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pin-k-ink · 21 days

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hollow // chrollo lucilfer

tw ⇢ graphic descriptions of physical violence, torture and mutilation, psychological abuse/mind-break, implied sexual content, obsessive/delusional behavior, reader is catatonic, depictions of bodily deterioration/decay

wc ⇢ 4.9k

The rhythmic dripping of water echoed hollowly down the dimly lit hallway, each drop hitting the stained floor with a soft plop. Chrollo's footsteps were cautious, familiar with every creak of the warped wooden boards beneath his feet. His gaze traced the peeling jungle green wallpaper, faded and curling away from the walls in long strips. Small holes pitted the popcorn ceiling above, remnants of who knew what past damage.

It was an all too familiar sight - this decaying hallway that he had walked thousands of times before. The musty, dank odor of rot and mold hung thick in the air, assaulting his senses in a way he had long since grown accustomed to. Chrollo could have mapped every discolored water stain, every flake of crumbling plaster from memory alone. His eyes lingered on the dark, rust-colored splatters streaking the wallpaper - unmistakable bloodstains that raised no alarm.

His hand trailed along the flaking paint as he approached the last door on the left, the bedroom. The door stuck briefly when he tried the tarnished knob, requiring Chrollo to lean his weight into it before it gave way with a groan of protesting hinges. As it slowly swung inward, his lips curled into a small, practiced smile.

"Good evening, my darling."

Chrollo's smooth voice seemed to caress the stagnant air as he stepped over the threshold. In the shadows of the dimly lit room, your silhouette was motionless, a solitary figure framed by the broken panes of the drafty window. You didn't so much as twitch at the sound of his voice, your distant gaze fixed through the grime-streaked glass.

Closing the door behind him with a soft click, Chrollo followed your line of sight beyond the confines of the cracked, spider-webbed window panes. The same stark view opened up before him - a dead tree, its twisted, gnarled branches reached up in blackened claws towards the perpetually overcast sky. The rusting black metal fence lined the property, separating the derelict house from the decaying remains of its abandoned neighbor.

Your eyes seemed almost unseeing, pupils trained on some invisible point far beyond the gloomy view. As if you could pierce past the decrepit scenery to something only you could perceive. The distant, glazed look was one Chrollo recognized.

With a soft huff of amusement, he stepped up behind you, his hands sliding along your upper arms before gently grasping your biceps. His fingers caressed your cool skin as he pulled you back, away from the broken window and the dead world beyond its panes.

With a tender grip, Chrollo eased you backwards, guiding your motionless form away from the shattered window. You offered no resistance, your limbs pliant, feet dragging slightly as he maneuvered you across the stripped bare floor.

The weathered bedframe groaned when he nudged you down to sit on the sagging mattress. Dust motes swirled lazily in the pale slivers of light slicing through the gaps in the curtains. Chrollo knelt before you, his movements slow and practiced as his eyes raked over your features.

Your face was a porcelain mask, devoid of any emotion or flicker of awareness. Eyes dull and unfocused, the usual warm depth you once regarded him with had long since turned glassy and distant. It was as if you had retreated so deeply inwards, tucking that spark of life away where he could no longer reach you.

A melancholic fondness played across Chrollo's expression. With deft fingers, he reached up to tuck a stray lock of lank hair behind your ear. The strands felt coarse, dirty - a reflection of your deteriorating state that he chose to ignore. His palm cupped your cheek, calloused thumb brushing the hollow beneath your eye.

You didn't lean into his touch or blink at the contact. No minute reactions registered on your vacant features. But still, Chrollo leaned in close, lips brushing feather-light against the throb of your pulse point. He lingered there, feeling the faint flutter of your heartbeat against his mouth before peppering a trail of whisper-soft kisses along the elegant column of your throat.

Each press of his lips was unbearably tender, an intimacy he reserved only for you. But you remained unmoving, unseeing, disassociated from the present as a thousand-yard stare bored through him. With a resigned sigh, Chrollo rested his forehead against your bony shoulder, curling himself around your petrified form like a wilted plant seeking warmth from the sun.

Chrollo's lips brushed reverently over the pale skin of your knuckles, tracing the delicate bones of your motionless hand. Each gossamer kiss was featherlight, almost worshipful in its tenderness. He found himself sinking into the memories evoked by your touch, letting the present recede.

His mind drifted back years, to the first time he had laid eyes on you. That crisp autumn day when you had quite literally fallen into his world...

The towering shelves of ancient tomes seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction of the library's echoing halls. A reverent hush blanketed the cavernous space as Chrollo trailed his fingers along the gilded spines, searching...

There. His hand stilled on the tooled leather binding, the familiar title raising a faint smile. As he slid the thick volume free, a voice suddenly piped up from his elbow.

"Ah, one of the great paradoxes. Interesting choice."

Chrollo went still, sidelong gaze catching on the petite figure who had materialized beside him without a sound. You didn't so much as glance up from examining the book's cover with an appraising look.

"Though I always found his theories on the duality of truth to be rather paradoxical in themselves." You tsked softly, plucking the book from his grip to flip it open. "Take this passage for instance..."

Slender fingers skimmed down the aged pages to tap at a paragraph of dense text. Looking up at him through the fan of your lashes, your lips quirked in a half-smile. "He spends multiple chapters expounding on the inherent contradiction of subjective experience muddling objective reality. But then doesn't he fall into that same trap himself by attempting to define an absolute truth?"

Chrollo found himself caught in the spark of wry intelligence glinting in your stare. You presented the mild critique with such matter-of-fact certainty, unburdened by pretense. It was...refreshing. And more than a little intriguing.

"An insightful observation." His voice was neutral, but something about your easy confidence piqued his interest. "You're well-versed on the subject matter."

"Oh, I've practically lived in the philosophy section since I was a kid." You waved your free hand in a careless gesture, as if dismissing the notion of erudition as commonplace. "My coping mechanism for insufferable questions has always been to counter with even more insufferable questions."

There was a teasing lilt to your smile then, homr truths offered with a self-effacing humor. Chrollo couldn't resist the curve tugging at his own mouth in response. You hadn't cowered from his scrutiny or blustered with feigned modesty. Instead, you simply met his gaze with composure and clever irreverence.

Yes...you were shaping up to be a captivating anomaly in Chrollo's experience. One he found himself abruptly keen to unravel.

Extending his hand in an unhurried motion, he re-claimed the book from your grasp - though made no move to extricate himself from your proximity.

"I'm Chrollo Lucilfer."

The memory dissolved like smoke on the wind, and Chrollo found himself abruptly drawn back to the present. His mouth was still brushing over the bony ridge of your knuckles, lips whispering across your motionless hand.

He pulled back slightly, dark eyes roving over your vacant features. The life and clever spark that had so captivated him that very first day was utterly extinguished. Your gaze remained glassy and distant, as if staring inward at some unreachable abyss that had swallowed your brilliant essence.

For a long moment, Chrollo simply studied your hollowed visage, taking in the sallow tinge to your skin and the sharp jut of cheekbones. Your wrists protruded like delicate bird bones from where they lolled in his grasp - a cruel facsimile of the vibrancy you had once exuded. And yet...not a flicker of remorse or guilt flickered across his expression.

If anything, there was a strange tenderness limning his stare, suffusing the pad of his thumb as he stroked along the raised veins of your forearm. His other hand smoothed stray strands of lank hair away from your brow in an almost doting caress before he leaned in closer.

"Do you remember, my love?" His voice was low, hushed with the weight of recollection. "The day we first met in that musty library, surrounded by the books you adored with so much passion?"

Chrollo's lips brushed your temple, callused fingers curling around your nape as though to tether you to his words. To draw you out from the depths you had retreated within.

"You were a paradox unto yourself then - keen and irreverent, brilliant yet disarmingly self-effacing. A rare mind unbound by the pretenses I had grown accustomed to." His mouth trailed lower, warm exhale ghosting your cool cheek. "You captivated me from that very first quip."

His nose nuzzled along the sharp line of your jaw before he nestled into the crook of your neck. Tension coiled in the lean muscles of his shoulders and back, yet Chrollo did not loosen his embrace. Instead, he coiled himself more tightly around your unresponsive form, clinging to the impassive shell of what had once been his greatest obsession.

"I knew then that I had to unravel the enigma you presented. To unlock those complexities lacing your mind and make you wholly, utterly mine..." A tremor rippled through his voice, baring the faintest hint of strain beneath its veneer of devotion. "And so I did, didn't I? Through my own particular...persuasions."

Chrollo fell silent then, simply breathing you in - the lingering hint of your natural scent still clinging to your pallid skin despite the omnipresent reek of decay and mold shrouding this place. His haven, his sanctum where he could revel in the spoils of his conquest. No matter that the light had long since dimmed behind your eyes.

For though your corporeal form had withered, the essence of who you were remained eternally preserved - a prized butterfly trapped in amber, yours to study and revel in at his leisure. You may have drifted irrevocably out of reach, but at least here in this sanctum, your brilliant mind would never escape his grasp.

The silence stretched, weighted with half-remembered moments replaying in the recesses of Chrollo's mind. His cheek nestled into the curve of your neck and shoulder as snapshots of your earlier encounters together began flickering through his thoughts.

One particular scene coalesced, vibrant and stark…

The bustling cafe was alive with the rich aromas of espresso and freshly baked pastries mingling in the air. Chrollo's gaze cut briefly over the clusters of students and professionals huddled around the tiny tables before settling again on you.

Even seated across from him amidst the crowded atmosphere, you seemed completely at ease - blissfully unbothered by the cacophony of clinking dishes and murmured conversations surrounding you on all sides. With one leg crossed over the other, you lounged back in your chair, slender fingers wrapped around the ceramic mug cradled before you.

The soft furrow of concentration furrowing your brow was the only indication of your focus as you pored over the battered paperback novel propped open before you. Sunlight gilded the flyaway wisps of hair framing your face, casting deep crevices in the hollows beneath your high cheekbones. For a suspended moment, you looked almost ethereal - the embodiment of a tragic gothic heroine plucked from the very pages before you.

Chrollo found his stare snagging on the elegant drape of your throat, tracing the faint throb of your pulse fluttering beneath the surface before dropping to follow the enticing vee of cleavage peeking from your blouse...

You must have sensed his heated regard. Without even glancing up, your lips twitched in a knowing smirk as you reached for your mug. Bringing it to your lips, you took an unhurried sip - holding the scalding liquid on your tongue for a calculated beat before swallowing with a soft hum of contentment.

Only then did you finally lift your eyes to meet Chrollo's hooded gaze from beneath the fan of sooty lashes. "Something on your mind?" The deceptively innocent query was undercut by the simmering spark of challenge glinting in your stare. "Or are you just enjoying the view?"

The shameless quip and utter lack of self-consciousness should not have been so utterly enthralling. And yet...Chrollo could practically taste the thrill sparking down his spine at the bold implications lacing your tone. You somehow managed to come across as both deliciously inappropriate yet well-bred in the very same breath.

Unable to resist leaning into the tease, Chrollo allowed the barest of smiles to ghost over his lips as he mirrored your casual pose - elbows braced on the table's surface, chin resting atop steepled fingertips.

"Perhaps a bit of both," he mused in that low, dangerously warm timbre. "I do so enjoy seeing that wit of yours in action..."

His gaze was all too knowing as it dropped momentarily to your mouth. "Among other things."

