#what a hypnotic voice goddamn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

metranart · 6 months ago

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He sighed, and kissed the crown of your hair. “You really need to stop overreacting each time I touch you, baby bird.” You tried to pry his hands away, but he was just so much stronger than you. “Then stop fucking touching me without my permission, Keigo!”

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader.

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 7)

- Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut. -

You could hear the water running, splash! splash! repeatedly, your body felt much better than when you had fallen asleep, you felt rested, relaxed, all your muscles had loosened... and that clear drumming against your back, very calm and rhythmic, it felt delicious, hypnotic. You didn't want to wake up, and suddenly you relax even more, God! Your whole body trembled violently with pleasure that invaded every pore, it was delirious, and you loved it. A soft moan came out of your half-open lips, like music to the ears of your companion.

“That´s it, baby bird, this is how things should be always.” A different kind of chills flooded your arms at the sound of Keigo’s voice so close to the shell of your ear. “My little girl fits so nicely inside her mate´s arms.” His contented sigh brushed the skin on your bare shoulder, and it was only when his warm, wet lips landed on the exposed skin that you forced your eyes to open.

“—W-what?!....” you breathed awake, the steam from the hot tub flooding your nostrils and filling your lungs with aromas of vanilla and lavender. “Where-where...... why am I wet?” water raised barely covering your naked breasts, your heart almost beat out of your goddamn chest when a strong set of arms squeezed you tight against another equally solid chest.

“Don´t stress yourself, baby bird, I barely managed to make you cu-” Keigo cut himself midsentence, purposely halting his speech at once, knowing that the truth will only anger you. He was trying to be a good boy, even now, with you trashing and forcing him to grip you hard to ground you firmly against him, he was still trying.

“Stop-” he said calmly, pinning your flapping arms down with one thick forearm, “cut it out, I'm not going to hurt you,” his tone sounded considerably calmer as if trying to convey that feeling to you, even so, you shook your head and peeked up from around his thick neck. “What’s going on? Why are we soaking together?!” You stressed out.

“Not soaking, I'm helping you bathe,” Keigo said as serious as he could. “You desperately needed to relax or it´ll hurt—” suddenly halted his speech again and this time you could glimpse worry shine on his orbs, “you are a stubborn one, but I finally managed to-…... play the right notes.” He intoned, lowly. “Next one will go smoother—”

“—Next what?!”

You stayed there, in stunned silence waiting for him to fill the gaps. If you were understanding correctly, he had undressed you one more time without your permission, and then got into the bathtub with you to help you wash while you were unconscious and somehow hoped you wouldn't go into hysterics.

“KEIGO! Answer me.” You blasted, but the only thing the winged man could concentrate on was the way his name rolled off your tongue, SO fucking devastating, so addictive. Maybe he´ll stay quiet more often to force you to call for him again.

“Hawks! Dammit!”

Well, his silence didn’t sew fruits. He sighed, and kissing the crown of your hair, said, burdensomely. “You really need to stop overreacting each time I touch you, baby bird.” You tried to pry his hands away, but he was just so much stronger than you.

“Then stop fucking touching me without my permission, asshole!”

Keigo silently embraced you, stubbornly holding stoic and steady for you, tilting his head so you could calm your breathing into the crook of his neck. It was warm and soft and damp with soapy water. You breathe him in, out of your control and clutch him tight with your palm and feeling your heartbeat gradually start to slow down, you manage to ask again more calmly.

“What will go smoother next time, Haw-...Keigo?” You force yourself to say his name, just to feel his heartbeat race against your back.

“Cum—” he said shyly through half-lidded eyes, “cumming has calming properties, especially for you-” he said quietly after a moment. “It’ll help more than the bath itself. I promise.”

He waited like a statue for your reply, frozen in anticipation and fright, but it never came. Slowly peeking down, found you staring intently at him, unmoving.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he eventually gasped when you still didn’t say anything. “You were not supposed to notice, you were only supposed to wake up happier and more relaxed...” he continued, “actually…. well, you can tell-...feel that your body is healed,” Hawks released your arms from his grasp to demurely run his hands along your sides, “I was able to deduce your Quirk, baby bird, and I think I found a way to use it that you didn’t know about—"

The emotion in his voice was palpable, and it was only when you felt his large hand slide between your folds that you came out of shock.

“W-Wait! What do you think you are doing-…?”

Your hand held his trying to stop him but despite your efforts his fingers continued to caress you, expertly massaging your clit. His thumb seemed to have a mind of its own, circling over your bundle of nerves at just the right speed, precise pressure, exact movements.

“No—…Please-eee!” you wailed, and in no time that broken wail turned into sultry moans.

The bastard was playing the right notes by heart, you were so close, your body began to contort, hands scratching at his neck while searching for support. His lips glued to your ear, praising you, devotedly.

“Go on, let it happen, baby bird, let me make you cum on my fingers —… GOD! You look so sexy like this…. writhing around in the water on top of my body while you let me masturbate you…. I ask for nothing more in this life, just that you allow me to be this close forever~” kisses bathed your ear and the side of your head, until the intense orgasm he was slowly building exploded and with it your sanity.

A loud moan erupted from your throat like explosive lava from a volcano, and Hawks kept going, helping you ride the waves of pleasure, his breath ragged as he watched your hip lazily follow the movement of his fingers. Your body already recognized it as its owner, why not you? He hated that, but he loved how easy he could play you.

Finally, your body stopped moving, and sprawled on top of his front. Your breathing slowly became harmonious again, sleepy eyes, hot water, Hawks hugging you against him enviously, his arms circling your waist and your head resting on his shoulder.

“I told you, I already know how to turn on your quirk…” you did an effort to glance up at him, question shinning in your orbs and he hurried to explain, “—the orgasm is an emergency button for you, it tells your body to release the energy and heal you-even if you are knocked out or weak, you’re as good as new, my sweet girl,” his words caressed your brain, “you are more than ready to return the favor to your lovely and devoted mate, who took so much trouble to find out the right cords—don’t you agree?”

“Return-return the… favor?” you mumbled, still disoriented.

“Yep.” He clicked his tongue, and you felt his length split your thighs apart, smearing against your swollen folds. “If you are going to have my chicks, we need to keep this womb properly fed.” Keigo explained happily, his index finger tracing your bellybutton under the water, the tip of his cock bumping your entrance insistently. “Just relax for me, I’ll do the rest—”

You knew you couldn’t stop him, so you thought fast, and even though you didn’t want to… If this would help you avoid being raped again, it was worth a try.

Closing your thighs, you caught his erection in between the hot, wet skin, and started a clumsy swing with your hips, massaging his hard cock between the supple flesh, your fingers caressing the tip each time it peeked out. You knew your moves were awkward to say the least, but your effort seemed to be greatly appreciated by the Pro hero who moaned hoarsely.

“My, my, you’re so naughty~…I ADORE you so much! Yes! You are my beginning and my end, the moon to my stars.... I am so happy to have found you, my baby bird- I will protect you from everything, from everyone... for as long as I am breathing........” his embrace was so possessive that your body seemed buried in his, you could feel every tense and swollen muscle, the thickness of his strong thighs, the power of his powerful arms... he seemed to be made of polished steel and coated in cotton candy and neediness.

“I want to cum inside—…. yeah? My mate doesn’t mind, does she?” He asked, bluntly breaching your pussy just a tad while waiting for an encouragement that will never come. You needed to distract him more, and before he could adjust the position of his hips, you kissed him.

The very act captivated him. You had not kissed him like this before, even your first kiss was merely a tangle of tongues -nothing too passionate- but this… this was what internally craved. He always stole your lips, but you had never done it so intentionally and that mesmerized him, making him a slave to your desires.

His lips danced to a soft and tender rhythm, Keigo letting you guide, your thighs masturbating him while your lips did the rest. His heart was pounding so hard it was easy to mistake it for the sound emanating from the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This time you did hear it, and your heart almost missed a beat when next you heard your mother's sweet voice on the other side.

“Sweetie is that you?” she asked, carefully.

Your mouth left Keigo’s who chased your lips stubbornly, and hearing your mother calling again halted his attack to snort under his breath, followed by a chuckle, as he playfully repeated. “Sweetie, how cute~”

Your palm slapped over his mouth to shut him up, and your gazes collided, his playful, yours irritated, this day couldn’t get any worse. “Yes-Yes, mom, it’s me-e”

“Oh! Good, I’m so glad you are here—but why are you showering?” you could easily distinguish the wariness in your mother’s voice.

“Eh-h.... UA’s dorm bathroom is out of order-…” you felt Keigo moving under you, the interruption had stopped all your ministrations, and his urgency was growing, “-so I came here-e... so I could take a bath and…” big hands cupped your breast, forcing you to swallow a loud moan, “and… besides-s, I already wanted to visit you~” you managed to stop one of his hands while your other was stuck on top of his mouth, you could feel his lips curling under it. “I took this chance. I hope it’s not a bother.” You barely managed to finish the sentence, your hips going back to work in pump Keigo’s fat erection to keep him steady, and in control. That deaf grumble coming out of his chest told you it was working.

"Of course not, Sweetie, we love that you're here," God! Your mom sounded so happy and innocent that you really felt bad about the wicked acts you were participating in.

"I'm going to start making dinner, tell me what would you like me to make? Yakisoba? Curry rice? Or maybe, Miso Chicken?”

Keigo bite at your fingers lightly and surprise made you withdraw your hand, and without hesitation, his lips pressed against your ear. “I want Miso chicken, it’s my favorite~” Keigo whispered, encouraged and your eyebrows knitted together in concern, and for some unknown reason for you, felt the need to air a sudden doubt, “—do you eat chicken?”

The winged hero smiled brightly-even his eyes did, and you felt your heart miss a beat, your daze quickly cut by his answer.

“It’s my favoriteeeeee~” he sing-sang, and your hand struggled to shut him up. Keigo was faster and was no doubt, enjoying every second of it. “Come on, tell my mother-in-law to prepare that, or if you want, I’ll tell her—” your hand finally managed to muffle him, even so, he kept chuckling under it.

“Miso Chicken! I love when you make it.” You hurried to say, and your mom cutely giggle from the other side, “Then Miso it is-….do you fancy some special dessert?” Oh god! You really loved how doting your mom was but right now, it was the last thing you needed. “Maybe you want Daifuki, cake, dango, yokan, cookies—"

“A-Anything is fine, t-thank you.”

The words came out tight thanks to Keigo licking the fingers covering his mouth, and in a swift motion hauled your hand up, letting your hand tangle among his wet mane to have sinful access to lasciviously devour your neck, taking his time to do things at his pace. Managing that his erection throbbed against your folds producing a deliriously pleasant rubbing, while his hands massaged the parts of your body he could reach, from your perked nipples to the side of your legs, taking him as far as to pull your calves and squeeze them between his fingers. His mouth focused on your neck, and his hips making a rhythmical swing that was taking both, hand in hand, towards a devastating orgasm. You felt already so sensitive, it was taking a toll on you to stay coherent.

“—Sweetie I was wondering…”

“Mom!” you squeak louder than intended, “I’ll be out in a—”

But you couldn’t finish the sentence since you felt Keigo´s teeth dig into the muscle that connects your neck with your shoulder, followed by a low and menacing growl.

“Don’t talk back to your mother, baby bird…” He scolded lowly, all playfulness forgotten, “…If you insist on misbehaving, I will have to punish you.” The firmness with which he glared at you spoke of how serious he was being, and gulping hard, you sweetened your next reply.

“Mommy, I’m almost done, as soon as I get out, I’ll go help you with dinner.”

Keigo nodded, approvingly. A big enough smile twisting his lips and making him look immensely proud. He kissed the place where his teeth mark was shaping in your delicate skin and rewarded you further by holding gentler. “That’s my sweet and obedient mate.” He praised only for your ears, very pleased, pumping his thickness harder, this time it was you who had to bite down a groan.

“Ok, sweetie, there’s no need, you take as long as you need, enjoy your bathe.”

You no longer responded to this as your lip was trapped between your teeth, and you reduced yourself to listening to your mother walking downstairs. Once you heard that there was no one around, you let out the thick and glorious moan. Keigo chuckled, you were responding him very well, he was already close, just like you.

“Cross your legs, baby bird- you´ll see how good it feels... go on, love- do it.” Keigo requested and you obeyed, the friction became undeniably more precise, his cock caressing your clit with each thrust, your eyes rolled back, and you felt a sharper brush of pleasure flood your body. Trembling on top of Keigo’s thighs he continued to ride you.

You felt something warm fall on your chest, and the rest splash into the water. Keigo moaned hoarsely against your hair, his breathing ragged and his heart racing as he came undone. Once both finished, your bodies relaxed, engrossed in each other, as you enjoyed the hot water and muscle relaxation.

“Fuck, baby bird, your mom’s interruption turned me on more than it should have, I came a lot.” Keigo said this while his fingers smeared the semen that had fallen on your chest, like a cream over your wet tits. “I really like the way you look right now, give me a moment and I think I can go balls deep inside you, you know.... finish you off, properly.”

Keigo laughed a little, too pleased with how everything was developing. You on the other hand were on high alert, yet again.

He had just come, perhaps that wasn’t enough to calm him down, you didn’t want to have him inside you, not again, not ever. Dammit! If only there was a way to turn off his rut instinct.

BRING. ME. BACK.

Your eyes widened at the blurry memory, Hawks had been with you before all this, Hawks had kissed you in a certain way and said these exact words.

Ignoring Keigo’s intrepid hands manipulating your body, the strong hero flipped you over until you were straddling his erect member, geez! How could he be erect again?!

“Calm down, I’ll take it from here-...” His thick cock bumped against your swollen folds, bullying the entrance, your eyes squinted doing your best to remember the way Hawks teach you to bring him back.

“Here we go, smooth and easy, baby bird, don’t hold back—your mommy won’t hear us, I promise.” The tip was already inside, but your effort paid off and you soon pulled Keigo’s face towards you.

The Pro Hero let you, hanging his head stifling his short, outburst of arousal. And soon found that was being pulled down, hauled into the crook of your neck until his face was in front of yours and without saying a single word.

You kissed him. Peppered the tip of his nose, next his left cheek, to follow with the right and finally the forehead. Sweet and chaste kisses that plunged him into a buried memory of his past, digging up Hawks from his hormonal brain.

You pulled away from his crotch, and not knowing if had worked, used your hand to try and finish him off before he could react sexually aggressive once more.

You pumped his shaft shyly through half-lidded eyes and growing bolder, worked him harder. You don’t know why, but it felt different this time… this time you had control over HIM, and it felt delicious, erotic, forbidden…to hold all power, all control of the Pro Hero number two inside your delicate grip.

You watched his mouth fall open, golden brows furrowing, heart hammering at a worrying pace, saw all the muscles on his body tense against you before the Hero number two spilled himself among your fevered fingers with a sharp gasp, chest heavily heaving. He shuddered with aftershocks, eyes closed, forehead glistening with beads of sweat and soapy water.

Keigo must have been near the edge, super sensitive already, because it didn’t take you long to make him come. The semen floated through the water among the bubbles and suddenly you heard the voice you were looking forward to.

“Fuck, I´m SO sorry, kid.”

“Hawks...?” you murmured, not knowing who would answer… the Hero or the horny animal.

“It´s ME... and I'm not going away again, you are safe.” Hawks said, running his knuckles soothingly down the line of your jaw. “—I did all this?”

His gaze followed the semen that floated in the water, golden orbs falling on your fingers smeared with his pearly essence, and without waiting for an answer, he submerged your hand in the water, cleaning each digit profusely among his strong fingers.

“The commission is going to be pissed.” He said to himself, attention fixed on cleaning the remains of his semen from you.

Feeling his back against the porcelain of the tub, Hawks realized something. "Where are my feathers?" he asked, a hint of alarm in his tone and you just shook your head, unable to answer.

"Fuck..." he muttered, a crooked embarrassed grin twisting his lips before finish. "I think we might have a problem."

COMING SOON PART 8....

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tofics · 8 months ago

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Broken - Chapter 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes... Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he'll never get.

Word Count: 3964 words

Warnings: Cursing, near death experience, mention of blood, insomnia.

Chapter 1 - A Brush With Death

Joel didn't know there could be so many types of snow. Texas didn't get all that much of it, at least not where he lived. He'd seen his fair share of the white stuff when he lived in Boston, but somehow, snow is different out here in Jackson. It could have been just an illusion, that it had only seemed different because Boston was different, crowded and dirty and falling apart at the seams, whereas Jackson is open, wide and free and clean.

Whatever it is, snow feels different here. Today, the flakes are big and heavy, a lot more like rain but not yet quite like sleet. They're coming down in chunks, flakes stuck together in tiny little icy clumps that fall to the ground in quiet and wet, prickling thumps. It's not as enjoyable as the soft and powdery kind that came down during his patrol yesterday. The shreds of ice prick his skin as they get blown across his face where his bandana doesn't reach. He rubs a gloved hand over the slither of exposed skin, but it remains itchy, irritated by its icy attackers.

