a wicked gleam in his green eyes as he gave you - again - just enough time to stop him.

But you didn’t.

With a sharp, controlled movement, he ripped the delicate material apart, the sound of tearing fabric echoing in the quiet kitchen. The force of it sent a jolt through your body, but it didn’t hurt. It was more of a shock—both from the action itself and the way his eyes devoured the sight before him.

Your breath hitched as the ruined panties fell away, leaving you bare to him. His hands stilled for a moment, his gaze fixated on your glistening, perfectly shaven lips. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on your thighs.

”Fuck peanut”, he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Look at you”.

Ben’s grip on your thighs tightened as his eyes darkened, roaming over every inch of you like you were something he was about to own. He let out a low, gravelly chuckle, shaking his head with that familiar smirk—cocky and unapologetically lewd.

“Is this what chicks are doing these days? All shaved, all fucking spotless?”. His thumb traced lazily along your inner thigh, teasing just close enough to make you squirm. “In the ’80s, everyone had a damn jungle down here. Didn’t matter who you were, movie star or some chick at a dive bar—hair everywhere. But this?”.

His thumb slid lower, brushing over the seam of your closed, glistening lips. The slickness made his touch effortless, his rough hands stark against your softness. “This is a whole fucking upgrade”, he murmured, almost to himself, his tone filthy and raw. “Smooth as hell… fuck Peanut, you’re like a fucking dream”.

Ben’s eyes stayed glued between your legs, completely enthralled, like he was witnessing something unreal. The pad of his thumb pressed further, parting your slick lips with almost lazy confidence. He slid it down to your entrance, where he paused, testing the way your body reacted to him.

“Fuck me”, he muttered under his breath, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “You’re soaked, Peanut. Look at this. Look at you”.

Your breath hitched audibly, your chest rising and falling as his thumb pressed lightly against your entrance, his other hand tightening its grip on your thigh to keep you exactly where he wanted you. His touch was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.

“You’re fucking perfect”, he murmured, half to himself.

Ben’s thumb dipped just barely inside you, and the moment he felt how tight you were, he froze. His breath hitched, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as he pulled his hand back. His grip on your thigh tightened, grounding himself as he muttered under his breath, “No fucking way. Not with my fingers. I’m not wasting this on anything but my dick”.

His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a dark hunger that sent a shiver racing down your spine. He took a deep breath, his smirk returning as he dragged his hands up the outside of your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher as he went.

“You’re something else, Peanut”, he growled, his voice thick and unapologetically filthy. “This body, this tight little hole… it’s all mine”.

He grabbed the hem of your dress, tugging it upward with slow, deliberate movements, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your arms instinctively, your breath catching in your throat as you helped him pull the dress over your head. The fabric slipped away easily, pooling on the floor beside the counter, leaving you bare except for your trembling body beneath his gaze.

Ben stepped back slightly, just enough to take you in, his eyes roaming over every inch of your exposed skin with raw, unfiltered desire. He let out a low whistle, his lips curving into a grin that was both predatory and approving.

“You’re even better than I imagined”. His hands moved back to your waist, firm and possessive as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, positioning you exactly where he wanted you.

“You don’t even realize, do you?”, he muttered, his hands trailing over your hips, your stomach, your thighs, like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. “How fucking perfect you are. How fucking lucky I am”.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “I told you, Peanut. You’re mine now. Every inch of you”.

With one swift motion, Ben pulled the towel from his hips and tossed it carelessly to the side, revealing himself fully. Your eyes widened the moment you saw him—huge, heavy, and impossibly intimidating. A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you instinctively pressed your hands against his chest, trying to push him away.

But he didn’t budge.

Your heart raced, panic and uncertainty flooding your senses. You weren’t a virgin, but this… this was different. The sheer size of him made your stomach twist with both fear and something else you didn’t want to name.

“Whoa there, Peanut”, Ben murmured, his voice low and teasing, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in his eyes as he glanced down at himself, then back at you. “Scared already? Thought you said you weren’t afraid of me”.

“I just…”, you stammered, your palms pressing harder against his chest, but he didn’t move. He stood there, unyielding, his muscles firm under your touch as he watched you with that same maddening smirk.

“Relax”, he said again, his tone dipping into that familiar mix of amusement and raw lust.

Your voice came out in a shaky whisper, your eyes wide and fixed on him. “This… this won’t fit. No way”.

Ben’s smirk deepened, the gleam in his eyes turning even more smug, like your fear only fed his ego. He let out a low chuckle, his broad chest rumbling under your trembling hands. “Won’t fit, huh?”, he repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”.

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling slightly against his chest as you tried to pull back, but his hands on your hips held you firmly in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Don’t sell yourself short, Peanut. You’ll take it. You just need a little… encouragement”.

Your stomach twisted at his words, a mix of fear and heat flooding your senses. “Ben, I—”, you started, but he cut you off, his hands sliding slowly up your sides, strong and possessive.

“I’ll make it fit”, he murmured, his voice low and dripping with confidence.

One of his hands moved between your bodies, and your breath hitched as he grabbed himself, his cock heavy and intimidating in his hand. His green eyes flicked up to yours briefly, watching your reaction.

“Just.. relax, Peanut”, he said softly, almost mockingly, as he positioned himself. “This is gonna feel real good. Trust me”.

You bit your lip hard as you felt the tip of him slide through your slick lips, the slow, deliberate motion making your body jolt with unexpected pleasure. The contrast of his roughness and your softness was overwhelming, your hips twitching instinctively as his thick head dragged against you.

“Fuck”, he muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on where your bodies touched. “You’re already soaking for me. You feel that, Peanut? That’s your body telling you it wants this. Wants me”.

A shaky whimper escaped your lips, and you hated yourself for the sound, for how much you wanted him. The warmth, the pressure, the way he moved—it was too much, too intense, too consuming.

Ben chuckled, his thumb brushing over your thigh as he kept guiding himself against you, letting his tip tease your entrance but not pushing in just yet. “Look at you”, he muttered. “Already whining, and I haven’t even given you the real thing yet”.

You bit your lip harder, trying to stifle another whimper. His free hand slid up your side, gripping your waist possessively as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Don’t hold back now, Peanut", he growled. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Wanna know how much you’re feeling this”.

The heat pooling low in your belly was unbearable, your body trembling as he continued his slow, torturous motions. He wasn’t even inside you yet, but the weight of him was enough to leave you breathless.

Ben’s cocky smirk softened just slightly as he began to nudge himself inside you, his movements surprisingly slow and deliberate. He pressed forward an inch at a time, giving you room to adjust to his size. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you steady as he worked himself in, his gaze locked on your face.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered under his breath, the usual arrogance in his tone giving way to something deeper, rougher. “Tight as hell. I knew you’d feel good, but this? Fuck”.

You winced at the stretch, your body instinctively tensing around him as he pushed in further. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your lips.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing as he paused, letting you adjust. “I know, baby. It’s a lot. But you’re doing good. So fucking good”.

Your hands gripped his forearms, your nails digging into his skin as he slid another inch deeper, the burn of the stretch making you gasp. “Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“I’ve got you”, he said, his voice steady and firm, his thumbs rubbing small circles against your skin in a rare gesture of comfort. “You’ll get used to it. Just breathe”.

You tried to focus on his words, on the way he moved so slowly, giving you time to adjust to every inch of him. The stretch was still intense, still bordering on too much, but as he eased in further, your body began to relax, the pain giving way to a different kind of pressure.

“That’s it”, he murmured, his lips quirking into a small smirk as he watched you. “See? I told you you’d take it, Peanut”.

You couldn’t form a response, your breath hitching again as he pushed in another inch. He groaned softly, his head falling forward briefly, his self-control evident in the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

Your body trembled, the overwhelming fullness leaving you unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. He stayed still, his hands firm on your hips, his gaze softening just slightly as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“You’re doing so good, Peanut”, he said, his voice low and almost gentle, though the hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded. “Just a little more, and then I’ll make you feel real fucking good. I promise”.

Ben pushed in further, inch by inch, until he finally bottomed out, his hips pressing flush against yours. The sheer fullness, the stretch, was almost too much, and a breathless moan escaped your lips, mixed with a high-pitched whine that you couldn’t suppress. The sound seemed to drive him wild.

“Fuck”, Ben groaned, his head dropping forward to rest against your collarbone as his hands tightened on your hips. His breathing was ragged, and his entire body seemed to tense as he fought to keep himself in check. “You feel… Fuck, Peanut. You’re so fucking tight”.

You trembled under him, your hands instinctively clutching his broad shoulders as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely. He was so big, stretching you to your limits, and every inch of him pressed against places you didn’t even know could feel like this.

“Ben”, you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were pleading for him to move or to give you more time to adjust.

“I know, baby”, he muttered, his voice gravelly and low, muffled against your skin. “I know. Just… fuck, just give me a second”. He groaned again, a deep, primal sound that vibrated through your chest, his hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re perfect”, he murmured, lifting his head slightly to press his forehead against yours. His green eyes burned into yours, dark with lust and something deeper, something almost reverent. “Fucking perfect. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me”.

You let out a shaky breath, your body slowly relaxing more around him as he stayed still, letting you adjust to the fullness. His hands moved to cradle your thighs, spreading you wider as he groaned softly again, his lips brushing against your jawline.

“Breathe, Peanut”, he said, his voice softening for a moment as his thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your skin. “Just breathe. You’re taking me so damn well”.

The praise sent a rush of warmth through your body, making you shiver against him. Slowly, he began to pull back just an inch, testing, watching your reaction with sharp, hungry eyes. The drag of him against your sensitive walls made your breath hitch, and his smirk returned as he groaned again.

“Yeah”, he growled, his voice thick as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re gonna love this, Peanut. I’ll make sure of it”.

Ben groaned deeply as he began to move, the drag of his length against your tight walls slow and deliberate. He pulled back just enough to make you feel every inch before sinking back in, his hips pressing flush against yours once more. The stretch still made you wince, but the intensity of the sensation was quickly mingling with something warmer, something almost unbearable.

“Shit”, he muttered against your collarbone, his breath hot and ragged. His lips grazed your skin, his teeth scraping lightly as he fought to keep his pace measured. “You’re squeezing me so damn tight. Like you were fucking made for me”.

A breathless whimper escaped you as he thrust again, a little deeper, a little harder. The fullness was still overwhelming, but with every slow, calculated movement, your body started to adjust, to mold to him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he smirked against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you clung to him.