The words hung in the air, rife with unspoken suggestion and subtle challenge. You regarded him evenly, holding his stare without a hint of the flustered demurring he typically encountered. For a protracted beat, the charged silence stretched taut between you as the clamor of the cafe faded to mere white noise.

Then, eyes glinting with newfound determination, you slowly reached for the bundle of pages resting abandoned on the tabletop beside Chrollo's arm. Never breaking that heated eye contact, you brushed your knuckles deliberately, intentionally, along the taut cords of his wrist before claiming the sheaf of looseleaf papers.

Lips still curved in that private, enigmatic smile, you reopened your novel - effectively ignoring or accepting his suggestive flirtation in one fell swoop as the embodiment of effortless poise.

It was subtle, masterful even in its nonchalance. And abruptly, Chrollo found himself well and truly enraptured by the delicious paradox of barbed wit and refined composure that you presented...

The memory ebbed away, siphoning back into the recesses of Chrollo's consciousness until all that remained was your pliant form coiled against him on the sagging mattress. He nuzzled deeper into the juncture of your throat and shoulder, chasing the lingering remnants of your essence still clinging to your pallid skin.

"Do you recall that afternoon, my love?" His words were a rumbling murmur against your nape. "How you matched me tease for tease without ever losing that practiced decorum society expected of you?"

A wistful sort of yearning bled into his tone, tempering the ravenous edge. "You were diabolical - all coy propriety deftly wielded to entice with just the faintest indecencies lurking beneath. Like some Wildean libertine in another skin..."

Chrollo's free hand curled into a fist where it rested on the mattress beside your hip, as if to anchor himself. There was a fevered sort of hunger simmering in his voice now, trembling with the weight of rapturous recollection.

"I knew then that I could never be content until I'd unraveled those contradicting layers shrouding your core - no matter how far into the abyss I had to descend in pursuit."

The arm bracketed around your waist cinched tighter, knotting you flush against his chest. It should have been suffocating, possessive...Yet Chrollo somehow imbued the crushing embrace with an unsettling sort of devotion. He was fastening you to him with that same ravenous ardor as one might clutch a cherished, half-coveted treasure.

His thumb traced the sharp ridge of your collarbone over...and over...and over again. "And you let me plunge into those depths so willingly - your brilliant mind falling open around me until I could see...everything."

A shudder rippled through his lean frame, momentary loss of control swiftly reined in. When his sable gaze finally lifted, there was a peculiar desperation simmering behind the usual impassivity.

"Don't you see, my love? This..." One calloused hand slid up to frame your face with infinite care, thumb caressing your lax cheek. "This hollowed essence is what you were truly meant for. An exquisite lapse of mortal confines into something sublime..."

Chrollo leaned in then, parted lips a scant breath from yours as he searched your vacant stare for any resurgence of vibrant awareness.

"You are perfection..."

The scenes continued unspooling through Chrollo's mind, each recollection seeming to unfurl within the dimness of the bedroom. Another fragment soon took shape...

Amber liquor sloshed over the rim of the heavy glass tumbler as you tipped it back, downing the harsh burn in one defiant swallow. A harsh grimace twisted your features before smoothing into a morose blankness once more.

It was well past midnight, but the dimly lit bar showed no signs of thinning out. If anything, the press of bodies seemed thicker - a sea of desperation and vice-fueled oblivion swelling with each passing hour. Chrollo slipped through the throngs like a wraith, his sable gaze cutting through the smoky haze as it snagged on your lone, hunched figure at the far end of the polished oak counter.

Even amidst the drunken revelry, you seemed utterly cocooned in your own world of misery. One dainty hand painted crimson nails over smeared trails of mascara streaking your cheeks like inky rivulets. Yet you were oblivious to the ruined cosmetics - focus zeroed inward as you gestured blindly for another refill with your other hand.

Something very much like concern flickered through Chrollo's expression as he watched the bartender dutifully splash more amber poison into your upturned glass. Before he could reconsider, his strides had already eaten up the distance between you.

Distractedly, you swiped the fresh drink towards you - only to freeze when his fingertips materialized around your wrist, stilling its trajectory. Your bewildered gaze snapped up, all blurred crimson rims and swollen lids as you blinked at him in open confusion.

"Chrollo...?" His name slipped out garbled, thick, like you couldn't quite recognize him through the alcohol-soaked haze fogging your brain. Still, there was a reluctant ember of lucidity flickering in those depths. "Wha...?"

"Easy there." His tone was infused with a carefully modulated gentleness as he extricated the tumbler from your tenuous grasp. "I think you've had more than enough for one night."

For a suspended beat, you could only gape at him in wordless bewilderment - as if you couldn't quite comprehend that he was even real. Then all at once, your fragile composure simply...crumbled. A strangled sound, somewhere between a hiccup and a sob, gurgled up from your chest to clog your throat.

You were crying in earnest, shoulders quaking with the force of your abject despair before Chrollo could even parse your reaction. Instinct overrode reason as he sank into the stool beside you, one hand settling over the sharp jut of your shoulderblade while the other curled soothingly around the nape of your neck.

"Shh...just breathe, darling." His words were hushed, lulling as he pulled you against the solid line of his side. "Whatever has you in this state, tell me. Let me help."

Babbled, hiccuping gasps tumbled from your parted lips as you curled into the hollow of his shoulder and throat. You reeked of sour booze and salt, yet Chrollo did not recoil from your distress. Instead, he stroked the sensitive hairs at your nape in an anchoring rhythm, waiting patiently for the torrent of misery to ebb enough for intelligible speech to win out.

"He...he was with her! With that vapid little t-tart from his office!" The confession emerged in a wretched outburst, fraught with venom and betrayal. "After everything, he still...he was sleeping with her behind my back!"

Ah. So that was the root of this maudlin display - infidelity. Chrollo's lips pressed into a grim line as the pieces slotted into place. Of course some base, undeserving wretch would be foolish enough to wrong you so egregiously. To discard a brilliant mind like a banal plaything when they could scarcely begin to comprehend the depths of your worth...

His palm trailed in soothing strokes down the tense ridge of your spine as you heaved another juddering sob against the lapel of his coat. "Shhh...we'll make him regret the day he took you for granted, darling. We'll make this all go away, for tonight at least."

The rumbling murmur was laced with a conviction bordering on zealotry. Chrollo was utterly undone by your naked anguish - mired in both protective tenderness and dark contemplation over just how he might erase this slight. For you were meant for so much more than these kind of vulgar pains, this reductive mortal torment...

You reeled back slightly, eyes glassy and rimmed with clumped mascara as your brow knitted in confusion. But then Chrollo brushed the pad of his thumb along the swell of your lower lip - just a whisper of contact yet somehow searing with intensity. The hitch of your breath and instinctive part of your mouth was all the answer he needed.

Neither of you could rightly say who instigated the first crush of lips in that moment. It was needy and desperate, a frantic meshing of mouths tinged with the bitter fuel of anguish and something darker still. Chrollo's hand cradled the back of your skull as he angled closer, tongue lancing past your parted lips to taste the remnants of liquor and salt on your own.

There would be no gentle coaxing on this night. Only a frenzied tearing away of hurt and betrayal before the wounds could fester into something more insidious. A shedding of mortal flesh to reveal the brilliant essence burning beneath as you yielded into his possessive embrace...

The fragment drew to a hazy close, the visceral urgency of that encounter still pounding in Chrollo's veins. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly where his hands cradled your face and waist. Remembering the pure desperation fueling your surrender that night - how you had clung to him as the only tether left in the maelstrom. How he had claimed you wholly unto himself in the throes of solace and unraveling...

"Mine," he rasped against the seam of your lips, savoring the phantom memory of how pliant and undone you had been for him in that moment. If only for a handful of searing hours before the mortal coils began reweaving around your brilliant spirit once more.

But he would eternally relish that glimpse behind the veil, where your unbound essence had shone through unto him alone. The start of his fervent devotion to keep that flame tended, no matter how deeply he had to delve to stoke its radiant spark.

The memories began to scatter like ashes on the wind as Chrollo pulled back just enough to drink in the devastation he had wrought. His thumbs traced the sharp blades of your cheekbones, reverent despite the mottled bruises and lacerations maring your once unblemished skin.

Chrollo's grip tightened possessively as he vividly recalled that fateful night when he had first tasted the intoxicating depths of your psyche. Even as you had fallen apart in anguish over your unfaithful lover, there was an incandescent fire that drew Chrollo to you like a moth to the flame.

He had meant to simply provide a brief respite - a single night of forgetting your mortal turmoils as he indulged in the radiant essence you unconsciously exuded. But from the first crush of your pliant lips against his own, Chrollo found himself utterly enraptured. Each desperate roll of your hips and keening cry spilling from your throat only stoked his covetous obsession.

You had been so gloriously undone in those feverish hours - defenses obliterated, self discarded like a shed skin as you surrendered your entire being to the oblivion he offered. And in doing so, you had revealed the scintillating truth burning at your core. An existential fire, brilliant and rapturous...yet simultaneously fragile within its corporeal confines.

Chrollo's body was rigid now as he curled around your vacant form, conscious mind awash in the recollected sensations. The salty musk of your spent passions...the litany of ethereal sounds he had drawn from your kiss-bruised lips...the exquisite rapture of joining his essences with yours in those scorching instants of coalescence.

It should have been enough. One soul-searing glimpse into the untrammeled truth of your existence before allowing you to resettle behind your mortal veneers as societal dictates demanded. But even as he held your utterly spent form in the aftermath, body humming with satiated contentment, Chrollo recognized the obsession had taken insidious root.

He could never be complete until he had experienced the full unbridled depths of that prismatic flame he had witnessed refracting through your fragmented psyche. No matter how far he was required to descend in stripping away the superfluous layers masking your truest self from view.

Which was why, in the end, such...radical measures had been required to liberate you.

Chrollo's stare bored into your vacant eyes as if seeking any residual spark still banked behind that thousand-yard emptiness. His mouth brushed your cooling temple with something akin to devotion as the memories of your systematic unraveling played out in his mind's eye.

The isolation...the escalating torments he had ceremonially unleashed to flay both psyche and flesh from your core essence...the rapturous fervour of witnessing your final fracture into this transcendent, pristine stillness.

"You are the ultimate absolution," he murmured, clutching your husk closer. "My luminous ossuary - shedding at last your ill-fitting bodily accessories to reveal the immaculate truth shining beneath."

His lips brushed your slack, parted mouth, savoring the liberation of having reduced you at last to this perfect, unbound state. Preserved forever as the concentrated epiphany he had coveted from that first, searing taste of you drowned in mortal anguish so long ago.

"Mine," Chrollo rasped with heated finality. "You are mine, now and for all eternity to come..."

Chrollo cradled your deteriorated form against him, that flickering obsession still burning bright in his breast even as he drank in the full extent of devastation he had wrought upon you. For a fleeting moment, something almost like guilt sparked behind his impassive mask.

The once vibrant, brilliant essence he had fallen rapture to now lay utterly unmade. Your eyes stared back at him, unblinking and devoid of the soulful spark that had first ensnared him so completely. Just...empty. A hollowed vessel in the wake of shattering your very spirit to reach that primal truth buried beneath.

Chrollo's thumb traced the sharp jut of your cheekbone, calloused pad catching on the ridges of mottled bruises and lacerations peppering your ashen flesh. He had been the architect of this ruination - methodically flaying away every layer of identity and reservation until only the naked essence remained. A scorched earth approach in pursuit of cradling that luminous fire unbridled at last from the confines of your corporeal self.