Joel grunts and squints through the white flurry. "Can't see a damn thing in this damn weather," he grumbles, but carries on regardless. His horse lazily trots through the snow. Joel can't help but wonder what the animal thinks about this weather. Probably having as much fun as I am, he thinks and runs his glove over his eyes again. Some snowflakes got caught in his eyelashes. He feels the icy flakes melt on his eyeballs as he rubs the glove back and forth and shudders. Not a pleasant sensation.

He trudges through the snow for a few more minutes, but it doesn't let up. If anything, it looks like it's getting worse, more and more flakes fluttering through the air until visibility drops below 20 feet. "Alright, that's enough." His voice comes out in puffs of hot air. Joel flicks his tongue and softly tugs on the left rein. His horse immediately obeys. They do a 180, careful not to slip off the road. There's no point in staying out here in weather like this. Not if I can't goddamn see, he thinks. Once they're turned around, things are a little better. With the wind on his back, the brim of his head provides enough protection from the flakes and they're no longer blowing straight into his eyes.

15 minutes later, he's made it about half-way back to Jackson. The snow is coming down so heavy and quick that his horse's tracks are nearly covered again, the sheet of white almost seeming as undisturbed as before. Joel scans his surroundings as they trot back, peering across the black and white landscape in search of anything out of the ordinary, but he finds nothing. Now that his sight is undisturbed, the scenery is almost hypnotizing. With the wind on his back, the soft falling of the heavy flakes mixes into a soothing background noise. He notices his eye-lids getting heavy, straining to stay open as they run over white and more white, an endless canvas of the same coated trees and bushes.

It's no wonder then that he almost misses the set of tracks that cross his own in the snow, slurry and less precise than his horse's hoofmarks on the ground. It feels like a trick of his eyes at first, but Joel's instincts have had too many years of training. He perks up and flicks his tongue again, softly tugging on the reins so his four-legged companion stills. Joel peers down at the ground, inspecting the tracks. They're fresher than his own; the flakes didn't have enough time to fill the gaps on the snowy surface yet.

He slides the rifle off his shoulder as his eyes follow the tracks to the bushes on his left. Awaiting an attack, his gloved finger has already wandered down to the trigger, but he doesn't shoot right away. "What in the...?" His question hangs in the air along with little clouds of hot breath. What the hell am I lookin' at?

It's hard to make out at first. Animal? It's big and lumpy, but the contortions don't fit anything he's ever seen. Its coat is puffy and bloated and white, blending in it with its surroundings almost too easily. Joel's eyes travel over the unfamiliar creature until he suddenly realizes what he's looking at. "Aw, shit!" The curse comes out in a hiss as he slides off his horse.

What he thought to be an animal at first is nothing less than a human. He approaches the lump on the ground with a raised rifle, pointed at what he now makes out to be the head. This could be a trap, a voice inside him thinks, but something tells him it's not. It's nothing more than a gut feeling, but he still approaches the figure carefully.

"Hey." The person on the ground doesn't respond, doesn't even stir. "Hey," he repeats, this time a little louder. He nudges his foot against what he judges to be a leg, but again, there is no response. His gut and brain discuss for a moment before he leans down. In one swift motion, he's removed one of his gloves and shoved his hand into the fur that encircles the head. Immediately, he can tell that his gut was right. Heat simmers below the person's coat like a hot furnace. His cold fingers run over the naked skin until he finds the spot just below the chin.

A breath of relief leaves him when he feels a pulse softly thrumming against his fingertips, but it's weak. Carefully, he lifts the head and gently turns it so he can look at the face. It belongs to a woman, pale and ashen, tinging on blue. It's the look of someone who has no time to waste. "Alright," he mutters and hoists his rifle again before he places one arm under the woman's torso, his other wrapping around it firmly from above. "C'mere." He grunts as he attempts to lift her body off of the ground. She can't weigh much, but the angle is awkward and his shoes don't have much tract in the snow.

It takes him a couple of tries, but eventually, he manages to heave the limp body across his saddle. Once it stays up, he awkwardly climbs into the settle behind the woman. Her legs are dangling off to one side, her arms and head to the other. It's not ideal, but it'll have to do. "C'mon!" He kicks his horse's sides and they dash off, back towards Jackson, back to where there's doctors and medicine. He just hopes it's not too late.

You come to with a gasp, eyes flying open as your torso shoots upwards. Your first few moments of consciousness are overwhelming, a complete chaos of blurry vision, a dizziness that's threatening to push you over and the drumming of your own pulse in your ears, loud and deafening over the frequent beeping noises in the background. Your fingers dig into the material of the surface beneath you, a frantic search of something familiar, something that'll tell you where you are, something to steady you.

Before you've had any time to adjust, something's touching your shoulder, followed by a pressure that's pushing you backwards. You panic and grasp at the things that are forcing you down before realizing they are hands, but the realization doesn't slow your panic, it only fuels it. You flail, fighting against your attacker with flying limbs, scratching and screaming and putting everything in it that you've got. There's a sharp pull in the crook of your right arm, but you don't relent, determined to fight off your assailant.

Despite your strenuous attempt, you lose the fight and fall backwards. As your head slams backwards, your world suddenly regains focus, as if someone turned up the sharpening setting in one swift go. The dizziness remains, but despite your blood still rushing in your ears, you can also hear a voice.

"It's okay! You're okay! You're safe!"

You blink rapidly a few times. Your eyes are swimming in and out of focus before they settle on the person in front of you. It's a man dressed in faded blue scrubs. The arms that are pinning you down are his arms, but despite the threatening gesture, his face is full of concern, not threat. You slowly take in your surroundings as you catch your breath. You appear to be in a hospital room of sorts. It's got all the equipment that comes with the territory, beeping machines and all, which you realize are the source of the frantic beeping you heard just seconds ago; their rhythm gradually slowing as your breathing becomes more steady.

The man holding you down releases his grip on your shoulders and moves around your bed to your other side. You follow his movements closely and jerk back when he reaches for your right arm. In response, he takes a step back, hands raised.

"I just wanna help. Can I do that?" He points to your arm when you don't respond. Your eyes briefly flit down to follow his finger. There's blood leaking out of the crook of your arm; the bloody needle of an IV dangling on your bed's railing not far off. Must have pulled it out when I was panicking. It's your first coherent thought since coming to.

You give a court nod and he resumes his work immediately, tending to your wound with concentration. While he works, your eyes work over the room again.

"Where am I?" Your voice comes out rusted and croaky. How long has it been since I've been out?, you wonder and try to think back to the last thing you remember, but you come up blank.

"You're safe," the nurse responds. He's wrapped your arm up in a neat bandage - clean, you notice - and moves over to a cabinet where he retrieves a freshly packed IV needle. "Can I?" He nods at your left arm and you hum in agreement. You watch him insert the needle into your skin before you speak again.

"That's not what I asked." He finishes up his work by attaching the lines of your IV bag to your new access point, checking for air bubbles and tangles, then places his hands on your hand railing. His eyes find yours. "Look, you're safe, and that's all that matters right now." You want to interrupt him, but he holds a finger up. "No, just wait. Someone will be by to explain everything shortly. I'm not at liberty to say. But I promise," he leans in closer, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I promise, you're safe here. Okay?"

It takes a moment, but you nod and sink back into your pillow. Safe my ass, you think. When's the last time that anywhere was really safe? But what choice do you have? Your body is in no shape to fight, let alone to flee. Besides, this hospital bed is the most comfortable thing you've laid on in months. Might as well enjoy it while you can. Who knows what's waiting for you.

According to the clock on the wall, half an hour passes before the door to your room opens again. This time, it's not the male nurse but a woman that enters. She carries herself with the confidence of someone who's word counts. You prop yourself up as she approaches you, stopping a few feet away with crossed arms.

Neither of you speak for a moment. You eye each other, seizing the other woman up, a silent first introduction that seems to go well when she drops her arms to her sides and her body language switches from closed off to more open. Still, you're the first one to speak.

"You in charge?"

"One of the people in charge, yes."

"One of them?"

"There's a council, elected by the town's members." She seems to hesitate but then crosses the remaining distance between you two before holding a hand out.

"I'm Maria. It's nice to finally meet you." You can't help but raise an eyebrow, yet shake her hand anyway.

"Finally? You heard of me?"

"Oh, we heard plenty! Can I?" She nods at the open space on your bed in front of you and takes a seat when you gesture for her to sit down. "You were quite the talk of the town, the way you arrived. On the brink of death." She smiles at you and, to your surprise, it looks genuine. "Happy you pulled through."

There's an uncomfortable silence where you don't know what to say. You fiddle with the blanket between your fingers as quiet settles over you two.

When Maria reaches out to lay a hand on yours, you instinctually flinch back, but then allow the touch. You see a hint of sadness fluttering across her face, but she quickly hides it behind a sympathetic smile. "I don't know what you've been through, but it can't have been pretty. We're willing to offer you a place to stay, a new home if you want it, but we got rules."

A place to stay? A home?

What's the cost? you think, but don't say the question out loud. "Most of all, you've got to be willing to put in the work. We all chip in here," Maria says as if she overheard your thoughts. "Do you think that's something for you?" She gives you a moment to think about it. A smile spreads across her face when you finally nod.

"Great. Now relax, regain your strength. We'll figure everything out over the next couple of days. I'll come by and introduce you to some people so we can figure out where to place you, okay?" Maria slides off your bed and heads for the door. You can see her wringing her hands in anticipation, a mixture of concern and gladness on her face when she turns around to you once more. "You're safe here. You don't have to worry anymore."

She gives you one last smile and then she's out the door. Yeah right, you think. We'll see about that.

There's 57 cracks in the ceiling. You know this because you've counted them yourself, every single night since this house was first appointed to you. Despite the comfortable - clean, one might add -bed, the roof over your head, hell, despite the damn blackout-curtains, you can't find any sleep.

Your insomnia isn't new. The last good night's rest you've had was probably 22 years ago, before all hell broke loose and the world turned into the shithole it is today. You don't remember a day since where you didn't go to bed hungry or worried for your safety. To be fair, it was better when you had her. Despite worrying for two, it was better when she was there, her tiny body curled up against yours-

You stop the thought when the familiar hole aches in your chest. You try not to think about it, about her, because it always ends up hurting, the pain chipping away at the sides of the hole and making it larger with every relived memory.

"Fuck." You whisper, but it's almost as loud as a shout in the dead-quiet of the house. An entire house for a single person. It seems bizarre to you after having lived in tight quarters for so long, presumptuous even. It feels wrong. And lonely, a small voice chirps in the back of your head, but you swat it away like a fly.

"Alright, enough." There's no point in staying in bed any longer. Dawn is approaching outside, the faintest whisper of light slowly creeping over the horizon and casting long shadows across your bedroom. You roll out of bed and slip on your shoes, never having taken off yesterday's clothes. They provided you with an entire new wardrobe when they granted you residence, PJ's included and all, but old habits die hard.

You make your way downstairs where you brew yourself a quick cup of coffee. Out of all the amenities your new home comes with, this one just might be your favorite perk. Where your adrenaline betrays you during the day, you finally get to rely on caffeine again instead. It's one of the small pleasures you grant yourself every now and then, when a night has been particularly rough.

You lean against the kitchen counter in the semi-dark as you drink your coffee, savoring every sip. The world doesn't seem quite so bad in these moments, in the morning quiet with a steaming cup between your hands and the warm liquid running down your throat, warming you from the inside out and filling your body with fresh life force.

It's then that you hear two mumbled voices outside. Fuck. You mouth the word, cursing the fact that you left your gun upstairs. Carefully, you set your cup down and then open the top drawer next to you, taking out a large chopping knife.

Knife in hand and slowly, so as not to make any sound, you tip-toe towards your front door while keeping your back against the wall. You hear the voices growing louder through the thick glass panels that frame the entrance of your house.

"Seriously, Tommy, why me? Just 'cause I brought her in? It's not like we got a special connection or somethin'."

"Then you'll make one! It's not that hard."

You manage to peer out of one of the glass panels and realize with some relief that it's Tommy Miller, Maria's husband, and Joel Miller, his brother.

The fuck they want here so early in the morning?

"Look. When you and Ellie got here, you were all fidgety for the first few months, and I don't blame you with what you've been through. Hell, some nights even I don't sleep thinking about all we got to lose here." You watch as Tommy and Joel climb the front steps of your porch. "But you saw what this place is. What it means, what it stands for. We got something good going here, Joel. I know you can see that. I just want you to help her see that too."

There's a moment of silence between the brothers while they're staring each other down. "Fine." Joel sounds exasperated. "But why me?" An expression takes form on Tommy's face that you can only describe as 'knowing'. You don't like it. "Because," he starts and raises a hand to knock on your door. "You and her, you got the same kind of twitchy."

Before he can bring his fist down on the cold wood, you open the door in one swift motion.

"Mornin', boys."

They turn to you with a stunned look on their faces. Tommy in particular looks a bit strained, obviously wondering how much you heard.

"Saw y'all walking up on my porch when I came through the hallway," you offer in explanation and watch in amusement as relief washes over the younger brother's face. "What's got you comin' up here so early in the morning?"

"Ah." Tommy smiles broadly and slaps his older brother on the back. "Jeff got sick and Joel here needs a replacement buddy for his rounds. Thought maybe you could fill in for him, seeing as how we haven't found a job for you yet." He smiles at you expectantly, but his smile wavers a little the longer you let him wait for a response.

"Fine," you eventually say, mimicking Joel's tone from earlier. "Lemme' just get my jacket."

The first few rays of sunshine trickle over the land as you ride out of Jackson. You keep a steady, albeit not hasty pace next to each other. Despite what you overheard, Joel doesn't make any attempts of forming any kind of connection. You just ride together in silence, keeping a lookout for anything out of place. You're a little too proud to admit it, but the fresh, cold air feels really good on your skin. You make a mental note not to thank Tommy for this little set-up. Twitchy my ass, you think. What's it to him anyway?

The first half of your morning patrol passes by uneventfully. Joel leads you to what you can only assume was a camping site back in the day where he wipes some snow off of a picnic table and pours steaming hot coffee out of a thermos flask into two cups; one for him, one for you. Despite your morning coffee, you gladly accept the little tin cup and sip on the hot liquid.

You both drink your coffee in silence. You don't mind it, in fact, you almost embrace it. Everyone else you come across in Jackson is just so happy all the time, so open and welcoming and smiling that it makes you sick. Joel's stoic silence, in comparison, is refreshing.

"So, you don't talk very much, do you." You blow on your coffee as you watch his face. He turns to you and his eyes lock onto yours where they remain for a moment. "Not really, no," he says finally. "You mind that?"

You can't help but scoff. "God, no. It's refreshing, really. Everyone else is just so... chipper, like, all the time. It's maddening." You wrinkle your nose in disgust and hear a deep chuckle coming from Joel's chest. "That they are."

When you've both finished your coffee, you get back on your horses to start on the remaining half of your patrol. It starts snowing softly, a few flakes here and there, and for a moment, you almost feel something resembling peace.

"Aren't you supposed to be bonding with me?" you quickly say before the feeling can take root. Joel looks over at you. "You heard that, hu?" "Sure did." Now it's Joel's turn to scoff. "Then you heard it was Tommy's idea, not mine."

You purse your lips but nod, your pursed lips eventually growing into a smile. "I can work with that." It's the last words you speak while the two of you control the perimeter. Even though you're not looking, you can tell Joel's smiling out of the corner of your eye.

Back at the stables, you help take the saddles off of your horses and brush them down. You're on your way to leave when you hear Joel behind you. "Y'know, this place really is safe." You don't turn around, but have stopped walking, an indicator that you're listening. "Didn't believe it m'self when I got here, but Tommy's right. They got a good thing goin' here."

"They?" You've turned around after all. Your eyes seek out his. "Thought you're a member of Jackson?"

A dry smile plays around Joel's lips. He turns from you to pick up one of his horse's behind legs. "Sure am. 'S just they're better than I am, is all," he says as he scrapes the bottom of the hoof.

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. The silence stretches between you two and it becomes clear that he's said all there is to say. "Alright." You turn and start your walk home, back to your house that's too big for just one person, but is one of the few places where people will leave you alone. Safe or not safe, it's the only place you've got to go to.

Joel straightens as you leave the stables. He watches as you make your way across the snowy grounds, away from the people and back towards the residential area. He watches and wonders what your story is before returning to the task at hand. None of my business, he tells himself and resumes his work.

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

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billsbabydoll · 4 months ago

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“𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓊𝓃𝒻𝒾𝓍𝒶𝒷𝓁ℯ, 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒷𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓁𝒹.”

contains:HARSH ANGST+SMUT<3

summary:finally getting sick of bills toxicity and instability, i packed up all of my belongings and planned to “leave him” or as i stupidly told myself, only to find myself easily falling back into his same hypnotizing trap.

WARNINGS:abusive relationship, fighting, arguing, manipulation (I DO NOT CONDONE ANYTHING THAT HAPPENS in this story, this story is ONLY for entertainment purposes!!!), very narcissistic and misogynistic bill, hard-dom!bill, dumb-sub!reader, p in v (against the wall), degrading, pet-names, LIGHT choking, heavy breeding kink.

notes:as someone who has experienced theses types of situations firsthand, if you ever do find yourself in these kinds of circumstances please take the initial steps to get yourself out that relationship immediately, youll be fine i promise love ya!