Ben’s thrusts grew harder, his hips snapping into yours with more purpose, more force. The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, raw and intimate, but you bit your lip, desperate to keep quiet.

But Ben noticed. Of course, he noticed.

“Peanut”, he growled, his voice low and commanding, roughened by pleasure. He angled his hips just slightly, hitting a spot that made your back arch involuntarily. “Don’t you fucking hold back on me”.

A soft whimper escaped you, and his smirk returned, wicked and dangerous. “That’s more like it”, he muttered, his hands gripping your hips even tighter as he thrust again, harder this time. “I want to hear you. Every. Fucking. Sound”.

You clenched your teeth, your nails digging harder into his shoulders as you fought to keep quiet, but it was no use. His pace was relentless now, each movement deliberate, dragging pleasure and desperation out of you with every stroke.

“C’mon, baby”, he murmured, leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t be shy. I want to hear how much you love this. Want to hear you beg me for more”.

You shook your head weakly, trying to resist, but when he thrust again, deeper than before, a moan slipped past your lips, raw and unrestrained. Ben groaned in response, the sound rough and guttural as he rocked into you harder.

“Fuck, that’s it”, he growled, his teeth scraping against your neck as he buried himself to the hilt again. “That’s the sound I’ve been waiting for. Knew you couldn’t stay quiet forever”.

Your breath hitched as he moved faster, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands moved up to grip your waist, holding you steady as he claimed every inch of you, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke again.

“You feel that?”, he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Feel how perfectly you’re taking me? That tight little body of yours was made for this, Peanut. Made for me”.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, your soft moans turning into desperate whimpers as he pushed you further and further. His words, his touch, the sheer intensity of him—it was too much, too overwhelming. And Ben—he soaked in every sound, every tremble, every gasp, his grin widening as he kept driving into you like he couldn’t get enough.

“That’s my girl”, he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup your face as his eyes locked onto yours. “Now stop holding back and let me hear it all”.

Ben could feel it—the way your body tightened around him, your walls fluttering as you approached the edge. His pace didn’t falter; if anything, it became sharper, more deliberate, each thrust angled perfectly to drive you closer to unraveling completely.

“You’re close, aren’t you, Peanut?”, he murmured. “I can feel it. You’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go”.

You whimpered, your nails raking against his shoulders as the pressure in your core built to an unbearable intensity. Your head fell back, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but Ben wasn’t about to let you hide from him.

“Uh-uh”, he said sharply, his hands gripping your hips harder as he slowed his thrusts just enough to regain your attention. “Don’t you fucking look away”.

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze hazy and unfocused as you tried to meet his. His green eyes burned with intensity, dark with hunger and something possessive that made your stomach twist. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his movements deliberate and unyielding as he pushed you closer and closer.

“When you come”, he growled, his voice rough and commanding, “you look at me, Peanut. Got it?”.

You nodded weakly, unable to form words, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge. He thrust harder, deeper, his rhythm relentless now, each motion pulling soft cries from your lips that you couldn’t control.

“That’s it”, he muttered, his gaze locked on yours, unyielding. “That’s my girl. Let me see it. Let me see you fall apart for me”.

The final thrust sent you over the edge, your body clenching tightly around him as your release crashed through you. Your eyes locked onto his, your vision blurring with the intensity of it, and Ben groaned deeply, the sound rough and raw as he watched every second of your undoing.

“Fuck, Peanut”, he muttered, his voice strained as your walls gripped him like a vice. “You’re so fucking perfect like this”.

Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure coursed through you, and even as you came undone beneath him, Ben didn’t stop. His movements slowed just enough to let you ride out your high, his hands firm and steady on your hips as he kept you exactly where he wanted you.

“Fucking beautiful when you come. Told you I’d make you love this”, he murmured, his smirk returning as he leaned in to brush his lips against your ear.

Ben wasn’t close to being done with you—not by a long shot. After a moment of catching his breath, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and sitting down with you straddling his lap. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you as he eased you down onto him again. The stretch made your breath hitch all over again, but your body had already molded to him, making it easier this time.

“You’re not done yet, Peanut”, he murmured, his voice low and smug, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Not until I’ve had my fill”.

You didn’t know how much more you could take, but your body responded on instinct, your arms wrapping around his neck as he thrust up into you, slow and steady. Every motion sent shivers through you, the pressure building again despite how spent you already felt. His hands roamed your body, gripping, caressing, holding you steady as he moved beneath you.

Time blurred. You lost count of how many times he made you come—how many times your body tensed, shook, and fell apart in his arms. Ben took his time, alternating between hard, commanding movements and surprising moments of gentleness, as though savoring every second. His voice was a constant in your ear, filthy and possessive, coaxing every moan, whimper, and gasp out of you like they belonged to him.

By the time you collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling, you couldn’t even think straight. Your breaths came in soft, shaky gasps, your cheek resting against his chest. Ben’s hands moved to your back, stroking gently now, his touch grounding as you slowly came down from the overwhelming high.

“Shh”, he murmured, his voice softer now. “You’re done, baby. You’ve earned your rest”.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you securely against him as he leaned back into the couch. The tension in your body eased, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his body lulling you into a daze.

Surprisingly, Ben didn’t push for more. He simply held you, his rough hands surprisingly gentle as they traced lazy circles on your back. His cocky smirk had softened into something almost content, his head resting against the back of the couch as he watched you drift off.

“Guess I wore you out”, he muttered, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he shifted slightly to make you more comfortable. “Can’t say I blame you, Peanut. You did good”.

You didn’t respond—couldn’t respond—as sleep overtook you. Completely spent, your body went limp against him, your soft breaths warm against his skin as you passed out in his arms. And for once, Ben didn’t press or tease. He just stayed there, holding you close, his gaze lingering on you with something almost resembling pride.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[sematarygirls]

        SLASHER!RAFE x FINALGIRL!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ dubcon, unprotected p in v, knife play, choking, hair pulling, degradation, one use of the word daddy, blood, murder, gore

NOTES .ᐟ  everyone ignore how i change my post layouts every five seconds, but i went kind of out of my comfort zone and decided to put my nasty little fantasies to paper with this one, so i hope yall freaks enjoy.

                 ♱     ‘‘ we all go a little mad sometimes ’’

The sounds of your heavy breathing seemed to echo off the walls of the empty wooden cabin. A loose floorboard underneath you dug painfully into your ribs, but you didn't dare move an inch, your eyes trained on the door and ears perked up as you kept yourself alert for any signs of life. Every creak of the old cabin and whistle of the wind outside had you biting back a gasp as hot, salty tears ran down your cheeks.

Your lip was trembling, heart beating so loud in your chest that you were afraid it would give away your position hidden away under one of the rickety beds. Flashes of the gruesome scene beyond the four wooden walls that were currently giving you some semblance of safety filled the darkness everytime your eyes fluttered shut.

Blood. Blood everywhere. With the amount of blood you'd seen and the eerie quiet that had settled over the camp, only the wind and the crickets to keep you company, you were almost positive that everyone else was dead.

You found yourself grateful that the campers had all gone home that morning, spared from the wrath of the axe-wielding maniac that had beheaded, dismembered, gutted, and disfigured all your coworkers. You could still see the face of your boss, the head counselor, in your mind, lifeless, sunken eyes staring past you and ghostly pale skin practically reflecting in the moonlight.

You didn't have time to ponder whether the unrecognizable corpse a few feet away belonged to the disembodied head before you because a pitched, sadistic whistling started up. You weren't sure what direction it had come from as it seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. Running and hiding seemed to be the best course of action, so you took off, trying to focus on what was ahead of you and not the massacre that was all around you.

That was when you slipped into the cabin and scrambled under the bed, your heavy breathing—a mix of physical exertion and pure horror—reverberating off the walls. A twig snapping outside had you clamping your hand over your mouth, a small squeak falling from your lips as you screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to will the murderer away from your location.

A few tense moments passed with your eyes shut tight and not another sound to be heard. Your ears strained to pick up anything besides the wind whipping through the trees and the ironically lively sounds of insects chirping but still, nothing.

You let out an internal sigh of relief, your eyes fluttering open and sweeping the floor in front of you for feet, thankfully finding none. "Boo," a voice suddenly whispered, making your eyes widen. A blood-curdling scream tore from your throat as a hand clamped down on your ankle, pulling you forcefully out from under the bed. You clawed at the floor and kicked at him, but your attempts to fight off the larger, stronger man were futile.

When he had pulled you all the way out of the hiding place that had lulled you into a false sense of security, you quickly turned over to face him, bracing yourself up on your hands as your chest heaved and eyes widened with fear.

You found yourself slightly taken aback as your gaze landed on the handsome, blood-spattered face before you. You'd more or less expected a middle-aged hillbilly with missing teeth and a crazed look in his eyes. Instead, you were face to face with a wicked smirk and cold blue eyes that glared down at you, glinting sinisterly in the dim, warm lighting. He had forgone his axe, the polished blade of a knife clutched in his hand, catching the light.

"Gotcha," he said lowly, his voice taking on a distinctly menacing and warning tone, as if daring you to try and run from him. His tall frame towered over you, even as he crouched down to be level with you, the sharp scent of the blood coating his white button up making your nose scrunch in disgust.

"Please," you begged weakly, crawling backward until your back hit the wooden bedframe of the bed you'd just sought refuge under. He seemed unfazed by your attempts to scurry away from him, simply leaning closer and bringing the knife up to brush a strand of hair away from your face in a gesture that was deceptively gentle.

"Shh, it's okay," he cooed, his voice dripping with false comfort and a twisted amusement. He lightly ran the knife down your cheek, making you stiffen, not wanting to move an inch and risk the blade dipping into your skin. "Are you scared?" He asked, stopping the cold steel of the knife underneath your chin and using it to tilt your head up a little bit, forcing you to look at him.

His icy blue eyes bored into yours as he waited for your answer. You couldn't form a sentence, simply staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Your mind was whirling with thoughts, most presently not wanting to die, but just beyond that, you registered the damp feeling between your legs that had you wondering if you had truly lost your mind. You were face to face with a man who had brutally murdered atleast a dozen people and was presently covered in their blood, and you were turned on?

