#dark flash x reader

[samstersv]

EMBARRASSED; batfam x sis!reader, barry allen x reader

•the justice league walks in on the batsiblings arguing in the batcave and they watch bruce discipline his children while barry allen catches a glance at y/n wayne

•y/n is barry’s age, it goes damian, tim, y/n, jason, dick

“i didn’t go into your things y/n i promise!” dick yelled as you grabbed one of his escrima sticks, ready to hit your brother with it.

“dick, i always keep my room nice and clean and put together when i’m gone. nothing is out of place. i kept my papers here purposely for that reason, so i wouldn’t lose it!” your heels clicked against the floor as you walked towards dick. you were currently dressed in formal attire and a professional amount of makeup on your face.

minutes ago, you were very excited to be heading over to wayne enterprises in around 35 minutes time; you had a speech today and had prepared for this moment for weeks now. when you had finished getting ready, you walked over to a drawer in your dresser to pull out your pile of papers for the speech but it was gone. you knew alfred wouldn’t have taken your papers and automatically took damian out of the equation, not only was he your blood but he wouldn’t have done it either way, you hope at least. when you headed down to interrogate your brothers all you saw was dick with a smug look on his face, tim getting ready for patrol and damian looking at things on the bat-computer, jason was nowhere to be found so you automatically accused dick.

“look, maybe you left your papers at your actual apartment or maybe someone else took them! why don’t you ask damian or tim or jason?” he pointed fingers at his two younger siblings “damian has no reason to do this at all, jason is god knows where and tim— wait tim what if you took my papers..” you slowed down your sentence.

“i didn’t take your papers! why would i? i know this speech is important and honestly i didn’t even know where you hid them.” tim automatically defended himself. “maybe damian us just trying to be smug or something.”

“don’t go accusing me drake, i had nothing to do with this. i promise.” he turned to y/n for the last part of his sentence.

y/n sighed and turned back to dick “you’re the only one who could’ve done it!”

steps were heard from behind the group and you all slowly turned to see batman, superman, wonder woman, aquaman, cyborg and the flash walking towards you guys. the wayne siblings all looked at their father. “you all should’ve left by now.” bruce spoke, his voice strict but not angry. “what held you all up?”

“dick took my papers for my speech today!” you automatically accused your older brother. you were embarrassed but still upset.

dick tried to take a step toward “i didn’t take your papers y/n!” he spoke, you poined his escrima stick right at him and hit the taser so it would scare him (dick wasn’t too frightened). at this action, aquaman let out a quiet chuckle and wonder woman, superman and cyborg smiled. barry was currently mouth agape as he watched you in a trance.

“careful there barry, that’s bruce’s daughter.” diana smiled at the younger male. he straightened his posture but never took his eyes off you “she’s so pretty” he whispered.

“y/n put the escrima stick down.” bruce told his 25 year old daughter. she of course listened but still put up the middle finger to dick once it was placed on the table. “are you sure you didn’t leave it at your apartment?” bruce asked patiently.

y/n nodded and told bruce exactly where she left her papers the day they were done. bruce nodded and looked at damian and tim “tim go on patrol, damian, excuse us?” his two sons nodded and walked by y/n and dick. tim patted dick’s back as a sign of good luck and damian glanced at his older sister before the two left.

“i’m sorry for interrupting you all.” y/n pursed her lips as she looked behind bruce at the group of heroes. everyone shook their heads and smiled, to be honest they were all finding this slightly amusing. on the other hand, barry’s smile widened and he shook his head “it’s okay.” he said out loud, admiring the shorter girl.

y/n smiled at the boy before her and blushed as she directed her attention back to her dad. “uhm, i’ll reschedule the speech for tomorrow so you have time to find your papers or make up something else.” he compromised. y/n looked down at her feet and slowly nodded, clearly upset. dick bit his lip in sympathy for his sister but knew nothing could be done.

“it was nice seeing you all.” y/n smiled sadly at the justice league “dick and i are going to let you all get to your business though.” y/n looked over at barry “bye flash.” her beautiful smile made barry blush. he waved at y/n as a goodbye.

dick and y/n began to walk past the group when a whistle was heard from above. y/n looked up to see her other older brother, jason fucking todd, with her stapled group of papers in his hand, dangling from the top of the batcave.

y/n’s sad face automagically turned into anger as she looked up through her glasses at the real smug and cleaver look jason had on his face “oh i don’t care if you’re my brother, i’m about to murder you.” you cursed under your breath as you grabbed one of the grappling hooks and pointed it upwards to the wall so you could climb up.

this is when aquaman started snorting from how funny this was, and wonder woman was heard chuckling at the antics of the batsiblings. barry was too laughing at the pretty girl in front of him who seemed to have a not so secret badass side to her.

“i fear that won’t be necessary master y/n.” alfred called. he walked up behind jason. if you were near alfred in that moment, you’d be able to see the faint smile that dawned on his face in this moment. “master bruce, it may be fit to make master jason take his sister to wayne enterprises today as punishment for taking something important from her.

bruce now smiled and nodded “c’mon jason.” jason groaned and hopped down from the top to now be standing next to his sister. y/n took the papers from jason and slapped his head with her hand. “ow.” he winced.

“whyd you take my papers, asshole?” you asked your older brother. jason rolled his eyes “you trashed my apartment a few days ago.” he said like it was obvious.

“oh.” dick snorted from behind you two “that would’ve been me.” both you and jason glared at dick, you a little harder. he put his hands up in defense “i promise you i didn’t know he took your papers.”

you rolled your eyes at your two older brothers “i hate you both” you told them. then you turned to your dad and the justice league “bye dad, bye everyone.” you looked at everyone but kept your eyes on barry a little longer.

“i’m barry by the way.” he blabbed out. bruce turned towards barry with an angry father look. “oh i know.” you winked at him and dragged your two bothers out the batcave by their hands.

“oh my god.” barry whispered. clark swore he could see a little drool dripping out the speedsters mouth. “barry allen.” bruce sternly said, his batman voice was back. harry quickly straightened up and itched his nose nervously, but for the rest of the day he was thinking about y/n wayne.

[toxicanonymity]

Close (can read alone)

2.7k, raider!Joel x f!reader | raider master, joel

mood board by @milla-frenchy , stitches edit by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you.  Both arms are around you and one hand cradles your head.  “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length.  His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive.  The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair.

SUMMARY: Two men come to the trailer before Joel gets home, and for a second, Joel thinks you're shot. He fucks you hard from the adrenaline. You give Joel stitches and tell him how you feel. Then you do it missionary (for the first time?)

WARNINGS: I8+; unsafe P in V (x2); light manhandling; canon-typical violence; angst; dark fluff; reader can sit on joel and her hair can be pulled; pet names and praise; no use of y/n.

One morning, Joel is making coffee and you're sitting in the nook by the window, behind the little kitchen table. He brings his coffee to the table and tells you he's going on a dangerous trip.  It's all hands on deck, so he's gonna have to leave you by yourself.  He hands you a gun. The same one you used on the girl. 

He takes you outside. "Remember how to fire it?" He taught you how within days of when he first plucked you out of your life and set you in his.   You stand up and show him how you aim it. He gets behind you and helps adjust your form, but it doesn’t need much adjusting.

After you lower the gun, he rests a hand on your head and says, "If somebody threatens you, tries to take you, tries to touch you, you shoot'em." You nod.  

"Good girl."

You're scared about his plans.  If Joel considers it dangerous, you can't even imagine.  He's never said anything like this before, like something might happen to him, despite all the stuff you know he gets up to. He can tell you’re worried and asks what's wrong.

"What if you don't come back?"

"I'm gonna come back." 

-

He doesn't come back that day, even well after you hear the vans return. You’re worried and don’t know what you’d do without him.  If he’s hurt or in trouble, you want to help him.  You want to find him even if it means you get hurt.  You have this terrible thought, and you know it's irrational, but you can't push it away - you’d rather be with him and hurt than away from him unharmed.  

You know it's risky to go down to the house with all the men there.  You’re waiting for the vans to leave and thinking of walking down the hill alone when you hear unfamiliar footsteps outside the trailer.  You get the gun ready and make sure the safety is off.  When the footsteps are at the back of the trailer you peer out the front window and, thank God, in the flickering flood light, you see Joel crest the hill with a bloody face.  

He sees you in the window and raises his rifle. His eyes sweep the area. You signal with your hands that there are guys around back.  He holds out his hand as a stop sign then puts his finger over his lips. He raises his rifle and crouches down as he goes around the side of the trailer out of view.  

You hear a gunshot and splatter, then a scuffle.  Joel and another man are grunting.  Joel interrogates him about whether there are any more of them around, landing a blow after each time he asks him.  Then finally, another gunshot, but Joel doesn't come inside. You hear the sound of a body being dragged. It drowns out any footsteps. Your heart tells you Joel is alive, he's the one dragging the body, but you won't feel okay until you see him.  

After at least ten minutes of silence, you can’t stand it anymore.  He should’ve at least come to the window so you’d know he was okay. You creep out of the trailer, gun in hand, closing the door softly behind you.  You go around to the side where you heard the struggle. There's still a body on the ground. You start looking for a trail - drag marks in the dirt, flattened grass. Something you could follow to get to Joel. 

Then you hear a gasp and a groan behind you.  You jump and shriek at the top of your lungs.  You turn around and the "body" isn't dead, it's on its knees behind you, lunging for you.  "JOEL!!!" you scream.  Then you walk backwards, aim the gun, and fire a shot between the man's eyes. You run back to the trailer and crouch down hiding, suddenly afraid you might have attracted someone else's attention. The front of the trailer doesn’t provide any cover with that light on, so you hesitate to go in the front door just yet. 

—-----

“SWEET PEA!” When Joel comes into view, he's running, holding his rifle, ready to shoot.  There's a look on his face you've never seen on him before – fear. He looks panicked.  "Oh, god," he says to himself before he sees you, then booms, "WHERE ARE YOU BABY?" 

"Here," you croak and only then realize you're crying and shaking.  

He rushes over to you and crouches down at your level. "You're okay, you're okay." You can see his pulse pounding in his neck.  He puts his rifle behind his back and hugs you so tight it hurts, then grabs you, forcing you to your feet roughly. He drags you inside.  

—---------

He sits you down on a chair at the kitchen table. 

"What happened," he asks urgently as he takes off his gun. He pries the pistol from your hands.  

"He wasn't dead." You take in the extent of Joel's facial injury, and he's bleeding badly from the forehead. You reach out to touch it and he dodges you. 

"Why'd you go out there," he demands gruffly.

"Are you mad," you sob. 

He takes in your face, then his expression softens and he shakes his head. " No," he says, still catching his breath.  "Fuck, it don't matter sweet pea." He holds you by the back of the head and puts his forehead against yours for a few seconds.  Your tears are dropping onto the hem of your dress, diluting a spot of bloodsplatter.  