HEAVY THEMES AHEAD!

“yeah go fucking cry about it you sensitive bitch, get the fuck outta’ my face!”bill loudly shouted at me from the living room as i ran and locked myself into our shared bedroom, tears streaming profusely down my cheeks, as i tumbled onto the bed and proceeded to curl myself up into a small pathetic ball.

im tired of living like this, being so isolated, feeling so trapped, being so mentally and physically drained, having to constantly walk around eggshells around him.

me and bills relationship was a perfect fairytale in the beginning, but quickly came burning down in flames and burnt down to pure ashes at his rage.his anger completely undoing every single precious thing he ever once said to me.

every “i love you.” or “i cant wait to start a life with you.” was once a simple loving string of words now being dangled high above my head as a reminder of his broken promises.

i still cling onto that small glimmer of hope that he could change some-day, that he could love me again, or that he could simply hold me without hurting me.

i lay in my own pity for a long grueling hour before i decide to slowly unravel myself from my position, gently getting up from the bed, wiping the tears from my eyes telling myself,

“i need to leave,

right now.”

i kick into full panic mode and immediately start changing into a dark colored tracksuit and a comfortable pair of sneakers, then i rummage through our closet grabbing random handfuls of my belongings stuffing my suitcase to the brim.

i quietly creak the bedroom door open and make my way through the dark hallway, my luggage in one hand as i try to rush towards the front door.

“going somewhere babe?”he eerily questioned, his evil presence immediately sending cold chills down my spine.

“i-i-uhm..”i mumbled trying to find some kind of explanation but it was if something was struck in my throat, i looked like a child who just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

“im leaving!”i managed to spit out, slowly turning to face him.

“oh your leaving?”he responded in a cartoonish voice mocking my own, chuckling manically at my response.

he crosses his arms over his chest as he cockily looks me up and down, he then quickly steps forward grabbing me by my chin with his right hand, yanking a fistful of my hair with his left.

“cant you see THIS is the life i promised you honey?you know no-ones ever gonna buy you all those pretty dresses you like wearing f’me, provide for you like i do, or keep a GODDAMN roof over your head like i do!”

what he was saying was true, without him i wouldnt have a single penny to my name.he took care of every expense, he even had me on a monthly allowance but he didnt do anything of it out of the goodness of his heart he rather used it to his advantage knowing hed always win.

“i know i know but, i-im tired of you being like this bill, im sick of it!i swear ill give it all back if thats what you really want!”i nervously murmured, his grip on my chin and hair tightening.

“your such an ungrateful brat, you dont even deserve to be breathing the same air as me, i shouldve just throw you out months ago like the trashy bitch you are.”

he yelled into my face before slamming me against the wall letting go of some of his grip on me as he pulled down his pants and boxers along with my sweatpants and panties.

“you wanna be treated like a worthless whore ill fucking treat you like one then.“

he wrapped one of his arms strongly around my neck keeping me in place, as he teased his cock in between my slicks folds, causing me to softly whimper.

“aww…look at you poor baby, you just wanted some attention huh, want me to fuck you isnt that right?”he purred squeezing my neck firmly in his arm, sliding his length harshly inside my walls.

though i hated to admit it, it truly turned me on how possessive and upset he got when i tried leaving it showed me he still sort-of cared.the fact he still had enough respect to still fuck me was enough to have me eating right out of his palm, anytime he showed me the slightest bit of affection it casted his spell over me all over again.

he continued thrusting his full length inside my cunt, beginning to aggressively pound away, my head banging against the cold wall.

“ugh-i shouldnt even be mmhtouching you right now ungrateful bitch!”he shouted, his free hand slapping my ass sure enough to leave hand prints the next morning.

“f-fuck fuck, im ughh-yours baby!”i moaned out, tears beginning to spill from my eyes, his tip kissing my cervix perfectly.

“das ist r-richtig, mhm!du gehst verdammt noch mal nirgendwo hin(thats right, your not going fucking anywhere),

gonna fill you all up, hopefully y-you get pregnant that way your ugh-stuck with me!”

the sound of our moans combined with the banging on the wall echoed throughout the house, the faint tv not even being enough to cover up his disgusting insults and my foul cries.

“b-bill ugh please i c-cant!”

“take my f-fucking cock mhmy little cum slut!”

his hips are bucking into mine at an animalistic pace as he urgently chases his release, my walls deliciously clenching around his girth, sending him immediately over the edge.

“scheibe scheibe scheibe(shit shit shit!)”he yelled out suddenly fucking his cock deeper inside my sweet walls, ropes of his seed oozing deep inside my pussy.

“ich w-werde ganz in dir abspritzen du mmh-dumme s-schlampe, ich werde dich mit meinem verdammten baby schwängern (im gonna cum all inside you, stupid slut, im gonna get you pregnant with my baby!)”he adds breeding his cum inside me with a few final thrusts, pulling his length out of me with a loud pop.

bill then releases me from his arm allowing me to slam down onto the floor, pulling his pants up smugly as he knelt down to my level.

“next time im beating the fuck outta’ this was me playing nice, understood? now go make me some dinner before you piss me off again.”

i nod my head instantly at his demands, rubbing the side of my cheek that hit the ground.

“such a good little girl, i love you.” he praised grinning widely down at me before getting back up and walking away from me.

“i love you too.”

and the cycle continues.

THE END

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #georg listing #gustav schäfer

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risuola · 1 year ago

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DO YOU WANT MY FINGERS? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who cannot stop twirling the god damn pen

You really needed to rest. You just wanted to sleep the day off, forget about the series of misfortunes and turn off your mind, but Satoru, your classmate just had to practise his pen spinning abilities.

cw: smut, Satoru and reader are students, fingering, Gojo is a menace, as usual, teasing, fingering, reader discretion is advised — 1,9k words

Can he stop?, you wondered, your mind racing like a sports car with the accelerator pushed to the floor, successfully rendering all of your efforts to relax fruitless. So many little things went wrong that day, so many failures that in themselves weren’t even that significant, but once accumulated, they created a tension in your body that you wished you could just sleep off. You hoped for the night to wipe away the concoction of not one, but two missed busses and a long run in the heat of the summer, the curse that was meant to be at most second grade but turned out to be first and exploding in purple goo, the fact that the room that ideally would have two beds, has just one and your infuriating colleague, now bedmate.

Gojo Satoru.

You had no idea what was his point in twirling that goddamn pen in between his fingers. Maybe he wanted to change his career path into becoming a circus artist or maybe he just wanted to annoy you to death – in both he had high chances to succeed. He clearly wanted to make you explode. That for sure was it, because the pen time after time fell from his hands, hitting the wooden floor. You lost count after the twenty sixth failed attempt of whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish, other than driving you completely insane.

Driven by the desire to break his neck, you flipped in the bed and took a quick glance of his form, fully ready and prepared to scold him, but then, your eyes landed on his hand and the voice got caught up inside your throat. Satoru has pretty hands, you always knew that, but somehow never paid them enough attention to notice how incredibly long his fingers are. You found yourself hypnotized by the way his lengthy digits worked all over the pen, twirling and twisting it between them. Skillfully bending and sliding against one another, using all of their slender length to make the movements effective.

Suddenly, you found yourself curious; your mind drifting into forbidden territories of rated thoughts, that you couldn’t, or maybe didn’t want to, push away. As you watched, hypnotized, how Satoru’s fingers were working their way around the pen, you wished to know if he’d be just as skilled using them in other ways? Would he be able to softly pour his magic onto your body, working them through your skin instead of the plastic? And how would they feel inside of you? For sure he’d reach into places you couldn’t yourself, for sure he’d-

“Y/n, my eyes are up here,” his voice snapped you out of your trance. “God, what got you so invested?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, exhaling deeply to ground yourself. “You’re annoying me with this pen, can you stop?”

“I’m trying to destress myself. I have to have my hands occupied- wait, were you looking at my hands?”

“No, Gojo.”

“Are you attracted to my hands?”

“How did you get annoyed and attracted mixed up, huh?”

“Don’t be shy now,” his face brightened with mischief as he grinned, wiggling his digits in the air. “Do you want my fingers?”

“God forbid you lay those on me,” you scoffed, trying to brush him off as you made an attempt to turn away from him, but he quickly rendered it fruitless by grabbing you by the wrist and pinning you down.

“Woops, I guess I just did,” he chuckled; one of his legs between your thighs as his body hovered above yours, making you wonder what the hell was happening. “Might as well go a little further.”

“I will knee you in the nuts if you don’t back off,” you threatened, but once again his chest, and whole body, shook with laughter.

“You can’t do that. Infinity, baby.”

Gojo and his goddamn infinity. A short tsk escaped your mouth, before he placed two of his fingers over them, brushing them ever-so-lightly along your upper lip, then lower and down the chin, painting a little s pattern with his, surprisingly soft, fingertips. His own lips never faltered from the menacing smirk, as his eyes focused on where he was outlining your features.

“So, tell me, where do you want them?” His voice now an octave lower went straight between your legs, you could feel yourself throbbing at the very thought of what he could do to you just by touching. “Here?” He peeled down your bottom lip just slightly, creating an opening for him to slip a fingertip into your mouth. “Nuh-ugh, don’t be mean,” he purred when you made an attempt to bite his digits off – the last signs of your dignity talking, before your body surrendered. “I assume it’s not here. So maybe… here?” With his finger now brushing just slightly over the swell of your breast, teasing the embarrassingly hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your sleeping shirt.

“Gojo-“ you tried to put some warning into your words, but he cut you off quickly.

“I’m not holding you, sweet thing. You have more than enough strength to push me away, we both know this.” He was right, and you hated it. Yes, he was above you, his thigh resting between yours, but other than that, he wasn’t exactly keeping you captive in his grip, because there was no grip whatsoever. Sending mental profanities at your own direction, you failed to notice his hand shifting downwards and you only realized it when your body jolted at the sudden pressure applied over your clothed clit. “Oh, it’s here where you want them, huh?”

To admit was way above your current state of self-respect, so you said nothing, trying to join your legs back together, to hide the wet patch that soaked through the soft, light-blue cotton, but to no avail. The more he stroked his fingers along the outlines of your folds, pressing little circles of tease into the swollen bud, the less control and clarity of mind you had.

“Use your words, will you?”

“G-gojo, please-“, you nearly whined.

“Yeah? Tell me, is that where you want my fingers?”

“Y-yes,” that was the most humiliating thing you’ve ever said, and you were certain that the consequences of it will haunt you for as long as you live, because Satoru was surely never gonna let you live that down, but at this particular moment, you couldn’t care less. You’ll be embarrassed later, now you needed to feel those sinful digits inside.

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your jaw. Satoru was full of content, watching you lose your composure piece by piece right before his eyes, and he tried to take mental picture of every stage you went through since he began his teasing torture. From the soft frown that made your brows crease in the middle and your pretty eyes narrowed, sending death stares; through denial – the looks pointed away from him, the delicate tension of every muscle and clenched teeth and the current one – the most adorable flush that spilled over your cheeks and nose, the slightly nervous chew on your lower lip and those same eyes now lost, confused and yet, full of want. What he’s used to see in you was your every day calm, perfect composure and lighthearted approach to life and now, as all of those began to break, taking down the façade of carelessness, Gojo felt the swell of his confidence and ego. And the twitch in his pants.

“There you go,” he nearly whispered, slipping effortlessly into your underwear and the sudden contact of his skin against your aching, throbbing clit made your entire body shiver with anticipation. Satoru shifted his body to your side, placing his own down to be more comfortable, now sure that you won’t push him away. “You’re so wet. So wet and it’s only because of my fingers?”

“S-satoru…”

The grasp you took around his forearm could probably break a bone, but Gojo felt nothing, too consumed by the sweet whimpers that were escaping your lips as he was stroking the letters of his name right into your clit, time after time making your thighs tremble with pleasure. You were so incredibly wet, so worked up that it surprised even you how easily he made you unfold.

You could feel his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck, where he was nipping at slowly, murmuring soft praises interlaced with the filthiest of things that could sound so sexy only slipping over Satoru Gojo’s tongue. His skillful fingertips brushed a little lower, gathering your slick and teasing your entrance painfully. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, needy for what his hands have to offer and he was quick to provide. One of his long fingers slipped into you with ease, entering your warm walls and pushing a breathy whimper from your throat. Satoru reached so far, way further than you could ever even try to reach. And then the subtle burn from the stretch came, when the second finger followed; the heel of his palm pressed tightly to your clit. With the way he moved in and out, pushing and pulling at your nerves, curling his digits inside of you and pressing every oversensitive button along his way – all of it was driving you insane.

The stars were overflowing your vision, the glittering particles of pleasure dancing right in front of your eyes and you couldn’t even care about keeping yourself from breathing out his name. The heat searing at your core spread throughout your entire body, setting it alight with its sparks. You felt like a volcano was erupting inside of you, the hot lava now flowing through your veins instead of blood, pumped sharply with the deft movements of Satoru’s fingers.

A surge of pleasure electrocuted your system, seething tendrils of blissful lust followed every push and pull of his digits. Your thighs began to tremble, your walls were contracting rapidly, clenching around him. Your breath got caught inside your lungs and those stars before your eyes began dancing around, blinding you with white.

“Think you can take the third one?”, Gojo asked, his mouth right next to your ear before he bit onto the petal of it. He challenged you with the question but wasn’t expecting the answer for it. Something incoherent slipped through your lips, following with a moan when he added another dose of stretch to your throbbing pussy, filling you to the impossible levels with the third fingers that still, slipped in with ease. He was almost too much, it sent you overboard with the excitement that got you spiraling into the bliss, head first, full speed. Your entire body tensed, your hand clenched around his forearm, but he didn’t falter from the torturous pace he’s set. Orgasm began overtaking your body in waves of ecstasy that was rushing through you every time he moved.

Your entire form shook underneath his touch, your mind was a blurred out, hazy mess and you were getting lost, drowning in the waves of climax and as he curled his fingers once more, pressing the most sensitive spot inside your velvety walls with all of his might, the knot in your stomach snapped. His name began escaping your mouth unknowingly, breathlessly repeated like a prayer, feeding into his ego as you came all over his hand. The orgasm came with the intensity that shot you straight onto the cloud nine, overwhelming you completely. Your eyes closed shut, your breath was racing just as the heart in your chest.

Gojo slowed down, leading you through the high and eventually, he pulled his hand out.

“Ah, what a mess you made,” he teased, smearing the milky white residues between his soaked fingers. You could barely hear him, but you didn’t need to, to know that he’s gonna tease you for that forever.

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oliversrarebooks · 8 months ago

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The Rare Bookseller Part 50: Frank's Mistake

Prev > Masterlist > Next

tw: hypnosis

July 1905

It was hot as blazes out, even in the dead of night, and sweat was pouring off Frank's brow and rolling down his back as he waited in the filthy alley. It was much too hot to wear a leather jacket, but he wasn't stupid enough to go hunting without some protection from fangs and knives, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

Going home empty-handed wasn't an option, not tonight. His gambling debts were catching up with him at a rate his part-time kitchen gig would never cover. He feared bookies more than he feared bloodsuckers. After all, he couldn't ram a stake through the heart of a bookie, not unless he wanted to end up in jail.

And so, here he was, pursuing the lowest of low hanging fruit -- the fledglings that tended to gather on Sparrow Road near the railroad tracks. The payout was small but practically guaranteed, as long as he waited long enough. He just had to stake some unfortunate freshly-risen corpse, pull the fangs, and plunk them down at the guild for a reward. Far less rewarding than staking an old vampire with a manor full of loot, but beggars can't be choosers.

He was leaning his head against the brick, looking up at the moon, wishing a cool breeze would break the sweltering heat, when...

...he heard something odd. Something like music. Something that pulled on his attention.

A drunkard or merrymaker singing, perhaps? But the music wasn't raucous or off-key, it was...

...beautiful...

Only the softest of alarm bells rang in his mind as he left his hidden post to go wandering down the street in search of the source of the song. There were no vampires around anyway. He'd go look, and be back to his vigil in a few minutes.

The beautiful music grew louder as he stumbled into an alcove between buildings, finally finding the singer. He was a young man, pale and handsome under the moonlight, with possibly the most gorgeous voice that Frank had ever heard, one that wrapped around him like a warm blanket and coaxed him gently forward.

He was a vampire.

Shit!

That's what that delicious feeling trickling down his spine was -- enthrallment. He'd felt it before, of course, but never this strong, never so thick in his mind that trying to think was like wading through molasses, never catching him so off guard that he very nearly fell for it.

Relax... don't fight...

He reached for his silver knife, his limbs already heavy and slow. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from being taken entirely by that maddening voice.

The vampire didn't seem threatened in the slightest, even once Frank's clumsy fingers managed to pull the knife from its sheath. He stepped closer, his song intensifying, with a placid expression and piercing blue eyes. Frank tried to raise the knife, to assume a defensive posture, to do anything, anything at all, but sway in time to the vampire's song.

Relax, relax... no need to fight... no need to resist...