But surely even this devastation was a brutal form of preservation? Eliminating every potential tether that might restrain you from the transcendental state of pure, unfettered being he had laid bare...

His grasp convulsed minutely, fingertips pressing almost bruisingly into the fragile dips of your body. Perfection, he tried to reaffirm. This was the apotheosis of preserving your immaculate truth in stasis. The self-aware cosmos distilled to its most sublime....

And yet...

The briefest flicker of uncertainty lanced through Chrollo's stare as he studied the desolation reflecting back at him. For the span of a solitary indrawn breath, his convictions seemed to teeter on the precipice of horrified doubt. The full magnitude of what he had unmade you into crashing against the uncompromising fervor of his beliefs like a sanity-shattering wave.

Then your lips parted with the barest sigh, the slightest tongue movement giving audible shape to a single rasping exhalation. A phantom whisper seeming to give voice to the oblivion reflecting from the depths of your vacant stare.

"Chrollo..."

The tenuous moment fractured. Whatever fissure of trepidation that had pried open an instant before was abruptly extinguished by the guttering embers of Chrollo's dedication. His palm cupped the sharp hinge of your jaw as his brow creased in a minute frown of reproach.

"Shh...no more," he soothed in a hushed murmur. "Your essence has transcended such temporal limits at last."

With agonizing tenderness, Chrollo brushed the faintest whisper of a kiss across your placid lips. There was no response from your end - no flutter of lashes or instinctive reaction. Just the weighty stillness of a mind and spirit severed completely from any lingering mortal confines.

Chrollo pulled back a bare fraction, his sable stare glittering with something like reverence as he studied the husk before him. The fate he had meticulously crafted for you in pursuit of undoing every superficial strand barring his unfettered view of the unfurling truth laid bare at last.

And in that moment, a twisted sort of absolution seemed to settle over his expression. This bleak squalor was both sanctum and crematorium - the smoldering aftermath in which your indelible imprint had been forged into existence eternal. No matter the state of the vessel's decay, your essence would endure, preserved forever in the chilling serenity Chrollo's morbid dedication had produced.

As for the systematic dismantling and agonies required to unmake you to this degree...? All such atrocious steps were hallowed by the certainty still burning in Chrollo's conviction as he cradled your emptied husk with the covetous desperation of an obsessive widower. The indelible truth of your being had ultimately been preserved in a state of perfect, pristine deliverance.

And whether that ultimately amounted to an abhorrent defilement or the most sacred of consecrations....Only Chrollo could rightly bear witness to the full breadth of that existential paradox now.

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eyesxxyou · 3 months

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Hobie was inexperienced. He had never even had toys before you. You were the one to introduce him to paradise, an actual haven that he was sent to under your delicate soft hands. He would black out, then come back with a high he could never recreate on his own as you kissed his face gently and stroked a wet rag across his v-line.

He wanted to end a romantic night with a wild ride. It wasn't his fault he ended up with a bag of goodies from an adult toy store. He wanted to please you, make sure you had an experience as well as you gave him.

He had set up candles, sweet scented candles that were far out of reach of your bed. He had water and wipes ready in your nightstand when the time came for immediate aftercare. He even got dressed in some pretty clothes, being embellished in metal spikes.

When you got home, expensive shoes toed off after your long day of work, you immediately smelled the sweet candles. Hobie had a giant hoodie on over his pretty outfit, walking out and kissing you all over the face.

"Hi, Hobes," you said sweetly with a smile. "Were you baking something? It smells so good."

"No, but I did light some candles in our room. Cleaned and it smelled too much like chemicals," Hobie lied.

After Hobie romanced you with flowers and a well made dinner, Hobie led you toward the bedroom. Your pupils dilated as you spotted the bag on the bed. You looked at him, then walked over to the bed. You were gently pushed back onto the bed before Hobie took off the hoodie, revealing the black and spiky arrangement.

"What's the occasion, baby?" you asked, slowly shedding off your shirt.

Hobie's breath caught his throat for a morning. "Wanted to let you experiment tonight."

You looked up at the superhero. So submissive as you pulled on the spiked choker and he got down on his knees on the carpet. "You're in for a treat, sweets."

It was only a matter of time before you had him handcuffed to the bedframe, leaking rivers as a vibrator controlled by a remote destroyed his hole. He couldn't cum, not without your touch. His whimpers were loud, his moans were even louder, and all of your sweet praised went straight to his dick. His back finally arched off the bed as your fingers teased the tip to gather his precum.

The moment a second thinner but just as powerful vibrator touched his aching tip, he was gone. His eyes rolled back, his hips jumped up, but he wouldn't cum. Not until you touched him. You finally gave him release, giving his dick a few pumps before his cum splattered.

You always wondered how much the spider bite affected him. The moment was proof. He was breathing heavily as his cum sprayed onto his skin. You took the vibrators and handcuffs off, not pushing him into overstimulation.

"My perfect, good boy. So sweet. I love ya so much."

Hobie was quietly panting and muttering sweet nothings as you wiped him down with the wipes he prepared. As you stares at the strong hero glistening in sweat, you wondered how you were the lucky one.

I'm back, love

XOXO, 💄

AHHHHHHH

#omg #i loved this #{eye's inbox}#{👁️ inbox}#💄 anon

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slvt4lanadelrey · 1 year

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Desire ruled me and destroyed us | Tara Carpenter

Tara Carpenter x Gf!fem!reader

Warnings: death, stabbing, blood, Ghostface Reader, swearing, detailed murder, lowkey suggestive scenes

Halloween was fast approaching the town of woodsborrow. As most of the children hurried home at night, assuring their doors were locked; bolted with atleast three clicks.

Sam was warmly tucked into her home, smiling contentedly. Her fingers flipping through a book, her phone tucked underneath her elbow; the ring turned off by her earlier that day, by design.

Quinn had finally decided to stop bring home random strays and went out on her own; no doubt to stay over their house instead. That meant, no obnoxiously loud moaning and slamming of her bedframe.

Shockingly, your presence was lacking in the warm apartment. You had been a major presence in Tara's life for the majority of Tara's teenage years. Since you were 16 to be exact, the age they began to date. Five years later and you two were still sharing sweet kisses at midnight and holding hands like the mear thought of nothing touching in anyway would burn you.

Sam didn't mind having you around all the time. You was a nice enough girl, your mom being an only problem within their relationship; Gale had a tendancy to be a less than welcoming person.

—————

"God, your such a tease" you groaned down at the persons feared face. Your face was covered with a mask; a ghostface mask. You slammed your knife further into the girl you had decided didn't deserve to breathe anymore. You "tsk'ed" at the way the dyed green haired girl whimpered her black eyeliner dripping into a mess. You laughed, your knuckle now slamming into the girls stomach, the sign your knife was too far in; retreating it back, sighing at how the nice pop and that it left a slapping sound through the room.

"You never told me your name." Just like murderers before you, you laughed; the girl gasping with blood pooling out her mouth. You knew perfectly well who the girl was: Andy Samuel, B student, sort of gothic.

"Why?" The green haired girl gasped, blood spray on the mask that had been cleaned earlier that night. You didn't mind it, revelling in the way your face was painted with your victims blood.

"Because why not." Unlike prior ghostfaces, you didnt have a motive. You was crazy, an absolute wild card that needed to cut shit up. Barbies only went so far, nothing compared to how someone would shake and grasp onto your neck at how hard you was inpaling them with such a force that knocked the wind out of them.

Andy shook, hands gripping onto your neck; they always fought back. She stared at the mask infront of her, her fingers now begging to pry the white mask down until It revealed your face. Andy's face flushed with hurt, immediately remembering you from Chem class. You didn't leave the girl to wollow for too long; sliding the knife through the beautiful sight of the girls neck, slicing it as blood sprayed across your lip.

You tilted your head back, a guttering groan leaving your now bloodied lips. You sighed, eyes rolled back, your body straddling the dead body.

You darted your tongue out, salivating at how the metallic taste invaded your mouth. You looked down at the knife, it so nicely drenched in blood. You placed it to your bottom lip, cutting into the skin slightly before sliding your tongue down. Your tongue slit, blood gushing out. You didn't flinched, far too gone to care.

Your body was thrown to the side, your knife falling onto the floor as someone tackled her. Mindy, her bestfriend was left to stare with a wide gaze, her fingers dipping into the red liquid that stuck to them like a bad sin.

"Another one?" Mindy asked, stared at the glorious sight of someone so lifeless, drounding in their own blood. "This is like the fourth one this week."

You chuckled, pulling yourself up from the floor; grabbing your knife from the ground. You walked over to your friend, smiling so innocently. You grabbed a soft hand onto Mindy's chin, tilting her head up. Then, your grip grew tight, squeezing until the windpipe crushed below her grip.

"Dont ever fucking push me again. Got It?" Your face was covered in blood, your bottom lip being forced down my your thumb. You dribbled some blood into Mindy's mouth; knowing she had the same desires that only were told in books, and shitty movies that never really explained it right.

No words could be able to describe the euphoria state you was left with after killing. Billy, Stu, Nancy, Mickey, Ronan, Jill, Charlie, they were all fucking geniuses. Absolutely gods to Mindy, competitor's for you.

So far you had out done them all. An easy 10 people left gutless and eyes drawn open due to your knife. The police had no leads, nothing. None of them had any rerelevancy to each other, most of all you knew not to fuck with Sydney.

"Y/N." Mindy gasped, her hands prying at your still fingers. They were trapped, tightly nawing at Mindy's tempting throat. You released it, laughing mockingly at how Mindy nearly began to shake like the rest did.

"Get up."

—————

"The question everyone's asked."

Finally, you bit the bullet. Your sweet, beautiful, kind, girlfriend limp, lying on the floor with a blooded head. The knife swayed sideways, taunting everyone in the room with how close it was to jabbing into Tara's stomach.

Tara gritted her teeth, seething out swear words at the person who they still didn't know was trying to kill them.

"Who are you!" Tara wepted, her hands clawing at the brutal hand that pushed down on her shoulder. The masked person, with a Cheshire cat like smile looked down at her. The knife had already been through so many stomachs, sliced so many throats. It held stories most people's stomach's wouldn't be able to handle to hear.

"You wanna see my face?" The masked person asked, so dreadfully pleasured at how obedient Tara was under you; knife flush to Tara's chest, her heart pulsing and thumping into her rib cage.

You was a people pleaser, you tore the mask off your face. Tara's face dropped, her eyes swelling with every emotion a human was possible of having. You had faked your death a few days prior, a stupidly good tactic your favourite killer had used many years before.

"What? Did- did I scare you baby?" You asked, your finger dragging up and down Tara's jaw. Tara flinched at the touch her face bleeding with tears, screaming at every memory she had of the both of you being so hopelessly in love.

"I can't- I can't believe I loved you." Tara screamed, spit slamming into your now unmasked face. You clenched your jaw, your knife tapping into Tara's face, you sighed.

"I'd glady cut you fucking up! Sam won't even be able to identify your fucking face when I'm done with you Tara" you wasn't lying, a few victims weren't identified by their faces; only by their dental records.

"Your just making this so much easier for me, stretch your neck just like that baby" you purred, your eyes wide with excitement at how Tara was thrashing back and forth. Her neck was on display, flashing a view that begged to bleed.