"I asked you a fucking question," he said, drawing you from your thoughts. His chiseled jaw clenched as he pressed the knife ever so slightly into your skin, the tip of the blade nicking your neck and making a small whimper fall from your lips. He leaned closer, his breath fanning over your face. "Are you scared?" He repeated, his tone making it clear that he expected an answer when he asked you a question.

"Y-yes," you replied, your voice trembling as you felt a warm, sticky droplet of blood slip down your neck from the small cut he had made and into your shirt, right through the valley of your breasts.

"Good," he hummed, a twisted smile slowly spreading across his face. Your breath hitched as you felt the blade begin to move again, dipping lower and lower, following the trail of blood on your skin. "Bet you'd do whatever I told you to, yeah?"

You nodded, probably a little too quickly. Deep down, some sick part of you wanted this, wanted him to touch you and defile you in ways that would have your mother clutching her pearls. Fear was one motivator. Of course you wanted to get out of this alive and were willing to do whatever it took, but as much as you wanted to convince yourself it was, you knew it wasn't the only reason you would bend to the handsome stranger's will.

He grinned wickedly, grabbing your throat with his free hand and pulling you up into a standing position. The tip of the knife pressed firmly against your sternum, his fingers flexing around the column of your throat—his grip unyielding but not quite painful—as he stood there for a moment, just staring at you.

His calculating gaze swept over your face, taking in every little detail before slipping down. A glint of satisfaction flickered across his face as he saw the cut on your skin, following the blood trail down into your little tank top. He subconsciously licked his lips at the view, the thin material of your shirt and your little shorts not leaving much to the imagination. You shuddered under his intense stare, feeling suddenly very exposed as he shamelessly checked you out.

His eyes lingered on your chest, the rise and fall of your breasts clearly visible as it heaved with your quick, shallow breaths—whether from fear or anticipation, you were still trying to decipher. His face twisted into a smug expression, clearly noting the effect he was having on you.

He slowly, tauntingly, dragged the blade up from your sternum to your collarbone before pulling it back down in the same tantalizing manner. His gaze seemed to pierce your soul, watching in amusement as you squirmed uncomfortably in his grasp.

Before you could register what was happening, a loud clatter abruptly echoed throughout the room, making you jump and gasp softly in a mix of surprise and fear. Your eyes widened a fraction as you felt his calloused fingers slip under your shirt, dancing along your bare skin.

Your gaze darted to the source of the noise, the knife laying discarded on the floor a few feet away. "Uh, uh, uh," he reprimanded, his grip on your throat tightening, his thumb applying just enough pressure to make you feel the threat of being cut off from air. "Don't look over there. Look at me."

Your eyes met his again, his pupils dilated, the pools of black giving him an even more menacing look as he glared at you with a hardened stare. "Don't try anything stupid," he warned lowly, his fingertips digging into the delicate flesh of your neck. "I don't want to have to kill you. I'd be a shame for such a pretty face to go to waste."

His hand left your throat, sliding to the back of your head and curling his long fingers into your hair. Yanking your head back and exposing the column of your neck further, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"Uh-Uh huh," you managed, unable to nod due to the harsh, painful grip he had on your hair. His hot breath fanning against your skin seemed to go right to your aching core, making you mentally curse yourself for whatever Freudian concept had you attracted to a man who was probably going to murder you before the night was over.

"Hm? What was that?" He taunted you, giving your hair another tug that had you letting out a small "ah" in pain. "Gonna have to speak up. Use your words."

"Yes," you whimpered, giving him the verbal affirmation he wanted to hear. His cruel and violent behavior really shouldn't have been turning you on as much as it was, but something about him was downright intoxicating, making you latch helplessly onto every word he said.

"Good," he grinned darkly, rewarding you by letting go of your hair before both of his large, strong hands settled on your waist. In one swift movement, he spun you around so your back was facing him. He kept his left hand on your hip, fingertips digging harshly into your skin as the other hand splayed along your stomach over your top.

You swallowed hard, looking forward out the window. It was so dark outside, the light from the room casting a glare on the glass that allowed you to see your reflection and by association, the man behind you. He leaned down, his breath hot against your neck as his tall frame dwarfed your smaller one.

His fingertips dipped into your shorts without warning, making you gasp softly as you felt the pads of his fingers run along your glistening folds. "Dirty fuckin' girl," he whispered into your ear, and you could hear the sick satisfaction in his voice. "You like me roughing you up, huh? You want me to hurt you."

He pulled his fingers back, leaving you feeling strangely disappointed. Your slick transfered from his fingers to your skin as he carefully pulled out, trailing his fingers alone your stomach before curling them into the waistband of your shorts and tugging down, letting them fall to the floor.

"Onto the bed," He breathed hotly against your skin before shoving you forward with enough force to send you stumbling toward the bed in front of you. You braced yourself on your hands and knees as you fell forward, unknowingly getting yourself exactly where he wanted you. He positioned himself behind you, gripping your hips tightly.

One of his hands slid up your spine, roughly gripping your hair again and pushing your face forcefully into the pillows below, making you yelp softly in surprise. "Don't you fuckin' move," he warned you, his voice dripping with dark promise of what would happen if you did as he pulled back.

You heard him fiddling with his belt before a loud clank resounded through the room, indicating it had found a home on the floor along with the forgotten knife. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you waited in anticipation—a sick eagerness setting your body abuzz.

One hand came back to your waist, the other gripping the base of his throbbing length. He guided himself to your covered entrance, using his thick head to push the flimsy lace of your panties aside. You gasped into the pillows, your hips instinctively pushing back against him as he ran his tip along your wet folds, being deceptively gentle despite his true intentions.

With a brutal thrust, he sheathed himself inside you, his length stretching your walls in a manner that was both painful and sinfully delicious as he groaned in satisfaction. He paused for a moment, savoring the feel of being buried in your tight, wet heat before beginning to move, each thrust sending your body crashing against the bed.

The old, rickety wood screeched with each brutal thrust that he delivered into you. You were a mess of moans and whines, muffled by the pillows beneath you that smelled faintly of mothballs. He trailed a hand up your back once again, mirroring his previous actions of curled it into your hair to keep you pressed firmly into the mattress beneath you.

"You like that, huh?" He mocked you, finding a perverted pleasure in how eager you were for him to fuck you senseless. "What kind of sick whore lets a murderer fuck her, hm?" He hummed, tugging on the strands of your hair that were wrapped around his long fingers as he continued to deliver rough thrusts into your poor cunt, his hard length abusing your cervix as he chased his own high.

You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, his grip on your hip bruising as he forcefully pulled your body back to meet his thrusts. "That's it," he cooed derisively, not letting up the slightest bit. "Lay there and take it like a good girl." His hot and cold act—one minute praising you and the next demeaning you—had your head spinning in a way that wasn't unwelcome.

Your body jolted as he unexpectedly slid his hand down, his calloused fingertips rubbing tight, quick circles on your swollen clit. Your hands fisted into the bedsheets, body tensing as the combination of sensations overwhelmed you.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned as he watched you writhe beneath him, his fingers merciless on the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "You gonna cum for me, baby?" He purred condescendingly

He increased the pressure, his touch unyielding as he felt your body growing taut beneath him, your breath hitching. "That's right, come for daddy," he taunted, his voice dripping with menace as he brought the hand in your hair down to grip your hip for leverage.

Your body seized up as the coil inside you finally snapped, pleasure crashing over you in intense waves. A strangled cry tore from your throat into the pillows, your cunt clenching rhythmically around him as he continued to pound into you, chasing his own high.

Feeling your walls tighten around him sent him over the edge, gripping your hips tightly as he pushed himself deep into you. He let out a low groan, his head falling pack in ecstacy as he painted your walls with his release.

Your body slumped against the bed as he slowly pulled out, your chest heaving from exertion. Your mind was in a daze, briefly forgetting that the man with you could kill you at any moment.

You hesitantly turned over, propping yourself on your elbows, watching him tuck himself back into his pants and retrieve his belt and knife from their place on the floor. You regarded him warily, watching every move cautiously to make sure that he wasn't going to approach you and slit your throat now that he had taken what he wanted.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours and glinting with a sinister light as he took in your sweaty appearance, your hair sticking wildly in all directions, a few strands clinging to your forehead. He lifted the knife, pointing it at you—a clear threat. "You tell the cops or anyone else that I was here, and I'll fuckin' find you, hear?"

Your eyes widened slightly as your brain tried to process the words he'd just said. When they finally did register in your mind, you nodded frantically, showing him that you understood. He was leaving you alive. You were going to make it home. He studied you for a moment longer, his brows furrowing ever so slightly like he was mulling over something in his mind.

Finally, he gave you a small nod, his face a mask of indifference as he left without another word—like he didn't just kill a shit ton of people and then fuck you senseless. You simply watched him leave in disbelief. You didn't really expect for him to actually let you live, but you were eternally grateful that he had.

You let out a long sigh of relief as soon as his footsteps faded into the night, letting your elbows give out from under you. Your back hit the mattress and you stared up at the ceiling, trying to put together a plausible story for why you were the last one standing after the brutal massacre and why you hadn't the faintest clue who could have done such a horrible thing.

this one goes out to my babygirl @starkeysprincess

[nesryn-x]

-----mdni-----

------18+-----

🩸🩸 BUTTER KNIVES🩸🩸

Human!Alastor x f!reader

blood / size kink / bitting / incorrect usage of knives / virgin reader / fucking in general / ALASTOR IS FILTHY AS HELL / porn with plot

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Your father always disapproved of him. A girl like you should never marry such man.

"A radio host? Pumpkin, you need a man who will be able to look after you when you grow old." Your father had said to you when you had gathered all your courage at dinner table one evening.

"But... I love him father..." You mumbled quietly.

"Love? You're far too young to know what love is. And besides, didn't you see at the ball how all the girls were looking at him? I can bet, that he looks at all the girls the same." Your father continued and dabbing at his moustache with napkin, cleared his throat:

"I must head out. Moon is out tonight and it's perfect for hunting. Lads will be waiting on me by now."

"Stay safe." Your mother kissed your father on cheek and saw him off. You were left sitting alone at the table, staring at your half eaten plate.

"Dont take it so hard, petal." Your mother stood next to you and gently run her hand through your hair.

"A man I respect is keeping me away from the man that my heart yearns for..." You sighed.

"Does father want me to marry someone I do not love? I'd kill myself in such marriage, mother."

"Don't even say such thing. You know your father is only looking out for you. For your future." Your mother said, trying to calm you.