Joel pulls back, chest still heaving, and palms himself over his jeans. "C'mere," he says and urgently grabs you off your chair and pulls you into straddling him. He quickly wipes his own blood off your forehead with his thumb.  You wrap your arms around his neck and he unbuttons and unzips his jeans.  He takes his hard cock out, gathers saliva in his mouth, then looks down to his lap and spits on it.  Then he wraps an arm around you, holding you into his chest, and lifts you up to get clearance.  He pulls your panties to the side and you gasp as he impales you. 

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you.  He holds you with both arms around you with one hand cradling your head.  “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length, stretched by his cock.  His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive.  The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair.  He breathes vocally, then he groans as he forces you all the way down.  He keeps you down, with all of him inside you, filling you all the way up.  His hips rock up into you and he comes in record time, pulsing enormously against your walls, so many times you lose count. It's like he just needed to plant himself in you, feel that you're real, you’re truly still there, and claim you all over again. 

He puts his head against yours as he catches his breath.  Then he brushes your forehead with his thumb again and looks back and forth between your eyes. You don't let yourself try to kiss him.  He clears his throat and says, "Go clean yourself up. I've gotta dump that guy.  Won't take me too long."

"Ok."

"Lock the door." He helps you off his lap and when his cock slides out, a mess of cum comes with it. 

—----

There’s blood and grime on your face from contact with Joel’s.  You take a shower and lay down on the bed in your nightie.  Joel staggers in wordlessly, locks the door, puts his gun down on the table, and goes straight to the bathroom. “Shit,” he mutters to the mirror. The sink turns on.  While he's in the bathroom, you go to the kitchen table where he left the light on and you wait for him.   

He emerges with a washcloth, bottle of liquor, sewing needles and thread, scissors and tape.  The scissors are bloodstained.  He haphazardly sets it all on the table, then sits down in a chair next to you.  Now that the dirt is gone you can see he has quite a gash across his eyebrow and it's still bleeding.  He's sweatier than you've ever smelt him. 

"Can ya sew me up or got a weak stomach?" He pours some of the liquor onto the cloth and dabs his eyebrow. Then he takes a swig of it. 

You don't want to sound too eager but you want nothing more than to help him. “I'll do my best.”  You sterilize and thread the needle and he dabs the wound again, then lays his head on the table for you. He barely flinches as you stitch him up.  

“You’ve done this before,” he says. 

“Yeah.”  You cut the string then dab the stitched wound with alcohol. “We shouldn’t tape it yet.”

He sits up and looks at you. “Do I look scary now?” he smiles.

You shake your head.  It actually looks sexy.  

-

"I was afraid you weren't gonna come home," you say. "I'm glad you did."

He scans your face and his eyes seem to glisten. “Me too, baby. C’mere.”  He lets you into his lap facing him and he gives you a tight squeeze. 

"I was scared," you whimper. 

He strokes your back and says, "Shhhhh.”

You keep thinking, what if he didn't come home. You know he won’t say it back, but you still need him to hear it.  You can't resist whispering, “I love you." 

His body tenses.  He pulls back and studies your eyes for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath.  His voice is more gentle than his words.  “Damnit, sweet pea.”

He gently nudges you out of his lap and you sit back down in the chair next to him.  He takes your hand in his and looks down at it as he brushes his thumb lightly across your knuckles.  When he looks at you again, he’s squinting.  His mouth is moving like he's fighting with his tongue.  He opens his lips, but doesn’t speak.  You wait patiently for his rejection. His face hardens, then he looks you over. 

His eyes and voice are soft, but his tone is cautionary and his words are careful.  "You belong to me, baby.  It’s not how you think."

That wasn't too bad.  Somehow it wasn’t as bad as the time you kissed him.  You could leave it at that, maybe offer a "yes sir" to show you understand the power dynamic, and move on with no harm done, but that's not what you do.  You can’t resist protesting, "can't I belong to you and also love you?" 

He's silent for a few more seconds as he reads your face then swallows. "Ain't gonna tell' ya what to feel," he grumbles and looks away again. 

Against your better judgment, you continue, "but you don't love me, right? I get it."

He breathes in deeply through his nose and you worry for a second that you’ve pushed him too far again until his gaze meets your sad eyes. He's silent, but his eyes are reaching out for you. You can feel it: his heart won't let him say he doesn't love you. 

He breaks the silence. "I think you're confused, baby. That's all." He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses it, tells you to go to bed. 

-

By the time Joel finishes showering and getting ready for bed, you're half asleep.  He doesn't put any clothes on before he comes to bed.

He throws the covers off, uncurls you from your fetal position, and puts you face-up on your back.  You observe the silhouette of his naked body looming over you like you’ve never seen him before.  He pulls your nightie off like he's undressing a doll.  He’s hungry in a different way now. You can feel it in the way he’s moving. He gets between your legs and buries his face in your chest, nosing at your nipples then sucking them hungrily.  His beard scratches you painfully, and it feels good, like anything from him. 

He spits on his hand and reaches down between you to add it to your growing wetness and guide his tip inside you.  He shudders as he shoves himself into you and bottoms out in one go, enrobed in what remains of his own cum and the tight hug of your walls. He retreats and your legs wrap around him. He plunges even deeper and grunts.  He looks down at your face, but after a moment of eye contact he abruptly yanks his eyes up to the wall behind the bed. He braces a hand on the wall and curls his other hand over your shoulder, holding you down toward him to stop you from riding up the mattress and hitting your head with his powerful thrusts.

You gasp and moan and watch the outline of his naked body flexing each time he moves his hips forward.  He’s spent from the day and night, you can tell.  But he’s still releasing some kind of tension. and meanwhile, you feel it gradually building deep in your belly.  After a few minutes of railing you, he pauses to rotate so you’re diagonal across the bed.  He brings his forearms down on the mattress and fucks you missionary with his naked body on yours. 

With his pelvis grinding into yours, the rub on your clit is nearly too much.  He begins to bury his length in you slowly, except for the moment he bottoms out each time with an animalistic punch from his hip flexors. 

“Joel,” you gasp. “I–Joel,” you whimper and your hips lift into him, seeking even more contact.  The tension releases all at once.  As your body writhes under his, you whimper his name again.  

His face is hovering over yours as he continues to slowly fuck you through your orgasm.  You restrain yourself from trying to kiss him.  He gets up on his hands, triceps bulging.  He hangs his head and watches your body take him, your breasts jiggling with each punch of his cock. Then he lowers himself again.  He bites and sucks your neck, marking you up as his length fills you to the brim.

He whispers, “god damn, you feel good like this” then slides his hands palm-up under your upper back to hold onto your shoulders from underneath, resting his weight on his forearms.  “Fuck,” he breathes and slams into you hard a few more times.  Then he groans as he plunges to the hilt and begins to pulse. He lowers his bare chest against yours and slowly thrusts twice more as his balls empty.  He rests some weight on you for a second and all your skin against all of his feels like something really special before he pulls out and rolls over onto his back.  

He lies there apart from you for a minute, then whispers, “c’mere,” and slides his hand under your neck.  You move closer and he pulls you right up against him.  You’re facing away and your back is flush with his side.  Your neck rests on his bicep and your head on his pillow.  He falls asleep quickly.  

-

You wake up in the middle of the night and he's holding you tighter than ever. "Joel, I can't – I can't breathe." You cough and pry his arm loose. He relaxes and you take in a deep breath as he presses a kiss into the back of your neck. A kiss he'll forget while the feeling lingers on your skin for days.  You wish you could understand why, but you’ll take the kiss.  You're still savoring it when he kisses your neck again. Then he gently cups your breast and sighs, "sweet pea," in his sleep. 

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thank you so much for reading and engaging! your reblogs and comments and discussion mean a lot, ESPECIALLY SINCE IT GOT A LABEL RIGHT AWAY lol <3

#9 is planned / has a scene written.

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[mykinkyyandere]

Hello Princess

AO3

Pairings: Yandere! Reverse Flash / Eobard Thawne (Harrison Wells) X f!Reader

Summary: You don't know where you are or how you got there but all you know is this scary man wants you so bad.

Warnings: Yandere, dark, chasing, stalking, following, enjoying from cries and being scared, implied sexual harassment, implied noncon, kidnapping, pet names, obsession, possession, naive and scared reader

"Oh, look at this view! What is an angel like you doing out there in these cold and dangerous streets?"

You heard a deep, robotic voice that froze your blood. So you kept running. Sure, if you call it "running". You stumbled and walked with "fast" steps, as waking up lying on a road at such a late hour naturally panicked you. You were dizzy, about to fall, but tried to keep your balance. You had to stop and breathe every few seconds because you were so weak.

"These streets are crawling with villains. What if a mean, rough one sees you? What a bad man could do to a soft babygirl like you!"

You tried to "run" faster, but you fell. You didn't know if you tripped or just because of weakness, but you couldn't take it any longer. You couldn't get up from the ground so you lifted yourself with support from your arms. You looked around in fear, like your heart was going to pierce your chest. Who did this terrifying sound belong to? Where were you?

"Help!" You sobbed so hard. You cried so much that your calls for help were barely heard. You couldn't do anything else, you were so miserable. At that moment, a figure appeared before you. Yellow, blurry and with two red eyes. Were you dying?

The figure came ruthlessly closer and closer to you, even as you crawled backwards screaming. With an almost sadistic slowness. As if he was enjoying your vulnerable and frightened form. As if he was in no rush and enjoying your warm tears. As if listening intently to your high pitched, trembling and whimpering voice.

"Oh, my poor little girl. So scared, all helpless and confused." You were about to pass out, but he didn't seem to care. In fact, you could even say he liked it. He spread his legs wide as if he was proud of the dominance of his big body over your small, curled one and stood right in front of you. He tilted his head and listened to your pleas for a while. How you begged him not to hurt you and let you go.

Sitting down in front of you with one knee on the ground, you shielded yourself with your one arm out of self-preservation. He let out a visible dark smile and held your chin before you could resist. At that moment, his blurry vision and red eyes were gone, replaced by a rather attractive man with a devilish smile, without his mask.

"Hello, princess."

You felt a chill when you first heard his intense, real voice, which evoked strange feelings in you. You wanted to use the arm you were holding in front of you to pull him back, but you were too scared to make him mad. On the other hand, you couldn't take any more support with one arm and you were shaking but you didn't want to pull your arm down, like you could even protect yourself with it. As you were about to lose your balance, he grabbed you by the waist and placed you on his knee. He had a smile on his face as he ran his hand over your cheek. His eyes focused on your widened ones. "Oh, look at you. You're so beautiful yet so defenseless. In desperate need of protection. Your delicious, weak little body needs a hero, like me."

"No... What- Who are you? What happened to me?" Your voice was hoarse from tiredness and you cried silently. He soothed you as he stroked your hair. "Shh... It's okay, you're safe with me." He lifted you a little and whispered in your ear. "I'm a superhero"

His suspicious laugh made you shudder even more. "No- Let me g-"

"Let's go, princess." And in the blinking of an eye, he took you to a place you don't know where.

[cvrnelians]

diamond eyes

dark!barry allen x reader - drabble

In which Barry uses his ability to time travel to his own advantage; and yours, too...for the most part.

warnings: some seriously manipulative behavior/non-con elements. minors DNI.