"Y/N!" A hard slam was all it took for you to topple over and howl in pain. Sam standing behind you with a ornament. You held her head, blood flowing from the open gash.

"You fucking bitch" you laughed. Sam's knees buckled, falling onto the floor. Her mouth dropped open, blood gargling out as she held the wound. Mindy was standing behind her, her knife wrapped around her fingers.

You chuckled in pleasure, colliding your knifes together with a clang. Tara kicked your leg, trying to fight back.

Oh, how much you loved with they fought back.

Tara was a sight to be held. Her face swelled wide with anger when her fingers wrapped around your neck. She somehow managed to wrestle you onto the floor, then proceeded to slam your head onto the floor a few times.

"How pleasant." You commented, nothing stopping the lust that consumed you whole. Desire was practically oozing from you, seeping from your eyes and making your mouth fill with saliva at the mear thought and memory of the bad things you did.

"I hate you!"

Nothing. Nothing cared within you, not even the way Tara screamed and protested about not loving you and hating the guts out of you.

"You hate my guts?" You asked, immediately getting a breathless "yes." From Tara. You nodded, your knife carving a line up Tara's stomach through her shirt.

"You hate my guts, I'll remove yours." You explained, your knife cutting peice by peice out of her Tara's belly.

"I'm the last person your going to see alive, Baby. I love that, I love knowing that." You carried on, your fingers now digging into Tara's stomach medically.

Tara cried, wepted, whatever she was doing it was working. The animalistic snarl leaving yiur lips, the brush of hair falling infront of your face as you made sure Tara would never breathe again.

"Last person you ever saw, Tara Carpenter was the person who killed your sister, bestfriend and everyone who had ever cared about you. Funny, huh?" You giggled to yourself, your clothes surely drenched in the sweetness of Tara's blood. There was enough to swim, or maybe bathe.

Never the less, you stumbled to your feet. Deciding to wipe away the fresh layer of skin that was the Carpenters sisters blood. Their reminding legacy amounting to nothing but a sad name on a peice of paper labeled

"Ghostface killers victims."

#jenna ortega #jennaortega #lgbt #scream #tara carpenter #dewey riley #gale weathers #wlw #gxg #tara carpenter x fem #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x gf!reader

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thelampisaflashlight · 5 months

Text

Keep It Brief

[Something, something, Mountain really likes Dew's outfit. Mentions of seasonal weight gain, but that in and of itself is not sexualized, fairly neutral on that front. Not suitable for younger audiences.] Below the cut.

Maybe it's the way Dew is dressed; Is it the baggy t-shirt that barely covers his ass, which is hardly hidden by the black briefs he has on to begin with, or maybe it's the socks that come to his mid-calf and draw Mountain's attention to the long, pale expanse of his bare legs, who can say really?

Either way, there's something about the... casualness of his current outfit and the fact that Mountain knows Dew would tug his pants on if anyone else were here that has him staring, without shame, at the subtle squish of the hybrid's flesh where the elastic squeezes around his ass.

Normally, when Mountain wanders over to Dew's side of their shared dorm, the other at least throws on gym shorts or has boxers on, which don't quite have the same effect on him as these briefs do.

They're not even particularly nice looking; Simple black cotton, no designs or lace, but they do look comfortable.

Look soft.

Dew is all lean muscle, so even relaxed as he is, his body doesn't hold much softness to it, though parts of him have rounded out a little since the weather began to cool.

People often exerted themselves more in winter without realizing it, and Dew was no exception, so, of course, he ate more, both to make up for lost energy and because of the holidays, so, although almost unnoticeable to most, Mountain, who spent almost every day -and night- around the other, had taken notice of this change.

Not that he'd bring it up, there was nothing wrong with Dew gaining a little weight, but even if Mountain said something in a complimentary manner, he's not entirely sure how he'd take such a comment; Dew has always been at odds with his body, and Mountain wasn't about to give him something else to focus on, good or bad, because the chances of him becoming obsessive over it were high.

Really, Mountain thinks, it's best to stick to baser thoughts on the matter... namely the fact that Dew was currently having to adjust his briefs and giving the earth ghoul the smallest glimpse of his butt in doing so.

Now that looked soft.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, big guy?" Dew asks, breaking Mountain's concentration on the slight crease between his cheeks and thighs.

Mountain hums, propping himself up on Dew's bed, where he's been laying on his belly since coming over to this side of the room, feeling the bedframe protest with a metallic squeak as he rests his chin on his palm.

"Clothes." he replies, then adds, "Laundry?"

Dew casts his gaze over to the small pile of clothes in the corner of his room, "Ugh, yeah, I gotta do that later... It's such a pain in the ass-"

As Dew rants about the intricacies of doing laundry, from, "If you do it too soon, you wind up with dirty clothes still!" to, "And don't get me started on the detergent pods-" Mountain watches the hem of his shirt rise and fall, flashing his underwear with every other word.

"And-" Dew pauses and Mountain blinks up at him, "...Mount..."

"...Yyyyessss?" He responds meekly, face flushing as Dew descends upon the bed, crossing one bare thigh over another.

"...Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" he asks again, tongue licking over pink lips...

"Oh, wow, Dew has you doing his laundry, too?" Swiss pats Mountain's back sympathetically, watching the taller man crouch down to toss clearly too small shirts into the dryer, "Poor guy, you can't catch a break with that guy for a roommate, huh?"

Mountain hums, squeezing a bit of excess moisture out of the delicate briefs he pulls out of the washer next, "...Certain hardships are easier to live with I'd say."

Swiss can only stare in confusion as Mountain clicks the dryer shut, briefs still in hand.

"Huh."

#lamp writes #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #mountaindew #mountain/dew #sheetrock is a type of drywall

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 2 months

Text

Get Some: Bigby Wolf x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Chapter 1

Contains: Collars, choking, bottom Bigby >:), dirty talk

Heya! I decided to recycle this and the other Bigby ones to be their own thing from my (once again) failed kinktober. I planned to make them one continuous story and I never finished :) I did it as well to a few others, too, so be on the lookout!

You felt his intense gaze drilling holes into your soul. Dual amber irises seemed to glow faintly in the dimly lit room. The sun had set hours ago, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner of your bedroom. His bushy eyebrows were arched, there was a fire lit in his eyes, a stray lock of chocolate hair fell into his face.

He wasn’t quite a fan of the little toy you brought into the bedroom.

It was a little heavy in your hand, your fingers wrapped loosely around the cool leather. Metal pieces clinked together softly as it swayed with your movements. The tag gave off a little shine on the wall behind him from the light of your floor lamp behind you.

He sat before you, leaned back onto his elbows, his “clean” work shirt had the top few buttons undone to reveal the thick hairs that lay muttered across his broad and muscular chest. He was still panting, his big hands had loosened their grip on your sheets. His belt had been unbuckled and undone, the fly to his dress pants had been unzipped a bit and the button was open.

His eyes darted to the item in your hand at your side then back to your eyes, really trying to judge how serious you were with this before looking right back at the item in question.

In your hand laid a collar you had bought just a little while ago from a website Bigby did not care enough to know the name from. The collar was made of black and shiny leather with a gold-plated buckle in the back. Around the collar were spikes like the stereotypical collar for a big brute dog with a gold name tag that had gone unscripted. It was big, too big for your neck but seemingly a perfect size for his.

“You can’t be serious, (Y/n),” his gravely voice cut through the air as he looked back up at your face.

You looked ravishing. Your hair was a bit of a mess, your makeup was dewey from sweat and your lipstick had smudged from how he kissed you. The red pout was probably on his face, but at this moment he didn’t care. He cared about the tingling sensation coming from his dick and the worry that was bubbling as he knew how this was going to go.

“I’m not gonna leash you up and tie you to the bedframe if that’s what you’re thinking of,” you smirked as you swung the collar around on your finger. “I just think it would look good on you.”

It was your turn for his eyes to bore into his, cutting through his, singing siren songs to fog his brain. He swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he looked back down at the collar. A very faint flame rose to his cheeks.

Blood roared in his ears, he could hear your heart beating, the feeling of his dick trapped in his pants: It was all a little too much.

Bigby swallowed.

“Let me do it,” Bigby grumbled, turning his gaze from you to look somewhere obsolete.

He put his hand out, palm open, waiting to accept the dog collar from you. When you put it into his waiting palm, Bigby’s suspicion was confirmed; It was heavy and cool to the touch, the gold plates even colder.

Bigby unlooped the buckle and carefully slid the collar around his thick neck, the columns of his throat pressed against the leather as he buckled it behind his neck. It was snug around his neck, barely cutting off his air supply. It was a little uncomfortable when he swallowed but he loved the cool feeling of the smooth leather on his warm body. The brief thought that there are collars a lot smaller than this one crossed his mind. How do people wear these all day? He couldn’t help but wonder.

You came closer to the bed, propping a knee up between his open legs, you slowly bent down just a bit until you could feel the heat radiating off of his body. You reached up and jingled the little dog tag at the front of the collar, smirking at the damn neckwear and how you got him to wear it so easily.

You really do have the big bad wolf wrapped around your finger, the other fables weren’t lying.

You bent down closer, propping your other knee up, you straddled Bigby by the waist and lowered yourself onto him, making sure to brush up against his growing arousal. Bigby hissed a bit, panting softly as you closed in. Your breasts pressed against his chest, and you wrapped your knees around his waist to trap him to the bed.

You pressed your lips to his, noses brushing against each other. Your hands came up to grab at his opened shirt, fingers wrinkling the cigarette-stained shirt as Bigby grabbed on tight to the sheets with one hand as the other grabbed onto your waist to keep you steady. Your fingers worked their ways down the open seam of his shirt, making sure to trace the definition of his muscles as you went. Starting from the top of his collarbones, down his built pecs until you reach the top of his abs where the buttons remained still intact together. Skilled fingers weaved the buttons out of their places one at a time as you pressed your face against his. The prickle of his stubble scratched at your face, sending little sparks down your nerves and into your spine. You whimpered, biting into his bottom lip for more as you weaved out another button. You kept a thumb rolling down his abdomen with each button you undid until you reached his loosened waistband.

Your hands ran back up his chiseled front to his broad shoulders that would shame most of the men in Fabletown. You helped glide off his wrinkled work shirt to pool on the bed underneath Bigby, drawing the stiff material down his sculpted biceps and forearms. You drooled at the thoughts of what Bigby could do with his sheer strength alone.

You broke the kiss quickly, aiming your lips down and planting your mark on his throat right below where the collar sat, pressing kisses to his heated skin, trailing them down from his throat to his chest down to his abs where you stopped just at the waistband of his boxers just barely peeking over the hem of his work pants now starting to look woefully tight from his tenting erection.

When you stopped kissing, Bigby went to say something, moving his head slightly forward when you cut him off. You grabbed at the back of his collar at the gold-plated buckle and yanked him back a bit, causing the poor lovestruck sheriff to gasp and choke slightly as he craned his head back.

You carefully sat back up in his lap, looking down at Bigby who was looking back at you with wide eyes. You weren’t normally this dominant with him, it was all obviously a shock to him.

“Why don’t you be a good boy and let me handle this, hmm sheriff?” you cooed as you looked down at him like he was something to play with.

Not knowing what to say, Bigby took the silent route and sat back on his elbows again, opting to watch what you were doing. His throat burned from you yanking him back like that, the burn felt amazing though, like a shock that had got right through him in all of the right ways.