"Alastor is also looking out for me." You narrowed your eyes at mother. With a hard look down at you, your mother advised:

"I think... It would be better if you did not see him anymore. Don't make your father angry, petal."

You looked up at her, not believing what she had just said.

"What..? Mama... How could you say such thing?" Your lip started to tremble. With blurry vision you looked around the table, butter knives shining in dim light. With angry huff you tried to brush your tears away and stood up, chair falling over in process. Your mother took a step back:

"Behave now." Mother said in sharp tone. You took a quick glance at the clock on the mantle piece and then bolted for the door.

"Where are YOU going at such hour?!" Your mother grabbed your hand before you even got two steps away from table.

"Clearly away from here." You spat, not breaking eye contact.

"You will sit back down, finish your dinner and go straight to bed." Your mother stated, her grip on your arm tightening. What she didn't notice, was how your other hand sneaked behind you and blindly reached for the first thing - the glimmering butter knife.

"I will not do such thing. Now. Let. Go." You said through gritted teeth.

"That's it. You insolent daughter." Your mother's hand reached up to grab your hair, but before she could do so - you were pointing the knife at her.

With wide eyes, both of you stared at the knife that was between you two.

"Mother.... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean--"

Your mother looked up at you and in one swift motion slapped you right across your face. With a cry you clutched your cheek and finally escaped the house. Leaving your mother to seeth back at the doorstep.

Quickly running down the front stairs of the house, you bolted across the yard. Ducked through the wooden fence that held your father's horses out of mother's garden, and run bare feet in the field. Trying to put as much distance between her and yourself.

When you finally had reached the other far off side of stockyard, you felt like you could breath again. Not bothering to climb over the fence you sat in the wet dewy grass and leaned against the fence pole. Distinct sounds of hunters gunshots and hound howls echoed in the forest behind.

You looked down at your hands. Right one still clutching the butter knife. From holding it incorrectly in your hand while on the run, you had accidentally nicked your fingers. New tears gathered in your eyes and you let out pathetic whimper.

"Y/n...?" You heard steps approaching on the other side of the fence on the gravel road.

"A-Alastor?" You immediately jumped up. Switching the knife from one clammy hand to other and hiding it behind your back. Now free hand, whipped your nose and cheeks, unknowingly to you - leaving red streaks across your face.

"What has my darling doe crying?" He quickly approached the fence when he picked up on your sniffling.

"Its fine, Alastor. Just had quarrel with my mother." You tried to laugh it off.

"A bloody one, as I see." He eyed you, reaching for your cheek. You tried to step away, but his warm touch was so inviting.

"Show me your hands, love." he said. He wasn't asking.

Swallowing thickly you brought both hands in front of you. Feeling like child in trouble. Trembling, and both bloody by now.

"We were having family dinner. And my father was reminiscing on the previous ball. And asked if I fancied any men there-" Alastor eyed you sharply for a second, unknowingly to you as you kept on rambling:

"-and I said that there was a man that I have had eyes for such long time, that the other men at the ball didn't even interest me. And he asked who. I said it's you. And he said that I should look elsewhere. I stood my ground and told him I love you. And he disapproved. Then mother said I should listen to him. Then she was screaming, saying I should stop seeing you. I got angry. She grabbed me. Tried to pull my hair and I... I just -I just pulled a knife at her... And then... And now I'm here..." You ranted so quickly that now you were out of breath.

With gentle chuckle, Alastor reached for your hand that was holding the knife, his ever seeing eyes, noticing the cuts on your other palm. He slowly frapped your fingers alongside his around the hilt of the butter knife and pulled both of your hands across the fence.

"When in dire straits, slice the sinew to halt movement," he murmured, gently drawing the knife across his chest. "Stab and pivot to temporarily cease motion," he directed, gesturing towards the center of his chest.

"You're wicked, Alastor..." You mumbled looking up at him.

"And you should never shed your blood. Though I am touched by your eagerness in defending your convictions concerning me, I would prefer not to witness your blood spilled, my love."

"Even if blood is such a pretty colour on you." He continued, his eyes flickering across your face. Standing up on the first wooden beam of the fence, he now stood way taller than you. Grabbing your chin he tilted your face one way, then the other.

"Since you say I'm wicked-" he gave you a cheeky smile,

"I might be afraid that your parents are correct. You should stay away from me." He looked away from you and across the field behind you.

"But I love you, Alastor..." You whispered so quietly, afraid that he might not have heard you.

"You have brought a knife in bloody hands tonight. What an odd way of confessing one's love." He bent his head closer to your face.

"What a lovely thing you are." His voice suddenly sounded sultry. It was enough for you to stand on your tippy toes and press your lips against his.

You could feel his smile against your lips. One of his hands sneaking to hold the back of your neck and pulling you closer. When that was not enough, in swift motion his legs swung over the fence and he was right in front of you. His lips never leaving yours.

It felt so right to kiss him. To kiss him felt like finally quelling an obsession. Just to feel the painful withdrawal as soon as his lips traveled to your neck to leave love bites there. Love bites that bloomed the same way as the blood splatters on your light summer dress.

His hands traveled down your back, the butter knife still in his hand. Both of you knew that no one would come down this road at this hour, but there was urgency in your actions. Desperation, almost. Your hands traveled to the front of his shirt, to get rid of the bow tie and open couple of buttons.

"The next move shan't be quite gentlemanly of me, my doe.." he was breathing hard and put the hilt of the knife in his mouth. His tongue briefly tasted your blood on it. Alastor's hands deftly gathered the skirt part of your dress and pushed you against the fence. Then raising the fabric around your hips and bunching it to the side, he grabbed the knife and pinned your dress to the fence.

"Alastor..." Your breath caught in your throat as your lower half was exposed to the cold nights air.

"Too much?" He asked, now stepping closer as his hands worked on his belt.

He clearly did intend to fuck you here. In empty field. Against a fence. In middle of the night.

"No, just perfect, you're perfect..." you breathed, hands looping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"Lovely." He whispered and kissed you. His hand reaching down between your legs.

"Ah..." You moaned at the first contact.

"Needy little thing you are..." Alastor sighed against your lips, feeling the wetness between your legs.

It was the first time someone else's hands were touching you down there, besides your own. Feeling was not entirely new, but the anticipation was almost killing you. Your hand around Alastor's neck tightened, pulling him down, so you could hide your face in his shoulder. Breath heavy against his neck.

His fingers deftly slid through your slit.

"How.. many...?" Alastor implied, trying to shift his face away and look at you, making him pull his hand slightly away and his fingers circling back to your clit.

"Ah.." you gasped, not hearing his question and just trying to hide your face again.

"Sweetheart..." Alastor's hand slid from your cunt and instead dug his fingers in - right where your thigh met your pussy. This finally got your attention and your head shot up to look at him. You could almost swear that you could see your own debauched image reflecting in his glasses. He tilted his head down at you, and your reflection was gone and his warm eyes were staring right into your soul.

"How many men you have sle-" before he could ask the question you were shaking your head.

"None. No one." You said. "None has touched me this way," you looked down at his hand between your legs. His pointer finger that was closest to your pussy, slowly slid through your slit once more. Your head fell back and you stared at the sky. Stars were slowly starting to appear in the night sky.

"... except myself." You swallowed. Your head feeling empty of any coherent thought. Alastor's mouth fell open slightly:

"Say the word, and I'll stop, my doe..." He leaned down to your exposed neck, and gently run his nose up and down your pulse point.

Your hand shot down and grabbed his wrist:

"I want you and you alone."

His smile against your neck was almost infectious.

"Well, then... To rephrase..." He planted slow, open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, his free hand pulling your dress down your shoulder. He moved his lips against your ear, as if to tell you something that no one else could ever hear:

"...How many of your own fingers have you taken?" you could hear his wicked smile in his voice. And you could feel his hand moving between your legs. His middle finger slowly, almost feather lightly, circled your clit and slid down to your opening. Your breath hitched:

"A-Alastor..."

When you didn't provide him the answer, he quickly pulled his hand out of your underwear and grabbed your hand putting it up between both of you. He pressed his palm against yours and looked at your hands. You did the same. Both of you could see how his fingers shined in the moonlight from your wetness coating them.

"Tell me."

"One."

"How far?"

You were staring at your pressed together hands. He was looking straight at you, watching how your eyes showed the realization of how much bigger his hands were and how longer his fingers were.

"Second knuckle..." You whispered and your eyes met his, over the frames if his glasses.

"Oh, my little doe... I will give you so much more than that..." He chuckled and looked at your hands as his fingers interlinked with yours.

"When I kneel before you, you shall receive all I offer. Diligently." He let go of your hand and took off his glasses.

"Understood?"

You nodded. For such a gentleman, he definitely had such a filthy mouth. You'll soon learn it both ways.

"Hold these for me, will you?" He innocently asked and put his glasses on you, quite lower so you could stare over the round frames. Before you could say anything else, he was on his knees in the dewy grass, both of his hands sliding up your bare legs. His lips gently leaving kisses on your hips as he dragged your panties down your legs. You couldn't look away from him. His soft lips moving from one hip, across your stomach to the other side. His fingers running between your folds, time to time coming up to circle your clit and then tease your entrance by dipping in a fingertip.

"Mark me..." you breathed out as one of your hands slid to his hair.

"That will hurt." He looked up at you.

"You won't hurt me. I trust you, Al..." You said through a moan.

"...where...?" He quietly inquired.

God, please, everywhere.

"Here..." you gently tapped your hip. Alastor smiled, leaned closer, pressed his lips to the top of your hand and then gently bit your fingertip.

"This shall mean you're mine, my love, I hope you are preparing for the consequences that it ensues." He said against your skin as you pulled your hand away.

"I was yours as soon as our eyes locked when I saw you riding horses with the hunters all those years ago..." You moaned as his fingers circled your clit, as if he was encouraging you to finish your though. Next second, you felt his teeth sink into your skin and his middle finger plunging into you.

"Alastor! Ah.." both of your hands flew to his hair, as your hips jerked against his hand.

"Shhh.." Alastor smiled against the blooming love bite. His eyes then locked on how you were taking his finger.

"Good girl." His smiled and looked up at you. His other hand joining to circle your clit.

"Oh Lord..." You moaned. He playfully rolled his eyes at you and leaned his temple against your hip.

"Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well." He praised, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He twisted his finger and you let out a high pitch keen.

