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marknee · 1 year

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bts fanfics i personally think shakespeare would lose his job over in the 1500’s.

chapter i. ✷ chapter ii.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — poor sod is on the floor. perhaps it’s shock?

( ♬ ) — he’s jealous he didn’t write this himself. well, it sucks to suck, mate.

( ✎ ) — currently handing him a tissue. give him a second.

( ♛ ) — both him and i lost our jobs. her majesty is ruthless.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: without further ado, this are the fanfics that i think would cause shakespeare to lose his job: the first of many essays. let’s bring the guy to his knees. metaphorically.

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( ♛ ) THE BODYGUARD — by @rmnamjoons

!! bodyguard!namjoon x reader | 62.9k !!

bodyguard au, romance, smut, fake dating, slight angst if you squint, lil bit of violence.

firstly, we’re starting off strong. i present to you, the mother of all namjoon fanfics. and she’s a bad bitch. tbh, i feel like this fic needs a moment of silence just to relish in her glory. soak it all up. it’s essential.

this fic genuinely had me gobsmacked at how incredibly written it is. it delves into every detail and no aspect of the story is left dry. you can tell the author put their everything into creating this world you just submerge into. and it shows.

the world building is amazing, the characters are so thought out, and it feels like you’re just on this adventure with them and discovering their story as it plots out.

also, the build up to the smut? out of this world. that’s one thing i love about this fic: it doesn’t feel rushed. everything is very spaced out and takes it’s sweet time, so when you get to the chocolately nut of the ferrero rocher, it’s like gold and well earned. and you can enjoy it.

honestly, it’s been months since i read this and i think about it every day. i did do some research (for my own peace of mind) and this fic is longer than the perks of being a wallflower. and is it better? yes. sorry not sorry.

this work of art deserves to be read and loved. and i rest my case, your honour.

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( ✎ ) UNTIL THE LAST STAR FALLS — by @minniepetals

!! underworld lords!bts x shield!reader | 44.4k !!

reincarnation!au, poly!au, gods!au, unrequited love, minor character death, car accidents.

quick question — for science — how does one happen to lose all their memories without any sustaining any internal or external injuries? because the things i would do to read this again for the first time. and i do not use those words lightly.

this was my first ever ‘longer’ written fic. and if i’m being honest, i never really liked to read them because i have the attention span of a goat. but this fic lures you in from the very start and time slips away like smoke. to say, it definitely left its mark on me.

it’s so brilliantly written and you feel connected to the characters both mind and soul. you want the best for them, you want to save them, you actually want to crawl into the pages (or screen) and fucking help them out. and that sold it to me, i think. just the sheer love for these characters.

i balled when i read the last few sentences. i didn’t want it to end. i think i finished it at three in the morning and sent a voice note of me crying to my friend. tmi? well, now on my christmas list is 7 hot boys in the underworld who would risk their everything for me. and i, them.

worth every single second. trust.

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( ♬ ) WARM THIS WINTER — by @jamaisjoons

!! seokjin x reader ft. ex-boyfriend jungkook | 51.6k !!

christmas!au, vacation!au, angst, fluff, smut (18+).

one thing about solaris, is she never misses. if i could, i think i’d recommend every fanfic she ever put out, but that’s too much effort for me when you could simply click her masterlist. so, i’ll wait here for you to do that. make sure you come back though.

love. sure, there are hundreds- perhaps, thousands of fics on this app about it. so what makes this one different? well, that’s just it. the sorrowful honesty of love. knowing when it’s over, and when it’s blooming in the midst.

i’ve never been in love, but frankly, this fic really spelt it out for me. the pain, the joy, the lingering memories after everything is said and done. it’s all there. and it really settles in your heart as you near the end.

this work pulled on every single heartstring of mine, stamped on them, and then proceeded to sew anew for the future to bring its own miseries. and i enjoyed it more than i can say (or type).

give this a read if you need just that bit of spark in your life. and that bit of sadness, too.

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( ✮ ) STRIKE A CHORD — by @snackhobi

!! yoongi x reader | 15.8k !!

smut (18+), pianist!yoongi.

i don’t know what it is about this fic, but i come back to it whenever it pops up in my mind during my day. i’ll immediately unlock my phone and open this app, knowing i’ll feel better when the last word is read. and i feel content.

the atmosphere in this fic, if i may, feels as though you’re trapped in a warm, safe bubble with hazed music in the distance and soft light spilling through the thin layer of the bubble— not too dark, but enough to make you feel drowsy and peaceful. perhaps that’s why i return to it so often. i like how it makes me feel.

yoongi as an artist is already enough to make a person swoon, but as a pianist? i need a lie down. a cold towel to the head. just the whole characterisation of him in this fic needs a whole separate essay in itself, but you’ll understand my point when you read it.

forever a comfort fic, i think. and forever a comfort person. double whammy. case closed.

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( ✎ ) THE END — by @jimlingss

!! seokjin x reader | 31k !!

fifty percent fluff, fifty percent angst, loosely inspired by to all the boys i’ve loved before.

i say this with my whole chest: i have never underestimated the amount of emotions you can experience during a fanfic, until i read the end— both literally and metaphorically. shock horror.

this fanfic takes you through the adventure of the reader learning of what her future would commence if she were to marry either one of the six members. best part? she’s led through this rollercoaster journey by the ghost of kim seokjin.

first impression to such an offer? sign me the fuck up. i mean, what more could you ask for? however my final impression went a bit more on the lines of what the fuck just happened. very different ends of the spectrum, if you ask me.

i decided to hand both shakespeare and i a tissue after this great piece of art was finished because not only was i sobbing, he was on the floor knowing his romance play of pericles could never live up to such an incredible story.

this fic was a rollercoaster i would be delighted to get onto for another ride.

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( ✎ ) A UNIVERSE TO YOU — by @readyplayerhobi

!! soulmate!hoseok x reader | 41k !!

fluff, angst, smut (18+), soulmates!au.

shakespeare once said (according to google), “it is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves,” and if this fic wasn’t a soulmate!au, i think i would’ve agreed in some sorts. but as it is, in fact, a soulmate!au, i’m obliged to disagree. it was destiny i read this fic, hand on heart.

i was not expecting this fic to hit me in the feels as hard as it did. as you can tell by the other works listed in this essay of recommendations, soulmate!au’s come up a lot. and with a lot of the same plots flying around on this app, it’s hard to make one stand out. but this author definitely has a gift.

everything was so richly created it made you feel full. of wonder, of love, and of want. it made you crave it for yourself. and that’s what i love about this fic. it just makes you feel… good. and with the unfortunates of life currently, it’s one to get your head stuck in for some temporary relief.

dream soulmate? he’s right here, people. just enjoy the story and all the feels that float around your body. go on.