It wasn’t nearly as shocking as it should’ve been. Barry was big into the whole ���glitch in the matrix thing,” an avid researcher of conspiracy theories. He made himself cringe sometimes just thinking about it.

But it was one thing to read about something. It was a whole different ball game to see it for yourself.

He was engaging in one of his favorite pastimes—messing around with his powers—when he stumbled into a very real and very stunning display of alternate realities. Better yet? Hidden between the thin lines that separated them, existed the possibility of time travel. 

Even better? 

Barry Allen had unlimited access to both of those things. 

Of all people, he had the power to shift and mold life as he knew it. Him. Him! It was almost scary. It made him feel a little godlike, if he was being totally honest. His powers (which he had an admittedly pretty limited understanding of, even now) allowed him to run back and forth between these timelines as he pleased, watching events unfold like a fly on the wall, a hidden camera, a ghost. And that was pretty cool...initially. 

He had gone into things with the best of intentions. Of course he did. When did he not? He promised himself from the moment he discovered what he was capable of that he would never, ever abuse that power. What he simply could not justify agreeing to, however, was that he wouldn’t at least experiment with it. Because why not? He could always just loop around and change things back to the way they were if something went haywire, right? No harm, no foul.

His reality pre-time travel hadn’t been a terrible one, objectively speaking. Not bad at all. He had a job that he liked, a nice loft apartment, a turtle that only looked at him like he was a little insane sometimes. Best (and sometimes worst) of all, he also had a quite literally superhuman advantage when it came to helping people—saving people, which was his actual life’s work. Again, he could concede that his life wasn’t a bad one. In addition to all of this, he had a best friend he adored.

You.

But that was just it. You were his friend, and he was yours. But that was all he ever was to you.

That was not to suggest that this was all your fault. He didn't have the audacity to blame you for all of this. No way. He was the one that never spoke up. He never told you how he truly felt, not in all the years he had known you.

But there were many valid reasons for this.

For one thing, he was afraid of making you feel uncomfortable. He had known you for twenty years now, since you were both seven years old. Now at twenty seven, it was very possible that you viewed him almost like a sibling. He didn’t want to risk losing you.

And another thing: since he acquired superhuman abilities, he was painfully aware of the safety risks. He was a moving target now, and by extension, so were his loved ones. He already had very few of those. What if you started dating and someone tried to hurt you in order to get back at him? He didn’t want to put your life in danger over his little side hustle.

Then again, you were together in plain sight most of the time anyway. So maybe that was just another excuse not to tell you. It was hard for him to be honest with you about something like this, given the amount of time he'd kept it to himself. And so, he chose to remain your friend—even if you getting a new boyfriend every few years was a hard pill to swallow. Again, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

Some good that did him.

The day he dreaded most had finally arrived: You were going to marry someone else. You were going to marry someone else, and as your best friend of twenty years, he had to pretend to be happy for you. 

Safe to say, after decades of sitting with such heavily repressed emotions, he didn’t take it well.

Things escalated to the point where you asked him to leave your house. You seemed completely shocked by his outburst—the yelling, the screaming, the crying. As far as his embarrassing moments went, this one topped the list. Even during the argument, he was mortified by his own behavior. He made you cry, for god’s sake. You “thought he liked Blake.” 

And y’know what? He kind of did. This guy was probably the least awful boyfriend you ever had. Blake was always nice to you. Blake was always nice to him, actually. But that was besides the point. The issue wasn’t that he hated your boyfriend. The issue was he hated your boyfriend with you. 

That was it. He couldn’t pretend. Not anymore. He had grown tired of it. And unfortunately—or rather, fortunately—for you, he decided to make a little adjustment.

If god forbid you somehow found out what he had done, he would’ve wanted you to know that he tried everything. Everything. Absolutely everything. He had used countless methods, had engaged in an infinite number of attempts across time and space to protect your loved ones while still preserving the most favorable outcome. 

It was almost funny, in a morbid way. You couldn’t make this shit up.

In every timeline where you ended up together, your parents died in a car accident. No, seriously. They died. They fucking died. Specifically in a car accident. Every time.

It didn’t matter when he told you how he really felt, or where, or how. In each of those realities, they were killed. And every timeline where you did not end up together, their lives were miraculously spared, or not even jeopardized in the first place. He lost count of how many times he sprinted back and forth between alternate realities, jumping through hoops to try and render the most ideal outcome. His efforts were futile, with the exception of a singular timeline.

This was the only reality where the two coexisted; your parents got to remain just as they were amongst the living, and you and Barry still ended up together. He couldn't believe it. But there was one caveat: your relationship only came to be when you were both many years older than you were now. And with that being said, in this “ideal” lifetime, you weren’t able to have children. By the time you became a couple, you were also tired and in such poor health that you didn't want to risk adopting them, either.

So, alright. Although he didn’t get absolutely everything he wanted, it was a good life, that one. This was inarguably the least harmful, most favorable option. 

But as anyone who knew him—and even those who just barely knew him—couldn’t help but notice, Barry Allen was not the most patient man in the world. He wasn’t super down with this whole waiting thing. And so, he made a decision. Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t an easy choice to have to make. He loved your family.

But it wasn’t enough.

There was another timeline. His favorite.

You had a family of your own, you and him. You would go on to have two kids, happy and healthy, in no more than ten years time. This was not to suggest that your family with Barry could ever replicate or replace the family you lost. He wasn’t suggesting that. He would never! But then again, it wasn’t like you were alone, not really. Barry had been there for you after your parents died.

For years. For nearly two decades, he had been there.

What a shame, to have lost them at such a young age.

But you were happy now, right? That was all that mattered. You had experienced a devastating loss, sure; a loss that deeply scarred you, that forever changed the course of your life. But people go through death and loss and trauma all the time, and they go on to live perfectly normal lives. So long as you were happy now, so long as you were together, he could live with that. 

And you could, too. 

You could live with that. You could live with having never met Blake. You could live with having at least seven years with your parents that you would forever cherish, that you would never forget. Some people never got that chance. You could live with that because you had Barry, and together you even had your own family now. Your real family. You could live with that.

Couldn’t you?

⚡️

"time will see us realign

diamonds reign across the sky

i will lead us to the same realm"

ao3: cvrnelians

[matrixbearer2024]

Okay my cousin just sent this video to me in DMs and all I could imagine was Vox walking in on dear Reader filming it in the Get Off My Screen AU and absolutely just dying-

Like- OH BOY DOES HE WISH THAT BELT WAS HIS LMFAO

Just immediately bluescreens and his sanity is GONE HAHAHAHAHAH

I can imagine Angel trying to set up (Y/N) into doing this and to not so subtly bait Vox- but they all get more than they bargained for when the TV man straight up just crashes because his soul has gone and left the building

[fandomnerd9602]

2023 dark flash and reader

2023 dark flash and reader talking about the time travels

Dark Flash and Y/N talk at the Time Travelers Cafe…

Y/N: you know if you just went back a little further you could’ve warned your younger selves.

Dark: crap. Why didn’t I think of that?

Y/N: or you could’ve just helped them in combat. Or kill Zod first and have the Kryptonians surrender to Kara.

Dark: time travel is hard. It does not beeve.

Y/N: you think your timeline’s confusing, just look at that guy coming in.

The T-800 bursts through the front door…

T-800: everybody get down!!

[alumikyo]

The Fear of the Past

Yandere! Barry Allen x reader

Chapter 1

The bustling city of Central City woke up to another ordinary morning. Among the crowd, Barry Allen, the enigmatic speedster known as the Flash, made his way to the small café he frequented before work. His eyes scanned the room until they settled on a particular worker. She was [Y/N], a gentle soul who went about her daily tasks with grace, oblivious to the intense gaze fixed upon her.

Barry's eyes fixated on [Y/N] as she gracefully moved behind the counter, unaware of the hidden depths of his affection. Every day, he visited the café, fueled not only by the need for his favourite sandwich but by the burning desire to be near [Y/N]. The sweet scent of her presence, her delicate gestures, and the softness of her voice intoxicated him like a drug.

Today, Barry felt a surge of courage, his heart pounding with the intensity of his emotions. He couldn't bear the thought of letting [Y/N] slip away without knowing the depths of his love. He approached the counter with shaky steps, his voice barely a whisper.

"Good morning, [Y/N]," Barry stammered, his voice trembling with a mixture of nervousness and longing. "I... um, wanted to tell you something. Something important."

[Y/N] glanced up from her task, the brightness of her smile dimming ever so slightly as she caught a glimpse of the intensity in Barry's gaze. A sense of unease fluttered in her chest, but she maintained her polite demeanour.

"Sure, Barry. What's on your mind?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible above the bustling café.

Barry took a deep breath, his words spilling out in a rush. "I've... I've been coming here for a long time, you know? And every time I see you, my heart races. You're so perfect, so beautiful. I can't help but be drawn to you, [Y/N]."

[Y/N]'s eyes widened, a flicker of concern crossing her face. She took a step back, instinctively creating a bit of distance between them. "Barry, I appreciate your kind words, but... I think you're misunderstanding our relationship. We're friends, right? Just acquaintances."

Barry's eyes darkened, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "No, [Y/N], it's more than that. Can't you see? I've watched you from afar, admired you silently. But now, I can't hold it in any longer. I need you, [Y/N]. You have to be mine."

[Y/N]'s expression shifted from concern to genuine fear as she took another step back, her voice trembling. "Barry, you're scaring me..."

A twisted smile spread across Barry's face, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "Oh, [Y/N], you'll learn to love me. I'll make sure of it. No one else can have you. We're meant to be together, forever."

[Y/N]'s heart raced with fear as she darted a glance towards the exit, contemplating her escape from this unsettling encounter. The look of distress on her face finally pierced through Barry's infatuated haze. He saw the fear in her eyes, the way her body tensed, and realized the gravity of his actions.

Barry's voice cracked as he desperately tried to regain his composure. "Wait, [Y/N], I... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I let my emotions get the best of me. Please, forgive me."

[Y/N] hesitated, her hand resting on the door handle, ready to make her escape. She noticed the genuine remorse in Barry's eyes, the remorse of a man who had lost control and now regretted his actions. Her mind raced with a flood of memories. In that moment of panic, a vivid flashback of the first time she had encountered Barry at the café resurfaced, offering a glimpse into the innocent beginnings of their relationship.

In the flashback, [Y/N] stood behind the counter, preparing Barry's regular breakfast sandwich. He would enter the café with a slight awkwardness, a nervousness that hinted at vulnerability. Their initial encounters were filled with light-hearted conversations about their favorite movies, hobbies, and even occasional jokes that made [Y/N] laugh.

Barry, though slightly peculiar, had always displayed a sense of kindness and an endearing quirkiness that had drawn [Y/N] closer. They had slowly built a friendship over countless mornings, their shared moments creating an illusion of familiarity.

"I'm telling you, [Y/N], time travel is mind-boggling! Imagine being able to go back and change things, fix mistakes," Barry had said one morning, his eyes shining with excitement.