Why... why was his enthrallment so goddamned strong? Why did it feel so... so... so infuriatingly good?

The knife slipped from his hands and clattered to the cobblestones as the vampire closed the distance between them.

"You can relax," said the vampire in a musical tone. "Just relax. I'm not going to harm you."

"Like hell," he said through gritted teeth, using all his willpower to resist. The vampire was so close. All he had to do was grab a stake and end it. If he didn't... well, he'd seen plenty of what happens to those enthralled by vampires.

He just had to... grab a stake...

"Relax, hunter. You don't need that."

The vampire had the stake in his hand, tossing it aside. When did he --

He was going to die here. No, worse. He was going to be hypnotized by a vampire, made into one of their blood bag slaves. It had happened so fast, his mind snared by the song in an instant.

He'd let his guard down, too focused on his desperation and assuming that the only vampires near Sparrow Road would be weak fledglings. This vampire was obviously one of their nobility -- despite his simple dress, his bearing and power made that all too clear. He'd pay for this mistake for the rest of his life.

"Shh, shh." The vampire ruffled his hair with something like affection, leaning in close. "Just relax now, and let your mind quiet. Quiet, so that you can listen to me."

"I -- I don't --"

The vampire tilted Frank's chin up to gaze into his eyes, so blue, so deep, like the ocean. His song was deep as well, rolling like the tides, Frank's mind floating on the waves of the vampire's will.

So this was what it was like. So this was why so many thralls they rescued were in dazed bliss. Despite the threat to his life, it felt incredible.

"You can rest, hunter. I swear I will not harm you. You can rest so safe and deep in my control."

"In... your..." His body had long ceased struggling, his arms heavy and hanging limply by his side, his head slowly lolling in time with the vampire's beautiful voice. Only the smallest of sparks in his mind remained. "You... you've hypnotized me," he said dumbly.

"Yes, I have. You're completely under my control now. But you have nothing to fear."

It was true, wasn't it? He couldn't move, could barely talk, and his ability to think was being stolen away by the moment. After all these years, he'd finally been caught. He'd be made a slave in this vampire noble's manor, his mind ensorcelled. His only hope would be one of his fellow hunters coming to destroy this monster and rescue him.

But who among the hunters could stand against this monster's voice, his irresistible aura?

Be still, the voice called to him, and he was so still, in body and in mind. Be still and listen. Relax and listen. Listen...

He blinked his heavy eyelids. Yes, he would listen. He'd listen to anything this vampire had to say. He'd listen to this song forever. He understood now why some thralls kicked and screamed to resist being rescued.

"Believe it or not, I actually wish to hire you -- but I didn't think the guild would take kindly to a vampire striding in among them with a job. I have a task that requires a hunter. Many hunters, in fact."

"I'll do it..." His voice slurred, thick with drowsy enchantment.

"That's a good hunter," said the vampire, and Frank's heart soared. "Your task is to kill a vampire, actually, one far more of a threat to humanity than I am. Does that interest you?"

"I'm good at killing vampires. I can kill a vampire for you."

"The vampire in question is far more powerful than I am -- that's why it will take more than one. As many as I can hypnotize, really, and the more experienced, the better."

Frank nodded slowly.

"You wish to serve me, don't you?" the vampire hummed in his ear.

"Yes..."

"This is all you need to do for me tonight. I want you to go back to your guild and let them know that there are several dangerous vampires preying on humans in Bellwood Park. I wish for you to gather two or three of your companions and bring them there in the next few nights. When you arrive at Bellwood Park, you will not warn your companions in any way when you hear the sound of my voice. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"You'll help make sure they listen, just as you are. You want them to be as relaxed and content as you are right now, don't you?"

"Yes... they need to listen..."

"You won't breathe a word of me or my powers to anyone between now and then. This experience will seem like a distant, hazy dream until you hear my voice again. But you'd do anything to hear my voice again, wouldn't you?"

"Anything..."

"That's right, hunter, you're doing so well." The vampire hummed gently in his ear, further melting his mind into bliss. "Now let's repeat that a few times to make sure it all sinks in..."

Be quiet and listen.

And he did.

---

When Lex opened the door to his manor, he found the windows open to the night air, the gas lamps cheerfully flickering, and bright guitar music coming from the music room. The smell of bacon and eggs still hung in the air from his thrall's breakfast, as did the delectable scent of human.

After so many lonely years, his manor felt like a home instead of a grave.

He wanted to rush to greet Fitz, but it wouldn't do with the hunter's sweat all over his hands. It was a sordid business, but a necessary one. There was no doubt that no matter how many hunters he bound to his cause, no matter how much information and advantage he gave them, many would fall by his sire's hand.

But wouldn't a vampire hunter wish to die nobly in the service of destroying a great evil? They wouldn't die by his hand, but the Maestro's, and many other humans would be spared by their sacrifice.

Truthfully, there was only one human whose safety concerned him.

Lex washed thoroughly to rid himself of the stench of fear and exertion, reflecting on the night's work as he splashed water onto his face. Tonight's find had been a lucky one, a seasoned hunter found by chance near a fledgling haunt, one who had connections to the guild. With luck, he'd bring more compatriots with him next time. It was a risky business to enthrall several trained hunters at once, but Lex was confident in his abilities. None had ever resisted his voice long enough to pose a threat.

Satisfied, he opened the door to the music room to find his precious thrall strumming his precious guitar, the gas light illuminating his golden hair. He looked up at Lex with that cheeky grin. "Well, good evening, sir, I was wondering where you were."

"I had some matters to attend to."

"Ah, yes, matters. That explains everything, sir." He laughed. "Is there anything I can do for you? I'm eager to serve, Master," he said, jovially sarcastic.

Oh, he was such a pleasure. So full of life. So blissfully unaware of how deeply he was ensorcelled. The perfect thrall, all for Lex to enjoy.

This was why. This was why he was going to risk himself consorting with hunters. This was why he had to kill his sire now, before he took Lex's precious thrall away and broke him, a treasure he'd never regain once lost. This was worth putting everything on the line.

His need was rising within him, spurred on by Lex's earlier expenditure of magic and the delicious aroma of blood that permeated the music room. "I think I would quite like to feed, if that's all right with you."

Fitz's hand dropped off the guitar strings, his eyes going wide and glassy on cue. "Yes, Master," he half-whispered, no hint of teasing in his voice now. "Please, Master, drink. I'm all yours."

"Yes," he said, taking the guitar away and settling it onto the stand. He sat down next to Fitz, cupping his chin in his hand. "Yes, you are. You're mine."

"I'm yours, sir."

Lex hummed in Fitz's ear. Unlike with the hunter, he didn't need to push obedience into Fitz's mind. It was already there, just under the surface, easily pulled to the forefront by Lex whenever he needed it. Instead, he gave Fitz the only thing he really seemed to want: to be wanted.

I want you, I want you, I want you.

Fitz gasped as Lex's fangs pierced the place where his neck met his shoulder, making truly indecent noises and gripping the back of Lex's shirt as Lex hungrily lapped at the blood. It was so impossibly delicious, like no other blood he had tasted, and Lex would do anything to be able to drink it for the rest of his days.

There was no doubt about it -- he was having feelings towards Fitz which were highly inappropriate to have towards a thrall.

As he drank, he could feel his memories and thoughts mixing with Fitz's, and welcomed the sensation, eager for Fitz to know how much he was cherished. In Fitz's thoughts, he could feel warm sunshine on his skin, the taste of a crisp apple in his mouth, the riotous colors of flowers in the spring. He could feel human. Almost human enough to love Fitz.

But he wasn't human. It was a fleeting illusion caused by their connection. He loved Fitz, but only in the ways a vampire could: the desire to possess, to control, to consume.

And Fitz would never love him in the ways of a human, either. He was hypnotized to feel pleasure and crave his master's feeding. Fitz's love was also nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

But the illusion of sunshine was far better than none at all, and Lex was tired of denying his cravings for so long.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Wow, I can't believe it's been fifty parts of The Rare Bookseller! Thanks for reading this far, and thank you so much for all the reblogs, comments, and appreciation!

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump

#whump #whump writing #vampire whump #vampire whumper #vampire hunter #hypnosis #mind control #vampires #rare bookseller #alexander #fitz #frank

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anamenooneowns · 2 years ago

Text

Urges

Summary: Jennifer is always greedy for you.

AN: i rewatched jennifer's body last night so i wanted to make a spicy fic. its just our cannibal, succubus girlfriend loving up on her chubby girl. enjoy!

Pairing: Jennifer Check x Chubby black reader

Warnings: Dub-con (not previously consented demonic hypnotizing), no use of y/n (Angel isn't your name, it's a nickname), fucked grammar, degradation, biting, smacking (like once), cursing, almost caught, possible voyeurism (not really just tryna cover all the bases, these also sound like porn tags)

MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

This wasn't good. No- it wasn't good at all. This was terrible, in fact. What the fuck were you thinking? Anyone could see you here.

But as Jennifer's tongue slid up through your folds, parting them like Moses did the goddamn Red Sea- it was the best decision you've made in your life. Her plump lips pursed around your swollen clit, gathering spit to the front of her mouth to rub over the throbbing nub over, and over, and again. Your leg was thrown over her shoulder, and for a girl so skinny, it was surprising that she didn't falter at your weight pressing down on her at all.

It was your fault that you looked so precious wearing the crop top that you had taken from her closet. The spandex pressed your tits together while creating a delicious spillage she was quickly developing a taste for in Biology. And now she was having her fill in the gym locker rooms when you were both supposed to be practicing a new routine.

"Jen- Jen, fuck," you mewled. It was hard to focus on the door where anyone could come in when she was doing that thing with her tongue. "Any... anyone c'n come in."

Jennifer pulled away to laugh at your slurred words, rubbing your clit with her thumb to keep you just at the edge. "Oh, they can come in, can't they, Angel?" she mocked your moaning voice. "Then I guess the smart thing to do would be to shut your whore mouth, right?" the drop of her voice was cold and sudden.

Your sucked your trembling bottom lip into your mouth, stifling your tears at her nasty words even though your nipples were twisting into thick, hardened peaks against your cheer shirt. Her eyes locked onto your chest and she pushed your shirt up with her free hand, a dulcet noise coming from her throat as your heavy tits fell out of them.

"Fuck." she huffed out a laugh, rising from her haunches slowly as she pressed kisses up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. "For someone so scared they're gonna be seen, it feels like you're just getting wetter and wetter," she hissed in your ear like a dirty secret.

Jennifer punctuated her sentence with a sharp smack against your pussy, eliciting a squelch that sounded so nasty- so lewd that your knees buckled.

It took a moment to realize that you never hit the ground. Then another to register that Jennifer Check was holding you, above the ground, against the lockers, as if you were weightless. She dropped to her knees now, settling your legs over her shoulders to return to licking the honeyed sweetness you were dripping. All for her. The feeling of her mouth and fingers pleasuring you made your concern slip from your mind, head nodding off as the rise of your orgasm coiled and got hot in your belly.

"Ohgodohgod- wanna cum. Jen.. Jen, lemme cum, baby- please."

Collective laughter in the hallway almost distracted you. Almost. Jennifer's teeth sharpened and she moved her face away from your cunt to bite your thigh, smiling when you cried out in pain. "If you wanna cum, then you keep those eyes on me, Angel. Or maybe you want them to see us, see how good of a little slut you are for me, letting me eat your pussy out?"

It was adorable how you shook your head even though she could hear you chanting 'yes' in your mind. All the times she wondered where your head went off to before she was cursed had been answered. The scenarios of the salacious, perverted things you wanted her to do to you and vice versa made her write a checklist in her diary at home. This was just number five that you and her would both be crossing off soon.

It was when you started hearing the words of your fellow friends and cheerleaders that your diverted your attention again. Jennifer growled and pulled away, slick dripping down her chin, lipgloss smudged. "Angel. Look. At. Me."

Your pretty brown eyes locked onto hers and the sparkle in them started to fade as you fell into her hypnosis. Her demonesque eyes dilated at the sight of you, jaw half-open and eyes lidded as you looked down at her.

There we go, now you gotta work for it yourself, sweet girl.

You carded your fingers through Jennifer's hair before stopping at the back of her head, rolling your hips forward. Jennifer moaned as your eyes rolled back, riding her face at an angle where your clit bumped against her nose with every hump. She sucked your inner folds into her mouth, teasing their lineation with her tongue to scoop your cream into her mouth before letting them go.

The doorknob twisted and turned from across the room but it didn't open. A muffled collection of groans echoing in the hallway from sweaty and tired cheerleaders at the jammed door. It made her want to laugh at how you were getting a much different workout in here.

When your hips started stuttering and frustrated whines spilled from your swollen lips at missing her nose from rutting so desperately, she grabbed the undersides of your thighs. God, you were so warm and soft. The feeling made her hungry. And the second she felt her teeth shift and sharpen, cheeks thinning to accommodate an unhinged jaw–she slammed the door on the feeling. Looking back to your soulless, brown eyes she couldn't- wouldn't succumb to her newly cannibalistic urges.

Instead, she focused on how she could have cum alone from how sopping wet and sticky your pussy was as she pushed her ring and middle finger inside your walls. It felt like hot silk as she curled them inside of you, slowly letting go of her reigns on your mind. The light in your eyes flickered on and your brows drew together, a sob leaving your lips as you looked down at her glacier blue eyes. Did you black out?

When she put her mouth back on your cunt, you quickly agreed that you did because who wouldn't go unconscious from such good pussy eating?

"S'right there- stop, Jenny, wai-wait!" you babbled, trying to tuck your hips back, away from her dangerous mouth.

Whatever the noise she made though, something guttural and warning, stilled you as chills ran up your spine. Your body shuddered, head tilting against the lockers and eyes rolling back as you squirted into her waiting mouth.

She drank as if she had been deprived of water, refusing to waste a drop before crooning, "My pretty Angel," between breaths of air. She made out with your pussy as soon as she caught her breath, swirling her tongue through your swollen vulva until you were wet with her spit and whining.

"Alright, I'm done. C'mon, Angel-baby," her voice was softer as she lowered your legs to the floor, wrapping a thin arm behind your waist because she didn't trust you not to fall.

Your eyes fluttered open when she started peppering kisses over your neck, and the kisses stopped once your eyes latched onto hers. "C'mon, I'll walk you back home, s'not safe to be alone."

You didn't argue that she would then be alone, knowing that she'd brush your concerns off with a mind-numbing kiss. And you also didn't say a word when you watched her tuck your panties into her bag unabashedly.

When you walked into the hallway it was clear, and confusion clouded your face. Jennifer didn't have to look at you to know you were confused about what happened to your cheer squad coming toward the locker room.

"The door was jammed silly, duh." Jennifer said. "You know we always get lucky when we're in public like this," her hand crept up your skirt and you squealed as she squeezed the fatty flesh.

"Jenny, anyone could have seen my ass!" you whispered angrily, lips scrunching into a pout.

She stopped walking and grabbed your jaw, kissing you in the middle of the empty basement. Her tongue pushed into your mouth, impatient- everything was always impatient with Jennifer. Your gasp is swallowed as she presses her tongue against yours, the potent taste of you being dressed over your tongue. Pulling away, she swipes your bottom lip and collects the string of saliva connecting your mouths to pop it into her own. "They wouldn't live another day to even talk about my girlfriend's pretty ass."

You rub your lips together, moisturizing them with what was left of Jennifer's strawberry flavored gloss. Finally, you sweetly say. "Well then.. I guess it's okay."

God, you really were an Angel. Always willing and okay to let Jennifer do whatever she wanted.

As you both kept walking, Jennifer's hand rubbing your ass, she decided you didn't need to know that she literally would tear someone limb from limb for you. Or that the door to the locker room wasn't actually jammed and she had locked it from the start, the key shoved in her bra.

It was late when you and Jennifer finally got off of facetime, you insisting that she at least do this for you the moment she dropped you off so you could see her get home safely. You grabbed your pajamas which was really only panties and a tank-top you stole from your girlfriend before going into the bathroom.

You peeled off your cheer uniform, and that's when you felt it. Hissing, you turn to the mirror in your bathroom and raise your leg.

It felt like an icy hand clutched your heart as you looked at the ellipsis of small holes decorating your inner thigh. The oxidized reddish-brown blood was smeared all over it and there was only a one-word question that flitted through your mind.

Jennifer?

#jennifer check #jennifers body #demon lovin #demoness #x reader #x black fem reader #x black!fem!reader #x black reader #x black plus size reader #x chubby reader #fxf smut #fxf #jennifer's body #x black!reader #black fanfiction #fanfic

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5-puthyyy · 1 month ago

Text

The Magick That Binds Us (Agatha x Rio)

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 6k

Summary:

“What exactly is your plan now, then?” Agatha asks, taking a different approach hoping to talk her way out of this, “You haven’t thought this through, clearly. Are you just going to stand there, gaping like a fish? Staring at what you can’t have?”

Rio snaps her head to Agatha, frowning at her words. “I already have you…” she claims, pulling her dagger out of her boot. Agatha gulps, clenching her hands into tight fists.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Agatha panics as Rio gently presses the blade to her neck, just above the collar of her buttoned shirt, “You can’t kill me. That’s not allowed.”