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( ✮ ) BUNNY — by @btssmutgalore

!! jungkook x fem!reader | 46.5k !!

non-idol!au, camboy!jk, friends to lovers, smut, angst.

let’s start here: never judge a book by its cover. a quote by george eliot going all the way back to the 19th century, and one i would use to describe this series as a whole, and my first impressions towards it.

this series, although unfinished (i think), has exceeded my expectations of a good smut outlined by a good plot. the best of both worlds, if you might. i came out of this series deeply in awe of the writing and the clear imagery the author manages to create within your own mind.

additionally, bunny was the beginning for me in learning about the world of camboys and camgirls(?), but i was greatly surprised. often, people are unkind to the new and stick to what they’re accustomed to, afraid of what the unknown might bring — me, included.

but, i’m glad i took the risk because i received three great things in return: a beautiful fanfic, knowledge of something that was foreign to me, and an author whose work i admire and shall be returning to in the future.

perhaps what i’m getting at is this could be a lesson to all. take a risk of something unknown because who knows? maybe something great will come out of it, and you’ll learn something. i did.

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( ♬ ) SEOUL UNDERGROUND — by @hunniejimins (ao3)

!! namjoon x jungkook x f!reader | 300k !!

mafia!au, enemies to lovers, violence, slow burn, love triangles, mob boss!namjoon, smut, heavy angst.

it’s ironic really. i found this work by someone else’s recommendation, and now i’m passing on the favour and recommending it to you, dear reader. it’s funny how the world works.

this work is the perfect balance of fantasy and reality and i love it. you’re hit with the beauty and clouded haze of love before being smacked back into the world at the realisation the very person you’re in love with, is a mafia mob boss and his killer mate. a real fun-sponge, i tell ‘ya.

nevertheless, this book kept me up early morning and late evening reading. it keeps you hooked, wanting, and hungry for more.

it’s nothing less of a masterpiece.

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( ✎ ) CREAM AND SUGA — by @snackhobi

!! yoongi x barista f!reader | 14.8k !!

coffee shop!au, barista!au, fluff, nfsw (18+).

@snackhobi is mentioned twice on this list. though, can you blame me? it’s just a good thing shakespeare and this author don’t exist in the same century. it would be absolute carnage but nobody is ready for that conversation.

this author has a talent of portraying yoongi in the most irresistible way possible. i swear, i fall in love with him all over again reading. i wish you understood.

the whole misunderstanding section made me laugh because haven’t we all been there? the crushing pain and overwhelming guilt of having a crush on someone you can’t have. it’s all too real, seriously. been there, done that (unfortunately).

especially having the holidays just past, this is a perfect fic for a warm evening in, while the coldness of winter storms past outside. such a cute fic. love, love, love!

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( ♛ ) LOST AND FOUND — by @taleasnewastime

!! seokjin x reader | 21.2k !!

strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, sfw.

everyone says they have a fanfic that changed them, whether they’re being hyperbolic or brutally honest. and in my case, it’s a matter of both latter and former.

a couple months ago, i reached what i thought was rock bottom regarding my mental state and i took to my imagination to save me from the daily hell of my own mind. and this book was one i never really forgot about.

everything this author wrote within this fic was honest, heartfelt and very, very real. from the way you don’t just go up after going through something, but fall occasionally and sometimes feel as though you’re back at square one, to the way that there definitely is hope in the dark moments, and a light at the end of the tunnel. albeit a very faint one.

it comforted me in a way and reminded me of what i thought to be lost. fruitless, even. but sometimes, it’s books like these that open our eyes to things we’ve forgotten during times of turmoil: the simple goodness of life. and of people.

“if you’re going through hell, keep going.” winston churchill.

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( ✮ ) CANDYLAND — by @honeymoonjin

!! seokjin x reader ft. elf!jk | 13k !!

thriller, angst, fantasy, husband!jin, some cursing.

my mother is the biggest thriller fan. not that you needed to know that, but she is. and she’s not ashamed of it either. she’ll let you know if she’s reading a really good thriller in the moment. trust me, you’ll know.

me? not so much. i’m more of a sappy, hopeless romance, happy ending kind-of-sod — if you haven’t already guessed from this list. but there’s a reason this fic is on the list, too.

this fic genuinely kept me on the edge of my seat- uh, bed. the secrets of what darkness lingered behind the happy exterior of this adventure trip gripped my eyes to the screen, and lord, was it worth it.

throw a bit of husband!seokjin in there too? what more could you want! and written by @honeymoonjin? what a win.

let’s just say after this fic i added a few other thrillers to my basket. and happily reported to my mum i was a changed woman. okay, i’m exaggerating, but you get my point. it was incredible.

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( ✎ ) LILY LUCK — by @gguksgalaxy

!! yoongi x reader | 10.7k !!

soulmates!au, angst, fluff if u squint, very slight implicit sexual content, anxiety.

although this fic may be the shortest on the list, do not underestimate its power. it is still as mighty as the others— perhaps, even more so.

i think the main emotion i want to hone into concerning this fanfic is compassion. it sinks into your bones and surrounds your entire being like a unwanted hug. and you can’t even stop it.

the author does a good job of making you feel intense compassion for the reader — who so desperately wants to meet her soulmate. which makes the ending that much more satisfying.

this is for those who’re lonely, need a pick up, or those who’re hopeless romantics and believe in love belonging to fate, such as myself.

“expectation is the root of all heartache.” william shakespeare. talking of the devil, he would definitely cry over this fic. either of bubbling emotions, or the fact he didn’t write it himself. sucks really. for him, not for me.

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lysenfeu · 7 months

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Helluva Drug

Rating: Explicit 18+ Pairing: Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Civilian!FReader Word Count: 3.7k Prompt: Sex pollen

Summary: A civilian gets caught in the crossfire as Vigilante busts a drug operation outside Evergreen and they both get exposed to a strange new substance. Content: Violence, Kidnapping, Dubcon (sex pollen), Accidental Drugging, Smut (F/M), Sex with strangers, Rough sex, Unprotected Sex (no condom)

A/N: It’s a Vigilante-mission-themed fic so please heed the warnings, Vig is a little unhinged and there’s some canon-typical violence and mature themes. Also, Reader is pretty nonchalant about the dubcon and both of them have a good time. Enjoy!

[Read on AO3] [Kinktober 2023 Masterlist]

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"Peacemaker, it's Vigilante. I just got the scoop on a big heroin shipment coming in tonight! Let's go down there…" -Adrian Chase, Peacemaker S01E01

Your night wasn’t supposed to go like, it really wasn’t. It had started off as a completely normal shift. You were going about your regular deliveries on your assigned postal route, a quiet little stretch that dipped in and out along the small town Washington state roads. The last stop before you could go home was a drop-off in a warehouse district office address on the outskirts of Evergreen.

Your job was routine, boring and you’d gotten complacent. You hadn’t been paying attention, simply dropping off the parcel and walking back to your truck with the music blaring in your headphones. With your head in the clouds, you completely failed to realize something terrible was happening before it was too late.

You heard the shouting next to your ear a mere second before your earbud was yanked out and you were grabbed from behind. You didn't even get a chance to scream before a hand was covering your mouth and two men were shoving you through a side door into one of the warehouses you thought was empty. After a very brief interrogation, in which you determine these are not very good men and this is definitely not an empty warehouse, they disagree on what to do next.

So now. you were sitting on the cold hard floor of the warehouse, hands zip-tied behind you, wondering what the fuck is going to happen. At least they haven’t hurt you…yet.