[Y/N] had giggled, finding his enthusiasm contagious. "Barry, that's like something out of a sci-fi movie! But it would be incredible to witness historical events firsthand."

Their conversations had always been lighthearted, tinged with Barry's idiosyncrasies. He was slightly awkward, yet endearing in his own way. And in those innocent moments, [Y/N] had seen no trace of the darkness that now consumed him.

As [Y/N] snapped back to reality, fear and confusion washed over her. [Y/N] mustered up the courage to face Barry, her eyes meeting his as she assessed his sincerity. She sensed his genuine remorse and recognized that his intentions might have been driven by misguided emotions rather than ill intent. Despite her initial fear, she found it in her heart to forgive him.

"It's... It's okay, Barry," she responded, her voice trembling slightly. "I forgive you. I just felt a bit... overwhelmed, that's all. Let's just move past this, alright?"

Barry's heart skipped a beat as [Y/N] forgave him. Deep down, he knew he had pushed the boundaries, intentionally letting his infatuation get the best of him. But he couldn't help but feel a twisted satisfaction at how easily [Y/N] forgave him. It was as if she was always ready to put others' needs before her own, including his.

The next day, [Y/N] couldn't shake off the fear that had taken root in her heart. She entered the café with caution, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of Barry's presence. Every customer became a potential threat, and she was on high alert.

When the time neared for Barry's usual entrance, [Y/N] swiftly retreated to the backroom, leaving someone else to handle her job until he left. She couldn't risk encountering him again, not after the darkness that had consumed him.

As [Y/N] took refuge in the safety of the backroom, her pulse gradually slowed, and she dared to hope that perhaps Barry would finally let her be. Little did she know that his calm demeanor concealed a storm of rage and obsession brewing within him. Doubts began to creep into his mind. He realized that his emotional outburst had made him suspicious in [Y/N]'s eyes, potentially damaging his chances of winning her over. Panic surged through him as he frantically contemplated what to do next.

In a moment of desperation, an idea struck Barry. What if he could go back and change the events that had unfolded just moments ago? It had worked before when he tried to save his mother, so why not now? After all, how much could the timeline change when he was only going back a day or two?

With a surge of determination, Barry quickly retreated to the café's washroom. Within the confined space, he shed his suit in a flash of lightning, moving too quickly for anyone to notice. He sprinted with unparalleled speed, initiating the time-travel process.

As Barry reached the desired point in the past, he found himself facing his past self, the version of him who was about to reveal his emotions to [Y/N]. Without wasting a second, Barry explained the situation, emphasizing the need to maintain composure.

"Hey Barry... uh, hey me... or, um... hey, past Barry?... Me from the past?" he stumbled over his words, his explanation oozing with confusion and awkwardness. "You see, it's a total brain-bender. Don’t- DO NOT reveal your feelings just yet. I mean, it's like tampering with the space-time continuum, and trust me, it's bad. I totally messed up, and now I've, like, zoomed back to sort things out. Look- it's super complicated, but you gotta keep a lid on it."

The Barry from the past blinked, trying to decipher the jumble of words his future self had thrown at him. His brow furrowed with a mix of bewilderment and comprehension as he grasped the weight of the situation. Gratitude seeped into his voice as he said, "I... I get it. Thanks…?"

With their awkward conversation behind them, both Barrys shared a brief moment of nerdy camaraderie, united by the complexity of their predicament. They understood the need for careful manipulation of their own actions to ensure the desired outcome with [Y/N].

Returning to the present, Barry found himself standing in front of [Y/N] once again, who continued preparing his sandwich without a hint of fear in her eyes. It was a sign that his intervention had successfully changed the past, erasing the effects of his emotional outburst.

Relief washed over Barry as he observed [Y/N]'s calmness, reassured that he still had a chance to manipulate her emotions and gain her trust. The darkness within him surged, fueled by the satisfaction of his successful alteration.

With a composed smile, Barry approached [Y/N], his voice filled with false gratitude. "Thank you, [Y/N]," he said, masking his true intentions. "I really appreciate your understanding. It means a lot to me."

Deep down, he relished the power he held over her, knowing that he could continue his manipulative pursuit without consequences. Barry was determined to exploit [Y/N]'s forgiving nature, using it to establish a connection that extended far beyond friendship. Little did she know the twisted depths of his obsession concealed beneath his charming facade.

As [Y/N] turned to attend to the next customer, Barry's gaze followed her, his mind already plotting their next encounter. He couldn't wait to be by her side once again, basking in her forgiving nature and slowly tightening his grip around her fragile heart. His voice, when he spoke, held an eerie calmness, belying the storm of emotions swirling within him. "It seems she still needs time," he muttered to himself. "I must be patient, make her trust me again."

As Barry continued with his routine, his mind raced with thoughts of his recent actions. He chastised himself for being too hasty, for scaring [Y/N] with his intense emotions. He should have taken a more measured approach, slowly luring her into his web of obsession. But there was no turning back now. He had to devise a plan that would make her depend on him, erasing the memory of his unsettling behavior.

Days turned into weeks, and Barry meticulously carried out his plan, carefully orchestrating the staged attack on the café. His panic and self-doubt transformed into a cold determination. He knew this was the perfect opportunity to portray himself as [Y/N]'s savior, to establish a sense of reliance and gratitude.

[supercap2319]

Bloom: “What does the book say about Beatrix and her sisters?”

Y/N: “Well, according to the the book...” *Points to the page in the book* “Beatrix, Isobel, and D'Arcy Daniels are the three most powerful witches to walk the Otherworld.”

Bloom: “Ah, the evil Charmed Ones.”

Daphne: “And nobody can find a spell or a weapon that can vanquish them.”

Y/N: “Looks like Witches and Fairies don’t mix. We have our work cut out for us.”

Bloom: “Okay, simple. We set them all on fire with the Dragon Flame.”

Y/N: “I don’t thing it’s going to be that easy, Bloom.”

Daphne: “He’s right. If it were, then someone else would have stopped them instead of us.”

Bloom: “You remember when Beatrix killed Sky, right? Just use that anger and pain to fuel your powers.”

[violetmuses]

Seeing Black - Bucky Barnes (18+ MINORS DNI)

TITLE: “Seeing Black” - Bucky Barnes (18+ MINORS DNI) 

FANDOM: Marvel’s “Falcon and The Winter Soldier” 

CHARACTER: James “Bucky” Barnes 

MAIN PAIRING: James “Bucky” Barnes + Female Reader 

MAIN STORYLINE: Years have passed, but you’ll never forget…. 

Author’s Note: Hey! Here’s the sequel to “Shards.” As a warning, this One Shot includes SMUT content. (18+ Minors DNI) Adult themes, strong language, etc. Thanks so much for reading and feedback would be greatly appreciated. - V. 💜

Also dedicated to @targaryenvampireslayer. Thank you so much for supporting my work! 🩵

Shards - Bucky Barnes (18+ MINORS DNI)

Main Masterlist

__________

2024

James never even heard your story. The real one. Did you serve the country like him before HYDRA found something? 

Possibilities seemed endless with someone like you. 

Skilled. Inconspicuous. Brutal when need be. 

Fucking beautiful. 

Could some of your own missions ever involve seducing people for information? 

All these years later, James learns at last that the answer is yes. 

Apparently, you were hired as one of Selby’s private servers. Setting down bottles on the table and organizing glasses, you barely make eye contact with all three men. Your body sways in this tight dress. Even fabric rides up whenever you move. 

If not for his need to stay in character around Zemo and Sam, James would’ve flirted. 

As of now, he’s fighting every urge to step forward and acknowledge you. You’re teasing this room in the worst way possible, intoxicating. 

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum and I will give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything that you want.” Helmut Zemo stood up from his chosen armchair and lurked towards James, momentarily baiting Selby here.

You can’t do anything, only pouring each glass of whisky for the guests. Nearby, Helmut Zemo, an escaped terrorist, rubs James’s chin. 

“Now, that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you straight away. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right.” Selby almost plastered her wickedly famous smile. 

It wasn’t long before Zemo then sat back down in the chic armchair, gladly taking the drink. James and Sam were once again quiet, refusing other glasses. 

“Thank you.” Zemo’s Sokovian accent rasps towards you towards dim lighting. His deep brown eyes also send chills. 

“You like her?” Selby smirks, glancing near Zemo for just a moment. You planned to corner elsewhere in the room, but this woman brought up another “special” tonight. 

Internally, James wants to end that facade right now and punch Zemo square in the face. Of course Sam can’t look out of place either, but even he knows what’s going on. 

An incoming prospect couldn’t actually be happening. Did you even consent for moments like this? 

“She is remarkable.” Zemo continues, glancing up at you from the chair and biting his lip soon afterwards. 

“Come here, love.” Selby purrs once more, gesturing for you to come back near this crowd. 

With no other choice, you listen, striding your heels towards Selby and these particular men. You can’t look weak around James, especially given current circumstances. 

One wrong move will lead towards death. 

“Yes?” You finally allow yourself to speak and then face Selby in the name of complete obedience. Staying in Madripoor keeps you out of a cage, no matter how dark every night could be. 

“Help my friend. He’s rotted away in a German prison for eight years.” Selby implies so much and you know the drill by now. 

Satisfy whoever. Listen to every command like a good girl. 

Staying in character but slightly intrigued, Zemo rests his glass down and prepares for all you offer. 

James wants to scream. He remains stone faced, but burns within. Despite his call to this mission of Dr. Nagel’s plan, he remembers that amazing night with you. 

The car. The hotel room. Your mewling cries of pleasure. Growling to reach your melted spots over and over again. 

Both lust and need course through James, but envy rears its head, showing up as you face Zemo and dare the unthinkable. 

You’ve straddled the Baron and reach out to smooth back his light brown hair. He wrapped both arms around your waist. 

“Anything you want.” You say to Zemo, curling your nail to run one lingering touch along his bare chin. 

All that you can manage from Zemo is earning one feverish kiss. He sat up in the armchair and settled your weight further onto him, setting his dangerous lips onto yours. 

By the time your own lips pull away from him and you rise to leave the press of his ever-slightly mounting pants,  Zemo struggles breathing. Even one curl falls out of nowhere, shadowing brown eyes. 

“She’s brillant.” Selby chimes back in. 

“What were we discussing?” Seconds later, Zemo clears his thoat, trying to stop the absolute erection that should’ve kicked off now. 

“Nagel.” Selby winks in return, surely going back into this conversation. 

__________

“What the hell is wrong with you?” James finally breaks character and yells at Zemo. 

By this point, all three men had chased out the Brass Monkey Saloon because Sarah called Sam’s phone, almost immediately prompting covers to be ruined. 

Just before Selby could signal their kill, one piercing gunshot ran out, all thanks to Sharon Carter. 

With Selby dead, bullets zipped and this huge escape ran out, leaving one bounty to loom right over their heads. 

“Part of the plan.” Zemo defends himself. 