Rio grins, wide and wild. “Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart…I’m only giving you a little death.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Agatha tries to set Rio up but really she set herself up for a good old fashioned hate fuc---

WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT, CHOKING + BLOODPLAY + BREATHPLAY + FACE SLAPPING + (does vine-fucking count as monster fucking? help?) + RESTRAINTS

The Magick That Binds Us

For as long as she can remember, Agatha has been running. Running from Death who, despite being on this plane since the beginning of time, can’t seem to take a goddamn hint. Agatha feels she is well within her rights to want Rio dead, to want to never see her face again, to want her gone and out of her life. What she did is unforgivable.

But Agatha cannot force her feelings to disappear. Rio was her first love, her forever love. She knows deeper in her bones Rio is her destiny and she cannot outrun that. But it is far easier to hate her than love her, and are love and hate not different sides of the same coin?

“Agatha…” Rio’s voice echoes in the dark cabin Agatha had managed to lure her into, “Come out, sweetheart,” she continues, her voice playful and beautifully honeyed as it always is, “You’ll have to stop running eventually, my love.”

My love. Gods, Agatha hated that phrase now. She begged and begged for her love to do the right thing, to be there for her, but duty will always come first for Rio. Always. And Agatha had to be the one to suffer the consequences.

Agatha cackles a wicked laugh from the shadows, bouncing from wall to wall. Death tilts her head at the sound, trying to locate it but finding nothing but weak wood and barred windows. “My, my, the years have not been good to you, dear,” Agatha husks, her voice slithering around Rio’s neck.

“I’m in mourning,” Rio says simply, blunt and honest as she explains her new all-black attire. Agatha’s jaw tightens at her words, already feeling the anger within her rise to the surface.

“What do you have to mourn? You took everything from me!” she screeches, her voice no longer bouncing but coming straight from up the broken stairs.

Rio turns to face the direction of her voice. “I lost him too, Ag–”

“Quiet!” She yells, the sound disgruntled, twisted and angry, monstrous. Finally, she makes her appearance, stepping down the stairs from the shadows. She looks…Gods, she looks beautiful. So beautiful and broken. Rio can’t help the quiver in her lips as she frowns.

“Time looks great on you,” Rio whispers, clasping her hands behind her back to prevent them from reaching out. Agatha’s hair flows down her back in waves, still brown even in the darkness of this cabin. Her hands look skinnier, longer, somehow, fingers threateningly twirling the air. But those eyes. She’s opted for dark purple shadows that brighten the light blues in her eyes. She’s hypnotic.

“Tryna catch flies, hun?” Agatha teases as she begins circling the unmoving Green Witch. Rio stays in her spot, unable to move, terrified to move actually. She’s finding it a lot harder than she thought she would; being this close to Agatha for the first time in decades, that is. She missed her more than she could put into words. Rio has always been weak for Agatha, only her, so having to keep her hands to herself is proving to be a challenge, “Pathetic.”

Rio shakes her head at that, frowning at the cruelty of her love. She was never cruel to her, before. Agatha used to shower her with gifts, with love and affection, with that smile that shone so bright even Death couldn’t stop herself from being covered in the light of it. Now, all she can see is pain, sorrow, grief. It’s dark and dingy, wicked and sinister; there’s nothing pure, real, tangible in Agatha’s eyes as she observes Rio, circling her with the confidence of a Goddess.

She’s hiding, Rio realises; from Rio, from herself, from the grief that is threatening to consume her soul. “There is nothing pathetic about wanting you,” Rio replies smoothly, adoringly, not hiding the devotion in her wide eyes as Agatha’s pacing comes to a stop in front of her, “You know you cannot kill me,” Rio whispers, finally brave enough to reach a hand towards her witch.

Agatha aggressively slaps her hand away before it can reach her. “I can sure make it hurt, though,” she pushes through gritted teeth, smirking before lifting her hands in the air. Rio rolls her eyes adoringly, thinking if there was anyone on this plane more dramatic than Agatha, Death has yet to claim them. “Stop looking at me like that,” Agatha grumbles, pushing her hands forward.

The two stand in awkward silence for a moment, waiting. Rio lifts a brow. “Now what?” she says bluntly. Agatha grunts, using her fists instead. She takes a swing but it’s easily diverted, causing her to stumble forward into Rio’s waiting arms, “Hi there,” she smiles, wrapping her arms around Agatha’s reluctant form.

“Get the fuck off me, imbecile! What did you do?” She shoves and shoves while Rio sighs happily, burying her face in her lover’s neck.

Agatha wonders why her Magick is not working in her own rune-protected space, desperately trying to conjure up the smallest of spells to get Rio away from her. She can’t do this, she can’t be this close to her. The scent of soil, death, mixed with that smallest touch of jasmine is too much for Agatha’s still-wounded heart. She can’t get mixed up in her again, not now, not like this.

“Did you really think runes would work on the Green Witch? You’re smarter than that, my love,” Rio chuckles, laying a gentle kiss against Agatha’s neck. The witch squirms in Rio’s arms, pushing against her chest, fighting to no avail. She remains locked in there, forced to endure the torture of this intimacy, “Look around you,” she encourages, humming in praise when Agatha listens.

“What is this?” The witch mutters, glancing around at the lit-up runes around the cabin. Rio lets go for a moment, giving Agatha her moment for reality to soak in, “How did you–”

Rio chuckles darkly, pulling her black hood back to reveal her own dramatic change. “What was the plan, Agatha?” With a swipe of her hand, a vine comes out of the ceiling, twisting around one of Agatha’s wrists, “Lure me here with angry, desperate cries?” Another vine appears, grabbing the other wrist, much to Agatha’s angry protests, “Runes…And you call me pathetic? This attempt was pathetic. I didn’t think you were capable of underestimating me, sweetheart, but here we are,” The runes flash green, indicating Rio replacing Agatha’s sketchy ones with her own.

Agatha remains silent, trying to think of a way out of this. She tugs at the vines but they’re indestructible, unmoving. Before she can think up anything else, another two rip through the air and grab at her ankles, “Vidal, if you don’t let me go, I swear to you I will not rest until you meet your end!” she sneers, suspended in the air now. Her knees are bent, calves pressed to the back of her thighs, arms behind her back. Rio twists a finger, the vines twisting to her will until Agatha’s facing her ex-lover.

“I already have,” she whispers, trailing a finger down the side of Agatha’s jaw. She hovers over Agatha’s pulse point, feeling the fast throb of her heart, in awe of how it quickens as she steps closer, “Why don’t you want me?” Rio whines, sniffing hard as she buries her face in the space where Agatha’s neck and shoulder meet.

The witch sighs, throwing her head back at the proximity. “You know why.”

It’s a simple answer that requires no explanation. But Rio demands one, needs one, needs a solution to their problem. “I had no choice,” Rio says quietly, more to herself than Agatha, voice trembling, quivering, fingers dangerously low on Agatha’s hips now.

“There is always a choice, Vidal. Always,” Agatha replies, her tone stern, unmoving.

Rio smirks at that, stepping back, noting the subtle way Agatha rolls her body forward. “Oh, yeah? Get out then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agatha spits, grinding her teeth together so hard Rio can hear it in the silence between them.

Rio laughs again, a sound bordering a snort this time. “No, no, go on. If there’s a choice, get yourself out of my vines and leave,” Rio leans in close again, the tips of her fingers brushing over Agatha’s waist, twisting and turning to her lower back, “We both know you’re clever enough to do so…unless you don’t want to leave,” she smiles against the back of Agatha’s neck, dramatically licking a long strip of skin, “Unless you want me.”

“I don’t,” Agatha insists, shuffling and tugging against the vines, “I don’t,” she sneers again when Rio circles back to her with a proud smirk.

Rio takes her moment to really look at Agatha, at the twitch in her brow, the slight gulp, the way the tip of her tongue peeks out to lick at her lower lip. She’s turned on.

The smirk only widens and so does that warmth in her chest. “You can deny it as much as you wants but we’re bound to be together,” Rio lets out a loud ‘HA’ at her pun, much to Agatha’s frustration. The witch simply rolls her eyes at the stupidity, sighing in defeat.

Rio snaps her head to Agatha, frowning at her words. “I already have you…” she claims, pulling her dagger out of her boot. Agatha gulps, clenching her hands into tight fists.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Agatha panics as Rio gently presses the blade to her neck, just above the collar of her buttoned shirt, “You can’t kill me. That’s not allowed.”

Rio grins, wide and wild. “Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart…I’m only giving you a little death.”

With that, Rio uses the dagger to rip right through the white shirt, revealing Agatha’s lacy green bra. The buttons scatter across the floor as the tip of her dagger catches them.

“Wore this for me?” The Green Witch sighs, wasting no time as she nuzzles between Agatha’s breasts. Her witch suppresses a sigh at the feeling, choosing to thrash against the vines, still suspending in the air.

“Oh, don’t fucking flatter yourself,” Agatha grumbles defensively, huffing in frustration as Rio sucks an angry mark onto the top of her breast. The discomfort of this position is already dawning on Agatha; it’s even more uncomfortable with the growing wetness between her thighs.

Gods, she fucking hates her. She hates how Rio makes her feel, hates the power and control she’ll always have over her, hates that Rio always gets to take and give nothing in return. And most important of all, Agatha fucking hates how much she loves it. The chase, the danger, the thrill of that dagger against her throat knowing that she’s tied and unable to stop her. Rio could kill her right now, or take her right now, and the choice is entirely in her hands. But Agatha will never tell Rio how badly she wants this, wants her all the time.

“Are you going to fuck me or leave me hanging?” Agatha asks, clearly trying to entice Rio to take the first option.

“Ha,” Rio snorts, pulling back to hold Agatha’s cheek in her hand. She takes a moment to look into her eyes, trace her slightly aged features, still as beautiful as ever, “You’ve been a bad girl, Agatha,” Rio whispers, voice low and dark as she leans in, teasingly swiping the tip of her tongue over Agatha’s parted lips, “And bad girls gets punished.”

It was frankly impossible for Agatha not to let out a whimper at that, the tiniest of whimpers ever but loud enough for Rio to hear – she must have, given the look of pure glee that takes over her features. With that, Rio quickly pecks Agatha’s lips with a whispered, “Love you,” before circling a finger in the air.

“Hate you,” Agatha sneers back, yelling in anger as she’s spun around by the vines, body twisted and positioned like a ragdoll. She’s facing the floor now, her legs lowered, her behind towards Rio. It takes her a moment, only when the breeze hits her skin, for her to realise Rio magically removed the rest of her clothes.

“I think I’ll keep these,” the Green Witch contemplates, greedily tucking Agatha’s lace panties into the back pocket of her pants, “Look at you…” Rio whispers, sighing contentedly as she indulges in feeling the soft skin of Agatha’s thighs, “So beautiful, Agatha…Always so pretty for me.”

To mark the end of her words, Rio suddenly slaps a hand to a plump ass cheek. Pushed forward by the pressure of the hit, Agatha swallows her grunt, swallows her pride, utterly exposed in this position. She won’t give Rio the satisfaction of hearing her whimper and beg like a–

“Fuck, God,” A loud whine rips out of Agatha’s throat as Rio’s hand suddenly slaps against her glistening lower lips.

The Green Witch lets out a dark chuckle, slithering a finger between Agatha’s slit. “Not God, sweetheart. You’ll be stuck with me for this life…and the next,” she rasps, punctuating her words with another spank to Agatha’s cunt. Agatha barely had time to react with a moan before she choked on the sound, taken by surprise as Rio slapped harder, this time leaving her hand to linger.

“Fuck you,” she curses, teeth grinding together in anger.

Rio merely smiles wickedly, fingers tracing wet folds and sliding between them teasingly. Death has not just felt power; she is power. But nothing can beat this, her, taking Agatha and making her submit. It was one thing at the start of their relationship, being able to touch someone as beautiful as her witch, being wanted in that way, whimpering at the whispered promises of forever in Agatha’s gentle fingertips that pressed to her shoulder blades. But after…after Nicky, after Agatha left her, blamed her, blurred the line between love and hate…after that, it became about power. Not because Rio wanted it to, but because it had to. Agatha gave no love and wanted none in return. And Rio had promised to always give her love what she wanted.

“All you have to do is ask.”

The air is sucked out of Agatha’s lungs as Rio’s fingers plunge into her, starting at a rapid pace with no plans to slow. All the while, Rio continues with her ramblings and Agatha tries to ignore her words and focus on the mix of pain and pleasure between her legs.

“I really am hurt, Agatha,” Rio grunts, using her free hand to spank Agatha’s reddening ass cheek, eyes wide and eager as she watches the pale skin change, “Not that you set this all up to try to kill me, no, if anything that’s got me absolutely soaked for you,” with a flick of her fingers, the vines twist Agatha until her back is flush to Rio’s front, “You’ll get a taste of that soon enough,” she whispers into Agatha’s ear, teasingly biting her earlobe before flicking her back into her bent-over position, “No, I’m hurt that you thought you could do it.”

Agatha groans, rolling her eyes. “Oh, stop fucking talking and fuck me like you mean–”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

Agatha sucks in a sharp breath at the sound of Rio’s demon voice; dark, cold, detaching yet angry all at once. She felt that familiar mix of excitement and fear in her as this only meant one thing. Rio’s going to absolutely ruin her. She’ll tear her apart, break her down, make her forget everything and everyone but Rio.

Rio hums in approval, curling her fingers as she drags them inside Agatha’s tight walls. “Won’t call you what you want just yet…but keep it up and you’ll get your reward,” she husks, taking Agatha’s immediate silence as obedience.

Agatha means to speak up, means to argue and fight back, claw at Rio with her words, but nothing comes out. Nothing but her shaky breaths and stutters.

“Is that really all it took?” Rio asks patronisingly, “Huh? Oh, baby, I’m so sorry for taking this long to come back to you…” Rio soothes, her touch deceptively gentle as her fingertips trail up Agatha’s spine, “Has it been that long since you’ve been touched?” She asks with a smile as she runs a hand through Agatha’s locks.

But Agatha decides that she’s not done yet. She chuckles, low and dark. “Oh, now you’re about to truly be hurt…”

Rio’s hand freezes in her hair and Agatha can’t see a thing, can’t turn back to watch that smile drop. But she instantly feels it. Feels it in the angry curl of Rio’s fingers still gently fucking her, in her tightening hold of Agatha’s hair, in Rio’s ragged breathing.

“Who?” Rio utters a single word, a command. Despite Rio exuding power, Agatha remains strong in her defiance, choosing to stay silently smirking. With a disgruntled grunt, Rio pulls her fingers out, leaving Agatha with a harsh spank that catches her clit.

Agatha whines, managing to swallow only half the sound before it comes out. Rio’s suddenly in front of her in a puff of green, too impatient to simply walk. Her hand grips Agatha’s face, forcing her to bend her neck to look up into her angry, wide eyes.

“Name.”

The silence is thick between them, so thick Agatha feels she’ll choke on it soon if she doesn’t provide Death with an answer. Their eyes remain glued to each other, unblinking in a silent battle, Rio’s flashing with vulnerable jealousy she has always been terrible at hiding. Agatha nearly wants to laugh at it, at her innocence when it comes to human emotion despite the fact that she has been here longer than humans themselves, long enough to master it. But when it comes to Agatha…well, Rio has always been weak.

“Green looks good on you,” Agatha chooses to whisper teasingly, breaking the silence. It’s a tense moment or two as Rio decides what to do with her, her hand slowly loosening before sliding down inch by inch until she’s gripping Agatha’s neck, “What–Uh, what are you doing?” Agatha nervously stutters, knowing she’s pushed Rio far enough now. The raw, untamed aggression was always the one thing that would break Agatha’s front.

Rio stares into her eyes, sucking all the fear, the anticipation, the disobedience out of Agatha, her eyes flashing darkly before she squeezes. While Agatha’s distracted, gasping at the new sensation, Rio lifts her other hand and, without warning, slaps Agatha’s cheek. The sound echoes as Agatha gasps sharply. Yet it’s nowhere near as loud as the silence that follows. Agatha slowly turns her head back to Rio, her eyes wider, brighter yet darker at once, lips trembling. Her cheek’s already turning red from the impact but Rio can only see the storm in her eyes.

She clenches her jaw, her face flickering to her Death form for just a moment, but it’s enough to threaten her little witch whose eyes flutter beautifully. “I will not ask again.”

“Her name is Grace.”

The hand tightens until Agatha’s cheeks are red and the vein on her forehead protrudes. Rio only lets go when she feels that Agatha’s call to her is close, relishing in the desperate harsh breaths in for air. She steps back, keeping herself busy by using her Magick to form a chair for herself–No, a throne, made of branches, wrapped with vines that pull from the Earth. It breaks through the wooden floorboards as Agatha catches her breath in the back.

“Hm,” Rio hums as she descends, legs spread, arms resting as she watches over Agatha’s hanging figure, eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction watching her vines controlling Agatha’s body, “I’ll ask you that question again when I’m done with you. I expect a better answer.”

With another flick of her fingers, Agatha’s body’s flung around until she’s horizontal but slightly upright, just enough for her eyes to always meet Rio’s, legs spread for Rio to watch freely.