You got off of him, standing at the edge of the bed where you started to undress the rest of him. You pulled off his loosened belt and dropped it to the floor. You snaked your fingers in the belt loops of his pants and carefully dragged them down his slender legs, leaving him in just his normal black boxers now tenting with a full-blown erection.

Bigby grit his teeth when you palmed at his erection through his boxers, squeezing his cock through the black material. You stopped after a second, your fingertips dipping into the tight waistband of his boxers before pinching and started to peel them down. Bigby couldn’t help the low and soft moan that escaped his parted lips when his cock was freed from its confines, his hard dick springing upwards as you kept dragging his boxers down. He even lifted his ass up for you without even needing to be asked, he wanted whatever you were about to dish out so badly.

You tossed the boxers to the floor behind you, eyes on his cock standing up in the air.

“You’re so excited for me, huh, sheriff?” you teased.

“(Y/n), please,” he whispered.

“And you’re such a needy one too, huh?” Your fingers gently wrapped around his cock, eyeing it in your hand. The tip was swollen and a pearl of precum was sitting so pretty on the head before you looked back at the poor man lying on your bed. “Be a good boy and I’ll give you a treat, yeah?”

A growl came from Bigby’s delicious naked chest, his puppy brown eyes prickled with gold.

You knew exactly what to say to push his buttons in the right way.

‘Good boy.’

Normally when others make dog jokes it digs into his skin and gets on his nerves. But when you do it, it kind of turns him on. You had done something similar to this, teasing him, calling him a good boy and a good dog, and he nearly lost control of himself. He had turned and fucked you into the mattress at his apartment.

Safe to say that sex now mainly happens at yours now since your neighbors aren’t really home at night.

You bent down and ran your tongue over the head of his cock, licking up the bead of precum that had started to roll down onto his shaft.

Bigby exhaled quickly, his head rolling back a bit, the collar’s tag jingled as he did so. The feeling of your lips around his cock felt amazing for the brief moment that they stayed before you pulled away, a trail of saliva sticking to your bottom lip.

Bigby hissed as his dick was exposed back into the air of your bedroom, his head craning up to look at you, eyebrows pinched together slightly.

You had placed a knee on top of the bed once more and leaned in, taking the dick in your hand and you slowly pumped it with your hand, squeezing around the head just enough to make him hiss.

You leaned in and brushed your lips against his before Bigby closed the space between you two. The prickle of his stubble on your skin was electric. He wanted to grab onto your clothing and rip it off your body, to have his sweet way with you.

But he heard it before he felt it, the clinking of the golden buckle behind his head.

You had hooked a finger in the buckle and yanked him back again, causing the sheriff to choke and gasp as he laid flat on his back. The sudden cut off of air left his head spinning and blood roaring in his ears.

Bigby moaned and gasped when he felt your lips on his dick again. His large hands grabbed at the sweaty sheets and bunched them in his grip, his core feeling molten hot. He dug the back of his head into the mattress, eyes screwing shut and grit his teeth when your tongue swirled around the head of his cock.

He wanted to fuck your mouth. Knot his fingers in your hair and cum down your throat so badly.

He groaned loudly when you took him further, nearly swallowing him up to the root. The feeling of your tight mouth around his thick cock had him seeing stars.

You started slow, you always did, for both of your sakes. You only started to move faster when Bigby placed one hand on top of your head and carded his fingers into your hair, guiding you along his shaft, helping you ramp up the pace.

He opened his eyes in the midst of the bliss he was feeling to look at you, already looking right back at him. He loved the way you looked him, behind those eyelashes, his cock in your mouth, it was a perfect sight.

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you smirked.

Bigby cursed, his grip on the sheets grew tighter. The hand on your head clenched, grabbing at your hair and causing you to moan on his cock. You felt his nails dig at your scalp a little bit, the familiar feeling of claws scratched lightly at your scalp. Bigby’s grip grew tighter as he started to jerk his hips, his breathing had turned into panting as his cock twitched once more in your mouth.

He was close.

Bigby felt his claws sink into your sheets as he pulled, wincing, he grit his sharp teeth and moaned out your name.

He came apart in your mouth, the salty taste of his cum hit the back of your throat as his cock went semi-soft in your mouth. You swirled your tongue over the head of his dick, milking his cock until he ran dry.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, his chest was wound up so tight, his heart was racing and his blood was roaring. He sat back up on his elbows once more when you finally released his cock from your mouth, looking back at you now that you had stood up fully. His hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead and his face felt flushed and hot.

You had started to strip before him. You really didn’t have much clothing on when he came home after a long day of getting chewed out by other fables for him just trying to do his job. You were wearing a black silken robe with lace trimmings. The matching silken strap tied around your waist kept whatever lingerie piece you were wearing hidden. Whatever it was, you wore garters with it, black silk and lace to match your robe, the ribbons that hung down that were clamping onto black cotton thigh-highs had crescent moons as clips. Bigby was practically drooling like a dog at the curves of your body, swallowing thickly as you fumbled with the tight knot you had tied in the front of your robe until the strap had fallen loose to your sides. Bigby’s eyes widened a bit at your lingerie.

A bra and panty set, both were black and made of sheer lace that really didn’t hide much. The bras had a deep plunge and the panties sat high on the curve of your hips, really not hiding much of your ass when you turned and dropped the robe to the floor.

Bigby could appreciate a good lingerie set, especially on someone as attractive as you, he wasn’t a complete dog.

“Sit up,” you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

He did as you commanded, sitting up fully and scooting to the edge of your bed, his cock prickling with life against as it started to hang at full mast. He didn’t know why, but he felt a little shy sitting like this in front of you.

You unclasped the crescent moon garters, slipping them off of your legs you also grabbed at your panties. You hooked your fingers around the waistband and slowly pulled them down just enough until gravity did the work for you.

You stepped forward and kicked your panties to join the mess of clothes already on the floor before climbing into his lap. Bigby’s large hands grabbed at the backs of your thighs to steady you, his claws sinking into your skin so deliciously, the little prickles of where his laws just barely don’t break your skin sent sparks up your spine. His eyes were hungry, golden and begging.

You sank yourself down onto Bigby’s dick, one of your hands coming down to help align for the awkward positioning. You both gasped when the swollen head of his cock pierced through you, Bigby’s grip on you allowed you to slowly sink into him. You clung to his shoulders, your nails biting into his broad flesh. You felt so full, you felt euphoric from just the stretch alone.

You slowly started to move, raising yourself and lowering yourself just a bit at first before you both started to ramp up the pace.

You both were grunting, chest to chest as you bounced on Bigby’s cock in his lap, sweat glistened on both of your bodies. You carded a hair into the back of Bigby’s thick chocolate locks and drew him in, your lips danced in a fiery passion.

Bigby felt your fingers grasp at the collar again before he felt his airways constrict again, cutting off oxygen and making his entire body wracked with pleasure. He sank his claws into the meat of your thighs as he snarled at you, eyes glowed and teeth sharp. There was excitement in your eyes, it was like getting a rise like this out of him sent thrills down your spine.

You cried out, your head thrown back as you moaned loudly when you felt his dick twitch inside of you, when you felt the head of his thick cock brush up against that special part inside of you.

You both came together, you fell loose in Bigby’s arms with your finger still hooked in the buckle of the collar until you had decided he had enough.

You both had parted from one another, you had laid down on the bed while Bigby took a little while to relax back on his arms as he was still trying to catch his breath.

The dog collar started to feel heavy on his throat. He quickly sat up and reached behind his head and fumbled with the collar, managing to unhook the gold buckle and free his poor throat from its binding. He tossed the damned dog collar to the floor to join the rest of the discarded clothing before sitting back in the bed with you still on your back still trying to catch your breath.

“Did you like it?”

He didn’t even have to pay attention or even look in your general direction to know that you had a shit-eating grin on your face. He didn’t want to admit it, but in the dim lighting of your bedroom, his cheeks held a soft warmth and flush.

He finally moved to lay down after a minute.

“You’re getting it next time.”

#the wolf among us #twau #bigby wolf x reader #bigby x reader #bigby wolf

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tasteofthedivine93 · 4 months

Text

Sugar (18+) 🌶️🌶️- COD Fanfic

TasteOfTheDivine // Masterlist

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54162538 Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Category: F/M Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Reader // John "Soap" MacTavish & Reader

Warnings: Mildly Dubious Consent Words: 8,354

Summary:

You’re captured by an experimental terrorist organisation, more of a cult than anything. You’re rescued by Soap who finds you and you don’t feel yourself.

Notes:

Mild warning: Slight dubious consent. I tried to keep it consensual, if you're uncomfortable please don't read. Some mild humping without asking. Rest of acts do ask for permission.

You awoke in a hard uncomfortable bed - a thin scratchy bedsheet covered your lower half. You open your eyes and squint at the bright white lights illuminating the room. You try to move your arms but the sound of the clinking metal echoed in the empty room. You look at your wrists, you become aware they were bound with thick black leather that connected to the bedframe with a metal chain.

Dry tongue darted over your cracked lips and you let out a small cough from your dehydrated throat. As soon as you stopped coughing, a voice was heard outside the room and your heart pounded hard against your ribcage. Eyes stared intensely at the door in fear, you held your breath, hoping they would go away.

The door creaked open, the barrel of a gun peeked out from around the frame and your heart leapt into your throat, but you couldn’t speak up. Behind the barrel of the gun, a young man with a lightly shaved head and striking mohawk slowly crept along the floor, barely making a sound. He turned sharp and faced you, pointing his gun straight at your shivering body.

You quickly turned your head away from the weapon, closing your eyes tight, waiting to hear the sound of gunfire and your life to end. Instead, you heard him sigh as he slowly lowered the gun. Your heart remained in your throat and tears lined your tightly shut eyes. The room filled with a Scottish accent;

“I’ve foun’ a prisoner, tied up in what looks like a medical ward.” Medical? You questioned yourself. You kept your eyes closed tight and drew in a shaky breath through your nose. You heard his footsteps draw closer.

“Don’t worry lass, I’m here to help.” You opened your eyes and slowly turned to face him and inspected the man. Eyes darted over his brown tactical vest covered in pockets and nearly falling apart. Then to the small flag in the centre of his chest. ‘UK’, you thought to yourself.

You noticed his figure - thick arms and broad shoulders. You glanced over to the gun that hung over his shoulder and pointed to the floor. ‘Military’ you thought. Lastly, you examined his face, his eyes were the first thing you noticed - piercing blue. They never left your sorrowful gaze, and you match his look of concern.

“Are you alone?” He asked calmly. You didn't respond, your throat closed up tight and you were too scared to move. He swung the gun back into his grip and checked around the empty room and under the bed, finally decided to drop the gun to his side, making himself hostile before he introduced himself;

“Sergeant John MacTavish. Part of the 141 Task Force team, my friends call me Soap.” He smiled at you, a warm smile that made the knot in your stomach loosen. For a moment you felt like everything would be okay. You still couldn’t find it in yourself to smile or respond. Part of you thought you had lost your voice.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, he looked you up and down, and noticed the restraints on your wrists; metal chains wrapped around the bedframe and connected to a thick leather strap that hugged your wrists. You followed his gaze at the restraints. You thought for a minute, ‘Am I hurt?’ You couldn’t recall anything, you didn't even remember your own name. You remembered a bar, a few drinks and then - nothing. You took in a deep breath and attempted to speak.