The sun was starting to set when you arrived here, you’re not sure how long you’ve been stuck here but you’re certain it’s fully dark outside now. You sighed, flexing your wrists to try and get the ache out of them, the damned zip ties are very uncomfortable. Your head snapped up when you heard yelling coming from outside. Bracing yourself for another unexpected development you were caught off guard when a masked man in black and teal barreled into the room and pointed a pistol at you.

"Oh god, please don't hurt me!" You immediately squeezed your eyes shut in fear, deeply worried about what might happen to you next.

You waited for the sound of the gun firing but nothing happened. You cracked an eye open and he was just standing there instead. Instead of shooting you as you thought, although the gun was still pointed at you, he cocked his head to the side, studying you carefully.

"You don't look like a drug dealer."

"I'm not. I work for the post office." You nodded at your uniform, clearly displaying your profession. “Can you tell me who the fuck you are?”

“I’m Vigilante. Who the fuck are you ?”

You shook your head in dismay. “Someone who really doesn’t want to be here.”

“You gonna tell me what the hell is a postal worker doing in a cartel hideout?”

“Wrong place, wrong time.” You grumbled, still deeply regretting your life choices as you explained what had happened to you earlier.

“Well lucky for you, I’m here.”

He crouched down beside you and pulled out a knife. You flinched, still on edge from the kidnapping, but he simply grabbed your hands and cut you free. You stood up trying to ignore the pins and needles pricking at your wrists as you took a better look at the masked stranger who rescued you. You had no idea who he was but he did look rather impressive. Tall, broad shoulders, slutty waist and a lot of weapons. He didn't look half bad, even if you couldn’t see his face and he was wearing teal. Very lucky for you.

You followed him out the door and when you looked down the hall, your eyes widened in shock. “Did…did you kill them?’

“Hm?” Vig took a quick look in the direction your gaze was fixed and saw the mess. “Oh yeah, definitely. All dead, don’t worry about it.”

You were a bit shaken up by the bodies on the floor outside the room, leaking blood and brains all over the floor. You held your breath and tried not to look too long as you gingerly stepped over the corpses. Vigilante kept his hand on your arm, leading you down the hallway while looking for the exit. You were startled by a noise coming from behind you and you looked over your shoulder, quickly screaming as you saw the barrel of a handgun pointed at you. Vig spun around, pulling out his own weapon and firing a few shots toward the very pissed-off gang member. He yanked at your arm and shoved you through the first open door on the left.

You were absolutely livid. “You said you killed them all!”

“I thought I did! I got all four of them!”

He pushed you across the room, a shabby office full of shelves and some scattered furniture. You crouched down on the floor behind a rickety metal table with something wrapped in brown paper strewn on it. You hissed at him with barely suppressed anger.

“There were FIVE.”

He huffed in annoyance. “Obviously I know that now .”

You covered your ears and ducked down as gunshots rang out, echoing through the warehouse. Your ears were ringing as the two men exchanged fire, when a stray bullet flew over the table and the paper package exploded. A cloud of white powder spread out and dusted around the room. You coughed as it got into your nose and mouth. You noted that it smelled like lavender and tasted like pine trees, a very strange combination. You wiped it off your face with your sleeves and risked a glance over the edge of the table. The shots had stopped and the man in teal looked over at you.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You panicked a little at the thought of being left alone again after all the unexpected violence. “Where are you going?!”

He hesitated for a second before answering you. “I’m just gonna go and count again. I’ll be right back. I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?”

You nodded, not having much choice otherwise. “Okay.”

You pulled yourself up from behind the table and tried to steady your nerves. You started to feel tingling in your fingertips and wondered if you were having a panic attack. But instead of the usual tunnel vision, you just felt…warm. Really, really warm. Uncomfortably warm, like someone poured hot water directly into your veins. Sweat gathered on your forehead and your thoughts started to get jumbled, you were having a hard time focusing on anything.

“Are you okay?”

You spun around to see that Vigilante had finally come back. You took a long hard look at him, really taking your time studying the strange man in front of you. Had teal always looked this attractive? He was dangerous, certainly, but you found you didn’t mind that too much right now. Maybe he miscounted but he had still saved you, he was clearly a good guy, a hero. Your hero.

Vig was watching you with deep concern.

“Hey, come here.”

He reached out and you let him pull you forward with no protest. Your pupils were blown out so wide your eyes were practically black, your cheeks were bright red and you were glistening with sweat. Vig frowned under the cover of his mask, something wasn’t right. You weren’t like this a moment ago. He tugged off one of his gloves and pressed his bare hand to your forehead discovering your skin was blazing hot. The moment he touched you, you felt tingles spread through every cell of your body. You felt like you’d been electrocuted and suddenly you knew there was only one thing you could possibly do next. You don't bother to fight the impulses screaming at you to get close to him, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. Your addled brain clearly didn’t think things through as you got a mouthful of nylon instead of soft skin, which was doing nothing to sate the overwhelming urgency racing through you.

He stumbled backwards as your fingers fumbled around the back of his neck, haphazardly trying to tug the fabric off. He grabbed your hands, yanking them away from his head and flinging you back.

“What the hell?! Don’t touch the fucking mask!”

“I’m sorry! I just-” You tried to calm down and remember how to breathe. “-want to kiss you so bad.” The only intelligible thought your mind was able to conjure was how badly you needed him to touch you, kiss you, anything . Your body was on fire and the only thing that would help was him. Your entire being was vibrating, desperately craving a taste of the teal and black-clad stranger in front of you.

Vigilante moved away from you as fast as he could, putting some space between your bodies as he started to feel way too hot. He tried taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. Something weird was going on, you were staring at him like you wanted to eat him. He started to pant, suddenly feeling very lightheaded as he smelled a hint of flowery something and what tasted kind of like Christmas filtered through the fibres in his mask. An unexpected warmth flooded his system, rapidly coursing through every inch of his body.

“Shit, why is it so hot in here? What the fuck.”

Beads of sweat started dripping down the back of his neck and the dark fabric stretched over his face started feeling deeply uncomfortable as his temperature kept rising. In less than a minute he felt like he was sitting on the surface of the sun, his body overwhelmed by waves of heat. He needed to keep the mask on, needed to protect his identity from you, there was too much danger. He didn’t even know you but when he looked over at you, his brain short-circuited. Everything that wasn't you was thrown out of his mind, right now you were all he could think about. His body burned at the thought of getting his hands on you. He needed to touch you, sink his teeth into you, just fucking feel you any way he could.

He wasn’t sure how long he managed to stay on the other side of the room. It felt like hours but was actually less than a minute until he just couldn’t take it anymore. He slipped his hands under the edge at the back and yanked his mask off, dropping it carelessly to the floor. He felt a degree or two cooler and took a few deep breaths, feeling the air on his bare face. He turned to face you, his cheeks flushed pink and still breathing heavily.

You managed to get a decent look at his adorable dimples, messy dark curls and bright green eyes, darkened just like yours, before you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You practically pounced on him, your hands reaching out to grab the back of his neck, pulling him into a bruising kiss. The second you touched him, the tingles came back in full force. It felt like you’d be shocked and any remaining shred of coherent thought either of you had flew out the window. This is all you wanted, what you needed. Vigilante had completely stopped fighting, his hands flying out to grab your hips and pull you closer as he hungrily kissed you back. Thanking any and every higher power that he took the mask off, you sank your teeth into his bottom lip. He groaned and you took the opportunity to shove your tongue in his mouth as his hands began to slide along your lower body, skating over your hips and waist, grabbing at your clothes and touching anywhere he could reach.