“Looked desperate if you ask me.” James rips back. “Should’ve taken my chance to kill you on the plane.” James metions his earlier close-call. Zemo had called out Nakajima after reading Steve’s gifted notebook. 

“Is that jealousy I hear right now, James?” Briefly smiling, Zemo keeps talking regardless. “Do you want a complete stranger?” 

Shut the hell up. You have no idea. James thought to himself. 

“Sharon, did you see her get out of there?” Ignoring Zemo, James mentions you, hoping that you’re still alive. 

“Yes.” Sharon reveals.  

_____________

Sharon’s party ends near two in the morning. 

In one bedroom, somehow not even drunk, Zemo is nursing his umpteeth drink of the night. Yet, he then sets that glass elsewhere and opts to settle down at last. No more grooving. 

Sam snores in another guest room, worn out from that mission instead of jamming this evening  with other people. 

As for James, he found you on the dance floor. You dodged Zemo that time, swaying alone in a brand-new outfit. No blood. You looked genuinely happy for once because Sharon must’ve saved you too. 

Now, you’re kissing James on the couch, half-naked as another striking dress pools around your waist. His leftward metal arm also whirs at times, clutching the hold in question. 

“Did you like him?” James asks you, surely mentioning Zemo and revealing that low New York accent. 

“It wasn’t bad. He got hard too. I’m not stupid.” You tell James. 

“Nasty bastard.” James mumbles and you run your fingers close to his beard, gently scratching. “I’m better.” 

“I know.” You say, remembering everything about what happened eight years ago.

____________

Using a condom this time, James turns you around for his favorite position. Over and over again, you muffle cries of pleasure as his hips slap against your bare ass once more. 

Dressed in this black and dapper suit earlier, this former Winter Soldier unbuttoned his slacks, sliding into you from the back mercilessly. 

He then covered your mouth wth his leftward metal palm, trying to stifle the possibility of getting caught. He’ll always remember what went down in the car. 

Sharon’s rooms aren’t soundproof here. 

“This is mine! Remember?” James clenches his bright teeth once more, still not trying himself away. 

“Yes!” You whimper into one sofa and his New York accent growled closer and closer towards you. 

“Cum for me, Doll. It’s safe now. Cum.” James offers that direction without malice, wanting you around before anyone else. Zemo be damned. 

“Oh…” You cry out and spill for James as told, warming up the condom seconds later. 

His hips stutter and James pulls out of your core, leaving you empty as he throws out the condom. 

Not long after you’ve fixed your dress, James returns to the couch. He then grabs your face with both hands, metal and bare, to kiss you deeply. 

Your breath trembles when James moves away from you, ending another moment of passion. 

__________

“Four members of the radical group the Flag Smashers were killed today in a car bomb attack as they were being transferred to a high-security prison. There are no suspects in the bombing. The group had opposed the global relocation efforts of the GRC, who just this week had announced changes in their overall policies of repatriation and resettlement.”

You’ve escaped Madripoor at last, but listen to the radio while driving in New York. Whoever was responsible for taking out those remaining Flag Smashers would deal with hell in time. 

Recently, your own record was quickly pardoned on the basis of extenuating circumstances. The Blip and Snap screwed up everyone, leaving countless folks to go mad, if not act worse like Karli. 

Now, times were different. You started with a clean slate, and could wake up every day with a clear conscience. 

Pulling onto one extremely familiar parking lot, you roll down the window and honk that horn, calling out towards fresh air. 

“Buck, we’ll be late! Hurry.” You then notice James stubbing out a cigarette and call his nickname. 

“Thought I could drive.” Smiling, he leans inward to kiss you and walks around for the passenger seat. 

“Come on.” You rush to speak, almost speeding out of the lot as this car leaves Dr. Raynor’s office. 

____________

“She's your girlfriend now?” Sam, now officially working as Captain America, questions James at the Wilson family cookout in Lecroix days later. 

“Yeah.” James confirms this truth and lifts his beer, watching you laugh with Sarah across the boardwalk. 

Happy endings exist after all. 

[loveydelrey444]

Ethereal

Honey pt. 2

A/N : This is the second part to my fic ‘Honey’ enjoy!

Warnings: light humiliation, intercourse, afab reader, no specific pronouns mentioned, soft!Barry Allen.

Barry leaned down and kissed your lips gently. “Let’s take care of you now hm?”

You shook your head and smiled at him, “I’m okay Barr I’m a bit tired, could we go to bed?”

Barry smiled “Okay”. You and Barry both laid down and intertwined your bodies with each other. Hours had passed until you had woken up and felt a beautiful sensation from your vagina. 

You looked up slightly to see Barry sleeping peacefully, his breathing beautifully steady. You raised your palm and gently held his face in aw of how wonderful your significant other is. Barry subconsciously shifted his body closer into you. Instinctively you let out a pleasurable groan; You laid small significant kisses from his nose to his lips, pouted from sleep. Barry fluttered his eyes open, and instantly smiled when he saw your eyes gazing him. 

“Where you kissing me in my sleep?” He asked in a groggy voice. “Of course, you’re so pretty in the moonlight” you responded. “I love you baby” Barry blushed and pulled you even closer to his body. “Barry?” You spoke softly, ’’Hm?’’ Barry answered half asleep. “Could you take care of me?” You could feel Barry smirk against your skin before he responded, “Are we thinking about the same thing right now?” 

“I’m not sure, you’ll have to find out Barry”

Barry shifted his position so that he was hovering over you, Barry grabbed your face gently and sucked bottom lip and began exploring your tongue. You moaned at the sensation and cupped his face. Barry pulled away and whispered to you lustfully. “You taste so sweet, my sweet” he giggled, ‘’You’re such a Pisces Barr it hurts” You both laughed a bit before you pulled him back towards you. You and Barry began to grind harmoniously against each other, having still been naked from earlier that night. The shaft of Barry’s cock created the perfect sensation onto your clit, you both moaned into the kiss; struggling to continue kissing one another. 

You began to get lost in his scent, the smell of his body wash had faded by this time and you were left with his natural scent and it drove you wild. You wanted him even closer. You wanted to feel every piece of him he had to give. You reconnected your lips while bucking your hips onto his penis. Barry moaned and threw his head back “Getting needy are we?” You whined when he’d pulled away; “I want you Barry please, give me more.” 

“Give you what baby? What do you want?” You trailed your fingertips down his body and held his cock down gently onto your clit and began grinding yourself back and forth onto him. Barry moaned loudly and pressed your hips down; you whined at the loss of friction.

“Barr please let me keep going please it feels so good” You whined, 

Barry chuckled to himself, “Well since you asked so nicely baby, go ahead— hump my cock like pretty thing you are”.  So you did just that, you were getting close and Barry could feel it from the feeling of your swollen clit. Barry pulled away and looked up at you for permission. “Do you want me to make love to you honey?” 

“Yes, please” You said flustered. 

Barry smiles softly and slowly started to insert himself into you. The stretch was something that always happened but you adored it every time. “Are you doing okay angel?” Barry asked concerned. 

“I’m fine love, keep going please”.

You were full in no time and Barry began making love to you at a beautiful pace, he hit a very sensitive spot within you within every thrust. You felt like a virgin with how close you were to cumming. “It’s okay I got you baby, let go for me okay?” His words of reassurance is all it took to get you over the edge. You squeezed around him black spots clouding your vision as you came around your lover. Barry came soon after with a groan of your name and messy thrust riding out his orgasm. You felt his hot fluid spill into you and you couldn’t have been any more happier about it. Barry collapsed on top of you with a breathy “I love you honey.”

The end. 

[ashes-writing]

Headcanons on being Billy Loomis's girlfriend and becoming a killer with him?

This was a greatly appreciated challenge, okay? I literally jumped at this one. Having said this, I preface with a strong word of caution.. I took a darker and more realistic approach. I hope that's alright. I thank you for the ask because this... it helped me step outside of my lil comfort zone of smut, angst and romance only and I've been trying to work up the nerve for some time now.

Fun fact... as I wrote the last bit of this headcanon list out, Runnin Up That Hill came on Spotify and I feel like it fit with reader's mindset all things considered.

Tag List ; @schizoauthoress - be warned.. this is dark. do not read if you feel like you're not up to it, bb. This goes for anyone, tagged or stumbled upon by chance.. Read all the warnings. Please. I don't wanna do any sort of harm or anything. the above person is the only one present on my horror movie tags, btw. If you'd like to be added, the link is below.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some of the characters I write for || requests open, any and all fandoms / characters listed are fair game just not pro wrestling at the moment.

I do not consent to having my work reposted elsewhere. Or having it reworded and reposted here.

Minors, dni. Absofuckinlutely not. This one is not sexual in nature but.. It's a dead dove / don't eat type thing. The actions detailed vaguely within this are not suitable for you and I do not endorse or agree with them.. If you've a strong aversion to blood mentions, kissing,  violence and murder mentions, death of a character , killing sprees, an attempt at writing realistic reprecussions for violent crimes by someone who is not in the field of law enforcement, psychiatry or anything of that nature so yeah.. might be a shade inaccurate and for that i'm also sorry. I tried... It's just a good idea all around to skip this is the darkness and anything other than a happy ending by normal terms is less than appealing, alright? Because there are consequences for actions and those are heavily implied here.

✯ It happened by accident. You didn’t set out to kill the person you had to kill and you damn sure didn’t plan to have Billy Loomis somehow stumble upon the entire thing as it unfolded, either… You had your back against a wall literally. The only way out of the situation was outcrazy the other person. The last person you expected to help you was Billy Loomis. But he did. And the help you got in ridding yourself of a long running problem in your life came with the small price of having Billy bound to you. Billy Loomis holding something over your head other than the crush he knew you had on him and taunted you with the very night he helped you burn the body after sneaking into the crematorium in town. But he promised that the person he’d helped you get rid of wouldn’t ever hurt you again and he meant it, sealing it with a kiss and a blood pact. His word was his bond.

✯ You thought you’d feel remorse. You did at first, but then the euphoria took over. The sheer relief at having finally handled a long running problem in your life awakened something dark inside you. The way it felt to know someone absolutely fucking vile took their last breath at your hand. A horrible person was gone and couldn’t hurt anybody anymore because of you. Billy killed for the hell of it. For you, it’s more of a ridding society of it’s disgusting blights. You tend to go after the people who hurt others, who do unspeakable things and yet somehow continue to dodge proper punishment. And this makes Billy so goddamn hot. There’s just something about your righteous indignation and the way you handle it that makes him fall and he falls hard.

✯ It doesn’t take long for you to get antsy. There’s so much more to be done. The desire to do something, to right abhorrent wrongs.. And Billy just wants another kill and he’ll take it any way he can get it. You’re his girl now and you have been for a while by this point so.., if you want something, he’ll move mountains to give it to you. If this means the waters run red with somebody’s blood or walls are painted with it, so be it. The two of you think you’re in the clear and the search begins for another target, somebody, anybody to sate your combined bloodlust but just as you’re closing in on one, law enforcement closes in on him. They believe you’re just a hostage, collateral damage from the murder of the person you actually murdered. Not Billy, you.