“No, I -” your voice croaked, you let out a small cough, “I don’t think so.” you managed to croak out. Your throat was harsh, you had no idea how long you were down here and how long since you had water, maybe a day or two. A wave of emotions crashed over you but you felt too tired to cry, instead, you suddenly became aware you were practically naked, a small pair of white shorts covered your hips and a white vest barely covered your chest and stomach.

A small blush crept over your cheeks, you tried to cover yourself with your arms but the restraints stopped you. You tugged at them trying to break yourself free to no prevail, you started to breathe heavily at the feeling of being trapped. Soap noticed your discomfort and panic.

“Aye, don’t worry about that lass - let me get these off you.” He dug around in a pocket on his tactical vest, reached over and with a small pair of what looked like pliers and snapped the metal away from the leather straps, leaving them tied to your wrists. You offered your other hand to him and he wrapped his hand around yours and snapped away the remaining chain. His fingers felt nice against your skin.

You shook your head at the thought, ‘what a stupid thing to think’ you commented to yourself, a blush grew on your cheeks and your body shivered. You kept your gaze off him and let out the breath you didn’t realise you held.

“Do you know your name?” he asked, leaning down to try and catch your gaze. You locked eyes with him, you noticed his eyes again and how intensely blue they are, thick lashes surrounded them, making the colour stand out more. He smiled at you and your stomach flipped.

“I - er… no.. I don’t… remember.” Your voice sounded a little more normal. You slowly sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed. Your head started to immediately pound at the change of position, your blood pressure dropped, you placed your hand on your forehead to steady yourself;

"Oh... Ow'' You felt your pulse in your temple beat like a drum. Soap noticed your discomfort and looked up at you.

“Hey take it easy,” He reached over to comfort you and he placed his hand on your bare shoulder. You noticed the touch feel like it burnt a little, you let out a small gasp, hissing through your teeth.

“Ow,” You jerk your shoulder away from him and reach over to touch the area. You look at him and see his eyes are apologetic but also confused and with concern, his brow furrowed a little and looked at his own hand in confusion.

“Sorry, lass.” He looked down at your shoulder and so do you. You removed your hand and saw there was nothing there, no burn, not even a tint of pink. ‘What was that?” You shook your head and stared back at Soap.

“No, it…” you hesitated, not wanting to say it outloud like a crazy person. You let out another breath. “It felt like you burnt me?” You questioned yourself. You looked around the room and nothing stands out, a simple white ward room with no posters, no equipment, not even a window - just the bed, sharp fluorescent lighting overhead and a simple metal chair in the corner.

You look back down at your nearly exposed body, inspecting for any marks, cuts or bruises, but you see nothing out of the ordinary. Your mind is racing with questions; ‘what am I doing here?’, ‘Where am I?’, ‘Who is this man?’. Your eyes dart around your hands in your lap.

“Might be adrenaline.” He says calmly. “Just give me a moment.” He turns away from you and leans down to his shoulder, speaking into a black mouthpiece, it crackles with life and he starts talking to whoever is on the opposite end of the call.

“This is 0-1-4 base.”

“Yeah it’s me. I found her. She’s in a room off the south corridor…”

You zone out and don’t listen to him talking. You start looking over your body again, another hot flash of embarrassment floods over you at how exposed you are in front of Soap, you look away, trying to find something to cover yourself with but there is no bedding or sheets to be found.

You cross your arms over your chest, you notice your nipples feel extra sensitive at the fabric rubbing against them, you let out hiss at the sensation and move your arms back to your sides. You continue to tune out their conversation and get lost in your thoughts again, trying to remember anything, you close your eyes tight trying to shield the hard lights from your sensitive eyes.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” His voice makes you jump a little and snap out of your own questioning trance. Your eyes meet again and you feel immediately lost in them, you smile slightly at his kind words and breath deep. You don’t feel right, not that you’re going to faint or be sick, but your skin feels extra sensitive and your mind fuzzy.

“Did you hear me, lass?” He asks, you snap out of your trance again, you realise you felt drunk, maybe tipsy, not able to concentrate on anything around you.

“Erm -” you open your mouth and you look away sheepish again. He lets out a small chuckle, trying to make light of the situation.

“No worries, I said the area is clear but I've been given strict instructions to not move you and our medical team can give you the all clear and transport you to our medical base.” Your eyes dart between his, trying to take in what he just said.

“Okay.” you manage to croak out, realising your throat was still very dry. You go to lick your lips and realise your tongue is like sandpaper against the thin skin, you wince at the pain. You bring your hand to your lips and feel they’re not as dry as your tongue thought they were. As you touch them, a small faint scent wafts into your nose and your skin tingles at the smell. You turn your hand and smell the back of it - that same musky woody scent.

‘What is that?’ you question yourself. It smells divine, it's a little intoxicating, you keep your hand there for a few more sniffs. Your head begins to swim as if you just sniffed gasoline or a strong solvent, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You feel your mouth water slightly, your once rough throat finally feeling lubricated.

‘What the fuck?’ You suddenly realised, Soap, he touched your hands to remove your restraints. ‘No’, you think, shaking your head 'that's impossible’. You finally snap your hand away from your face, looking up into the room and notice Soap removing his tactical vest and placing it on the back lone metal chair in the corner of the room. He carefully placed his gun on the seat of the chair and walked back towards you, his stride more casual now he was in just his clothes.

He was smiling at you, that smirk again. It made your stomach flip over and your cheeks blushed again. ‘What is happening to me?’ You dart your eyes away from him, dropping your head and looking at your lap, shaking at the thought of his eyes on you.

“Are you alright lass?” He asks, bending down in front of you. “You don’t seem too good.” He inspects your face a little more closely this time. He slowly reaches over like offering his hand to a dog to be sniffed - you raise your head and he feels your forehead with the back of his hand. “You feel kind of hot. You might have got a fever.”

His touch felt like electricity over your body, you let out a small gasp and your back arches a little and you roll your hips into the bed. The electricity shocks all over your body - mainly pooling between your legs and a shock excites your clit. An involuntary whimper escapes past your lips and you pull away from Soap's touch, leaving his hand floating in the air.

“I don't think... It's a fever..." You whisper out loud, you were meant to think that. You close your eyes not wanting to look at him, you lick your lips and your mouth is back dry again.

"Is there water?" You open your eyes and look at the man towering over you on the bed, you feel that you look so weak and sheepish. He looks at you with concern, he smiles that smirk again and nods and lowers his hand away from you slowly.

"I've got some water in my vest."

He marches promptly over to the other side of the room and retrieves the water, he turns back to you smiling still - your stomach and heart bounces and you bite the inside of your cheek. He opens up the canteen and hands it to you, your fingers touch again and you look away as that same electricity sparks through you, this time stopping at your sensitive nipples that you worry have peaked your attention.

You bring the metal flask to your lips and chug the water and drink it down fast, closing your eyes feeling the cool water on your tongue, you spill some of it over your lips and it drips down your chin and neck. It feels cool on your skin and you shiver.

You taste the metal tang in the liquid from the container but there was another taste you couldn’t put your finger on, that same musky scent rose into your nose again but this time it danced on your tongue - you let out another whimper but hoping the quenching of your thirst would mask your involuntary moan. You finish the whole thing, not leaving a single drop of that delicious water and gasp for air after you’re done, but you feel you are still left thirsty. You hand him back the now empty canteen making sure not to touch his fingers again.

"Thank you, I needed that. I still feel thirsty though" You lick your lips, capturing any last droplets that lingers around your mouth and wiping away any remaining water with the back of your hand, hoping to wash away any lingering scent on your skin. The water that dripped down your neck and chest was already gone, it evaporated quickly off your hot skin.

You look up at the man in front of you, catching his gorgeous blue eyes again and you feel your blood run cold.

You notice his eyes dart around you, his eyes trail down your body, following the line of water that spilt down your neck and chin. He watches you lick your lips as he can feel the tension in the room, but he doesn’t say anything.

As you stare back up at him, you get a feeling that his eyes are searching you out, like he’s looking at you in a whole new way. The longer you stare, the more aware you feel of the situation you find yourself in. A tingle runs up and down your spine.

“How are you feeling now?” He cocks his head to the side, folding his arms in front of his chest, smirking at you again.

“I - er- yeah - um” Is all you are able to stutter out, you feel lost of all words when he looks at you like that. You don't understand yourself, you’re normally confident in the presence of men, and you can speak without sounding like a bumbling drunk idiot or a love-shy teenager. The power this man has over you at the moment is foreign to you, you question again what has been going on at this place, what did they do to you? You take in a deep breath, calm yourself down and ask;

“What is this place? Do you know why I'm here? What happened to me?” You look around the empty room again, trying to gather your own answers from thin air. You hear him sigh and he looks to the floor.

“We’ve been monitoring this group for a while, they’ve been associated with a Terrorist group and looks like they’ve been… commissioned, to aid them in their chemical warfare.” His tone of voice was stern, very stoic, also like it has been rehearsed a few times.

“Chemical warfare?” You question, looking back up at him.

“Aye, the terrorist group has provided accommodation, equipment, and supplies to this other group - more of a cult if I do say so myself, to manufacture chemical weapons from natural plants and fauna rather than the standard typical approach of synthetic chemicals.” He nods in agreement with himself and continues;

“They tried to slip under the radar by using natural chemicals rather than obtaining ‘red-flag’ amounts of chemicals we could trace back to them.” He looks at you, seeing if you’re still paying attention; which you are for the first time since you woke up. “Obviously it didn’t work and we found them, their base and then… you.”

He smiled again and you felt yourself melt inside. You nod along, thinking you understand but relieved you’ve not been poisoned with synthetic drugs, just doped up on mushrooms. Well, you hope it’s just the mushrooms. You process the information and wonder why me? Just bad luck? You remember the bar again, so maybe you’ve just been picked as a guinea pig for this “cult” as Soap called it.

“Do you remember anything?” He asks as if he is reading your mind. Your expressions must be speaking words for you.

“Yes,” You cough, “I remember going to a bar and then blacking out. I think I was speaking to a guy but, I don’t remember - maybe he drugged and kidnapped me?” You felt tears line your eyes, scared this even happened to you, you’re normally so careful with drinking alone, meeting people. You suddenly feel embarrassed and place your head in your hands.

Soap squats down in front of you, wanting to comfort you but hesitant, instead he places his hand on the bed next to you. Again as if reading your thoughts he responds in that soothing Scottish voice of his;

“Hey - don’t worry, I unfortunately see things like this all the time” He pauses for a second, letting you process his words. “I’ve seen the most intelligent women get captured, it's nothing you did wrong, it was just bad timing, unfortunately.” You open your hands away from your face and look at him, tears falling down your cheeks onto your lap.

”But you’re safe now”, without thinking he places his hand on your knee. The electricity isn't as sharp this time, but his fingers felt warm on your skin and your core still shook and your neck tingled.

You let out a strange mixture of a laugh and a whimper, looking down at his fingers on your knee, feeling the warmth radiate up your inner thigh to your now soaking wet core. You knew it had been a while since you had been touched intimately by a man but this sensation seemed amplified. As if all the good chemicals in your brain were released all at once. You felt the blood pump in your ears, your eyes sensitive to the bright light of the room as your pupils dilated and filled your irises over with black.

You look up at Soap's face, gazing for a final moment innocently into his piercing ocean blue eyes. You feel an urge overcome you, your nose twitching - taking in the aroma of his overpowering scent, the same tang you felt on your tongue and back of your throat now wafts into your nostrils and into your bloodstream. You forgot everything for a moment, your thoughts only filled with him. An overwhelming desire to be close to him, for him to touch you, be inside you.