You finally broke the kiss to catch your breath and started clawing at his shoulders, you needed the barriers between you gone immediately. You were trying your best to tug off the layers of armour that were so irritatingly in your way, the tactical equipment the only thing keeping you from your ultimate desire. He regrettably removed his hands from your ass to do it himself, quickly moving to a series of hidden straps and buckles to release the complex gear. You started stripping off your own clothes, fumbling with the buttons in your haste before shucking off the rest of your uniform in record time.

You barely had time to spin around before it was his turn to pounce. You gasped as he suddenly gripped the backs of your thighs and lifted you, pressing you against the nearest wall. Fuck, he was strong, holding you up like it was nothing. You whimpered, feeling yourself flood with wetness as his hands on your bare skin fed the desire racing through you.

“Need you. Now.” was the only thing you were able to mumble before you buried your face in his neck, not being able to resist scraping your teeth along the toned muscle.

Any other words you may have thought of were immediately shoved out of your mind as he reached down and positioned his cock at your entrance. He slowly slid inside you, letting you feel every inch dragging along your inner walls. Your head tipped back as he bottomed out and you were overwhelmed with how impossibly full you felt. His cock was absolutely incredible, the perfect fit to hit every sweet spot deep inside you. He wrapped one arm tightly around your waist and placed his free hand behind your head to stop you from smacking into the wall as he began to thrust. You dug your nails into his shoulders and moaned shamelessly as he set a brutal pace, not being able to hold back from pounding into you with his full strength. You barely resisted the urge to sink your teeth into the bicep flexed beside your head, instead leaning forward to capture his lips again. The light taste of juniper lingered mixed with the raw taste of him. Vigilante tasted faintly of mint with a hint of gunpowder and copper, the last flavour possibly being from your earlier bite.

You were completely lost in him, gazes locked on each other. Your breasts were pressed firmly against his chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his skin offering delicious friction as you bounced on his cock. You could feel your slick dripping down your thighs as you gushed around him, an endless stream of pleasure he was wringing from your body. You were practically drowning in the sea of his green eyes as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Your eyes fluttered closed involuntarily as the pressure built more and more, coiling in your lower abdomen.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly he was going to finish you off, he just felt so goddamn good . He swore and bit down on your shoulder when you finally screamed and clenched tightly around him. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably as spots danced across your vision, blurring everything out as you rode out the high. You were almost boneless in his arms as he continued to fuck you through your release.

You expected him to climax soon after you but he surprised you when he stopped, pulled out and set you back down on the floor. You whined at the loss of his cock inside you, feeling desperately empty without the warmth filling you up. Your legs were a little wobbly, still off balance from the intense orgasm just moments before but he steadied you, ensuring you didn’t tumble to the ground. You didn’t have to wonder long about what was happening as he quickly maneuvered you over to the table and placed a hand on your lower back, pushing down until you were bent over and exposed.

“Stay like that for me, fuck, just like that.”

You weren’t sure how he was managing to string words together when you had been reduced to nothing but moans and whimpers for a while. You also weren't sure how much more of this exquisite torture you could take but your hazy mind and body were still screaming for his touch and you mindlessly spread your feet further apart, making room for him. You rested your elbows and chest on the table and held still as he pushed his still-hard cock back inside you.

He leaned over and pressed you harder against the table with his full weight, his incredibly toned chest keeping you still as his fingers dug into your hips. Oh, fuck . You gasped as the new position let him hit even deeper inside you. You could barely breathe as his hips snapped into you over and over, the sound filling the small room. All you could do was hold on and try to stay conscious as you were mercilessly railed by Vigilante.

Your second climax hit you like a freight train, letting out a scream as your back arched and your body convulsed underneath him. He had the presence of mind to pull out at the last second, thick ropes of cum splattering onto the grey concrete instead of deep inside you. You had a fleeting thought about what a waste that was before your legs finally gave out and you sank down to the floor.

You lay flat on the cold warehouse floor for a moment, simply trying to catch your breath and ride out the aftershocks still rocketing through you. When you finally floated back down to Earth, you pulled yourself up and set about getting dressed. You were still a bit sweaty and your thighs were sticky as you picked up your scattered clothing. You slowly tugged your uniform back on, casually noting some of the small bruises and marks Vig had pressed into your skin with his hands and teeth.

After you were dressed you stood around awkwardly for a moment, avoiding looking at the redressed Vigilante as he pulled his mask back on. You wondered what you should say or do next. What was the social protocol here? What should you say? You were grateful when he spoke up first.

“Sex Panther.”

That…was not what you were expecting.

“What?”

He turned towards you and held up the ruined paper package from the table. “It says ‘Sex Panther’. I think these guys were importing more than just heroin.”

You started to put two and two together with the drug cartel, the powder in the air and the Sex Panther label.

“So that stuff is what made all of…” You gestured awkwardly between the two of you, “This… happen?”

Vigilante nodded at you. "Looks like it. I think you got a way bigger dose, my mask filtered some of it."

You exhaled slowly, trying to process the information. Sex drugs explained a lot, you weren't normally the type to uncontrollably jump strangers' bones 5 minutes after meeting them (especially after watching them kill someone in front of you…). You shook your head to clear the last of your lingering mental haze and exhaustion started to set in. You were tired and your muscles were starting to ache from this whole ordeal, between the kidnapping and frenzied sex.

“So… what now?”

"How do you feel?"

You suppressed a tiny smile, that was really nice of him to ask.

"Fine, a little worn out but fine." You looked around the ruined office and felt how damp and sticky you felt. "Um…can I go home now?"

He checked your eyes, they were back to normal. Your skin was still a little flushed but you were breathing normally and seemed okay.

“Yeah, sure. Come on.”

Vigilante cautiously led you out of the warehouse and walked you back to your truck, saying it was the least he could do after everything that happened. You climbed into the vehicle and fumbled around for your keys.

“You sure you're gonna be okay to drive?”

“Yeah, uh. I feel fine, mostly. Just a little sore.” You coughed awkwardly, blushing a little as you looked away from him. “I really should go. My boss is gonna be pissed.”

He nodded. “Hey, just before you leave… “

You held your breath, wondering what he might want to ask next.

“You know you can’t tell anyone about this, right?”

You schooled your face into a deadpan expression, hiding your brief moment of disappointment that it wasn’t him asking for your number. “What, I shouldn't mention I was kidnapped by a drug gang, held hostage, watched a masked stranger kill some guys then got accidentally drugged with said stranger and had some of the best sex of my life in a random warehouse?”

Your eyes widened and you looked everywhere but at him as you chewed your lip nervously. That wasn’t exactly what you planned on admitting, it just flew out, you were tired . You watched the corners of his eyes crinkle up through the red visor as he smiled under the mask.

“Well hey, that last part is fine but definitely not the other stuff.” His eyes narrowed and his tone got a little more serious. “This warehouse isn’t the only one that gang is operating, if you tell anyone about this, you'll have a target on your back. And you saw my face. So if you tell anyone about me, I'll have to kill you and that would suck because you’re really pretty.”