“What…” Agatha pants, frustration growing as Rio tilts her head from her throne, “Are you just planning to sit there and watch? What happened to me getting a taste, huh? Are you going to fuck me or have you forgotten how, hmm? All these years without practice must have–”

“How would you know?” Rio interrupts Agatha rudely, paying her offended expression no mind, “I was hurt, Agatha. You abandoned me. Rejected me. How would you know whether I sought comfort in the arms of another?”

The mere suggestion has Agatha’s jaw clenching, Rio watching the sharpness of it with satisfaction. “You wouldn’t.”

Rio lifts a brow. “Wouldn’t I?”

“No, you’re mi–” Agatha cuts herself off before the slip-up, lips quivering as she forces herself to look away before anger takes control of her. Maybe this was a mistake. Coming here thinking she could handle seeing Rio again, could forget the years they missed, could accept the fact that they were done and Rio would not wait forever for her.

The slip-up is too obvious for Rio not to notice, but instead of pride, she’s surprised that she only feels rage. “No, Agatha. You don’t get to have me. Not after what you’ve done,” she yells, her tone cutting sharp enough for Agatha to flinch, “All you get is punishment.”

With that, one of the vines twirling around starts to thicken, leaves floating to the ground. Agatha’s head snaps to it as it appears, wrapping, slithering up and around her inner thigh. “Wait,” Agatha suddenly pleads, having not expected Rio to pull something like this. She pulls at the restraints, grumbling, huffing and puffing as they refuse to loosen, “Rio, I’m–”

The Green Witch has no time to focus on Agatha’s use of her name – finally – before twisting her hand, controlling the thick vine that thrusts through Agatha’s entrance. Her witch moans deliciously at the invasion, no longer able to keep up her act. She wanted this, wants Rio, badly, given how wet she is.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Rio comments, amused at the way her vine slipped in with no struggle, “Someone’s eager,” she snickers, pulling a leg up to rest her foot on the edge of her throne. Her hand hangs over her knee languidly, content to sit there with a soft smirk as Agatha moans, groans, and whines at the relentless pace of the vine between her legs.

This is what she wanted all along. To be taken by Death, by the Green Witch, used and put on display for her satisfaction. The true punishment isn’t the slapping, the choking, the angry, brutal pace of her thrusts, no…the real punishment is taking her power from her.

“No clever retort? Hmm, Agatha? Nothing left to say?”

God, she loves how Rio says her name, insists on saying it all the time. She pronounces every letter, spells it out slowly, gently, like it’s the first and last time she’s saying it, like she’s trying to memorise the way it feels on her tongue. Agatha’s too focused on that to reply, too focused on seeking her pleasure, her walls tightening around the intruding vine. It’s thick enough to stretch her slightly, deliciously painful as it gives no warning, no time for adjustment; it simply takes, following Rio’s command because that’s all she wants to do to Agatha. It’s all she’s ever done. Take, take, take–

“Fuck you, you crazy fucking–” Before she can finish off her angry insult, her mouth is suddenly full. Her eyes widen in shock, meeting Rio’s eerily dark eyes and satisfied smirk.

“Speak up, sweetheart, I can’t hear you,” Rio cackles, swirling her fingers to control both thrusting vines, the one between Agatha’s lips and the thicker one between her legs. She’d be fucking her with something else right now if Agatha wanted her to, if she would only be good for her. But no, that would make Rio feel every inch of Agatha wrapped around her entire being and she can’t have that now. Agatha doesn’t deserve that. Not yet, anyway.

Instead, Rio sits back and observes her lover, pushing her own needs aside despite how uncomfortable her soaked panties feel right now. Her eyes stay locked to Agatha’s wide, fearful yet lustful ones, a silent question radiating from them. Rio leaves it unanswered, breaking her gaze to glance at the vine steadily pacing inside and out of Agatha’s mouth. Her lips split apart, plump, swollen, pink and glistening with her spit that had made its way down her neck. She follows the trail to Agatha’s chest, her dark nipples painfully hard, practically begging for Rio’s mouth to take them; she has to grip the armrest of her wooden throne to stop herself from pouncing.

The final act is the most enticing. She’s been hearing the obscene, wet squelching sounds but now that she’s looking at it, Rio finds her self-control wavering. She’s barely started yet Agatha looks utterly destroyed. Red, swollen pussy lips easily part for Rio’s vine that comes out coated in more and more of Agatha’s slick with each thrust. The patch of brown curls gleams from the wetness that has spread everywhere; her inner thighs, dripping down her pussy to her puckered hole, Rio’s sure it has to be on the fucking floor too.

Agatha senses Rio’s on the edge of the barrier and moans filthily around the vine invading her mouth. She attempts to roll her hips to the thrusts, wanting more and more, wanting Rio, God, she wants her so bad, wants to be wanted, needed so badly that Rio fucks her like an unrestrained monster.

“You–” Rio clears her throat at the croak, nails digging into the wooden armrest, “You’re enjoying this a little too much for a punishment,” she says weakly, trying to save herself some embarrassment at how affected she is by the sight, but she can feel the smugness in Agatha’s eyes and knows it hasn’t worked, “Guess I’ll have to fix that.”

Rio places two of her fingertips together, tilting her head in concentration as she zeroes in on Agatha’s cunt. Deciding she needs to hear Agatha first, she flicks her other hand, pulling the vine out of Agatha’s mouth with a wet pop. Her witch immediately gasps, coughing as she sucks in as much air as she can.

“Are you–Fuck,” Agatha throws her head back at the pleasure, feeling herself reaching closer and closer to the edge of that mountain, “Are you finally going to fuck me yourself or are you still too scared you won’t satisfy me?” she manages to tease, using all the tools in her box to try to push Rio over that edge.

Death simply looks up at her with knowing eyes, seeing right through her. She presses her fingertips together, looking Agatha directly in the eyes as she slowly pulls them apart. She takes in the wide, darkened blue eyes, the gasp, her lips parting, the whimper that slips out; Agatha’s body tenses completely, flexing her subtle muscles at the feeling, the realisation that Rio is making the vine buried deep inside her thicker.

“Fuck, Rio,” Agatha moans her name like a whispered prayer, breaking their heated gaze to throw her head back as her eyes roll, “Yes,” she hisses at the painful stretch, arching her back best as she can in her hanging position.

Rio drops her gaze quickly to Agatha’s cunt, breathing in sharply at the sight of her walls stretched, trying to throb and pulse around the big green vine but failing miserably. She’s ethereal. Rio’s heart swells, suddenly leaving her throne and walking over to Agatha like a magnet. She can’t help but reach out, brushing her fingertips up Agatha’s calves, along her inner thighs. Gathering a little slick between them, she pulls her trembling fingers to her lips, daring herself to stick a tongue out and taste what she’s been missing for so, so long.

Agatha cannot speak a word but her eyes, her body tell all as she watches excitedly. Taste me, they say. She rolls her hips upwards, take me, they say, ruin me, devour me, claim me.

With a deciding growl, one that surprises Agatha, Rio steps back, forcing herself to her throne. She twists her fingers until the vines retreat from Agatha’s holes, the witch immediately moaning in despair at the sudden emptiness.

“Rio,” She pleads, moans her lover’s name in the hopes of enticing her, “I’m close, so close, don’t you want to taste me? Feel me tight against your tongue?” She says absolutely everything but the word Rio needs. The Green Witch tilts her head, watching with a tight jaw as Agatha grinds her hips against the air, tugs her wrists against the vines that refuse to let go. She tugs and tugs until she yells in frustration.

“Tell me you want me,” Rio commands, her words coming with a tone of finality. It’s all Agatha can do to get what she wants. Rio’s making it clear that it is the only option.

“You want me,” Agatha retorts, trying to catch Rio off-guard, beat her at her own game. But she should know her better by now.

“I do,” She says simply, refusing to deny it, brutally, painfully, tenderly honest as she looks into Agatha’s annoyed eyes, “I want you, Agatha, I want to hold you, feel you around me, taste you, fuck you until you cry for me to stop. I want you, always.”

“Stop.”

She doesn’t stop, comes closer, fingers tracing Agatha’s jawline. “In all my existence, I have no wanted. Until you. Now all I know is want.”

“Stop it, Vidal.”

“Do you know how it feels, Agatha? To go your entire life with nothing, feeling nothing, wanting nothing. To have accepted that as what it is, just for your world to be flipped upside down. The aching…the longing…I spend every single second thinking about you, about kissing you, touching you, just looking at you is all I needed Agatha, but you left. Me. You left me, alone.”

“I–”

“Tell me. Do you feel it, too? Do you ache?” she punctuates the word with a flick of her finger, the tip of a vine brushing over Agatha’s clit, “Do you long?” another vine flicks hard over her nipple, “Do you think of me?”

Agatha refuses to speak, and despite Rio seeing how close she is to breaking, she still loses her patience. With another growl, she circles her hands facing the ground before lifting them up, breaking the flooring with a wooden platform just like her throne. It’s covered in soil, another flick allowing fresh azaleas to bloom. The vines wrap around it to secure it and before she knows it, Agatha’s lowered to lay on the platform.

The vines wrap around Agatha’s wrists and ankles, blinding her, stretching her. She doesn’t bother struggling, doesn’t bother tugging; it won’t work and they both know it. One look at Rio’s dangerously dark expression and Agatha decides the best thing to do is lay back in defeat. She drops her head, surprised when it hits softness instead of rough wood.

“I missed you, my love,” Rio husks, her fingertips burning against the skin of Agatha’s sweaty thighs. They follow the wet trail left in the mess of Agatha’s desire until they reach the pulsing heat between her legs. She takes a moment to tease, twirling the damp patch of impossibly soft curls between her fingers.

“Rio, just touch me,” Agatha begs. It’s right there at the tip of her tongue, and Rio senses it, gives in for a moment but not without a teasing glint in her eyes that lets Agatha know she’s plotting something. Before Agatha can say anything else in protest, Rio thrusts two fingers into her knuckle-deep. “Fuck, Rio,” Agatha chokes on her moan, arching her back into Rio’s touch as best as she can.

Rio growls at the sound of Agatha’s intoxicating moans, jumping up and mounting Agatha with untamed desire. Her tongue immediately finds Agatha’s neck, licking up from her collarbone to her ear, all while her fingers relentlessly thrust inside of her. The act of licking her neck is filthy, but Agatha loves it, throwing her head to the side to expose more of her neck to Rio’s mouth; the Green Witch eagerly bites down, creating mark after mark as if painting over a canvas.

“Say it,” Rio demands again, panting hotly into Agatha’s ear. She clings to her goal, needs to break Agatha’s walls down until there is nothing left but the raw truth.

But Agatha remains silent still and Rio takes that as disobedience. The witch arches into Rio’s touch, eyes rolled to the back of her head, lips parted like they the gates to paradise and Rio wants nothing more than to dive in and claim it. The way her warmth is tightening, throbbing around Rio’s fast fingers is more than enough to tell Rio she’s seconds away from falling over that edge. Which is why she pulls away.

“Fuck, no, no, you–you can’t–” Agatha’s words are sucked in as Rio’s hand smacks her across the face again. Her head turns right back in defiance, attempting to stand her ground.

Rio grins wickedly. “I can. I did,” she leans down, biting Agatha’s lower lip hard enough to draw blood which she eagerly licks up, “You want to come?” Rio asks mockingly, her hand coming down to grip Agatha’s neck, “You know what you need to do.”

The thrill and pain of this torture have Agatha at a crossroads. She feels on the verge of tears, orgasm, and murder all at once, and she’s unsure which she wants the most. But what she does know is all roads lead to Rio, and she really does only have one choice here.

“Please.”

Rio pauses, her smirk faltering at the unexpected turn. “What?” she whispers in shock, no quiet believing her ears. She takes in Agatha’s expression, her brown eyes wide, unblinking and observant; she refuses to miss a single shift. The way Agatha’s brow twitches slightly, the subtle quiver of her lips, her cheekbones sharp as her jaw as she bites her tongue and sucks in her pride.

Agatha sighs out a shaky breath, blinking once, long, her blue eyes shedding a layer to show Rio her willingness to be vulnerable. Of course, it’s only to get what she needs out of this, and they both know it, but Rio lets herself sink into the delusion that this is more. Agatha will want more, she will well and truly forgive her one day and love her not because she simply does, but because she wants to.

“Rio, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

It’s not exactly what Rio wants, but it’s enough. Her fingers find their way back to Agatha as does her heart; they both sink into the unforgiving witch with a tenderness gentle enough to bring tears to the soulless. She keeps her face buried in Agatha’s neck. Rio cannot bear to look at her, cannot bear the inevitable rejection, the humiliation of it all.

“Right there,” Agatha whimpers into Rio’s ear as her lover pumps three fingers into her tight heat. It’s fast, wet, loud, and suddenly incredibly tense as Rio’s silence amplifies the sound between Agatha’s legs. There’s a discomfort and eeriness to it, to a quiet Rio. Agatha’s unsure whether she likes it or not, which is a shock to her since all she’s wanted to do is shut the witch up.

“I’ll give you what you want, Agatha,” I always will, she thinks, but doesn’t dare say aloud. She fucks her, her fingers pumping almost mechanically, her thumb twisting up to brush against Agatha’s clit with each thrust, her tongue lapping gently, lips kissing, mouth sucking, teeth biting. The claim means nothing in the end. Agatha will run again because it is less painful than bearing the truth, accepting the Magick that binds them.

Agatha writhes beneath her, her whines turning into loud, wanting moans, desire as untamed as her hair. She’s been pushed to the edge over and over again all night, this should be easy now that Rio’s fingers are inside her. But something holds her back. She tightens and tightens, forces her eyes to shut as she concentrates on the building pleasure, but she reaches that edge and stays there, her body too stubborn to let her fall.

“Fuck, Rio, I–” Agatha groans in frustration, her tone shedding another mask, “I can’t, I need–”

Rio’s mouth hovers over her ear, always obedient and eager for Agatha. “What do you need?” she asks, gently kissing the skin of her ear, “My fingers are inside you, and I won’t stop. Is that not what you needed?” Rio continues, “Is it permission? You have it, Agatha, do what you like. Have it your way, as you always do,” Rio’s words scream devotion but her tone screams defeat and Agatha…Agatha hates it. And more importantly, she hates the way a defeated Rio makes her heart clench painfully in her chest. She doesn’t want this, no, not Rio like this, so broken, so detached. No, she wants her eyes, wants her lips, wants to feel Rio’s soul sink into hers until Rio is all she can feel.

“I want you.”

There is no mistaking the raw truth in her tone this time. Gone is the facade, the mask, the fear of vulnerability. Rio can hear it all, can see her, see what she truly wants. She slowly pulls her face away from Agatha’s neck but her eyes remain shut tight, terrified she’ll open them and see deception. Her fingers pause, curling inside Agatha like she’s attempting to carve herself into her lover.

Rio flinches at the sudden touch of a gentle hand to her cheek, the unexpected feeling forcing her eyes to snap open to meet the clear skies Agatha’s eyes are communicating to her. Gone is the storm and all that is left is…

“You. I want you, Rio. I need you, crave you, I ache for you more than you will ever believe,” she whispers, words too quiet as if she’s terrified of speaking them.

Rio lets them warm her heart as she sinks her body into Agatha. She lets herself go, wanting to be close and taking it, taking Agatha who wraps her legs around Rio’s waist and pulls her in as if she wants to mould their souls together.

“Agatha,” Rio whispers like a prayer, brushing her nose to her lover’s. She slowly begins to thrust her fingers again, sucking in the breath Agatha lets out. Their eyes remain locked together, lips brushing against each other with each powerful, deep thrust.

“More,” Agatha begs, “Please, more,” she begs, begs, begs and Rio cannot deny her, not while she’s like this, heart split open for Death to consume her.

“I would give you the world, if only you would ask,” Rio pants in confession, whining and whimpering as Agatha’s nails find the back of her neck, “I–I did all I could and more, Agatha, I swear this to you,” Rio whimpers again, letting a tear drop and slide down Agatha’s cheek.

“I know, my love,” Agatha sighs, gasps, tightening her legs around Rio’s waist as she pulls her in, “I know you did.”

It only takes a kiss to throw her over the edge. Rio leans in just as she curls her fingers and presses a thumb to Agatha’s clit. Their lips meet gently, yet passionately, hungrily sucking. There’s a swipe of a tongue and someone lets the other in, their tongues begin to dance and there is no fight this time, just surrender.

The Sun is up by the time their lips part. Rio is resting her head against her lover’s chest, eyes still teary, hands still clutching so tightly because that sinking feeling of inevitability in her stomach has refused to leave.