✯ You discuss it and you agree that somewhere south of the border. Or somewhere far outside of the US with very lengthy extradition laws and a lot of red tape is your best bet and on your way to escape, a cross country killing spree begins. It’s tricky at first because you have to change your MO completely and this is when Billy, a heat of the moment, stone cold crazy blitz killer truly shines. And you’re there, by his side, helping him dispose of the aftermath every step of the way.

✯ The end is bloody. Violent. And you’re ripped apart from him with such brutal finality. Watching him die in front of your eyes shatters you. You pick up the gun he dropped and you unload it. Round after round and your mind just goes black. When you come around a little later, you find yourself in a cell. With a straight jacket your only company. But you know there’s one surefire way to reunite so maybe that’s why when the public defender shows up to appeal to you to take an insanity plea on the grounds of Stockholm Syndrome, you adamantly refuse. You go even further and you do the one thing you can do for the man you loved in clearing his name of at least one wrong he’d been accused of. You give a confession, in full. The insanity plea you were offered disappears and now it’s down to the choice between life in prison or the death sentence. And maybe, to an extent, they’re right, you are insane. But as soon as you pick the death sentence and seal your own fate, you can hear him. “Atta girl. Come home to daddy, sweetheart.” and you smile the entire long walk down to the execution chamber. You take your last breath knowing that Billy’s waiting for you. Probably impatient, probably bitching because it took too long and the plan was never for the truth to come out in the first place, but… He’s waiting. And soon you’ll be reunited.

[statticscribbles]

🔥- NSFW Scene for Jean GreyxMaleReader

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🔥- NSFW Scene

Jean scowls and you just look up and laugh.

“Y/N stop thinking about that while you’re teaching a class.”

“The only other telepath is the Professor.”

“Some of the kids can pick up powers.” She scowls again and you stick your tongue out.

“None in my classes; seriously Jean it’s fine; besides all I was thinking of was kissing you. You’re the one who was thinking of other things.”

You wake up that night to the bed empty; to Jean hovering above you, to the silk sheets tying you down.

“And I’m the one thinking dirty thoughts; here you are directing me; since you can steal powers; this hardly seems fair does it?” She playfully smirks as you give her back control of her body, you expect her to undo the sheets instead she tightens them.

“Oh no; I’m going to finish my thought from earlier that you interrupted.”

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Flash Challenge Details

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it. 

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something. 

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken. 

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel." 

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for. 

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge. 

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" 

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration. 

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring. 

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me." 

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you. 

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch. 

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708. 

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda. 

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.” 

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.” 

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?” 

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.” 

“Miguel, what the fuck—” 

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.” 

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?” 

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.” 

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?” 

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?” 

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal. 

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count. 

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you. 

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side. 

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat. 

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste. 

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core. 

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo." 

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass. 

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had. 

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

[tonycries]

Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? - G.S.

Synopsis. There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, Satoru’s blindfold gets used, overstimulation (male + female), lots of cum, aphrodisiac sex, multiple rounds, making Gojo Satoru cum in his pants, breaking the bed, mating press, pet names (my girl), swearing.

Word count. 3.0k

A/N. Can you tell it’s ovulation week. PART 2 HERE. Art by @_3aem on x.

Ah~ It’s the 21st century, they should really make these curses self-exorcizing. 

It’s been a long day of dealing with countless curses and five droning clan meetings (all of which he missed, oops). Now, Satoru loiters around your shared penthouse apartment - waiting for you to come back home from work.

Hmm, maybe he’ll quickly drop by and see what the first years are up to? He probably didn’t have a class right now. 

But first, Satoru grins, opening the refrigerator to grab at the secret stash of sweets all the way in the back - something sweet.

---

It was odd to step into a tense silence suffocating your home - usually used to being met with whines of “how dare you take so long!” and “you won’t believe what that emo kid did today.” as soon as you walked in through the door.

Was Satoru running late on a mission today?  

It wasn’t surprising, the man had to be everywhere - it’s not like he always has the time to teleport and welcome you home. Yet, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off as you made your way into the kitchen.

Cursing whoever invented the work week, the cold air of the refrigerator hits you as you open it to grab a drink, wondering when your fiancé will be home.

Wait.

Tired brain distinctly noting the lack of that familiar flash of hot pink, you double-take as you glare at the back of the refrigerator - as if willing it to materialize in front of you. Where was that?

“That” being the gag gift your friends had given you last Christmas to playful wolf whistles. Some large slab of “aphrodisiac chocolate” - probably normal chocolate - that you’d skeptically thrown in with your secret candy stash for a rainy day. 

Satoru had ransacked your goods again, you sigh. But if he was home…then where was he?

“Toru? Are you home?” you call out in confusion, only to be met with a deafening silence. 

Concern etched on your face, you set the drink down to look for Satoru, footsteps thumping against the hardwood floors at each tense step. 

Approaching the bedroom, a low, unmistakable moan filters through the heavy door. Satoru.

Heartbeat racing and worry coursing through you, you cautiously push the door open - only to be met with a sight that makes your heart stop.

There, sprawled across your bed in just his boxers, a delicate flush spread enticingly along his sculpted body, was your Satoru. 

Something about this scene felt more than a simple evening nap. The air was heady and thick with something. Maybe it was that familiar hot pink wrapper lying empty at the foot of the bed. Maybe it was the way Satoru’s usually vibrant eyes were half-lidded, curtained by his tousled hair. 

Or maybe it was his hand squeezing the large outline of his achingly hard cock through his boxers. Circling the dark spot around his leaking tip. Massaging his heavy balls. Teasing. 

“You’re home‘ he rasps out, voice strangled and snapping you out of your trance. 

“Wha- yes. Toru, what happened?” you sputter out, eyes locked on the way his cock twitched animalistically at the sound of your voice.

In the blink of an eye, Satoru’s gotten up from the bed, muscled arms caging you against the wall. His rock-hard erection presses into your front, precum smearing through his boxers against your work clothes.

“You’re home.” he repeats, sounding as strained as if he were about to snap any second. Losing his sanity with each breath that fans your hair.

You could feel the pulsing of your cunt as your eyes flit from the sheen of sweat decorating his body to the blindfold haphazardly hanging off his neck. Satoru finally raises his eyes to look at you.

Oh, he’s already lost his sanity.

Pupils blown, those blue eyes you love now a lustful black - a predatory glint in them that made a carnal part of your cunt twitch. His mouth spreads into a wolfish grin, teeth bared as if ready to eat you up. 

A shiver runs down your spine.

“Toru…you okay?”

“You’re home.” he breathes out, as if a prayer. 

“Satoru.”

The simple call of his name sealed your fate.

The buttons hit the ground before you realize what he’s doing. Ripping your shirt off, pulling off your bra, fisting your clothes in his hands as if it killed him to see you clothed. 

Too impatient - too starved - to remove your skirt, he pulls it to shreds off your hips.

“Woah- slow down there.” you squeal as he drops to Satoru knees, biting down on the thin fabric of your soaked panties, tugging with his teeth. You know he’ll buy you ten more to replace what he’s torn, but jeez where was the decorum?

“Can’t” he slurs, peeking up at you with dazed eyes. Was your Satoru even here with you?

“What?” 

“Can’t stop.” he murmurs lowly, voice sending vibrations to your twitching cunt. 

And before you know it, sharp teeth bite around your panties, ripping them to shreds. Looking up at you with hooded eyes, miles away, grinning devilishly around the soaked fabric in his mouth. 

Shit, what have you gotten yourself into.

Despite your thobbing pussy, you soothe “Now, Toru. Why don’t we just-”

“Shut up.” he mutters. And he does - words catching in your throat as Satoru dives nose-deep into your dripping cunt. Hot tongue urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst..

Nose rubbing your pulsing clit in rough circles, he breathes you in so sinfully, letting out a throaty groan as he does. He bullies his tongue past your dripping folds, stretching you, dipping in and out of your quivering entrance. Over and over. In and out.

You were losing your mind with each rough push of Satoru’s warm tongue. Dizzying pace forcing lewd whimpers out of your mouth that mix with the squelches of his mouth on your pussy. 

You buck your hips desperately into his face, and amidst his merciless abuse on your cunt, you barely notice the way he presses his body against yours. 

Shit, so this is why he’s so fucking feral - Satoru’s cock was painfully hard, swollen and throbbing against your leg. Fuck- you weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

He grind his hips into you, precum soaking your bare legs. With a low whimper at the back of his throat, Satoru’s tongue fucks you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting.

Maybe it’s the harsh abuse of his mouth on your swollen lips, nose catching on your clit just right. Or maybe it’s the feeling of your slick dripping down the corners of his mouth, onto your thighs and mixing with the precum of his aching erection. 

Before you can even register it, you’re cumming all over Satoru’s mouth, grip tight on his white locks and hips riding his pretty face.

Greedily lapping at your quivering cunt, he moans as his eyes roll to the back of his head at the sweet juices pooling around his tongue. 

In the back of your mind, you recognize the feeling of Satoru’s warm cum smearing against your leg. Did- Did Gojo Satoru just come in his underwear while eating you out?

Sinfully, he licks at the mixture of your juices dripping down your legs, eyes closed as if tasting a delicacy. He was going to be the death of you.

As soon as your high bates, Satoru stands to his full height. Towering above you with eyes that looked like he wanted to positively eat you alive.

“T-Toru…are you okay?” 

But your fiancé stays silent, throbbing erection still straining painfully against his wet boxers as he shoves you against the cold wall. Rough hands on your hips, presenting your dripping cunt to him and arching you to his will.

A large hand smacks the wall beside your head, plaster crumbling under his strength. Shit, if he keeps going at this pace then nothing in the house will survive Satoru - including you. 

You feel the cum-soaked fabric of his boxers grinding against your ass, his hands pulling and groping every bit of skin he can reach.

“Toru, take it off.” you whine out, words dripping in lust.

You don’t need to tell Satoru twice. With grace that he wouldn’t give your clothes, his boxers are on the ground, painfully hard cock hitting his abs. 

You can feel the slick dripping down your legs as you look behind your shoulder to see one hand wrapped tightly around his large cock. Pulling in slow, languid motions up to the furiously flushed tip. His heavy balls twitch as he thumbs the prominent vein along the side.

“I want-”

You can’t even finish your sentence before Satoru’s bullying his massive cock into your snug cunt. Plush walls desperately trying to adjust to his size as he sheaths himself in your hot core. 

You moan at the delicious stretch of your pussy. It’s not like you haven’t done this before - yet, where Satoru was usually suave in sex, right now it was replaced by pure, feral need. With his tip kissing your cervix as he pushed animalistically into your cunt - you didn’t know if you’d make it out alive. 

“Hah- Toru it’s too big. Ah! I can’t-.”

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed. 

Satoru presses into you inch by fucking inch, groaning at the tight ring of muscles trying to both push him out and suck him in desperately. It was so animalistic.