You sucked in an uneasy breath at the explicit threat to your life mixed with the strangely sweet compliment. “O-okay, sure. I won't tell anyone. Promise.”

His shoulders relaxed and his tone picked up again. “Okay, awesome. Sorry about all the shooting and you know, the accidental drugging. But I’m definitely not sorry the sex was so great. See ya!”

He stepped back and gave a little wave as you pulled out of the lot, quickly heading back towards home. You shook your head in disbelief at the events of your evening. Even if you did try and tell someone, who the fuck would believe you? Kidnapping, masked strangers and sex drugs? It was too weird to be real… unless you’re in Evergreen, apparently. Oh well. You didn’t die and it could’ve been worse, at least he was cute.

Really, really cute.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: This one was a lot of fun to write so I really hope you guys enjoy it! Feel free to leave a comment, reblog or like <3

#adrian chase #vigilante #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x you #adrian chase smut #adrian chase fanfic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #lysenfeu fics

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 months

Text

Lewis Hamilton Masterlist

Here is my long-awaited and asked-for masterlist for all my Lewis Hamilton fics thus far. As a warning, there is a HELL OF A LOT here. WOW, and I am sure there will be a hell of a lot more to be added.

Thank you ALL for reading, liking, and reblogging. I appreciate the reception and the love more than you know. ❤️

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。

Things To Know:

-I'm Lilly you may call me that or Lee.

-There is a psychologically proven link between content interaction and content creation. Simply, the more interaction with something (content) or someone, the more content is produced. {Wink, Wink}

-If you are sensitive to angst or erotica this may be an uncomfortable, high blood pressure-inducing, hedonistic place for you. LOL.

-Pay attention to my warnings section.

-My content is meant for individuals 18 and older. If you are under 18 please DO NOT INTERACT.

-Do NOT reproduce, or translate any of my work on any platform. I do not consent to that. Also, DO NOT steal what I write. That's an a$$hole thing to do.

-YOU are responsible for managing what content you consume. NOT ME. Heed warnings that open the stories.

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Content Meter:

*Mentions of NSFW content. Not explicit or even detailed.

**Half of the work is NSFW and recommended to be read at YOUR discretion. Can be explicit and/or detailed.

***Most of the work is NSFW. Don't read this at work, or around others you might feel embarrassed with them knowing you're freaky. Very detailed, and very explicit.

****Pure Filth. Don't read this anywhere not private unless you can handle the consequences. All the details, no limits on explicit content. This is NOT "wham, bam thank you, ma'am". There is work being put in!

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.

Oh, one more thing! Did you know, I take commissions? I do! So have something you want just for you? Send a DM and let's talk about it!

One last thing! My writing takes time, care, energy, and an endless well of creativity. It's as fun for me to write it as it is for you to read it. So, if would like to show your monetary support, appreciation, and or like for me and what I create here, check out my Ko-Fi and CashApp links in my bio.

Thank you in advance for the love. ❤️❤️

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Series/Mini-Series

-If This Is Love Mini-Series {COMPLETED}

Lewis Hamilton x Mercedes Owner Daughter Reader

Title: If This Is Love--

Summary: Against your better judgement, you allowed Lewis to woo you. For 10 months he chased you with more determination than a starving wolf. You finally gave in and found happiness and what you thought was love. Thought is the operative word as you stare at the pictures from his week in Antarctica, pictures that show you definitely had been made a fool of.

{1}-If This Is Love, I Don't Want It | {2}-If This Is Love, You Need To Prove It | {3}-If This Is Love, You Need To Mean It | {4}-If This Is Love, You Gotta Ride For Me | {5}-If This Is Love, It’s Forever

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-A Long Time Coming Mini-Series {COMPLETED}

Lewis Hamilton x Best Friend Reader

Title: A Long Time Coming

Summary: After a long, grueling and stressful 2023 season where Lewis dominated and showed the world once again why he was the best at what he does. He walks away with his 8th championship title and plans with his closest and bestest for some much-needed R&R.

{1} | {2}* | {3}***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-What We Did In The Dark Series {ONGOING}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Title: What We Did In The Dark

Summary: Neither of you planned any of it. You’d met by chance, and everything that happened after had to have been predestined. There was no way blazing passion like what was between you was something coincidental.

{1}**** | {2}* | {3} | {4} | {5}....(Coming Soon)

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-3P Series {ONGOING}

Lewis Hamilton x Famous Singer Reader x Aaron Pierre

Title: 3P

Summary:“Sharing is caring”, “The more the merrier”, “Love knows no bounds”. There are so many quotes that circulate that can be tied to love and relationships. Two of the many you like happens to be “Two is better than one” and “The more the merrier”. Now it wasn’t like you particularly and purposely went out your way to collect men. That wasn’t the case at all. It’s just that there were two gorgeous faces in the sea of bodies at Coachella that you couldn’t decide which you wanted more. So you decided why choose. That was 4 months ago and now everything was much more complicated than you’d ever intended.

{1} | {2}...(Coming Soon)

{More To Come...}

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One,Two, & Three Shots

-Trauma: Hysteria | Trauma 2: (Coming Soon)

-Wasted Time | Wasted Love | Wasted 3: (Coming Soon)

-Forever Mine***

-She Calls Me Daddy Now***

-Everybody Else Is No. 2***

-You First***

-Message My Heart

-Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You**

-Stake My Claim*

-Plus Baby Makes Three**

-Love Will Remember***

-Thirsty Or Parched**

-Just Do It

-One Night****

-True Peace***

-Book Trap {Social Media Collection}**

-Lil' Love*

-4am Drunk Calls**

-Show Me**

-Ion't Even Need 7 Minutes***

-Taste The Rainbow***

-Forever & Ever & Ever & Ever--But Not Right Now**

-Morning Voice {Headcannon}**

-1, 2, 3 {SongFic}***

-It'll Be Fun They Said {Social Media AU}

-Trick Or Treat {Headcannon}

-Forgive Me, I Am A Sinner {Any Celeb}** | No Saints Here...(Coming Soon)

-Going Once, Going Twice (Coming Soon)

-Once Bitten | Twice Shy | Thrice My Lady... (Coming Soon)

-Distraction... (Coming Soon)

-Unruly.... (Coming Soon)

-Slip Of The Tongue.... (Coming Soon)

-Do That Again.... (Coming Soon)

-R&R.... (Coming Soon)

-You Make Me Want.... (Coming Soon)

-Grown Folks Thangs... (Coming Soon)

-Truth Is.... (Coming Soon)

-Behind The Mask | Behind Closed Doors | Underneath Your Clothes | Behind The Name.... (Coming Soon)

-When It Hits Hard.... (Coming Soon)

-Lil' Princess.... (Coming Soon)

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#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton angst #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton masterlist #masterlist

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proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

title: stranger than a stranger

pairing: pre-boston raider!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4964

summary:

When Joel sees you searching for supplies in an old school, he removes your companion from the equation and convinces you that you need to join him for your survival.

author's note: a gift for @dreamingofdaddydin, fellow depraved slut, who sent in an ask that i completely changed. please heed the warnings on this one, as there are dark and potentially triggering elements. if you do decide to read and you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), undefined age gap, no use of y/n, post-outbreak/pre-boston QZ, dark!joel miller, perv!joel miller, survival as coercion/manipulation, dub/non-con somnophilia (the actions are not agreed upon before hand but reader is receptive once waking), sex as a thank you, voyeurism, masturbation, canon typical violence (mentions guns, knives, blood), handjobs, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, honey), cum eating, huddling for warmth but manipulative, wet dreams, thigh fucking, fingering, unprotected p in v. please let me know if any are missing!