“You already gave me the world, Rio,” Agatha says, voice hoarse yet stronger, shielded again, “And then you took it from me.”

masterlist + guidelines

idk why i made this painful but lmfao here you go

#agatha all along #agathario smut #agathario #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha x rio #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agatha x rio fanfiction

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themushroomofdeath · 1 year ago

Text

zoro x chubby F!reader | Roronoa Zoro, the Chubby Hunter

absolutely filthy, no plot - zoro appreciate your rolls (nsfw)

I didn't like the flow of the first one, as I wrote it so fucking fast and with a pounding headache. But @eelnoise and @kaizokuniichan liked it so much, I rewrote it for my goddamn beloveds. Enjoy. :kissahomie:

MINORS, BE GONE. 🔫

Zoro can’t have enough of you. From your soft belly to your voluptuous bosom, the hypnotic shake of your thick ass and thighs against the vicious pounding of his hips, you are the most tantalizing woman he ever met. Kneeled behind you, his calloused hands held firmly onto your ample hips with enough force to leave marks shaped like his fingers on your skin, tempting him to blemish it further. In a possessive strike, his large palm came to meet your ass cheek - once, twice, soothing and squeezing it before giving the same treatment to the other, only satisfied when both sides grew feverish red.

Smug grin wide with every moan of his name slipping from your puffy well-kissed lips, every little whimper from his actions filling his chest with pride. He never stopped his brutal pace against your backside, bed frame shaking under the force of it. Your mind fogged with how much pleasure he kept providing, overstimulation consuming your body to a third orgasm that night, as the proof of your previous climaxes dripped down your thighs and pussy, mix of your juices and his heavy load overflowing from it - and he fucked it right back inside of you.

You were not the only one losing their sanity to carnal desire, his mind hazy with primal urge of breeding you, marking and possessing you, to make you forget your own name if it means you’d chant his only. “S’fucking delicious. Pretty lil’ thing. All mine, fucking mine.”

Without pausing the incessant sway, the swordsman reached one strong arm around your neck, holding it in a semi-chokehold to pull your body against his. Just a second to breathe, as you adjusted against this new position, before he was moving again, free hand coming to stimulate your clit as the other held onto your neck to squeeze gently. Warm lips mouthing against your ear, teasing but commanding tone explicit in his wants. “Gonna cum for me again, yea? Gonna cream all over my cock, then ya’ gonna lick it clean, huh, pretty girl?”

And you could only nod and blabber a list of pleads and yeses, rolling your hips faster to meet his own, screaming in pleasure as he pinched your sensitive nub between two fingers, chuckling at your eagerness. “Do it then, needy thing. Cum for me.” With his rough voice directing you, his thick length hitting that sweet spot inside of you and the way his fingers rubbed stimule both at your clitoris and nipple - pinching and squeezing your chest, you did just as he commanded. Voice pitching a few octaves higher with feverish prayer of his name, body losing control with spasms from the incredible toe-curling pleasure overtaking your nerve ends and mind.

He only stopped pumping inside your folds as you started coming from your high, taking pity on your over sensitiveness - or perhaps having other plans involving your appetizing body curves. He let you go for a moment, gently (or as gentle as Zoro would) letting your limp body fall face first against your pillows, allowing a minute of breath before manhandling you onto your back, hands caressing and squeezing your hips and side rolls.

As if you could read his mind - connected as you were to each other, you already knew what he expected of you, licking your lips in anticipation as he moved, glorious and muscular thighs caging your body under his. Devoted as you were to your man, he didn’t need to say a word before both your hands came up to press your heavy breast together, pupils dilated with desire to please.

Amused, he took pity on you, helping to clear your sweaty face from the few strands of hair clinging to it. “So eager, huh? Like my cock that much?” You didn’t mind how eager or dirty you looked, smiling pleased as you nodded in approval. Yes, just as much he loved your body, you loved every inch of his. From his strong jaw to the fullness of his chest, his firm abdomen to the happy trail following a path to his bushy and glistening shaft - meaty and ready to please. He was perfect. “A’ight, open up, then.”

He didn’t need to say it twice, your tongue already sticking out to taste the warm and fat head of his length, sucking the saltiness of it as he fucked your voluptuous breasts and pliant mouth. Half-lidded eyes and commitment to swallow every single drop of his cum hitting your tongue and throat, humming in contentement. “Attagirl. Take it all, baby.”

It didn’t take long for him to give what you were yearning, holding your head in place by one hand in your hair, his erection forcefully sliding against the plushness of your chest, head in and out your warm cavity, he came with a final long push and a groan falling from his lips. Heavy load of cum shooting towards your mouth, neck and breasts - sliding and trailing his seeds with the push of his shaft as he chased his own high.

Zoro had half a mind to not sit back and squash your body with his muscular frame, instead opting to fall by your side, breathing heavily with post-coital fatigue. Somehow he sensed what (beautiful) mistake would be to gaze over at you, but he did anyway, watching the exact moment where you locked eyes with him and smirked, collecting his sperm from your perky nipple and taking it towards your mouth. A show of licking it clean and moaning in delight.

What a fucking minx you were. But what was he besides completely smitten with you, already huffing in amusement and moving to make you regret teasing him like that. Definitely a long night ahead for the both of you.

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro smut #zoro x reader #zoro x f!reader #zoro x female reader #dividers by cafekitsune #zoro loves your rolls #so do all your favs :smooch:#rage writes #x reader

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damien-thedoctor · 3 months ago

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[He entered the room, a look of pure malice and contempt on his face.]

“FOR FUCKS SAKE. THIS WAS MEANT TO HAVE BEEN FINISHED A WEEK AGO.”

[The newcomer spat at Damien, pure absolute malice on his face.]

[He threw a vial that smashed at Damien’s feet, the contents within it were ruined.]

“Just how goddamn useless are you.”

[One side cloaked by a mask, the other side… human if it wasn’t for the hypnotic purple swirls that gleamed in that one singular eye.]

[Dr.Silver. The man who had given Damien the succubus DnA and had caused him so much pain.]

@dr-silver-is-a-monster

[He went rigid, promptly dropping what he was doing.]

[His voice always made him jump.]

“Hello sir- my apologies…”

[His voice faltered when the vial was smashed at his feet… weeks of effort wasted..]

“I-…”

[He always felt like prey when this man looked at him, barely out of a predators reach.]

[Danger.]

[He was ringing alarm bells within his head. Flee. Run away- get away.]

“Sir- please..! I spent weeks on that..”

[He couldn’t mask the dread in his voice. The way this man LOOKED at him made his skin crawl.]

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foxilayde · 1 year ago

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Where’s My Goddamn Money? [Marc Spector x Fem!Vampire!Reader]

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Blood drinking, lack of consent, groping, nudity, suggestive language. Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Marc Spector wants his wallet back.

A/N: I wrote this fic a long time ago, but removed it in a fit of angst shortly after posting. I’ve been thinking about Ula recently because of spooky season and wanted to share her with y’all. I hope you love her as much as I do!

“I know you’re here Dracula, you big fucking nerd. Where’s my Goddamn money?!”

Hurried steps and the swish of a crescent-shaped cape accompany the echoing voice of Marc Spector as he descends the slate steps of your abandoned-chapel-turned-temporary-home. Seems ironic to live in the belly of a place so full of crosses, but it reassuringly houses a small family catacomb, and it just might be the last place anyone would think to look for a vampire… unless they knew who they were looking for. And would you look at that, Spector figured it out.

“Took you long enough, Spector.” You sip your wine, curled up on the velvet divan, the ceiling drips steadily above you, and you couldn’t look more like a fucking vampire if you tried. You look like a boudoir photoshoot they’d sell at an alternative gift shop, and if you were able to appear in photographs, you’d consider posing in a calendar for real. Eternal life has it’s disadvantages certainly, but it is easy on the eyes.

“Where’s my fucking money, Ula? I know it was you.”

He stalks closer to you now with a slow intensity. It’s funny; for how rushed he seemed to be making his way down the steps, he appears to have lost some of his impatience upon reaching his destination. The sight of you totally naked in the candlelight on the blood red velvet fainting couch has the desired stunning effect on poor Marc Spector. His steps grow slower, edging closer to you, but scanning his surroundings now with creeping mistrust. Smart boy.

You pick at a button on the sofa and purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Marc.” You smile wickedly at him, taking another sip from your glass.

Marc’s mask dissolves and he flips back his hood to reveal an unamused angular face, inky curls hanging handsomely over his brow. What a tasty looking treat. And so thoughtful. To bring himself all this way.

“My fucking wallet, Ula. Black. Leather. Full of cash. Ring any bells?”

You put an affronted hand on your bare chest, making sure to caress a nipple with your ring finger while you give him a cartoonishly innocent doe-eyed look “Why, whatever could you mean, mister Spector? Are you accusing me of being a thief?”

“You this lonely, huh? You have to take things of mine to lure me down here. You’re obviously not expecting… company.” He shakes his head and gestures to your curled nude form.

“I’m deeply offended, Marc. I assure you, I did not take your wallet.” You set the wine glass down on the lacquered table, next to the flickering candelabra. “Tell you what” You stalk toward him, very slowly as not to frighten him, “You can even search me if it’ll make you feel better.”

Marc gulps and takes one step backwards for every advancing footfall you trod across the damp stone floor. His back eventually reaches a column and he pauses wide eyed allowing you to slowly and carefully close the distance between your bodies.

You thought an avatar might be a little harder to hypnotize, but he was no more of a challenge than any other man. His eyes are effortlessly tractioned by your own and his jaw loosens in wonder as you step between his legs.

He puts up no fight when you grab his hands and place them on your waist. Oh darkness, his hands are warm, warm and sweet like his candied brown eyes. And fuck, the way his panicked heartbeat vibrates through his hot fingers and into the flesh of your ass? The radiance is akin to the memory of sunlight… you can smell he sun on his golden warm skin. Everything in you screams with a bat-shriek to bite into him now, to suck the sweet life out of his sun-kissed neck, with its thick ropes of tense muscle, fatigued from carrying that pretty head around.

He won’t fight now, not while you’re looking at him like this, but you can’t hold his gaze forever… or perhaps you could. You’d wager your hypnotic gaze could theoretically keep him here for as long as his biology could remain stasis without rest and water— but there’s no chance your patience and lust could wait that long. Not while the throbbing vein in his neck, so thick, so appetizing, is inches from your face. You’ve improved upon your restraint in the last few hundred years, but it’s yet to be perfected. And why wait? You don’t want the stupid bird to come looking for him, do you?

Your eyes are heavy on his own when you purr, “search me, Spector.” He nods like a zombie and his hands are rough on your body, zeroing in on the fleshiest part of you— your bare ass, he squeezes and pulls your cheeks apart and his lip curls like a dog when he growls softly. Whether the vocalizations are a demonstration of pleasure or defiance, you don’t care.

“Ooohh,” Your eyes tighten in mirth and you nearly lose the gaze before you widen them again.

“Good boy, Spector.”

You bite your lip, letting your pearly fangs hook on your bottom lip. He’s delightfully obedient to the gaze. You let your long nails scrape along his scalp, scratching him affectionately before you take a handful of his unruly curls in your grasp.

“Such a good boy that I’m going to let you in on a little secret, okay?”

Marc gives no indication that he understood and he continues to stare dumbly into your eyes and pinch and squeeze the softness of your backside in his warm, wide palms.

You huff impatiently and use the reign of his thick strands to nod his head in agreement for him. You smile with satisfaction. “I did take your fucking wallet, Marc.”

Again, no reaction from him, thoroughly caught in the haze and muck of your sticky spell.

“I took it to lure your cute little butt down here so we could have some fun.”

Still silence, hardly a trace of recognition on his dazed face.

You trace a long fingernail down the side of his cheek, poking up the corner of his mouth into a half-smirk. “Gods, I love a man who knows when to shut the fuck up.” You laugh, scraping your nails gently down his neck and down his suit, to the crescent emblemed breast plate. You nearly, very nearly, break the gaze to look at the plate while you tease your fingertips across it. But your gaze is steady.

“But that’s not the secret, Spector. You knew I took it. The secret is this, and I’ll drain you if you ever tell anyone, but the secret—” You pitch your voice down to a breathy whisper, “You know how mortals have to invite a vampire into their home before we are allowed to enter?”

No response, no matter.

“Well, the opposite holds true for mortals entering a vampire home.”

Again, not a flicker of recognition from him, his thumbs are rubbing needy circles at your backside and the closer you step into him, the more pronounced you can feel the pulsing heat between his legs. Fuck, maybe you should drink from him there. It’s been a long time since you feasted on a femoral artery of a man.

“You see, Spector, once you enter a vampire’s lair, you can’t leave without express verbal permission.” You lick your fangs to punctuate your point. “Like a mouse in a glue trap, I could keep you here as long as it pleases me,” you laugh.

You think you see a subtle widening of his eyes, but it could have been a trick of the candle light.

“Oh don’t be scared, Marc. I’m not going to kill you. Not even going to change you. Just going to take a few good mouthfuls of you, and then I’ll let you go.” Your mouth waters at the visual you’ve painted for yourself. Mouthfuls of his thick pulsing blood, straight from the femoral artery. Christ, you need to feed.

“Does that sound good to you, Marc?” His nostrils flare a bit and you grin. “Oh look at you, baby. You’re excited, I can tell.” You place your palm at the inside of his knee and drag it up, up, up, till it’s resting over the booming ventricle at the center of his thick, warm body, it’s playing a quickening beat and you can feel your fangs grow at the temptation of it.

“Eyes on me, baby.” It’s harder to talk the more your throat fills with the analgesic fluid and your fangs thicken and extend. Your tongue gets hard to control in your attempt to swallow the flood of venom that pools in your mouth. You drop to your knees, never breaking eye contact while you kiss his inner thigh. Your lips are right above the searing pulse point he smells like heaven itself. You rip off his stupid loincloth with impatience. Nuzzling your face into his thighs as best you can while still holding his eyes with your own.

Your bare knees sting slightly on the cold wet floor, You grip onto his thighs, nails biting into the grey linen wrapped coverings while you affectionately nip at his clothed inner leg, never breaking the gaze. In your mad craving, you hardly register as a string of venom drips to the floor from your mouth in a debauched display. You admit you can’t remember the last time you went on your knees like this for a warm suck, but Spector looks delicious from this angle, leant back against the cold stone column, legs obediently spread for you. His hands, unable now to “search” and grope you, are balled into fists at his sides.

Your fangs are at full extension and they grow itchy and painful, if you had any patience left you’d have asked Marc to vanish this part of his suit, but he’s likely capable of fuck-all since the gaze kicked in, so you sink your teeth right through the gauze of his leg coverings, hitting that sweet throbbing vein that’s been calling out to you, begging for relief, begging you to slow its rapid pace down.

Your eyes close in relief and ecstasy, and it’s no matter that they do, the damage is done. You don’t have to hold the gaze any longer, your prey is paralyzed. Though, you think briefly you might enjoy it more if he were able to struggle, to vainly wriggle his thick thighs against your predatory hold. He would be so much fun to play with! To wrestle him down, to fight for your meal— for each suck to drag him further and further away from his own strength… but mortals are so fragile, if it weren’t for the gaze, many would perish from a heart attack before you could get to the meal. Only the most unrefined of your kind ever resort to such discourteous practices when feeding.

He tastes so thick and sweet, and so very very warm, much warmer than a neck bite. The heat of his thighs on either side of your head adds to the burning delicacy, the muscles are more tender down here as well… as much as you had fantasized about the ropey texture of his neck under your lips, this holds its own delights. Sure, you can’t taste the sun, salt, and stubble of his neck— but the flesh down here is soft like butter-seared fois gras. Blood syrupy and warm like hot mead. You don’t want to drink too much, but you don’t want to drink too little either. It’s unlikely Marc Spector will be fooled twice and pay you another visit, so you must savor and make this last as long his blood will hold.

When his heartbeat eventually slows to a resting rate, you make an irate little sound against his blood soaked thigh and force your teeth to pull back into your mouth. Fuck, its so painful to do when your lust isn’t slaked, much easier to just drain him… but a promise is a promise.

You nip your finger and squeeze a few drops of your own blood till it pearls on your skin and you swipe the healing blood onto his puncture wounds, effectively sealing him up. It does nothing for the staining though, and the dark red continent is prominent against the light grey of his suit. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and smile, rising up to your feet. You step in between his legs and snake your arms around his trim waist, planting a bloody kiss on his dazed mouth. He kisses you back faintly, like one might groggily mouth a kiss in their sleep.

“Mmmm, darling, you tasted even better than I dreamed you would.” You wipe of the stain of blood you transferred to his lips with your thumb and you pout at him.

“Baby is tired, isn’t he?”

Marc blinks slowly at you in response, eyes rolling back in delirium, and he heavily collapses into your embrace. Luckily your senses are heightened from having just fed, so you’re able to support his weight with ease and bring him to rest on the divan. You prop him up comfortably. Poor baby is helplessly unconscious… Perhaps you took a tad too much from him? You climb on top of him, still naked, and straddle his limp form to press your ear to his chest.

Still beating. Strong enough.

You sigh with relief. If he was dying you’d have to change him and then you’d have that fucking bird on your ass for turning his avatar. Nearly 600 years old and you still can’t control your lust to a conscionable level. Just imagine, Spector as a vampire! You laugh at the idea and slap his sleeping chest as if he were the one who came up with the thought. “Ha!” He would make a miserable vampire, he’d never have fun with it. No imagination. He’d be the type to be wracked with guilt at every kill. Sad silly boy. A regular Louie du Pointe du Lac, feeding on cats in shame and writing disconsolate letters to no one with his own blood tears. What a mess he would be!