You feel your body shift off the bed, falling forward into the large man. Soap lets out a shocked groan as your bodyweight toppels into him, knocking him to the floor with a thud. Unknowingly to your brain, your legs automatically parted and you squeezed yourself onto his taunt hips, pushing him back onto the floor. You heard your knees crack on the tiles but couldn’t feel a thing.

You rest your hands on the cold tiled floor beside the sides of his head, arching over him, faces inches apart from each other, you can see each freckle and scar on his face. You watch for a moment as his eyes dart between yours - trying to process the situation and your sudden change of character. You feel as if you can hear his heart beating, the blood pumping through his veins. You feel your mouth fill with spit, you lick your dry lips till they’re glistening and press them against his.

You feel his body tense at the sudden kiss under you, but you resist and press your tongue past his lips and transfer some of your spit into his mouth. You don’t know why, but your brain is telling you to. You pull away your lips from his, breaking the kiss, a string of spit still connecting the pair of you. You let out a gasp and feel your brain now screaming at you to press down your hips into his but yet you resist.

After what felt like hours but was merely seconds, you start to feel the oxygen you desperately crave ease into your lungs overshadow the flood of chemicals in your blood. Your eyes constrict back to normal and you snap back into yourself.

“Jesus, Lass, you okay?” Soap mutters, you’re so close to him that his deep voice rumbles in your own chest. He kept a calm composure, not to startle or irritate you. His hands stay still in the air in a defensive pose, as if you were a wild animal he didn’t wish to startle. You glance at him, seeing his lips glisten with your spit and your body twitches with approval, snapping you back to reality.

Once back in your own head, you rise up away from the closeness of Soap's face. You remain straddled on his hips, the tiny pair of shorts now dangerously close to revealing your soaked folds. You place your hands close to your crotch, trying to cover the slick stain. The warmth in your blood floods your cheeks with embarrassment.

“I - I - I’m sorry” you stutter out, barely a whisper. “I don’t - I don’t know…” you begin, looking down at your hands, knuckles turning white as you ball your hands into fists.

Soap’s gaze never leaves your face, he takes in a few deep breaths on his own and monitors you for a few moments. He licks his lips, taking in more of your spit - weirdly tasting sweet like honey, he feels it coat his tongue. He shakes his head from these strange and inappropriate thoughts and returns his concentration on you. Once deciding it was okay, he slowly moves his hands towards your arms. You feel the air around your arms crackle with static. He slowly grabs your forearms and you feel as if he struck you with hot iron.

You throw your head back, yelping out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, squeezing your eyes tight - blocking out the light. You try to tug your arms away from his grasp, yet Soap doesn’t let go, he holds you tight enough to leave small bruises, stopping you from thrashing. You hear him speaking but your ears are blocking off, sharp tinnitus ringing.

Your brain finally tells your body what it desires and you feel yourself grinding your hips into his, your soaking core rubbing against the fabric of your shorts-style underwear and sending lightning strikes into your clit. You let out a moan and whimper at the sensation.

Your head dropping forward, you continue to grind, feeling the stronger fabric of his jeans rub against your throbbing and swollen clit. Your nipples become hard and poke through your thin vest, the rough fabric scratching at the sensitive skin but edging you closer to your orgasm. You go to try to cover yourself, pinch your nipples but your arms remain stuck, trapped in Soap’s death grip. You whimper at the loss of additional pleasure, causing you to thrust your hips faster.

You try pressing your thighs together however meet resistance from Soaps hips. You can’t stop, the exposure was nothing you’ve ever felt before. You continue grinding down more and more as your core slowly starts to burn and you feel an orgasm rising from your aching clit. You pant a few times, lost in your bliss, to you, no one else existed right now. Each stroke shoots electricity through your veins, into your nipples, and down the sides of your neck.

You don’t ease up, chasing that build until it finally snaps and your orgasm washes over you like an ice bath. You throw back your head again, feeling a drip of sweat roll down your neck and down your spine.

Your limbs stiffen and you let out a loud and involuntary moan, you grind a little more as you ride out the orgasm until your clit is overstimulated and begins to become tender. You don’t know how long you were lost for, how long you pleasured yourself against a man you just met - a man trying to save you.

You slowly drop your head forward, slowly your other senses come back to you, the ringing calms down and you dare to open your eyes. You suddenly become aware of Soap's hands still gripping tightly at your forearms. Your half-open eyes meet his, blown out and a bright red hue dusting his cheeks and neck.

He’s breathing deeply, his large chest slowly rising and falling. You start to match his rhythm and feel yourself coming down from your climax and returning to reality.

You let out a final sigh and as if a switch was turned, you snap open your eyes fully and stare at Soap. A wave of heat washes over you, not like before, this time of pure embarrassment.

“Oh shit…” you barely speak. Your mouth becomes dry again and your throat tightens.

You both just stare at each other for what feels like years. You feel his grip slowly let up around your forearms and you drop your limbs to your sides. He returns to his previous defensive pose.

“Lass…” he presses his lips together in a tight line, trying to process what just happened. “Did you just… ?” He feels himself unable to finish the sentence. A heat washes over his skin and unfortunately for him, the natural bodily reaction of his cock starts slowly growing hard in his jeans, pressing against the zipper and your soaking cunt.

“I… I’m… sorry… I don’t…” is all you are able to pant out, catching your breath and returning back to ‘yourself’. You slowly crawl off him, sitting on your knees on the cold floor. You watch as he sits up, keeping his eyes locked on you, cheeks still flushed.

“It’s not your fault, lass” he comforts. “Come ‘ere” he offers you an open palm, you gently place your fingers on his callused skin and shiver slightly. You both stand up in unison, your head bowed down. You reach your other hand behind you feeling for the edge of the bed and sit down gently, hand still gripping to Soap.

“Do you think it's the chemicals they’ve drugged me with?” you whisper, scared to ask the question.

“Maybe, we won’t know until we take some blood’s from you.” He squeezes your hand, reassuring you gently. “It's all right lass, you’re not yourself.” He chuckles trying to lighten the mood, he can see your shoulders slump forward trying to hide yourself from him.

You just hear him cough, trying to clear his throat. His thumb gently rubs against your knuckles, you feel his hand slowly grow warm. You feel a twinge of fear in your chest.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, slowly tilting your head up, looking at him through your lashes with a sorrowful expression.

However he doesn’t reply, he’s just staring at you, eyes blown out so much you cannot see the calming blue of his irises anymore. He’s just breathing heavily, his large chest rising up and down. He tilts his head down slightly and stares at you from under his brow - his once serene blue eyes are now black and filled with want… no. Need. He grips your hand tighter in his grasp, you knew you couldn’t run if you tried.

He moves to stand right in front of you, bodies nearly touching, his legs stand a foot apart and he traps your legs between his. His large frame towering over you, trapping you against the bed. Slowly he reaches up and places his index finger under your chin and ever so slowly tilts your head up to meet his darkened eyes.

A smirk grows on the side of his mouth, slightly parted as he breathes in through his teeth. If you were a lamb, he was the wolf. You knew from just looking at him he could easily kill you but no, you know that’s not what he wants.

“Lass…” he growls, deep from his chest. He lets out a chuckle, “What have you done to me?”

Before you could even answer his lips came crashing back onto yours, tongue immediately swiping over your lips and penetrating your mouth, lapping, tasting your sweet spit. His finger and thumb are still holding you in place but there’s no need, you want this too, you couldn’t even conjure the idea of turning away from him now. Your brain just screams at you ‘I need him’.

You could feel the blood pulse in your ears. You reach behind and grip tight at the bed, knuckles turning white. You feel him grind against your core, his now fully hard cock tenting his jeans and grinding perfectly into your swollen clit.

He pulls away from your mouth, planting kisses across your cheek, his hand swiftly moving to cradle the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. He grabs a fist full of hair at the root and tugs your head back, exposing your neck. He latches onto you like a vampire, kissing, licking, biting.

Sharp teeth scrape along the sensitive skin on your neck, brushing along the pressure point followed by a long stripe from his tongue, soothing the pain. All this was overwhelming but the hotness was growing again, you could feel your already soaked underwear pool with slick again.

As if he knew, Soap breathes in deep, like a hound on the scent of its prey.

“I can smell you.” He mutters. “You smell amazing.” He lets out a small sinister laugh into your neck. He loosens his grip on you, hands holding you steady around your waist. You watch as he glides down your body, falling slowly to his knees, finding the source of the sweet scent he was craving.

He reaches the hem of your underwear, pressing his nose in the crook of your hip and he kisses the fabric housing your soaking cunt tenderly. Eyes darting back to look at you as you squirm under the kiss. He smiles again, but still with a look of wanting to devour you in his eyes.

“Have you always smelt this good?” He presses his nose into the fabric, breathing in your scent deep as it fills his blood cells with you. You whimper at his words, feeling more slick dripping from your hole, coating your thighs with that sticky nectar.

“I need to taste you, lass, please let me taste you.” He growls, sounding like a man dying of thirst and you; his oasis in the desert. But you know it isn’t him, it’s the drug. It must be viral, must have been passed to him. Your brain is too clouded with the red mist of lust to think.

You feel his hands grip tight on your thighs and hoist you onto the bed. You let out a squeak at the fast movement and he parts your legs open. His fingers were bedded into the flesh of your thighs so tight he would leave bruises, but the pain felt so pleasurable. You felt a shock in your clit at the thought of how strong he was even when on his knees.

You feel yourself panting, his blown out eyes pleading with you. He dots kisses down your thighs and over your clothed cunt, moaning when he gets a slight taste of your wetness soaking through your underwear. The sensation shoots through your body and you toss your head back, letting out a moan that echoes around the empty room.

“Fuck… yes… please” is all you can pant and all that he needs to hear. He finally loosens the death grip on your sensitive thighs just enough to claw at the hem of your underwear and swiftly pulls it off you and down your legs, it hangs from your right ankle. You try to close your legs for a second but Soap just growls at you, pawing again at the flesh of your thighs, pulling you apart and exposing your glistening folds to him.

His hot breath warms your soaking pussy and you mewl at the sensation, he pokes out his tongue, the tip gently parting your lips. He gently laps at you, teasing, while taking a sample of your juices. You swear your brain short circuits at that moment, every lick feels more blissful than the last and he’s just started. You feel like your bones are swimming in ecstasy. He’s so gentle with you that it almost tickles.

Before you could melt into your blissed-out daze, he laches himself onto you, his warm mouth enveloping your dripping folds. He licks a wide stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your juices on his tongue and drinks you down. He’s not wanting to be gentle, he needs to taste you. He continues to swipe sloppily around your sensitive cunt - making sure to not leave a millimetre of your tender swollen folds untouched. For Soap, the taste of your slick felt like a hit of acid on his tongue, he needed more.

Once he felt he had cleaned you up, he suctions himself onto your clit, snaking his hand around your hips and pulling back the hood slightly to expose the bundle of nerves. Your hips jerk upwards into his mouth, you let out a sharp hiss and your thighs clamped around his head, but he doesn’t stop violating your clit for a second. You swear you feel him smirk into your pussy.

You reach down and run your hand through his soft mohawk, encouraging him to keep going. He lets out the occasional moan that vibrates through you to the base of your spine, encouraging another orgasm out of you already. You bite your lip so hard you swear you taste the coppery tang of blood. Your nipples nearly poked holes through the thin fabric of the vest, now damp with sweat.