You never expected to live through an apocalypse. In fact, before the cordyceps outbreak, you and your boyfriend had watched Night of the Living Dead and you joked that if the time ever came, just throw you to the zombies or demons or whatever hell unleashed.

Yet here you are, ten years post-outbreak and the collapse of one QZ that you and your boyfriend had been living in, climbing through a destroyed school building, picking your way through rubble as you follow Liam in his search for more supplies.

“The stores around here are probably picked clean, but a lot of people don’t think about checking schools. They’ve got plenty of non-perishables in the cafeteria. Remember? We ate like shit growing up,” Liam explains. He shines a flashlight down a hall. “Well, I guess we ate better than we do now.”

“I miss chicken nuggets,” you lament. He chuckles.

“I could definitely use a cheeseburger,” Liam replies.

You continue moving quietly through the school, the cement and linoleum cracked by overgrowth and the abandoned classrooms of overturned desks making you feel like you’re in a whole different world and not just in an elementary school in Massachusetts.

“You got your knife and gun, right?” Liam asks quietly. You nod, pulling the gun from the waist of your jeans and showing it to him. “Good, keep it handy. You know those fuckers are always hiding around buildings like this.”

You and Liam had just started dating when the outbreak occurred, and you managed to stick together for the last ten years. He’s taught you a lot about survival - shooting a gun, starting a fire, and finding edible vegetation in the woods, among other skills. Despite your original desire to be spared from an apocalypse, you’ve somehow managed to persevere.

“Remember to aim for the head,” Liam says.

You roll your eyes. “No, I figured I’d aim for a foot. Of course I’m aiming for the head.”

“Alright, smart ass. You go down that hall and see what you can find.” He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna look for the cafeteria. Meet me back here.”

With another nod, you part ways.

You both miss the figure lurking in the shadows.

________

Joel watches you disappear around a corner before his attention returns to your companion. The man walks quickly in the opposite direction, holding only a flashlight in his hands. Joel clocks a holster on his hip that must hold a gun or a knife. The man looks like the type to know how to fight, weapons or not.

Too bad Joel is the predator here.

He leaves the dark shadow he’d hidden himself in, following the man with quick, quiet steps. The other man seems alert, but not alert enough to notice Joel following him.

Good.

Joel watches the man draw a gun from the holster, holding it in front of him as he kicks open a set of double doors, sweeping his flashlight and gun into the darkness beyond. Joel slips through the door before it shuts, darkness surrounding him as he lets his eyes adjust.

It looks like a gymnasium, cracked hardwood basketball flooring with faded court lines illuminated in the small flashlight beam of the man, who continues across the court and out another set of double doors.

He follows him back out to a hallway, brightly lit thanks to a hole in the ceiling, crumbled plaster and cement littering the ground. He takes a few steps closer, stopping when he hears a clicking sound that sends a shiver down his spine.

The man freezes, too, eyes wide, hands tightening on his gun. Joel slowly brings the shotgun slung over his back around to his front, taking it up in his hands.

The clicking grows louder, more insistent. It echoes down the hallway and Joel knows that the creature is aware of their presence. No matter how quiet you are, those fuckers know how to find you.

He aims his gun, finger poised on the trigger. Heavy footsteps approach from the end of the hall, punctuated by the clicking noise that makes his hair stand on end. The creature enters the hall, overgrowth of cordyceps blocking its eyes and features. It pauses, head turning with jerky motions as it seeks out its prey. He watches the other man shift his stance, trying to widen his legs, but his foot catches a rock, sending it sliding across the floor.

The creature’s head snaps at the sound and it ambles closer, faster. Joel takes aim, pulling the trigger and blowing its head across the room. The man turns in surprise.

“Damn, man. Thanks,” he says, taking a deep breath and giving Joel a smile of gratitude. He reaches a hand out as he says, “I’m Li—“

He pulls the trigger and the man collapses to the ground face first, blood rapidly pooling beneath his body.

Joel approaches, crouching beside him. He opens the bag on his back, rifling through the contents for anything that might be of use. There’s a med kit, ammo for the handgun he’d been using, gloves, a jacket, and a hunting knife. He shoves all of it into his own bag before grabbing the gun beside the man’s body as he stands.

Joel slides the gun into his waistband before turning and heading back the way he came. He imagines the gunshots will have you rushing back to investigate.

Just like he wanted.

________

You hear two gunshots go off, freezing in your exploration of a classroom. You listen closely, ears straining for any sign of clicker activity due to the noise as you slowly draw your gun from your waistband. Hearing nothing in the aftermath of the gunshots, you race back towards the area where Liam had agreed to meet you, heart racing as your mind begs you to choose flight and not fight.

In your panic, you don’t notice the man in the hall until you’re colliding against him, his arms gripping your shoulders to steady you.

“Who the fuck are you?” You ask, scrambling out of his hold and pointing your gun at him. He’s tall with broad shoulders, a flannel beneath a faded denim jacket stretching over his frame. He has tan skin and dark hair with brown eyes that look at you with concern. “Back the fuck up,” you shout.

The man takes a step back, holding his hands up. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I heard gunshots. Where’s Liam?”

“I came up on a guy fightin’ a clicker. He was in bad shape,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a buzzing in your ears as your brain catches up to his words. You blink, eyes burning with tears that you fight back.

“H-he’s dead?” You whisper.

“‘Fraid so.”

You drop to your hands and knees with the realization, gasping for a breath that won’t reach your lungs. There’s movement from the corner of your eye, the strange man taking a step closer, and you raise your gun once more.

“Don’t,” you snap. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot.”

“Listen. I’m sorry about your friend. But if there’s one clicker, there’s bound to be more. You can come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll be fine on my own.” You keep the gun trained on him as you slowly stand on shaky legs. “I’m leaving now. Don’t fucking follow me.”

You only make it a few steps before he’s calling out after you. “There’s worse things out there than the infected. Girl like you won’t last long.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” he says, the tone of his voice grating your nerves, “that there are bad fuckin’ people out there, ones that’ll take advantage of a girl headin’ out on her own. Some who won’t give a shit that a gun is bein’ pointed at their heads if it means they die tryin’ to bring you down with ‘em. Is that really somethin’ you wanna go through right now?”

Your resolve waivers. He’s probably right. In the ten years you’ve been struggling to survive, you’ve always had Liam at your back. Even in the QZ, before it collapsed, he kept you going. You could survive out there when it came to skill, but would you make it far on your own when clickers move in packs and raiders run rampant?

“I…I guess I’ll come with you,” you say, lowering your weapon. You flick the safety on and the man smiles.