"Look at me." He straighted a little. Your eyes locked with his. Opening his mouth, he stuck his tongue out. Your eyes grew big, and a flash of warmth traveled down from your chest to your legs. Your pussy involuntary clamping down on his finger. And then his mouth was on you. As soon as his tongue got the first taste of you, his eyes fell shut and he moaned against you, sending vibrations straight through you.

"Ahh...ha...." You moaned loudly, both hands moving to his hair and pulling it. He lapped at your pussy as if he was a starving man. He sucked on your clit and then you felt a second finger stretching you open.

"Please.... Just don't stop..." You moaned, your hips jerking against his mouth. His fingers picked up the speed and your breathing did the same.

"I think I'm going to..." Your hold on his hair grew tighter and you were starting to push his mouth harder against your weeping cunt. Alastor grunted, his hand that was constantly squeezing your ass traveled down to his crotch and palmed himself. His pants growing too tight.

Alastor curled his fingers forward and sucked hard on your clit. With a loud cry you came on his fingers and tongue. You yourself could never reach such intense peak. Your toes curled, your knees almost wishing to pull together. You pressed Alastor's head closer to your dripping core, at the moment careless if he could breathe or not.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckkk..." Your eyes rolled back into your skull. For a moment you felt weightless, your hands falling away from his hair, to hold onto to the fence beams that you were leaning against.

Flatly dragging his tongue from your twitching hole up your slit to the clit, he placed chaste kiss on your mound. Alastor leaned back and looked up at you.

When you had gathered at least some wits about you, you looked down at him. His chin and lips were glistening from your cum.

"You taste sweet." He gave you a wink and licked his lips.

"Alastor..." You whispered his name and in swift motion crossed your hands and pulled the dress over your head. Leaving it hanging by the knife. Alastor was caught off guard and sat back, his hands slowly starting to unbutton his vest and then his shirt.

Was Alastor intending to fuck you against the fence or where you intending to ride him in the dewy grass?

In two quick steps you were in front of him and straddling his hips. Your lips immediately seeking out his and hands helping him to unbutton his shirt faster. With a groan he pulled away and grabbing your hand dragged it down his chest to the front of his pants. Unzipping his pants you dipped your hand in his boxers.

"Fuck..." He moaned, his eyes rolling back. You wrapped your hand around his cock and gently freed him from the confines of his pants.

"How is that going to fit...?" You blurted out when you looked down at him and gave him two long strokes.

"... perfectly..." He hissed through his teeth and threw his head back when your thumb swiped across his dripping tip. You switched your hands, and raised now free hand up to your face. Alastor looked at you through lidded eyes. Gently you licked your finger, tasting him on your skin. Seeing you do that, Alastor's hips jerked up into your fist and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Lover." He gritted through clenched teeth. His hands coming to hold your hips. You only smiled at your ability to drive him as insane and he was driving you. You slid your hand down to his base and gently squeezed.

"Cheeky little thing..." Alastor opened his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss by your neck. It was slow but messy. Tongues twisting, saliva smearing against both of your lips.

You got up on your knees and wrapped your hands around Alastor's neck. However, he grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his cock alongside his own.

"Now, now." He smiled against your lips. "You gotta learn how to take it. Put. It. In." Alastor whispered absolute filth against your lips and moved your hand so that his cock dragged through your soaked folds.

With a shaky breath you dragged his cock through your folds once more. Pausing on your clit and moaning against Alastor's lips.

"Yes... Take your pleasure..." He whispered.

Then moving his cock down, you pushed it's tip against your entrance. And then with a hissfrom your mouth, your hips were flush with his. The unknown feeling between your legs made you bite Alastor's lip. He groaned in your mouth, but didn't pull away if both of you felt the tangy taste of blood.

Alastor was patient with you, and let you decide when and how to move. But once your hips started to twitch against his, Alastor ground hips up into yours. His warm hands moved up to your back and shoulder blades to pull you closer. Your own hands tangled themselves in his dark hair and scratched down his back. By now your moans were echoing the same as the hounds of the hunters.

"Harder.. Al... Please..." You moaned against his cheek, as your hips moved up and down. Your desperate cunt twitching around his cock and making Alastor moan in your ear.

Next moment you were on your back, your legs on his shoulders as he leaned over you. Your eyes locked with his. Both of you as mirrored image to each other. Hair disheveled, foreheads sweaty, short rapid breaths. And then he was fucking you as if this is the last night out here with stars. As if the coming morning you won't stop by the coffee shop where he gets his morning dose of caffeine.

The way his cock so deliciously dragged against your walls - you had nothing in this world to compare it to. Leaking tip of his cock was carving your cunt out with every push back in, and each drag of it made you clench around him. As if to say, that you need him back in and not let him pull out.

You grabbed Alastor's cheeks:

"I'm in love with you...." He said first, as if he had read your thoughts on what you were about to say.

"I love you." You smiled back and pulled him in for a kiss that was broken by your moan as Alastor gave harsh thrust, hitting your cervix. Making you lose your breath momentarily.

"More.. please..." You begged, your cunt twitching around him.

"Fuck..." Alastor moaned, his hips taking on harsher and faster movements. You could swear that you felt him in your guts. Your hand traveled down your stomach and pressed on the outline of his cock. He smirked at you, as if saying that no other cock will ever be this deep, no one ever will pleasure you the same way.

"You're mine..." He groaned. Letting your legs off his shoulders, he pulled your lower lip with his thumb until your mouth opened and he could slide his finger in. Your tongue latched around his digit and sucked hard, making him stutter in his movements as he wondered how to use that mouth of yours in other ways.

With press on your tongue, your mouth opened once more, Alastor pulled his finger out and dived in to kiss you. Your tongues meeting before your lips could. You moaned in his eager mouth as his wet thumb now circled your clit. Your hips raising to meet his thrusts. When your wandering hands were enough for him, he grabbed them and pinned both of them above your head.

"Keep them there..." He said breathlessly and leaned back lifting your hips with his.

He was fucking you like drowning animal would fight for air. And the pleasure was rapidly pulling both of you under. The way your cunt clenched around him more and more frequently, was a sign that you were close. As if not being able to stand not touching him, your hand raised to rest on his stomach, feeling the lean muscles flexing there.

Not wanting to soil you on your first sexual encounter, Alastor was ready to pull out when your legs wrapping around his hips locked him in place. Sliding his hands up your legs and then sides, he leaned over you.

Your orgasm approached you unknowingly, as such intense feeling you have never felt before.

"I got you. Just let go." Alastor said against your chest as his forehead rested against your collarbone. With a moan that stole all your breath - you came. Alastor's name tumbling out of your lips like the sweetest honey. Your body arched off the ground and pressed against Alastor. Not knowing what to do with your hands as all nerve ends felt like going haywire, you opt to grab Alastor's hips and, as if your legs being locked around him wasn't enough, you pulled him against you.

Corrupting such sweet doe as yourself felt so rewarding. He could almost feel your orgasm on his tongue. Perhaps that was just taste of your cunt that kept lingering on his tongue. His own hips stuttered and with deep groan he came deep inside you, his teeth latching on the side of your left breast, leaving another love bite to remind you of this night of debaucheries.

For a moment neither of you moved. Still ongoing gunfires of hunters and howls of hounds could be heard echoing, meaning that hunt was still on. And you could return home without your father seeing you here.

Alastor wrapped one hand around your back and gently laid you back on ground.

"I must beg your pardon. A lady such as yourself ought never to be deflowered in such a place for the first time." He said quietly against your soft breasts that were still raising and falling in short breaths.

"Oh, hush. I enjoyed myself very much so." You took a deep breath trying to steady your breathing. Alastor looked at you and you smiled at him. Gently running your hands through his hair in order to tame it.

Steadying himself on his hands, Alastor pulled out and couldn't help but to stare at your cunt that was already leaking his cum. Catching him staring, ought to teas him a little bit. Bending your legs you spread them open. Gaining Alastor's attention, you trailed one hand down your body and dipped your fingertips in your folds. Shyly looking to the side you spread your folds, making more cum leak out. Alastor was watching your hand like it was a prey.

"Darling-" Alastor warned as his lashes fluttered. He leaned to kiss your knee instead. Fighting so hard not to take your overstimulated body the second time.

"We should talk in the morning." Alastor got up with a sigh, tucked himself away and walked over to the fence to retrieve your dress.

You quietly got dressed, not questioning anything. You weren't sure what we're you to say in such moment. While you were getting dressed you couldn't help but stare as Alastor was putting on his shirt. His skin on the back scratched by your nails. Or how the fingers you had cut had smeared blood all over his body.

"Shall I escort you home?" Alastor turned to you.

"No. It's late, we both should be getting home and to bed. And besides, I know this field like back of my hand." You shook your head.

"Alright." Alastor tilted his head to the side and smiled. He walked up to you and gently took off his glasses from you.

"Not a scratch. Good girl." He praised you, leaning down to your eye level. Your cheeks immediately flushed red and you quickly pressed your lips against his.

As he watched you walk back home, you couldn't help the smile that was on your lips. The faithful butter knife clutched carefully in your hands, will be neatly stored in your vanity as a reminder.

Meanwhile Alastor was sitting on the fence, watching you walk away, with skip in your step. Once you were far enough, he hauled himself over the fance, back on the road. What you had not seen at the very beginning, was that Alastor had come with knive of his own. Quite menacing butcher knife, that he had wedged in the nearby tree.

You were almost home. You had just ducked through the fence and walked quietly across the yard when, one, so much differently sounding gunshot, made you turn back around and stare at the field where you had come from....

-----------

Part 2?

[lovelytsunoda]

my fun // oscar piastri

(gif is by @/oscarcito!)

summary: it’s not every day that a first date lands you in the emergency room, or gives your date a concussion before the food has even left the kitchen

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: hospitals, blood, the awkwardness of a first date. low key inspired by season 1 episode 3 of the big bang theory when leonard and penny go on their not-date

yn yln must have been dreaming.

as she sat on one side of the wooden table inside the smokehouse, arms crossed in front of her as she looked over at her date, there was a part of her that kept telling her that there was no way it could be real.

she was quiet and smart, and could recite the entire periodic table in order from memory, and the boy sitting across from her was leagues prettier, with an athletes body and the ability to control a room with one singular lame joke.

he’d moved in across the hall from her earlier that year, and she and her friends had immediately dropped everything to watch shamelessley as the young man and his chiseled athlete friends and carried cardboard boxes up four flights of stairs.

oscar piastri was thinking the same thing. how a big famous athlete like him got someone as sweet and humble as yn to agree to date with him. sure she was awkward, and sometimes very shy, but at her core, she was sweet and funny and kind. not to mention the simple beauty of someone who never wore makeup (not to say oscar wouldn’t have adored it if she did, he just knew that she was pretty without it as well).

neither party really knew what to say, sitting in a nervous silence with the menus spread in the table, a glass bottle of water from the waiter sitting next to two half-full glasses.

oscar reached for the popcorn, a sweet and salty mix he quite enjoyed, trying not to tip the bag over as he contemplated what size brisket to order.