It seems Satoru’s body moves before his mind, hips fucking into your dripping pussy recklessly. Harsh thrusts, not even pulling all the way out to ram into you as he usually does - as if he can’t bear to part with your wet core. His balls sting your cunt as they smack against you at his unforgiving pace, strings of slick and cum connecting him to you.

“Ah- So good f’me, my girl. Always- so good.” he gasps out at the heavenly feeling of your dripping cunt sucking him back in at each thrust. “Hngh! Mmm more. I need more. Need it so bad.”

Hands arching your back into him now grope the expanse of your skin, before wrapping around your body to lift you off the floor. 

“Ah! Toru, what- hngh-” you choke on your words at the new angle. 

Satoru’s body bows into you, cock still slamming inside you at a feral pace midair. Not even a hair’s breadth between your bodies. 

With one hand he forces you to look up at him, capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. Pretty mouth sucking your tongue as he did with your cunt.

If you were in a better state of mind, you’d notice the slight glow tinging his lustful eyes. The electricity thrumming through his fingers. Yet you already knew - Satoru was absolutely losing it.

Your feet dangle off the ground as he holds you securely, length reaching impossibly deeper inside you. Prominent vein grazing that one spot over and over.

“Hngh- Oh my god, Toru. S’too much!” you pull away to whine. 

“Open your mouth.” he murmurs raspily. As if body on auto-pilot, your mouth opens, tongue lolling out for what he was about to give.

Satoru’s stream of spit is warm on your tongue, making you clench around his merciless cock. He lets out a drawn-out groan, eyes boring down at you, holding a glint of the same insanity he has when he exorcizes curses, “My nasty girl. Can’t get enough of you.”

You moan at his words, hands reaching behind you to grab on the blindfold dangling on his neck. “Toru more-” you gasp out, your tight grip causing him to bow his head with a groan, cock twitching ferally. 

“Fuck! More? You fucking want more?” he groans out, voice wrecked with pleasure. 

You let out a yelp as his teeth dig into your neck - hard enough that you were sure you’d have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up. Yet, your grip on his blindfold never waves, pulling him closer as he fucks roughly into your snug cunt. 

Ass burning at the friction of his pelvis. Pussy dripping onto your bedroom floor. Unforgiving. Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. “Ah! Toru s’good.” 

You both cum with strangled gasps. A low keen at the back of Satoru’s throat, and he’s pumping hot ropes of cum into your awaiting pussy. Tears stinging your eyes at your sensitivity, all you know is a wave of pleasure as you ride out your climax on the ramming of his hips and the how full you are of his seed.

His hand still draws hurried, desperate circles on your clit. You squeal at the overstimulation, tears clinging to yours lashes. “Toru- hngh!” you can barely get out the words, his hips slamming into yours mercilessly as Satoru milks his cock desperately on your quivering pussy. 

“Shut up. You said you wanted more. You’re gonna get more, my little slut.” he mutters carnally.

Ah, you can’t do this. You were going to fucking pass out.

“One- more.” he moans.

Your thighs clench around him, pushing your plush walls deeper as he lets out raspy whimpers with each thrust. “Hah- hngh.” 

“Shit- Toru I’m-” Your climax hits you with a jolt, body twitching in pain and pleasure from the oversensitivity as your cunt flutters around his cock - not even being able to tell when Satoru’s orgasm ends and when yours starts. 

You feel a tear hit your shoulder, overstimulation too much for his poor cock as his seed coats your walls once more. It drips out of you, forming a pool on the floor as he pulls out - for only a second before you’re thrown on the bed. 

Orgasm-hazed brain barely having time to register what is happening before Satoru stalks towards you from the foot of the bed. Unhurriedly approaching you as you scoot towards the headboard.

Your pussy jumps exhaustedly at the sight of him - eyes darkened and narrowed at you like a predator that has spotted his prey. A devilish smirk stretches across his swollen lips, glossed prettily with spit and slick. 

Toru, I-I don’-” you words slur out. 

“One- one more, my girl. Please.” Satoru whimpers, throat shot from what transpired just before. His cock twitches, glistening with cum and slick, dripping onto the fresh bedsheets. 

As he looms closer, you wonder how the fuck Satoru was still holding up - was this all because of the chocolate? You have half the mind to wonder whether he was using reversed cursed technique to keep you both alive.

You mewl deliriously at the feeling of your legs being thrown on his shoulders. Eyes blown and face flushed your favorite shade of pink, he licks a long stripe up your ankles, voice cracking as he moans sinfully. 

Satoru’s flushed tip teases your entrance, dragging along your swollen folds. Fuck. Shit. Maybe you wouldn’t even mind dying if it was with his cock rammed in your snug cunt.

Barely even lucid, he thrusts harshly into you - your tight entrance readily sucking up his flushed tip. You both hiss at the sensitivity. Surely, one of you was going to pass out. 

Hand moving to grasp the blindfold around his neck, you pull him to you. Your hamstrings burn in protest as Satoru bends down to attach his lips with yours, moving down until you were folded in half. 

Tongue tangling with yours, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, fiery with an intensity that made you unsure if either of you would make it out of this alive. 

Heartbeat roaring in your ears, you don’t notice the crack! of the bed and neither does Satoru. Too caught up in desperately reaching whatever number orgasm it was this night. 

Moans incoherent, your body convulses, nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back as the bed creaks in protest. A strangled groan leaves his mouth, cock throbbing inside you - or maybe that was your quivering cunt. At this point you really didn’t know anymore. 

“Shit- ah! Fuck. I’m- M’cumming. M’cumming. Hngh- cumming!” he whines out, voice ragged and breathing unstable. Delicate tears streak down his face, dripping onto your quivering body below him. Salty.

You can only let out exhausted whines, too fucked out to form any proper sentences.

Hot seed gushing inside you again, it overflows out of you, cunt dripping and too full to take anymore. Yet, Satoru still fucks into you until he sees stars and his poor cock is cumming dry. You can barely even feel your climax, distant tingles and the only thing on your mind being Satoru Satoru Satoru. 

The air leaves your lungs as he collapses on top of you. Skin flushed and sticking to yours. Body twitching as his poor cock neverendingly shoots blanks inside of you. Which number was this even?

That’s when you black out.

Floating in and out of dreams of blue, blue skies and mini Satorus running around, you wake up with a start. Well, as much of a start as you could with your entire body aching as if you got run over by a truck - and then an entire zoo after.

Bleary eyes taking in your surroundings, you distinctly realize that you’re spread out on the living room couch. 

What happened.

“Hey, you okay?” a hoarse voice sounds from beside you. You could barely recognize it as your fiancé’s, words jagged from…whatever it was before.

“You…are you okay?” you rasp out, raising a brow exhaustedly. Satoru chuckles sheepishly, tenderly smoothing over the blanket placed on top of you. What a change from before - are you sure this is the same guy?

“Well…the wall is crumbling, we broke the bed, and I’m pretty sure my dick won’t work again for the next couple years.” he gets out in one breath. At your silence, he continues “And I think my favorite blindfold is out of commission.”

“...wow.”

“Wow.” 

“You lecher, you ate from my secret stash, didn’t you?”

“...”

A few days later, opening the refrigerator, you’re met with a wall of hot pink. A sticky note on top reading in Satoru’s hasty scrawl, “This time you take one too :D”

A/N. Wrote this while watching The Garfield Show.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 4.5k

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Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.

The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .

There’s you.

And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.

This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.

If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.

The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?

Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.

The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.

The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.

They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.

No one could save you.

“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.

How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.

“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.

Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.

“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”

You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.

The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.

“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.

He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.

“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.

You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.

“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.

“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.

A pause.

“Please.” And then he went back to eating.

So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.

“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.

Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.

“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”

Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.

“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.

For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.

“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.

“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”

He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.

“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.

Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.

“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.

“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”

That awful, ugly, no good- 

“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed. 

You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things. 

‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’ 

You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics. 

You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered. 

“Do all women take this long to get ready?” 

You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf. 

He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring. 

He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous. 

“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms. 

You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited. 

You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have. 

“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction. 

Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away. 

The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth. 

You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm. 

You waited. And waited. And waited. 

“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand. 

There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?  

“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far. 

You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket. 

You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack. 

“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm. 

“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce. 

“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement. 

“No.” 

“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.” 

Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest. 

“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . .  spineless.” 

You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he. 

“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him. 

‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you. 

“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred. 

“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice. 

You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together. 

“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . . 

Aimed at his throat. 

He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him. 

And then he leaned in closer. And closer.

“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.

 You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. .  . the natural musk of his skin. 

“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin. 

He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it. 

“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own. 

Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in. 

“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you. 

He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole. 

They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with. 

When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain. 

But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it. 

‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’ 

His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft. 

“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair. 

Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire. 

And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood. 

“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now. 

“I wanted to.” You conceded. 

“Then you should have tried harder.”

Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused. 

There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone. 

And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably. 

There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land. 

He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now. 

Like the fact that he had almost kissed you. 

Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you. 

You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now. 

Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating. 

Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped. 

“Atreides.” 

The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized. 

No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . . 

Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger. 

‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier. 

He had been trying to warn you.

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the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!

[allbark-no-bite]

things friends do.

felix catton x reader (wc: 3.1k)

summary: things friends do include but are not excluded to: sleeping in each other’s bed, kissing, sharing beer, fucking each other

warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex

author’s note: y’all i have refused to believe that jacob elordi was attractive but saltburn did me in

————————————————————————

You were not in love with Felix Catton.

And Felix Catton was not in love with you.

He was a lover boy, but he was not your lover boy.

The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it. But it didn't feel that way. You never felt as though you were owned by him. It was just that he was Felix and who didn't want to belong to him?

Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other inappropriately naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.

But this was Felix.

Not Oliver, or Farleigh, or Veneita. Felix.

—

The party is so electric that you're not sure if it's the music or your own erratic heartbeat thumping in your ears. The place is so packed that at some point the entire bar had become part of the main dance floor in order to accommodate for the dizzying array of overheated, intoxicated bodies moving this way and that. Blue light illuminates the otherwise dark room. Flashes of neon green splash across swaying bodies, highlighting dancers as they navigate the floor.

To no one's surprise, Felix is in the center of it all. He'd gravitated towards the pole in the middle of the room like a magnet and had taken to it to pay his dues, his slender body rolling to the music with all of his typical charisma.

After a few beers, you're pleasantly buzzed, but you'll probably be toeing the line once you finish the fourth in your hand. Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of your dorm room. Farleigh is right behind him, likely just as intoxicated, but with him you could never tell. Farleigh was always the same catty bitch no matter how drunk or sober he was. You loved him, but he was a bitch.

A heavy weight suddenly staggers upon your shoulders, and you groan against the weight, both you and Felix swaying dangerously to the side as he throws his arm around you. Usually this wouldn't work because he's so ridiculously tall but the alcohol had made him a little less coordinated than usual and he's slouched down to closer to your height. Beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup and splashes onto the floor at your feet.

"Having fun, darling?" he asks, half shouting in your ear to be heard over the music.

"Always," you laugh, though it's mostly directed at him.