“The name’s Joel.”

________

It’s been a week since joining Joel. The two of you keep a steady pace in your travels, though there’s no real destination in mind. He’s been on his own for a while, he tells you, having split from his brother who had gone to join the Fireflies in their fight.

“Fuckin’ stupid if you ask me,” he grumbled after telling you that little bit of information. “They ain’t gonna change shit.”

You just nod along, wrapped up in your own thoughts. You can’t pinpoint it, but something about Joel makes you wary of him. He’s been nice enough, sure, but there’s something off about the way he looks at you.

You’ll catch the older man staring at your ass when you’re walking ahead of him, or see the way his eyes go dark when you’re on your knees starting a fire. His hands will linger on your hips a little longer than necessary when he’s helping you jump down from something, or he’ll watch a little too intently as your lips wrap around the mouth of your water bottle.

What’s worse is how it makes you feel hot all over when you shouldn’t feel anything, least of all attraction when you’ve just lost your boyfriend.

It’s starting to get cold at night. The days are still tolerable, since you’re always on the move and the sun is shining, but once the sky goes dark, you struggle to stay warm. You layer your two jackets and even that’s still not enough as you lay shivering in your sleeping bag. You turn over until you’re facing where Joel has his bag set up, curling your legs closer to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.

Past the sound of your teeth chattering, you hear the shift of fabric, the glide of skin on skin, a low groan. Your eyes snap open and as they adjust to the inky darkness, you can make out the vague shape of Joel on the ground. Another choked off moan rings in your ear, the sound of it making your blood go hot. You listen as his movements and breaths and sounds grow more frantic, the desperation they’re laced with making you rub your thighs together as subtly as you can.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel pants quietly. The air goes still, the sound of his hand moving over his cock slowing to a stop. You wonder where he’s finished. In his hand? On his belly? Your brain conjures an image of you licking the spend from his skin, salty taste of him on your tongue as you look up into his eyes and he groans.

You have to bite your lip to keep your sounds to yourself. You wiggle a hand between your legs, clamping your thighs around it tightly and rocking slightly. It’s not nearly enough and it’s so frustrating you want to scream.

Eventually, as the adrenaline seeps from your body, sleep takes its place, your eyes fluttering shut as darkness consumes you.

You dream of bitten off groans and curses in a voice that belongs to a stranger with dark hair and brown eyes.

________

Two weeks after joining the two of you encounter your first band of raiders.

You’re in a small town picking through a convenience store. There’s a surprising amount of things left on the shelves, including cans of food that you’re tossing into your backpack when the sound of a gun being cocked makes you freeze.

“Hey, pretty girl. Why don’t you put some of that back for the rest of us, yeah?” An unfamiliar voice says. You glance over your shoulder, a large man with a thick beard smiling at you. You turn slowly, hands raised and mind racing with your options.

He’s blocking the exit. You could try to dart around him, but the gun trained at your head is a bit of a worry. Your own gun is in the waistband of your pants, pressing against your low back. Not much help to you like that. You should have been holding it the whole time.

“Hand over your fucking bag,” he says, the calm in his more alarming than if he were yelling at you. “Got me some food and a pretty little pet to keep, too.”

Your blood turns to ice and your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you swallow hard, bending down to grab your bag.

A shot rings out, glass shattering and you shout, dropping lower to the ground. You open your eyes slowly, you gaze landing on the body of the man lying on the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. You look up, eyes finding Joel’s beyond the shattered window of the convenience store as he lowers his gun.

A shout has Joel whirling, gun drawn as three men appear from an alley. He shoots, one of the men dropping. Grabbing your bag, you rush to the front of the store as another shot rings out, shattering the glass of the door. You drop to the ground, pressing your back to the wall beside the window and peeking out.

Joel slings his gun over his back, landing a kick to a man that rushes him, the stranger landing on his back. A second man points a gun at Joel.

“On your fuckin’ knees!” He barks.

Panic courses through you, but you reach behind you, grabbing your gun. You switch the safety off, leaning from your hiding spot to take aim through the window at the man. Your hands shake as you take a breath in, like Liam taught you, pulling the trigger as you exhale.

The shot lands in the man’s abdomen, making him stumble and drop his weapon. Joel stands, rushing for the man as he pulls a large knife from his hip, plunging the blade into the man’s chest.

The man he kicked is getting to his hands and knees when Joel turns on him, knife held at his hip. A wicked grin spreads across his face before he plants his boot against the man’s ribs, knocking him onto his side. Joel shoves at him with his foot until the man is on his back and he stands over him, a foot on either side of his hips.

Joel raises the knife above his head before swinging it down into the man’s chest, holding it there for a moment before he twists it savagely and pulls it free. You stand there, equal parts horrified and something worse, eyes wide as you watch Joel wipe the blade against the man’s clothes to clean it.

“Get their guns, will ya?” Joel calls out. The sound of his voice makes you jump, your muscles finally spurring into action as you comply with his request.

Later, as you settle in for the night in your respective sleeping bags, you hear the tell-tale sound of shifting fabric and bitten off moans. You stare up at the dark sky, pinpricks of starlight winking back at you, as you gather your courage.

“Joel?” You murmur. The sounds stop abruptly, the only thing you can hear is his heavy breathing.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he grunts.

You turn over on your side, facing him. You can barely make him out in the dark, only his silhouette, but your heart beats faster all the same as you say, “I could…help.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, so long that you’ve got an apology on the tip of your tongue when you hear the zip of his sleeping bag being opened.

“Come help, then.”

________

Joel tries to contain his enthusiasm. Nights of coming into his own palm while he knows you’re listening, imagining your hand around his cock instead of his, and now his patience has finally paid off.

You’re crawling across the grass to join him in his sleeping bag, your body pressed to his in the tight space. He takes a shuddering breath, the feel of your heat alone almost enough to make him come.

Your hand rests on his belly, tentatively sliding lower until your fingers brush against the hair at the base of his cock. He hisses as your cold hand grips him at the base, slowly sliding up to his leaking tip. Your thumb circles his slit, smearing a bead of precum around the sensitive head as he groans into the night.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel says. Your face is tucked against his neck, and he wishes you’d turn your face up, let him kiss you, but he has to be smart and only take what you’ll give so that one day you’ll offer more. “Tighter, just like that, fuck.”

Joel’s hips flex to chase your fist, the soft feel of your palm driving him wild. He moans, louder than he should be given the vulnerable position this puts you both in, but he doesn’t give a fuck. All he cares about is you.

“This a ‘thank you’, huh? For killin’ those guys?” Joel pants. Your head nods against his neck and the admission makes his head feel light and fuzzy. “Told ya you needed me, sweetheart. Needed someone to take care of you, right?”

You hum, squirming against him. Your lips graze his neck and that’s the final nail in his coffin, his cock pulsing in your hand as he comes harder than he has in years. He can’t help but whine a little when you let go, already missing the warmth and the softness of it.

“Clean it up for me, baby,” Joel says. You bring your hand up, nothing but a dark shape against darker air, and he hears you licking at the cum coating your fingers. “That taste good?”

“Mhm,” you hum. When you’re done, you roll away from him, crawling back over to your sleeping bag and zipping yourself inside.