“hey, do you want to see something neat?” oscar blurted, picking out for decently sized pieces of the sweet popcorn. “do you know how to juggle?”

“juggle?” his date asked hesitantly, eyeing him over the popcorn. “you do?”

“went to a circus camp when i was seven.” oscar shrugged. “there’s not much to do in my part of australia to be fair.”

it took a few tries for oscar to get started, but soon enough, he was juggling with the popcorn, the kernels delicately passing through his pale, calloused hands.

and believe it or not, yn was impressed. she broke out in a wide smile, giggling from her seat as she watched the young man in front of her. he had a goofy smile on his face, and seemed well in his element. he caught her eye across the table, stuttering his movements as he shot her a wink, losing two kernels. the kernels rolled under the table, and the boy cursed.

“don’t worry about it, that was really impressive.” yn laughed. “nobody has ever juggled popcorn for me on a first date.”

oscar laughed. “glad to be of service.” he took a small bow before accidentally knocking the steak knife off the edge of the table, wincing at the sound of metal hitting floor.

he cursed, pushing his chair back. “I should probably pick that up, shouldn’t I?”

“can you reach it with your foot? it might be easier.”

“don’t worry, I’ve got it!” oscar insisted, slipping off the chair.

“are you sure?” yn asked hesitantly, bare knees pressed against the cool cast iron that was holding the slats of the table together.

oscar slipped under the table, on his hands and knees in the dark smokehouse as he fumbled around the the steak knife, crushing two kernels of popcorn underneath his khaki pants in the process.

yn, meanwhile, was hyper aware of the fact that her date, who she barely knew, was crawling around under the table, in public, near her slightly parted legs.

oh my god, she thought. do they think he’s going down on me?

there was a bang under the table, the slats shaking. she reached over the menus to grab the glass water bottle as it threatened to topple over.

“oscar?” she shouted “you alright?”

“yeah.” his voice came out strained, almost as if he was hurt. “hey, did you happen to spill any ketchup?”

she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, as a droplet of something warm fell against her toe through the lip of her sandals. “no. there isn’t any on the table.”

“fuck. I think I might need an ambulance.”

————

the emergency room is not where she wanted to spend her first date. it smelled like antiseptic soap, the lights too clinical and the plastic chairs too stiff. her neighbour looked pale, skin stained red from where he had bled.

as she understood it, oscar had hit his head on the cast iron hard enough to draw blood, but not enough that he was at risk of trauma or hemorrhaging.

or at least, that’s what the off-duty medic seated two tables over had said.

“how much blood do you think I’ve lost?” oscar wondered aloud, almost certain he was concussed. “if it’s less than a pint, I should be fine.”

yn laughed, rubbing him on the shoulder. “oscar, you’re fine. you still have most of your blood.”

“I’m so sorry our date ended like this. I ruined everything.” he exhaled, leaning to rest his head against the wall, still clutching g the bag of frozen peas given to him by kitchen staff against his cut.

she smiled to herself, reaching for his free hand. “what makes you think you’ve ruined anything?”

“the fact that there’s blood streaming down my face? or that were in the emergency room instead of sharing a hot chocolate fudge cake?”

they both laughed at the sheer absurdity of their situation, and yn resisted to urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

“you’re quite the man, oscar piastri. maybe you can make it up to me? I’m sure the smokehouse will be tripping over themselves to give us a free meal after tonight.”

oscar laughed lowly, a look of pain crossing his eyes. “you’d still want to go out with me after tonight?”

“of course I would, you adorable idiot.”

oscar looked like he was about to say something else when a tired-looking nurse in pink scrubs came rushing out of a hallway.

“mr and mrs piastri?”

yn flushed, her face heating up under the nurses gaze. “oh no, we’re not married. not even together, really.”

with all the energy he could, oscar winked at her before shakily getting to his feet in the sterile room. “wait for me, my love.”

yn laughed, watching him walk towards the nurse.

as far as first dates go, this one wasn’t bad at all, was it?

[redtsundere-writes]

sukuna and servant!reader is so good!! looking forward to rescue more of them <33

Eyes On Me | Sukuna Ryomen

king!sukuna ryomen x femservant!reader

Sypnosis: Uraume can't play chess with the king right now, you must step up. Contents: Obsession, pining, kinda fluffy, mentions of blood and body parts. Uraume uses they/them pronouns. Word Count: 2404 words. Author's Note: I love writing this ship. People have been asking me to make this a series. I'll try my best lol I think you can still read them individually, but there's a preferred order.

Beginning. ← Previous |

AO3/WATTPAD VERSION

Sukuna hates humans. It's a fact of life. The sky is blue, roses are red and Sukuna hates the disgusting creatures that humans are. He has so many reasons to hate them that he doesn't even know where to begin. Humans are annoying, weak, clumsy, but most of all, stupid. They make decisions without thinking through the consequences. They prefer to spend their money on temporary pleasures and end up bankrupt by not prioritizing their survival. They worry about unimportant things such as social status, religion, and traditions. Sukuna hates humans, but boy, are they entertaining. 

Sukuna tends to study his servants very carefully. Even though they only clean, cook and obey his orders to a tee, it was fun to watch them interact with each other. He finds it fascinating how the servants gossip in whispers, how the gardeners concentrate to prune the bushes well despite their hands shaking, or how the cooks taste the food several times so that it’s up to their majesty's standards. It was like watching dozens of filthy lab rats in the middle of a social experiment. Although… There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what they were doing. 

You had finished all the chores for the day and decided to help the cooks prepare dinner because you had nothing better to do. Your muscles were exhausted from having spent all morning cleaning the porcelain sculptures, the large frames of the paintings in the great hall, and the king's jewelry so they could sparkle in all their glory. You had been assigned the task of peeling potatoes, so there you were. Sitting at a table with a small knife, peeling potatoes while listening to the chaos going on in the kitchen. Uraume was busy preparing a special passion fruit tea for the king. The special coming from the water that was inked with human blood. Sometimes you wondered if Uraume had always agreed to cook with humans or was it something they got used to because of Sukuna's orders, but since they never talked about themselves, you never asked. 

“Fuck!” A cook yelled when the frying pan caught fire. 

Your eyes widened at the flashy flare. Uraume put the tea set aside to attend to the emergency. With some ice from their magic hands, they put out the fire in a jiffy, but left the kitchen a mess. They began to berate the cook with smacks in the head and curses for his ineptitude. The cook just apologized over and over again, but that wasn't enough for the head chef. 

“You!” Uraume called. You put your task aside to attend to their orders. “Take the tea to our king and tell him I will be with him when I settle this situation.” You nodded and took the tray carefully to go in search of him. 

After Sukuna gave you permission, you entered the library with the golden tray in your hands. The library was the coziest room in the entire castle. Its high walls were covered with huge bookcases filled with books, maps, and scrolls. There were long desks of works and hundreds of candleholders everywhere to enjoy reading during the evenings. He was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the game table, a small wooden table with a chessboard on top. The king was surprised to see you there despite having specified Uraume's presence. 

“I didn't ask you to come,” Sukuna said chidingly as you served him tea at a small table next to him. 

“Uraume had to attend to an emergency in the kitchen. They'll be here once everything is under control,” you replied as you set down the fragile cup of blood tea, adorned with small pieces of eyeball floating on the red surface to give it texture. 

Your gaze traveled to the chessboard, it had been a long time since you had seen the king playing. You knew from the other servants that he was a good player and only plays with Uraume or some brave guest. This was no ordinary board. You could see that each piece was handmade and had luxurious detail. The pieces were made of white quartz, the eyes of the horses were rubies and the crowns of the kings were made of jade. It was the most beautiful board game you ever saw. 

“Do you know how to play?” Sukuna asked out of curiosity. 

Being a servant, you surely had not received the same education as he did. Well, almost no one was on his level when it came to education. Sukuna was a master mathematician, a skilled debater and could threaten his enemies in 5 different languages. You hadn't been as lucky. You're good at cleaning, cooking and taking orders, but what else can you do? 

“Yes,” you answered with a smile. 

That answer surprised him quite a bit. Although chess was a game that was rapidly gaining popularity among the middle class, it was not a game for women. It was a game that required intellect, always thinking two moves ahead and knowing how to read your opponent. You didn't look like a girl who could do all that. 

“Sit down,” Sukuna ordered you. 

“I warn you that it may be a short game. It's been a long time since I've played,” you warned him as you sat down. 

Sukuna watched you with great attention. Your eyes scanned the board as if it was the first time you had ever seen one, your hands rested gently on your thighs and you smiled nervously. You may have known the rules of the game, but you didn't know how to play. The king took your word for it. 

“Ladies first,” he asked you to start.

“My pleasure,” you said as your dominant hand moved over the pieces to decide what your first move would be. 

Your father had taught you how to play. He always wanted a son to inherit the family business, but your mother only kept giving birth to women, so he had to resign himself to you. Your mother taught you how to be a lady so you could get married as soon as possible and your father taught you about the business so that your future husband wouldn’t take advantage of the family money. You used to sit in front of the wooden board and talk for hours after dinner. Your father may not have been the wisest or the most astute man, but he had left you a very important lesson: Always look people in the eye to know their true intentions. 

This was one of the few times you came face to face with Sukuna. Because of his title as king and the great difference in height, you were always beneath him, physically and psychologically speaking. You were a simple human, while he was a king with the power to get rid of whomever he wanted with a simple movement of his fingers. Although his presence made you feel vulnerable, you didn't resent him. You had a relatively comfortable life serving him, but sometimes there was a need for you to show him that you were more than a servant. This was a good opportunity to do so. 