His skin is clammy with sweat and his breath is coated with the familiar, yeasty smell of beer. "Where's Farleigh?" Felix doesn't even wait for your response before he's shouting for him. "Ay! Farleigh!" There's a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the same hand that's holding onto his cup, and he raises it to get his friend's attention.

His arm still around you, you dodge the spilling liquid heading for your feet. "Felix! Felix, careful!" you scold him, still laughing, so the smile doesn't disappear from his face.

In an attempt to solve the problem, he leans forward and starts to swallow back the remainder of the beer in his cup. He must underestimate just how much he had left to go because it starts to escape past the sides of his mouth, dripping past his jaw and down the front of his open shirt.

You shriek again. "Felix!"

Laughing, he pulls the cup away and brings it towards you. Before you can protest, he's tipping it back into your mouth. He leaves you no choice but to swallow it or wear it across the front of your shirt so you do your best to drink the remaining beer, more nursing from the cup than gulping as Felix was.

It leaves your lips and chin wet, and before you can wipe the excess beer away, Felix does it himself, somewhat roughly dragging his thumb under your lip. He then sucks the digit into his mouth, hardly thinking twice about it. It would have been erotic with anyone else. But this was everyday with Felix. It would have been weird if you hadn't chugged the backwash of his beer.

His attention is just as quickly drug from you to Farleigh. You hadn't noticed the other boy approaching. He gives you a wicked smile, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something but refrains. You tilt your head, prepared to ask him what his mischievous look is all about but Felix interrupts you.

"Farleigh, mate," Felix begins still hugging you close. "The girls are looking a bit bored. What do ya think?"

Across the room, India and Annabel are sitting on a couch together. The piece of furniture itself has certainly seen better days, torn and stained with bodily fluids of varying levels of disgusting. There's a guy with his arm slung around India, but for all she's paying attention to him, he might as well not exist. She's drinking from a bottle of champagne and couldn't look less interested in him.

Farleigh's eyes track from you to Felix, as though making some sort of connection, then he smiles cheshire-like. "Oh yeah, mate. You know, I do think India was actually looking for you earlier." His sinister brown eyes lock with yours, as if waiting for you to object. "Why don't you go put her out of her misery. (Y/n) and I will go busy ourselves at the bar."

Felix grins crookedly, nothing but honest fun shining in his blown pupils. "I will see you two later."

He straightens but not before twisting his neck, body still plastered to yours, and he plants a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. His lips taste like beer and nicotine. It's not really even a kiss, just a lack of coordination on Felix's part that he didn't catch your cheek. If Farleigh hadn't been trying to start something in the first place, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it.

It's not the first time Felix has kissed you. Hell, he's probably even kissed Farleigh at some point. Maybe not on the mouth because they were cousins, but that's besides the point. Friends kissed each other all the time. This wasn't anything new.

As Felix removes himself from you, his tall figure walking over to grab India's hand and lead her from the couch, the guy who had been flirting with her for the past hour glaring after them, you level your stare with Farleigh's. "What's that look about?"

Farleigh crosses his arms, looking as full of himself as ever, and rolls his eyes. He really was a bitch sometimes. "Fuck the friend code and fuck him already. You know you want to."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't want to fuck him, Farleigh."

You don't. Things just weren't like that between you and Felix. Sure, maybe there had been a few occasions where you'd sucked him off and he'd done the same for you in return but that was all purely situational. There were no feelings attached. Just two friends who were close enough to do that kind of thing without it being weird.

Farleigh just scoffs at your ignorance, pushing past you with his shoulder to head over to the bar. "Just like sweet little Ollie doesn't want to fuck him? Please, neither of you look at him all that different."

"Everyone looks at him like that," you argue. "He's Felix."

"No, everyone looks at him like they want his dick in their mouth. You look at him like you'd let him do absolutely anything he fucking wants to you. And honestly, (Y/n), it's kinda sad." He says the last part with faux pity, his voice demeaning.

You scowl at him as he turns back around and walks over to the bar.

Fuck Farleigh. You did not want to fuck Felix.

And fuck him for putting the thought in your head.

—

It's nearing two am by the time you remove yourself from the bar. You're no more intoxicated than you were earlier, having cut yourself off after chugging the last of Felix's drink, but you weren't particularly keen on walking in on Felix and India after tonight so you'd resigned yourself to sitting on a barstool for the remainder of the night.

You keep telling yourself that you weren't bothered by him having sex with her, but Farleigh had put the thought in your head and it wouldn't leave.

Of course you liked Felix. Who didn't like Felix? But did you want to sleep with him? No.

Maybe.

It wasn't like he wouldn't do it if you asked. But Felix would have sex with anything that walked. And you weren't India. You were his best friend. And no matter now many times you two had pushed the line of being just friends, having sex with him would completely ruin the line all together. And then what? There nowhere to go after you start dating your best friend. If it crashes and burns it's game over. And with Felix, that was a guarantee.

You pass India going opposite of you down the hall. One of the straps of her dress is hanging off her shoulder, bedazzled high heels in her hands as she struggles to slip them back on. There's a dark purple hickey at the junction of her throat and collarbone and another lighter one above her breast. You don't say anything to her, just push past her into Felix's dorm.

He's sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?"

You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around empty boxes of pizza and abandoned articles of clothing until you find something that looks wearable. You unzip your dress, only half turned away from him as you pull on one of his shirts. He's seen you naked before and so your ass and the side of your boobs is hardly scandalous to him.

"Farleigh is an ass," you retort, crawling onto his mattress to settle into the empty space at his side. It's without a doubt the same space that India had been just a few minutes before.

Felix frowns, the piercing his brow moving downwards with the expression. "What's he said to you?" His tone is concerned because he knows how his cousin can be.

You just sigh in response, shifting into a more comfortable position at his side. Felix takes another drag of his cigarette while he waits for your response. Farleighs words run through your head again.

"Why haven't we had sex?"

He actually laughs at that one, sitting up on one of his elbows so that he can see you better. The shag of his dark brunette hair hangs over his forehead as he looks down at you. "Do you want to have sex?"

While his tone is amused and humorous, you know he's genuinely asking. Felix would never make fun of you for that kind of thing.

You shrug, looking up into his bemused brown eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"

This conversation shouldn't be as casual as you're making it out to be, and maybe it wouldn't have been with anyone else, but this is Felix. He's your best friend.

Slowly, he leans down and places a kiss on your lips. It's fairly brief, hardly even long enough for you to kiss him back before he's pulling away. "Then let's have sex," he says, and it's as simple as that.

Felix leans down again, connecting your mouths. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts from where he'd been laying beside you to bracket your hips with his knees. His long fingers find the buttons of his shirt that you just put on and begin to unbutton them, his hands sliding down your sides until you're squirming.

"Felix," you whine, already short of breath from his touch.

"Relax, baby. I've got you," he murmurs into your mouth, sliding one of his hands into your hair, the blunt of his nails scraping against your scalp. It gives him enough purchase to tip your head back and expose your neck to his unrelenting mouth. The hot heat of his mouth pants against the underside of your jaw, the wet muscle of his tongue laving along your throat.

His other hand slides down your hip, then your thigh before coming to your panties. You have to force yourself not to squirm away in anticipation. Thankfully, Felix isn't a tease and he uses two of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. You do, however, jump when he slides them into your slick hole without any hesitation.

The bastard snickers against your throat. "Sorry," he apologizes, kissing apologetically at your jaw. "I guess I should have warned you."

All you can do is huff, your fingers tugging at his tangle of brown hair. He grins at your inability to respond before kissing your mouth again. He swallows the noise that escapes you when he curls his fingers and your back arches off of the bed. He does it again, this time scissoring them to stretch your hole. The burn is more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but it leaves you gasping into his open mouth.

Just when you think that's all he has to offer with his fingers, they somehow slip even further, hitting some part deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed. He curls them and you actually cry out, your knees knocking at his hips to push him away.

"I know, I know," he soothes, using the broadness of his shoulders to keep your legs in place. Felix curls his fingers into your smooth walls a few more times, his thumb circling your clit until you swear you can't take anymore. It's torture, the length of his two fingers inside of you.

Finally, he pulls them away before you can actually start crying. Your arousal coats his long fingers and drips down his wrist, glistening in the darkness of his room. Felix's brown eyes hold yours as he sticks them into his mouth, refusing to look away even as his tongue dips between them. You can barley swallow the spit in your mouth.

Felix grins, leaning down to kiss you. Even if you hadn't wanted to taste yourself on his lips, he doesn't give you much of a choice, his tongue dipping into your mouth. He moans, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard.

Then he's disconnecting your mouths to slide down his boxers. His hard cock bobs free, brushing against the lean planes of his stomach. You've seen Felix's dick before. It's no surprise to you how large he is— incredibly long with a perfectly mushroomed tip— but you've never had to think about it actually going inside of you.

His hand catches your jaw, forcing you to look at his face. There must have been flash of fear in your eyes because he murmurs sweetly, "Look at my face, okay? I want to see you."

You nod as best you can in his hold.

You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but he misses the first try, his cock sliding through your slick and nudging at your clit. Your whole body jolts but his hand at your throat holds you in place.

The second time, his mushroomed head catches at your hole and he slips in, meeting little resistance. He slides in only another inch or so before stopping, his cock already snug inside of you. You whine when he tries to push in further.

Felix kind of laughs, his hand reaching down to circle his thumb at your clit. "M'sorry, baby. You're so tight. Just give me a second."

You swallow, willing back tears. It's not that it hurts, not really, just the fact that he feels so good and you want him inside of you.

Without warning, his hand splays across your stomach and he uses the leverage to push further inside of you. This time your muscles relax enough around him and he slides all the way in.

You moan at the feel of him entirely inside of you.

“There we go,” he groans, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he holds himself up. Now fully inside of you, he begins rocking his hips, his dick hitting that spongey spot inside of you with every thrust. Felix is breathing heavily into your ear, the squelching of him sliding in and out of you the only other sound in the room.

Soon Felix hits a spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and almost immediately you’re coming, clenching around him as you do so.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Felix thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out just before he can come inside of you. He spills partially onto the bed and partially onto your stomach. When he’s finished, he holds himself up over you avoiding his own release leaking onto you stomach.

When his eyes find yours, he grins, that signature crooked smile appearing onto his face. You can’t help but laugh, your head falling back into the pillow. Felix laughs too. Not because he particularly knows what’s so funny but because you’re laughing.

You’re laughing and he loves you.

He leans over grabbing a tissue from the box beside his bed and wipes you off as best as he can before tossing it onto the floor and laying back down beside you, an arm behind his head You rest your head on his other arm, scooting in closer to his side.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, looking down at you.

You smile to yourself, watching his toes nudge yours instead of looking back at him. “About what?”

“(Y/n), we’ve been friends since grade school and probably kissed a million times.”

Eventually you look up at him, doing your best to not look so sheepish. “Farleigh told me I was worse than Oliver. Can you believe that?”

Felix scoff, his fingers scratching through your hair. “I wouldn’t fuck Oliver.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah you would.”

Felix barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I would,” he agrees.