You watch as you as Soap lets go of your other thigh and palms himself through his stiff jeans, letting out a whimper into your pussy,

For a split second, he looks up at you from between your thighs, which you’ve slowly parted from the sides of his head, his blown-out pupils not as dilated anymore and showing off his ocean blues. Your eyes lock between the pair of you, your cheeks flush as he continues to lick you like a lollipop. You feel a warmth wash over you, a burst of something you couldn’t comprehend, you feel powerful for a moment. You stop stroking his hair and instead, grip it hard and pull him even more into your cunt. You grind your hips on his soft warm tongue, his strong grip returning to your thighs.

He puckers his lips and sucks hard on your swollen bud, a moan escapes you and you feel your second orgasm growing already, more slick drips out of you onto his chin. He feels the warmth from you and he pulls away from your aching clit to lap at you again, drinking your nectar down. You felt a small flood of embarrassment flash over you, watching him swallow your juices was foreign and made you feel shameful at his actions. Your cheeks flushed bright red and you let out a pathetic whimper.

He flashes those eyes at you again, sensing your timidness but watches through his lashes as he sinks his tongue into your hole. Slowly fucking you with it. You feel your legs shake at the sensation, something you’ve never had done to you before, it felt different and yet so good. All emotions of being coy melted away into your bones. You could feel your throat turn dry from your laboured panting and mewls. You try to swallow but your mouth is the complete opposite to Soap. His lips, chin, nose and cheeks shine with a mix of spit and primarily your wetness. He continues to lap at your folds, your mound and inner thighs at speed, not wanting to miss a drop.

Best of both worlds, he gets to taste you from the source and you feel your climax nearing its peak. Even though you’d love to cum from his tongue on your clit, you could see in his eyes he needed to taste you as you came. You nod at him wordlessly, as if you both can hear each other's thoughts. You clutch the bed behind you with your other hand so tight you start to lose feeling in your digits.

He lets go of the grip on your left thigh and moves the hot digits to gently circle your clit. The sensation of being tongue-fucked against your soft sensitive walls and your clit being touched was too much. Your cheeks and chest started to turn pink, your breathing into shallow pants, grunting primal noises left your mouth as you felt that coil in your stomach tighten and tighten. He could feel you pulsate around his tongue, he lets go of the bruised grip on your thigh and snakes his hand around your hips, holding it down and in place on his face. Soaps tongue never stopping and his fingers working you as if he’d known your body for years.

Your eyes lock with his again and you finally cum, hips arching into his face and your legs shake uncontrollably. Your fingers still entwined in his hair, you pull at the strands causing him to grunt at the pain. Soap moans as you clamp down around his tongue and more of your fresh slick releases straight into his mouth - you watch as his eyes roll back into his head. Like eating honey fresh from the hive.

He doesn't stop though, tongue still licking at your walls and fingers circling your clit as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. You want to keep staring at him but your eyes squeeze shut from the burst of dopamine leaching out of your brain and washing over your muscles. Hips twitching and thighs shaking, a small bead of sweat drips down your temple and your breathing starts to slow down. He senses your comedown and slowly detaches himself from you, taking one last swipe of your soft cunt and licking your clit, taking in the last drops - making you shudder from oversensitivity.

You peel open your eyes to see him looking up at you, cheeks flushed and face wet. You both pant deeply and just stare for a moment, letting the “poison” in both of your systems fade as it does. Soap lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, hiding his face in your thigh, and pressing his forehead into your skin. You realise you're still holding onto his mohawk, and you gently release him, your fingers aching from the strain.

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter.

You nod your head in agreement. Yeah. Fuck. You feel tears prickle in the corners of your eyes. You did this to him, but you didn’t know.

“Are you okay?” You whisper so softly and with genuine concern.

He gently pushes away from you, sitting back on his legs and letting go of your thighs. You frown at the loss of his warmth but snap your legs together quickly, slightly embarrassed.

You watch as he rubs the back of his arm over his moist mouth and face, cleaning you off himself. He sighs and and runs his hands down his face trying to comprehend what just happened but also feeling the chemical in his system die down for a moment, but something deep in his stomach says the sensations will come back.

“It's okay, it's….” you trail off. You know you blame the chemical in your blood, but you cannot deny that it felt amazing.

“It’s gonna come back? Isn’t it?” Soap removes his hands from his face, cheeks still flushed red.

You shake your head, unknowing of both your fates. You shuffled nervously on the bed, covering yourself with your hands. Soap stands in front of you, you cast your eyes up at him through your lashes but stop short at the tent in his jeans, stiff and large. You bite your lip at the sight.

Fuck, no, stop it. You think to yourself, you’ve come twice already and yet your brain is already wanting more. You hop off the bed reaching for your discarded and ruined shorts but you hear a strong;

“No,” from Soap. His eyes are already blown out again, his deep pants returning. You whimper at the command, another lighting strike shivers down your back at his deep voice. You slowly close your eyes, feeling your clit already pulsing.

The sound of his zipper and the rustling of fabric enters your ears, you slowly open your eyes at the noise. He roughly pushes down the band of his boxers, freeing his extremely hard and red erection into his hand.

You watch as he starts to pump his exposed cock, head swollen and deep red, dripping with pre-cum already. Your mouth pools with spit, brain short circuiting at the delicious sight in front of you.

“My turn now…” he grunts, voice deep and low.

Soap steps back closer to you and his musky scent surrounds you, your eyes never leave the sight of his cock, veiny and thick. He slowly jerks himself off, rolling the foreskin over the dripping head a few times.

“Please,” you beg, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but you want him inside you wherever.

With his other hand, he tilts your chin up to meet his blackened eyes. Smirking and still pumping away with a lewd slapping noise. His thumb moves from your chin onto your swollen lips, gently swiping over the chewed skin. Without breaking eye contact, he pushes his thumb into your moist mouth and presses down on your tongue.

Without even thinking you start to suck on the skin, salty and musky and your mind shuts down again. His taste was delicious, you needed more. Was this how he just felt? Needing to drink you down?

You pull his thumb from your mouth and push him back, giving yourself some space to kneel in front of him. The cold tiles chafe your knees but you don’t care.

“I need to taste you too” you whisper, unsure if he even heard you at all. You reach out and wrap your hand around his, pulling it away from his cock. You don’t even give him a warning, you grab him tight and lick the tip, collecting the small drop of pre-cum onto your tongue.

Soap lets out a deep primal grunt, hips flexing and jerking into your face.

“Fuck lass!” He pants. You ignore him, you pump him a few times and position your hand at the thick base of his cock, holding it still as you open your mouth wide and take the head into your mouth without mercy and suck the hollows of your cheeks in and hard. You roll your tongue around the tip a few times, tasting his salty velvet skin.

You feel him shudder, hunch over and his breathing labours, let out the most orgasmic sounding whimper you’ve ever heard, it made you feel weak.

You smirk around him and with your new-found confidence, you slowly sink him into your mouth till he reaches the back of your throat. You feel your gag reflex trying to fight you but it doesn’t react as it normally would. You’ve wanted to taste his musky scent since you got a tease of it from his water bottle. With your nose buried in his pubic hair, you feel as if you’ve sniffed a solvent, your head started to swim with thoughts of him.

You swipe your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of him and slowly pull back, letting him out of your mouth with an obscene and wet pop. A string of spit still attaches your lips to the glistening head.

Your half hooded eyes look up at him, his face is slack, cheeks red and his forehead shiny. The look made you, yet again, slick pooling out of you onto the floor below.

You feel his knees shake as you pump him a few times and kiss the tip, another drop of pre-cum smearing over your lips like gloss. Placing him back into your mouth, you bob your head back and forth, feeling every vein along his thick shaft. Soap lets out a hiss through his teeth and begins to gently rock his hips in time with your movements. The tip of him touches the back of your throat and you swallow, encasing him.

His hand gently runs through your hair, he grabs a fist full at the roots and slowly starts to fuck your mouth. You remove your hand from the base of his cock and hold yourself steady against his thighs. You wish he was naked more, you wanted to touch his hot skin. But this would do. You open your tear filled eyes again, looking up at his scrunched red face.

You just met this man and he’s made you cum twice and how he’s fucking your throat. But the burning desire still licked at your core and you continued to drip onto the tiles below.

He’s gentle though, even in this state, he’s not hurting you or stopping you from breathing. But with the ‘poison’ it might not have even mattered. You moan as his thrusts increase, vibrations shiver up his cock and warm his insides.

“Fuck Im already so close” he hisses. His thrusts start to lose rhythm as you feel him nearing his orgasm. More beads of pre-cum slide down your throat and you swallow him down. His breathing starts to falter. You hollow your cheeks again and tilt your head back more, his hand still gripping your hair tight.

“Imma cum in that pretty mouth… yeah?” he pants and all you can do is groan in your throat and squeeze his thighs in approval. You moan into his thrust, encouraging him along. It didn’t take much more, Soap thrusted hard once, twice, and finally came with a deep guttural groan straight into the back of your throat. He rocked a few more times, emptying himself into your mouth. He was dripping with sweat but it smelt so sweet to you. You swallow his spent down, throat caressing the tip, encouraging more nectar.

He let loose the grip of your hair and gently stroked your head and finally let his fingers fall free. The only noise in the room was his heavy pants. Long and slow. You started to slowly pull off his softening cock, a few more squirts of cum leaked from his swollen head onto your tongue. Expecting the sour taste, you were surprised it tasted sweet, like honey. ‘No wonder he was drinking you down’ you think. Another side effect of the drug.

With a gentle pop, he falls from your mouth, his shaft covered in a mixture of spit and cum. Your jaw was starting to hurt and so were your knees. Maybe the drug was wearing off?

Soap steps back from you, letting his soft cock drop over the waistband of his boxers for a moment. You rock backwards and rest yourself on your legs, giving your knees a much needed break. Licking your lips, you could still taste him, you wipe away some of the cum that leaked from your mouth away with the back of your hand.

Staring up at him, you see him bow his head in somewhat shame, a red blush covering his freckled nose and cheeks. He turns away from you, tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping up his trousers. He walks away from you as you remain on the cold floor.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him, hands in your lap.

He turns back to you now, nodding and running his hand through his mohawk.

“Ah, shit, yeah, sorry lass, you sure you’re okay? How are you…” he hesitates, scared if he asks the question of “how are you feeling” you’ll answer with “still horny” or something along those lines.

“I feel, okay… not… different anymore.” Your eyes meet. His striking blues are back and not overtaken by lust. He walks back over to you, bending down next to you and picking up your soaked underwear. He blushes again at the state of them but hands them to you anyway.

“Here,” he whispers. You let out a small huff from your nose, smiling despite the awkwardness in the room. He reaches around and gently scoops you into his arms and places you on the bed. Awkwardly you dress yourself in your cold underwear, grimacing at the sensation.

“The team will be here soon,” he confirms.

“Glad they weren’t quick, what a sight to catch you in… hey?” You tease, trying to break the ice. You felt your insides burn from embarrassment, but you try not to show it. Soap lets out a small laugh in return.

“Oh, don’t worry, lass, this is definitely not going in the report.”

Jesus Christ. Been working on this for MONTHS. I hope you've enjoyed!

#tasteofthedivine #divine writes #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #john “soap” mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #cod fanfic #fanfic #female reader

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