Sukuna's eyes were not on you, they were on the board. His gaze denoted boredom. He was waiting patiently for you to make the first move. If you waited a little longer, maybe he would yawn. He overestimated you, you had to use that feeling against him. You moved a pawn to the C4 square, a common move among beginners.

“Finally…” He said in a monotone voice before quickly moving the knight to the F6 square. 

Each of you took turns to move the pieces quietly as time went by. You took your time with each move, while the king only needed to look at the board from time to time to know what to do next. You could take all the time in the world, but he would still eat all your pieces. Even though it didn't seem to be an interesting game, you could at least keep up with him. Sukuna's queen advanced towards yours, standing face to face. One false move and your king was in trouble. 

“Check,” you said as the queen retreated two squares diagonally, leaving her free to begin the attack on the king. 

At that announcement, Sukuna woke up from the trance he was in to concentrate on what he was doing. He smiled with satisfaction as he noticed the change in your body. Your hands had relaxed, your back was straight, and your eyes were glued to his. You knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't need to tell him verbally that you would destroy him at his own game, your eyes told him clearly. It was as if you were dissecting his soul bit by bit until you left him completely naked.

Your hands were interleaved with each turn. You moved quickly as you realized that Sukuna had already noticed your active presence on the board. Sukuna returned the queen to his side. An interesting move. It was wise to know when to back away, but you noticed one thing in his eyes. He had no plan, he just acted based on his understanding of the game. He moved like in real life, using only his killer instincts. 

“Check,” you announced again by moving a knight up. 

“Not so fast,” Sukuna told you before taking the horse that was threatening his king using a queen. You smiled as you saw that his majesty had fallen into the trap. By moving his pieces like that, Sukuna had fully exposed his king. 

“Checkmate,” you announced the end of the game as soon as you moved the white queen close to the black king. And only then, the poor maid defeated the almighty king. 

“Well, well...” Sukuna sighed in awe as he looked at the board with extreme curiosity. He couldn't be mad at you. He had let his guard down. You were playing even before the game started. 

There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what you were doing. Sukuna would always hyper fixate on you whenever he noticed your presence around him. You could be cleaning, chatting with your companions or eating some dried fruit in the garden, and he would still only notice you as if nothing else in the world existed. You were the most interesting human he had ever seen. Sukuna tried to look for a logical reason for his obsession with you, but he couldn't do it. You looked like a simple being with clear goals, but he was sure you were hiding something behind your perfect facade. 

Someone knocked at the door. Sukuna sighed, he wanted to be alone with you longer, but now was not the time. Uraume entered the room and was surprised to see you sitting with his majesty. Something strange had been going on between the two of you for months. They had even debated the idea of asking the king directly about you, but hadn't worked up the courage to do so.  

“There was an inconvenience in the kitchen. Sorry to keep you waiting, your majesty,” Uraume bowed in apology. 

“Lucky for you, you sent a good replacement,” Sukuna said before smiling at you in satisfaction. 

Uraume instantly understood just by glancing at the board. You had beaten the king, something even they could not easily accomplish. They could tell that he was looking at you like no one else. It wasn't a look of disgust or boredom, it was a curious look. Like that of a child looking at a group of kids playing in the playground, wondering if he could come over to play with them. 

“If you'll excuse me, I have to go,” you said as you got up to give the seat to Uraume. “Good game. It was a pleasure to play against you, my king,” you bowed. 

“Good game,” Sukuna whispered so you could leave the room. 

Sukuna and Uraume started a new game as soon as you returned to the kitchen to peel potatoes. They quickly noticed that something was occupying her majesty's mind. Their white pieces were eating his black pieces easily and his moves were slow compared to previous games. Uraume could tell that the game against you had changed the way he played.

“What do you see in her?” Uraume asked him after a move. 

“Am I too obvious?” Sukuna asked them before getting up from his seat to start prowling around the library to clear his mind. “What do you think of her?” He asked her as he stopped in front of the window to admire the land. The large green lawn stretched all the way to the intimidating entrance of his wonderful castle. 

“She is a dedicated servant and a perfectionist. She does all the chores in a timely manner. She is as good a servant as any other. The real question is: What do you think of her?” Uraume asked as they watched him from their seat. 

“She has potential.” 

“Potential? Potential for what?” Uraume arched their eyebrow at the confusing statement. 

“She has the potential to become a queen,” Sukuna replied confidently. 

Sukuna Ryomen was known among the kingdoms for being an unorthodox king. Not only because he took kingdoms left and right as if it were nothing, but because he has a strange way of ruling his people. He did not care about social classes, behavioral labels or unwritten codes of human coexistence. Everyone was inferior to him regardless of gender, race, or religion. He was the god of this new world and everyone had to obey him, just like that. 

The fact that he wanted to have a queen went far beyond just following the established patterns of classical monarchy. Sukuna must have a reason why he wants to have a queen other than just because, but there was a more important question on the table. 

“Your majesty, you can get any woman you want. You can get a beautiful woman, with more training and presence, why would you settle for a servant?” Uraume asked in confusion. Sukuna smiled. It was a good question. 

“She has something much better than that,” he answered before continuing the game as if nothing happened. Uraume looked down to see that Sukuna had checkmated them.

Author's Note: I poured my poor knowledge on chess for this lol I hope it makes sense.

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[tommydarlings]

Tell me you love me! | L.N

pairing: dark!psychotic!ex!dom!lando x sub!reader

warnings: smut, cnc, psychotic behaviour, dacryphilia, spitting, hair pulling, sex in front mirror, threatening???, manipulation, breeding kink, choking, mentions of the usage of a knife

w/c: 2.4k

summary: Your crazy ex boyfriend — Lando Norris — wasn’t really happy with the fact that you broke up with him, so he decided to pay you a little suprise visit one night and show you how badly you broke his heart. (based off of this request.)

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The infamous, sweet and talented lando norris. A man that a lot of girls adored.

Your ex.

The relationship lando and you had was actually quiet good, at the beginning it was peaceful and loving, lots of date nights, lots of stolen kisses, lots of supporting and comforting and of course lots of sex, great sex even…

But as you noticed that he got more and more controlling and kind of… psychotic some might say — you saw no other choice anymore than to leave him.

The worst mistake of your entire life.

As you woke up in the middle of the night due to a loud knock you heard on your front door, you were suprised… who on god’s name could want something from at 1 a.m?

You tiptoed down the wooden stairs of your home and slowly opened the door, gasping in shook as no other person then your dear ex boyfriend stood in front of you, and in a matter of seconds, he forced himself inside your house and quickly covered your mouth, your back to his broad chest.

“You make a noise that isn’t a whine, scream or moan out of pleasure tonight, and I’ll use that little friend of mine here, you understand?“ he raised his hand and waved a little bit very sharp looking pocket knife in front of your face, making you widen your teary eyes in fear.

Swiftly, you nodded, your tears hitting his fingers after they made their way down your red cheeks, “perfect, that’s my good girl.“

Lando ran his nose along your temple before you smelled your hair, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, “Not using my favourite shampoo anymore, huh? What a disappointment, always loved that smell so much, baby,“ his hand still covering your mouth.

You shook your head, trashing around in his tight grip, trying to shook off the arm that he forced around your waist since you felt so uncomfortable and scared,

“Oh no no no,” Lando shook his head, his smile fading, brows furrowed at your action, “None of that, baby, okay? Or I have to get violent here with you and to be honest,“ he kissed your tears away, “I don’t wanna get violent with my pretty little girl,“ he kissed your cheek.

You sniffled under his hand as he suddenly lead to two of you towards your bedroom, stumbling almost awkwardly before you reached the room you just came from, lando loudly closing the door behind you two.

“You removed our pictures,“ he mumbled to himself, sounding disappointed and angry.

He scanned the room before you carelessly shoved you onto the bed, “stay there and don’t move or I have to hurt your soft skin, alright?“

Lando looked at you with dark eyes, the knife now pointed at your face. You looked down at it with a fearful gaze before you quickly nodded, not wanting him to hurt you.

He nodded along, “Good,“ he leaned forward and briefly kissed your forehead before he wiped some of your tears away, “still obedient, huh?“ he chuckled before he turned around and scanned your drawers where you kept all of your clothes.

He sighed, making your eyes widen in fear again, “you also got rid of all of my T-shirt I see… even the McLaren merch I gifted you,“ he spoke in a deep and quiet tone, turning around to look at you, knife still in his other hand that wasn’t checking the drawers.

“I-I am sorry, lando… I thought since we weren’t together any-”

“What? Just because we aren’t together anymore you can immediately assume that you can just throw all of the stuff that I gave you carelessly away? Like it’s nothing?“ he got louder, making you jump as you still sat on the bed with tears staining your face.

You gulped and shook your head but only looked down in shame and fear, maybe he was right… maybe you shouldn’t have just thrown it all away…

“Look at me,“ he took slow steps into your direction until he stood in front of your sitting figure, “I don’t like it when you look at the floor, you’re supposed to look at me and obey me.”

You raised your head and looked into his eyes, the fact that they were darker than usual still haunted you,

“That’s more like it,“ he placed his hand onto your chin, his thumb caressing your skin, running his finger also along your trembling bottom lip for a few seconds.

He stared into your eyes, grin not fading away as he studied your facial expression, “You’re scared, aren’t you?“

You slowly nodded, “No need to be scared, baby,“ he replied, his hand laying gently on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin, “I’ll protect you, alright? I’ll take care of you, my love,“ he mumbled with a tiny smile before he spoke up again,

“Lie down for me, would you?“ the Brit murmured but you only shook your head, making his little smile fade away in a matter of seconds.

Lando cleared his throat, hand leaving your cheek and placed on your shoulder now, gently pushing your down against the sheets, “When I tell you to lay down… then you lay. down.“

You gulped, eyes not leaving his as you slowly obeyed and laid down, scooting backwards towards the headboard while he got on the bed as well and crawled between your spread legs, sitting on his knees in between them.

“Perfect, that’s exactly where I imagined you, baby,“ he whispered under his breath, his hand already working to remove your shorts.

“N-No-” you protested but he interrupted you almost immediately.

“No, no, no… just let me, okay? I know what I’m doing, baby… you still trust me, right?“ he raised his brows at you, making you furrow yours.

He continued removing your shorts and underwear, throwing them to the side before he ran his fingertips down your chest and stomach, obviously towards your now exposed heat.