You prop yourself up in a cobra pose on him, forearms and elbows on his breastplate, laying on him fully, the tops of your feet pointed atop his shins. You shake your head at his handsome face and smooth the curls from his brow. For the first time in a long time you have a whim to sleep for a moment… but you can’t, you haven’t slept in nearly 600 years, so you prop your chin on your fist and stare at the pretty avatar while he sleeps, drinking in his slumber with your eyes, savoring the slow rise and fall of his chest.

You reach under the decorative pillow and pull out a black leather wallet. You grin as you tuck it safely in his belt and you kiss his warm cheek before whispering in his ear, “I grant you permission to leave when you wake, Marc Spector.” You rest your head in the crook of his neck, lips teasing his weak pulse point. You sigh when you close your eyes and pretend that you can dream.

END

[If you enjoyed, please consider a reblog! 😘]

#Marc Spector #Marc Spector x Reader #Marc Spector x You #Moon Knight #Oscar Isaac forgive me #Kinktober

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kwop-kilawtley · 2 years ago

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Bella’s depression months/suicidal tendencies/ hallucinations in New Moon are not “romantic,” sorry. It’s just horrible how traumatized she is. Imagine being a 17 y/o girl who never dated anyone and the first person you date is a mythical creature who essentially is the idea of perfection. It knocks down your self esteem even more, makes you feel embarrassed for not being enough and then after you almost died at the hands of others of his kind, he leaves. Leaves you for dead.

How is it romantic that she now sees no worth in her own humanity? That she deems life useless without him. Then Jacob comes along and makes her see life can be good again. She falls in love with Jacob naturally and effortlessly. If Edward and Bella were truly “fated” and “meant to be,” Bella wouldn’t be so in love with Jacob the way that she is. Jacob is the only person who truly understands her and he would do anything for her. He would protect her and keep her alive.

Bella choosing Edward is literally suicide and allows her to be stunted, to not fix her self esteem issues. Yet this is supposed to be romantic somehow?? The text literally leads you to believe that Bella will grow and get out of her depression with the help of Jacob. And he totally could have because she could’ve been open about the vampire secret since he knew about them too. It only makes sense in my mind she chose him. She actually has fun with him, he understands her personality better than Edward, understands her mind better than Edward. Their love is so intense that she even says she may have actually chosen Jacob if she hadn’t known what losing Edward felt like. She was so deeply traumatized by him leaving she couldn’t even bear the thought of having to heal. But she almost did. She could have.

The fact Bella cannot let Jacob go all throughout Eclipse even after Edward comes back is proof that she’s not fated to be with Edward. Literally no matter how many times I read these books I will never see it that way even though her narrative wants you to believe that in the end. Like sorry but having cutesy quotes and ogling over his physical perfection every second without there really being true reason behind it, just doesn’t hit for me. They were together for mere months and she’s already talking about “I want to be with you forever.” Like yeah that was me in high school too with the first person who ever gave me attention. I didn’t know any better tho. Now pair that with someone who literally hypnotizes humans lol.. yeah she didn’t stand a chance. Yet her lack of autonomy is romantic? Gross. She even says “it’s like Sam & Emily, I never had a choice.” How does anyone find this romantic LMAO.

If Bella had no feelings for Jacob and he had no good aspects of him and he wasn’t trying to keep Bella alive the whole goddamn time then no one would be for Jacob. But she literally is in love with him, it’s just not “magical” bullshit love. Which doesn’t even make sense for her btw. She doesn’t have any development whatsoever. Vampirism is just her bandaid and Jacob and the entire wolfpack are done dirty.

She tries to die and hear voices of her ex who abandoned her yet that’s romantic lmfao. New moon is legit based off of Romeo & Juliet, a tragedy where they both die. Bella & Edward simply shouldn’t have had a happy ending. Naturally it doesn’t make sense that they do, which is why breaking dawn is such a shit show. Because their relationship just doesn’t make sense and only harms them and everyone around them.

& before anyones like “it’s just a fantasy stop analyzing it wahh” no <3 these books shaped my way of viewing relationships as a teenager and it should be talked about how harmful some of the messages in the series are.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #team jacob #jacob x bella #jacob black #new moon #bella swan #bella x jacob

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aviculor · 13 days ago

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I think Nosferatu just fucking cleared the competition for best horror film of 2024. Immaculate? Longlegs? The Substance? Terrifier 3? All stiff competition, but this was absolutely breathtaking. I was spellbound. Entranced, if you will. The visuals, the scenery, the sound design, the cinematography, the gothic aesthetics, the goddamn performances. Everything was perfect. I knew I could trust Robert Eggers to knock it out of the park with this. If you've seen The Lighthouse or The VVitch, you know what I mean. The man is an auteur of both period pieces and horror. I would definitely say I'm a fan of his. I haven't seen The Northman, but I really should.

Skarsgård's Count Orlok is downright hypnotic, every word from his mouth sounds like throat singing. I avoided spoilers as best I could, so I had not seen Orlok's design ahead of time.

Giving Orlok hair and a mustache is quite a bold departure from the classic pop culture image of him that's been around for literally over 100 years, but Skarsgård makes it work. He genuinely looks like a decrepit, undead aristocrat rather than some grubby rat man. It's almost like It (2017)'s Pennywise in that way. Bill Skarsgård just has that kind of magic to him. And I adore how we don't see Orlock out of silhouette until at least the halfway mark. He is a shadow. A voice. A nightmare.

I have never seen the 1922 silent film, but I did watch the Dead Meat video on it last week so I was able to follow the plot despite the period-appropriate dialogue.

I knew that sultry-voiced doctor seemed familiar, Ralph Ineson also played the father in The VVitch. He's been in a lot of films over the years, including Star Wars and Harry Potter. And he's going to be in next year's adaptation of Frankenstein by Guillermo del Toro.

Nicholas Hoult was also Renfield in Renfield? That's pretty funny!

Lily-Rose Depp had a bit role in Tusk, but I'm otherwise unfamiliar with her work.

I'd be remiss if I didn't at least mention Willem Dafoe's stellar performance as well.

This was the first time I've seen a matinee of a horror movie have a packed theater. The parking lot was literally full. By the time I parked on a side street, walked half a block, got my ticket, and entered the room, the lights were already off and the trailers were almost over. There's a remake of The Wolf Man coming. The woman I was sitting next to left in the middle, but this time it wasn't a bad date I was on. Still not 100% over that.

It's not a horny film, but there is a certain type of eroticism to it. This is one for the monster fuckers and the old man fuckers.

If I had any notes, it's that they use the G slur for the Rromani peasants. Historically accurate or not, it's still not something I enjoy hearing. I had to edit the TVTropes page for the latest Creature Commandos episode for that same reason.

#horror #nosferatu

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hephaestn · 1 year ago

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“You need an outlet, Steve. You need to get dirty, to get your hands onto something. I haven’t seen a smile on your face since Dustin’s graduation,” Robin explains as she puts a chip into her mouth.

Steve raises his eyebrows in disbelief, “And you really think throwing around a block of clay will help?”

He scoffs as he gets up from the couch, already on his way to clean up the mess they’ve made on his coffee table. It’s Steve’s thirtieth birthday and he’s spent it in the loneliness of his apartment, with Robin—which is fine, it’s okay, he likes it this way.

“Yes, it will, dingus. You have to trust me on this one,” Robin says with her mouth full. “Mother knows best.”

Steve, with his back to Robin, shakes his head as he sets the dirty dishes into the sink.

There’s no way in hell he has the concentration required for a skill like pottery, he’ll be thrown out of the class before the first hour is over. He has never been artsy, he’s never been interested in anything creative, ever. Steve knows he won’t be interested in this either.

There is nothing that would make him be into freaking pottery of all things.

But.

He’s cocky—with blond, curly hair. Ocean eyes. Tall too. Always showing his goddamn arms with those sleeveless, tight white tees. The muscles in his arms perpetually moving in a slow dance as his hands work on the wet clay.

It’s a hypnotizing sight and Steve, well, he’s really into it.

“Shauna, hold up, hold up!” Billy quickly gets up from his station and walks up to the old lady at the front of the class.

Steve can feel the clay beneath his hands start to wobble, he hasn’t been paying attention to what he was doing if he was honest. How could he, anyway? When Billy has his hands on top of Shauna’s, guiding them. His clay-covered thumbs pierce the soft material until Shauna has a cup-looking shape in front of her.

“There we go! It’s quite easy when you get the hang of it, isn’t it?” Billy smiles brightly at the gray-haired woman.

Steve can hear a faint thumping sound somewhere but his every bit of attention is on Billy. The curls that got away from his loosely tied up bun, the way he squints as he smiles.

“Steve!”

How his tanned skin shines under the warm ceiling lights. His hands, strong but soft enough he never breaks any piece he’s working on.

“Steve!”

As he turns to the sound of Robin’s voice, who’s sat on the station next to him, he notices the blob of clay wobbling and battering around on his wheel—completely out shape.

“Oh, God!” Steve exclaims as his hands move in a clumsy attempt to grab the uncontrollable clay.

“The pedal, Steve!” Robin hisses.

“Okay!” Billy claps his hands as he says the word.

Steve’s eyes move quickly to him. And. Oh, God. No. This is the very first time they’ve made eye contact—Steve thinks.

“I see we’re having some issues there at the back!” Billy has an amused smile on his face. That smile Steve has seen a couple of times by now. Teethy. Bright. Cute.

Billy’s walking up to him and Steve can feel a cold sweat running down the back of his neck.

“Dingus, the freaking pedal!”

He can hear the distant sound of Robin’s voice but the whole class has stopped, they’re all looking at him and the clay simply won’t fucking stop.

Steve focuses for a second on the moving wheel below him and when he looks back up again, there’s Billy, standing tall and intimidating in front of him.

The blond kneels beside Steve’s station and puts a soft hand on Steve’s calf.

“How about we lift this up, hm?” Billy looks up to him with bright blue eyes—that Steve might’ve or might’ve not compared to ‘dreamy aquamarines’ in a drunk conversation with Robin.

Steve nods nervously as he lifts his foot off the pedal. The wheel slows down until it stops completely and the rebel chunk of clay rests calmly in front of him.

“Come on, we’ll start over. I’ll guide your hands as I did with Shauna,” Billy says with a kind smile on his face.

God. This is Steve’s death sentence.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #w: ficlet #w: dgd #ch: billy hargrove #ch: steve harrington #misc: fanfic #OKAY #i won’t reread this bc if i do i’ll stress about it and won’t post it #i hope it doesn’t suck 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼#enjoy my loves 🤍#lu tries to write

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wordsaresimple-imnot · 8 months ago

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The next day (Drunken Confessions part 2) - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader

Summary: The morning after Drunken Confessions, can be read as stand-alone if you wish, but part one is worth a read if I say so myself :)

Warnings: 18+ content, smut (p in v), oral (f receiving), soft smut, basically porn with feelings, female 1st person pov.

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

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

It's still dark outside when I open my eyes, my brain foggy with sleep. Slowly the fog dissipates as I notice the warm wall behind me and something heavy draped over my waist. A smile breaks out across my face as I remember the previous hours of Bill and I kissing and that he stayed the night just so he could hold me.

I let out a happy sigh and burrow myself backwards more so I'm even closer to him. His arm tightens around my waist, hand slipping under my shirt to rest on my stomach and lightly stroke my skin. Bill's head nuzzles into the crook of my neck, dropping a kiss on the flesh there before speaking in my ear.

"Go back to sleep, it's late." His voice is rough and deep, sounding like heaven and sin at the same time.

"Just getting comfortable." I whisper back, hints of sleep still evident. I burrow back into him once more to get comfortable but stop short when he bites my shoulder just hard enough to get my attention.

"Keep doing that, sweetheart, and we wont be getting anymore sleep tonight." I open my mouth to ask him what he's talking about, but when he presses his hips against me a moan comes out at feeling him hard.

"Sleep is overrated." I say lightly as I press my ass back against his erection, this time making him moan.

In the blink of an eye my back is being pressed against the bed and Bill is hovering above me. The hand that's under my shirt trails up to graze the underside of my breast then goes back down to play with the waist band of my pants. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he undoes my belt and top button, dipping his hand underneath. My breathing picks up as he slowly rubs me over my underwear, feeling how wet I've already become.

Bill leans down so his lips are grazing mine, "So wet already, sweetheart. I've barely begun." He presses his lips against mine, swallowing my moan as he starts to rub harder. Everything is slow and intense and perfect.

I raise my hips up to press against his hand as I begin to chase the pleasure building up inside me. When Bill moves his hand out of my pants, I bite down on his lip in protest. He kisses me hard again, returning the bite before he sits back on his knees.

He makes quick work of tugging my pants and underwear down until I'm naked from the waist down. Slowly his hands trail up my calves, then thighs, past my hips, grabbing my shirt to tug me up enough to pull it off me. Before I fall back down I undo my bra and toss it onto the floor with the rest of my clothes.

"Fuck, sweetheart." Bill's voice comes out closer to a groan than actual words. I can feel the blush taking over my face and fight the urge to try and cover up. "You're a goddamn masterpiece."

His hands are back on my thighs rubbing up and down, getting closer to my core each time. Just when I'm ready to lose my mind, one of his hands makes contact, spreading my slick around before landing on my clit. His other hand trails up my torso to my breasts and starts alternating between massaging and pinching my nipples. My own hands are gripping the sheets as I press myself harder into his hands.

Bill pinches my clit hard enough to get my attention and lock eyes with him. "Eyes on me, baby." While maintaining eye contact, Bill lowers himself down between my thighs and replaces his fingers with his mouth. I don't think I'll ever see anything as hypnotizing as Bill Guarnere eating me out like a man starved, his eyes nearly solid black with desire.

When he gives a hard suck on my clit, my hand moves to his hair gripping hard which makes him groan. As my orgasm begins to build my breathing starts coming out harder and I begin pressing myself more into him. Bill lifts his head away just enough to speak.

"Say my name." His voice is a cross between a plea and an order. I can never deny him anything so I comply. It turns into a chant as he moves back to his previous post, adding his fingers to pump in and out of me paying special attention to that sweet spot. I'm right on the edge of the most intense orgasm I've ever had when I notice Bill's grinding his hips into the bed.

The knowledge that he's so turned on by what he's doing to me and how I'm feeling completely pushes me over the edge. He doesn't slow down his ministrations, helping me through my high until my breathing starts to get back on track. I watch him move back to sit on his knees again and begin to undo the buttons on his shirt and let it join mine on the floor. I sit up and pull him down by his neck to seal our lips together, tasting myself on his tongue and loving it.

My hands roam down his chest reveling in the feel of his skin until they land on his belt and I start making quick work of unfastening it. Once I get it undone, I unbutton his pants and get them pushed down just enough for his erection to be free. Wrapping my hand around his penis, I start with soft strokes and gradually make my grip harder as his moans increase.

Bill pulls away from my lips with a curse and pushes me back down on the bed, removing my hand from his member, and shoves his pants the rest of the way off. He wraps my thighs around his hips and after a few strokes between my folds he lines himself at my entrance and pushes in all at once. He drops himself down on his forearm next to my head, his other hand still gripping my thigh and gives an experimental roll of his hips.

"Bill, please. I need you to move." I trail my lips across his jaw, nipping lightly and then a little harder when I reach his neck. He lets out a groan then starts a harsh pace that has me gripping hard on his back.

Bill moves his hand from my thigh to grip by jaw and turns my head to the side to give him open access to my neck. It's all teeth and tongue and I know I'll look like a leopard by the end of it but can't bring myself to care. I rake my nails down his back to leave my own marks on him. When I feel the familiar pressure beginning to build again, I whisper that I'm getting close and this causes him to speed up his thrusts.

My head is turned again, this time to face him as his lips crash down on my mine and he swallows my moans. As his thrusts start to become erratic I know he's getting close as well, prompting me to move my hand and rub my clit. Three hard swipes is all it takes and I'm cumming for the second time that night this time taking him with me. The only sounds leaving our lips is harsh breathes, curses and each others names. Bill's head drops down to my chest and he lavishes slow kisses across my collar bone and breasts as he maintains slow thrusts through our orgasms.

Once we've completely come down from our highs, Bill gently pulls out of me and rolls us onto our sides, arms still around each other. I bury my face against his chest, dropping a kiss over his heart and where his dog tags lay. Bill moves just enough to pull the blankets over us and drops a tender kiss onto my forehead.

"I love you." His voice is so soft and quiet I almost think I imagined his words until his fingers lightly grab my chin and nudge my head upwards to face him. His face is skillfully void of emotion but I see the vulnerability in his eyes and way he seems to be holding his breathe.

"I love you too." I say back just as quietly and my heart melts at the happiness that over takes his gaze and the perfect smile that forms on his face. He leans down and gives me a long, slow kiss, somehow holding me tighter against him.

When we finally part he tucks my head back against his chest, resting his chin on top of my head and lets out a content sigh. I let his warmth and steady heartbeat lull me back to sleep with a smile on my face.

#bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war #hbo band of brothers

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