“So pretty… so soft, baby,“ your ex said in a hush tone before he reached your cunt, fingertips slowly rubbing your clit.

You jumped a bit and threw your head back, teary eyes staring at the ceiling as you fisted the sheets next to your naked hips, “Why aren’t you wet, hmm?“ he asked you quietly.

You lowered your head again to look at him and watched him raise his hand to his mouth, swiftly spitting onto his fingers before he went back to rub your pearly clit in slow but intense circles, making you unintentionally see stars.

“G-God,“ you whined quietly, biting your lip almost immediately after letting that pathetic sound escape your mouth, not wanting to show him that he actually does have some kind of effect on you.

Lando looked at you with a smile, “Yes? I’m listening, baby…“ he replied cockily.

You shook your head at him and wanted to throw a snarky comment back at him but you couldn’t, your words got stuck in your throat and you unintentionally arched your back again as his long and wet fingers slid into your tight hole, stretching you out.

“You’re also tighter than I remembered,“ Lando mumbled more to himself, his other hand bending your right leg to give him easier access to your now pretty wet heat.

His fingers worked at a slow but rather hard pace, forcing gasps and whines out of you as it started to feel good, way too good.

You gasped in a high pitched tone, “Lando… I’m gonna cum!“ you whined, hands fisting the sheets.

Lando nodded and leaned down, spitting on your clit before he smeared it with his thumb, his fingers moving in and out of you in a quicker pace, being way harsher now.

Whines escaped your mouth as tears covered your red cheeks, lando's eyes leaving your drenched pussy and focusing on your face now, smile still painted on his face as he didn’t slow down, “Tell me you love me.“

As you heard those words leaving his mouth, you furrowed your brows, your thighs shaking next to his hand between your legs,

“W-What?“ you looked at him with tears eyes, barely understanding anything at this point since you were so close.

“Tell me. you. love me.“ your ex repeated in a deep and harsh tone, his other hand squeezing your shaking thigh as he still kept on bending it so that he had full access to your cunt.

Your whole body was going crazy at that point, you were a sweating and shaking mess, your throat sore after releasing multiple screams and whines, tears staining your cheeks.

“I-I love you!“ you cried out in a loud tone before you crumbled completely and came all over his fingers.

Before you could even catch a breath and calm down a bit, he already pulled his fingers out of you and grabbed your upper arms, pulling your upwards and ripping your shaking figure off of the bed, walking with you towards the full body mirror in your bedroom.

In a matter of seconds, he forced you onto your knees in front of it while he also got onto his knees behind you, his lips grazing your ear from behind,

“Tell me you want me,“ he pulled on your hair in a harsh manner, “Tell me you want me to fuck you right in front of that mirror.“

You gasped, tears hitting your top lip as your face was almost squished up against your mirror, your eyes only focused on his face as you stared at his reflection.

“Want you to-to fuck m-me,“ you whined, your tears blurring your vision a bit.

He nodded, the pads of his wet fingers toying with your pussy from behind, making you see stars once again, “there’s something missing, baby… that’s not all I wanted to hear,“ he raised his brows, his lips brushing against your ear.

You took a deep breath as you felt his fingers against your pussy again, eyes rolling into the back of your head before you spoke up again, voice hoarse and quiet, “in front of the mirror.“

Lando nodded along your words, his hands slowly unbuttoning his pants now and pulling his cock out, spitting on his hand and smearing it over himself before he teased your wet entrance with his tip,

“I'm still missing one tiny word, baby,“ he groaned deeply as his tip entered you from behind, going in and out of your tight hole from behind, wanting to tease you a bit before he buries himself fully in you.

You furrowed your brows and gasped in a high pitched tone as you continued feeling the salty tears on your lips, “w-what?“ you asked quietly.

He grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail, pulling your head backwards and forcing you to arch your back more, his eyes staring into the mirror to closely watch your facial expression as he slowly filled you up.

Your ex caught your gaze, “what is that pretty word with six letters that I wanna hear out of that little mouth of yours?“ he raised his brows at you.

You took deep breaths, “please?“ and lando nodded with a smirk, “please,“ he repeated quietly in a proud tone.

“F-Fuck,“ he moaned from behind, watching your tears fall down your cheeks with dark eyes,

“God, just as tight as I remember,“ he pulled on your hair, his lips grazing your ear, “nobody else fucked that little cunt of yours while I wasn’t here to do it myself, right?“

You groaned loudly, your hands smacking against the mirror to steady yourself a bit as he started to thrust into you.

Lando watched you bit your lip, “you better tell me I’m right, pretty girl,“ he tugged on your hair again, making you hiss in pain,

“Either you tell me I’m right or you tell me his name right now and I’ll haunt him down and fuck you right in front of him to show him who you belong to,“ he spat at you from behind as his thrust started to get harsher, making you whine in pleasure and slight pain.

You squeezed your eyes shut, letting the tears stain your cheeks but you immediately shot them open again as you felt his big hand chocking you from behind, squeezing your throat in an almost threatening way.

“Y-You’re right,“ you quickly nodded, teary eyes staring at him through the reflection as his thrust almost made you crash into the full body mirror.

Lando nodded as well, “Good,“ he whispered into your ear from behind, his thumb stroking your skin a his fingers didn’t stop chocking you, clearly wanting to see you struggle.

You gasped and moaned, whined and cried out as the first pleads started to leave your mouth,

“P-Please,“ you whined at him, his hips starting to thrust into you harder and quicker, almost pulling his entire length out before shoving it harshly back into your wet entrance.

You watched a smile creep up onto his face, glancing down at your ass from behind before he looked back up at you through the reflection,

“Please what, petty girl? Give me a full sentence,“ he kissed some of your tears away.

He choked you harder, making your eyes roll into the back of your head as you tried to give him a proper answer, “Please m-make me cum a-again,“ you gulped.

Lando groaned from behind, “fucking shit, baby… you know what I’m gonna do?” He asked quietly in a raspy tone,

“Gonna breed you, gonna make you all round and pretty, would you like that? Carrying our little baby? A mini mixture of the two of us, wouldn’t that be just perfect?“ your ex asked quietly, but you only shook your head.

You took deep breaths, more tears staining your hot cheeks, “please d-don’t,“ you whined loudly as you felt yourself coming closer to the second sweet release of the night.

But the formula one driver only nodded with a wicked smile, “Oh I think we should do that, create our little family so you’re stuck with me forever,“ he kissed your neck and shoulder, lightly biting your skin as well, marking you.

A few seconds later, you both came at the same time. You were a crying and screaming mess as you felt him filling you up, your teary eyes trying your best to stay open to watch him through the reflection of the mirror but it was tough.

“That’s my good girl, there we go, baby,“ he squeezed your throat one last time before his hand fell down, landing softly on your thigh.

You were still heavily panting as you heard lando's voice behind you again,

“So… already got any names in mind?“ he asked with a deep chuckle, kissing your temple.

[kisses4reid]

type O | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

spencer x fem!reader, she/her used, hurt, injuries, blood, fainting, paramedics, reader is sort of nerdy like spencer

You clutched at your side, almost clawing and kneading like your stained skin was dough turn red with food colouring. It stung, but that was all. The calmness of the injury was definitely influenced by your own adrenaline and that not only scared you, but Spencer as well.

You were strong on your feet, one hand going back to grab your gun out of your belt, red hands making an only slight affect on the black barrel. You gulped, a dull pain not only spreading from your side but from your head now, a drowsiness and nauseating feeling blanketing you as a tall body came crashing towards you.

Spencer stumbled, only focusing on your face and unfocused eyes - well they were before he interrupted your running thoughts.

“Y/n-“

“Oh, hey Spencer. Um,” you held out a hand and Spencer quickly grabbed it, helping you stabilise yourself. “Did you know, that- Not! Every animal has red blood, some have blueandinsome countries like,” you took a deep breath, “Japan- they think that blood type indicates a person’s personality-“

“Y/n-“ He had both hands on your upper arms now, basically holding up your whole weight, “I already… knew this.” His eyes widened.

Your whole torso was red. It was darker on your left side, it crescendoed into a pink stain on your white shirt from there. Spencer’s heart rate picked up, his eyes darting and his head attacking itself with thoughts. How can he help you, how can he hold you, how can he stop the bleeding?

“Y/n, what happened? Jesus, how are you…”

“Standing? I don’t know. What I do know is that mosquitos prefer blood type O, and they’re gonna be really attracted to me really soon-“

You body went limp, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Spencer scrambled to support you, bringing you both down to the wooden floors before Emily ran in and immediately called for a medic.

Spencer held your head up with one hand, the other putting pressure on your wound. The sting woke you up just enough.

“Y/n, you need to stay awake okay?” He felt tears prick his lower lashes, his heart becoming a frantic but melodic beat in his head.

“Easier said than done,” you croaked out, attempting to ease the distressed expression on Spencer’s face that frankly you didn’t understand. Why were you on the ground? Why was everything going blurry? Why was Spencer’s voice so distant?

“The paramedics are nearly here, okay? Just stay awake until then.”

Emily dropped to her knees on your other side, hovering over your torso and filling your vision as she bent to wrap a torn piece of curtain around your waist. It hurt, like an internal fire that was fueled by oxygen and apparently a knife. She winced at your small whimpers, looking over your injury and assessing the damage.

The curtain compressed the wound well enough to wait for medics, but Spencer didn’t care, he was scared.

Emily rushed to the door when paramedics arrived, ushering them in and watching them as they tried to work around Spencer.

One of his tears landed on your cheek, making you change your flickering glance to his eyes. His big, brown, warm, eyes. It was so cold in there, you felt so cold. You were shivering.

The medics shouted orders at each other as Emily approached Spencer, two hands on his shoulders. She smiled reassuringly at him, “They can’t help her if you’re blocking them.”

When he looked down, your eyes were already closed, breathing so sparse that he stared at your chest until it rose just so he could take a breath himself. Emily was shaken, but Spencer was…

“How did it happen Emily? She was right beside me- and- and I swore she said clear, the room was clear Emily! Now, now she’s- Oh my god-“ He gripped the women’s shoulders and ran hands through his hair, “I should’ve known the unsub would’ve been in here, I could’ve done something-“

You were on a stretcher now, the curtain replaced with proper equipment, but your hands reached for him, and lord did he yearn to hold your hands. But they were gone, you were gone into that ambulance, before he could.

And now he would wait, with type O blood on his hands and in his hair, and without you.

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