With a sigh, Joel shimmies his jeans back up his thighs before turning on his side, letting the sounds of the night lull him to sleep.

________

You’ve been with Joel for a month when winter really starts to settle in and you’re forced to keep moving in your travels until you’ve found abandoned buildings to sleep in to stay out of the harsh winter air. While the snow might not reach you inside, the cold certainly does.

It’s one such night that Joel suggests sharing body heat.

“It’s the best thing we can do to keep warm,” he explains. “Can’t keep a fire goin’ inside. Too dangerous.”

You swallow nervously. He’s zipping together your sleeping bags so that you can fit beside each other, laying it on the ground of the old stockroom you’ve barricaded yourselves in for the night, a little camping lamp on a metal shelf providing a little light.

Joel kneels to untie his boots, removing one then the other and setting them aside. He stands, sliding his arms free of his jacket and setting it on the shelf. When he starts to unbutton his flannel, your blood rushes in your ears.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask. He pauses, hands on his buttons.

“Gettin’ undressed. Can’t share body heat with clothes in the way.”

You stand there frozen as he continues to strip, t-shirt and jeans and boxers all joining his growing pile of clothes until he’s naked in front of you and you’re struggling to keep your eyes on his face with so much muscle and skin on display. He slides into the sleeping bag, staring up at you expectantly.

“You gonna stand there all night?” He asks, lips tilted in a little smirk. “Come on. We’ve come a long way today and you gotta be tired.”

You’re exhausted, really, the kind of tired that settles into your bones and makes your limbs heavy. Slowly, you follow the same steps as he did to undress, starting with your shoes. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s watching you with dark eyes the entire time, until you’re down to your underwear.

“Those, too,” Joel says.

“Why?”

“I don’t make the rules, sweetheart, I just follow ‘em. Skin to skin is the only way this’ll work.”

Reluctantly, you reach behind your back to unclip your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your nipples are tight in the cold room and you grit your teeth against their chattering as you quickly tug your panties down your legs and add them to your pile of clothing.

You slip into the sleeping bag beside Joel, the heat of his body immediately making you feel warm all over. You zip up the sleeping bag, cocooning your bodies in the insulation. Joel turns on his side, sliding his muscular around your tummy and tugging you closer. The hard length of his cock presses to your thigh and you lie perfectly still, afraid to move.

“Go to sleep,” he grunts. You close your eyes, the tension slowly leaving your muscles as you listen to his deep breathing in the dark room.

Somewhere between the warmth of his body and the feel of his breath against your cheek, sleep finds you.

________

Sometime in the night, you’ve turned on your side, your ass pressed snugly against Joel’s hips with his cock slipped between your cheeks. He wakes to the feel of you grinding against his length and his arm tightens around your middle as he groans.

“Joel,” you murmur. He lifts his head to see if you’re awake, but your eyes are shut, brows pinched together. Your hips move against him again and he bites into his lower lip to keep his sounds contained, not wanting to wake you and ruin this.

You murmur his name again and his head drops back to the arm he’d been using as a pillow. He gives a little experimental thrust of his hips and you moan, the sound making his cock jump against you.

With careful movements, he lifts your top leg, laying it over his hip. He lets his hand drift lower, gliding over your tummy until he’s cupping your pussy gently. His fingers slide through your wetness, catching on your swollen clit and making your hips jerk.

Joel worries that you’re awake, but you’re not scrambling from his grip yet. He circles his fingers slowly, so slowly, your hips moving against him and your breathing coming more quickly. You let out little whimpers and whines that Joel wants to commit to memory, the sound of them sure to plague him any time he closes his eyes.

You’re growing wetter and Joel grows bolder, slipping his middle finger into your tight entrance, not able to hold back his moan of appreciation over how your cunt flutters around the digit as he slowly pumps it inside of you.

Another whimper of his name from your lips has his sanity fraying further, his hand moving faster against you, damn the consequences of you waking up to him playing with your pussy. Your muscles go tight against him with your release before going limp, your breath stuttering. He lifts his head once more to check if you’re asleep, surprised to find your face lax with bliss, eyes still closed as your breathing slows to normal.

Joel withdraws his hand, using it to grip his cock, sliding your juices over his length. He angles himself to where his cock is pressed up against your lips before gently lowering your leg. He’s surrounded by warmth, your pussy and thighs cradling him perfectly.

He thrusts his hips, his cock gliding through your wetness with ease. He loses himself to the slick glide, the tip of his cock catching against your swollen clit with each thrust. His fingers dig into the meat of your hip for leverage, pulling you back towards him as he groans against your shoulder.

Your muscles go stiff against him and he freezes as you whisper, “Joel?”

His name is a question this time and he knows he’s been caught.

“It can be another ‘thank you’, yeah? For keepin’ you warm?” He asks, dragging his nose across your bare shoulder. “Could feel so good for us both,” he whispers, thrusting against your clit and reveling in the shaky moan you give him in return.

“O-okay,” you stutter. Joel presses a kiss to your shoulder in gratitude as he returns to the rhythm he’d set before you woke. He slides an arm over your middle, hand finding your breast and gripping it forcefully as you moan.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks. You nod, whining and squirming against him now. “Know what would feel better?”

“W-what?”

He draws back, positioning the tip of his cock against your hole. Your breath catches as he slides inside the slightest amount. Just the tip.

“Would feel so good, right? Fillin’ you up, stretchin’ you,” he whispers. “You could keep me warm just like I’ve been keepin’ you warm all night.” You clench around him and he moans, hips flexing and sliding him deeper into you as you gasp. “So goddamn wet and tight.”

Joel slides the last bit deeper, until his hips are flush to your ass. You’re panting, cunt fluttering around him as you adjust, and he feels drunk on the feel of it, on the feel of you. He pulls out part way before sliding back in with a harsh thrust, the start of a punishing rhythm that has you chanting his name.

The slick slide of you over his cock feels like heaven, but he wants more, wants you cock drunk and earning your pleasure. You are supposed to be thanking him, after all.

He pulls out, lying on his back. “Get up here, sweetheart. It’s time to do your part.”

You turn until you’re facing him, and Joel gets impatient, grabbing at you until he can haul you into his lap, your slick, swollen pussy gliding over his cock. He groans, reaching between your bodies to hold himself steady, notching the thick head at your entrance.

“Take it, baby, come on,” he groans. You rock back until his cock is buried in your cunt, your knees pressing tight against his hips as you whine.

“S’deep,” you slur, rocking yourself over him.

“Feels good though, doesn’t it? So fuckin’ deep in you,” he growls. Your chest is pressed to his, your lips so close he takes his chance, slotting his mouth against yours.

You kiss him back, messy and desperate, moaning against his lips as you take his cock like you were made for it. And maybe you were. Why else would he have been in the right place at the right time, getting the chance to keep you all for himself?

You sit up further, hands planted on his chest as you ride him with fervor. Your blunt fingernails dig into his skin and make him groan, hips punching up into you as you rock back. When you moan desperately, he does it again, and again, until you’re letting out a choked little sob that makes his cock pulse inside of you.

“Come for me, honey, wanna feel this pretty pussy choke my cock,” Joel demands. He can feel your walls flutter around him, your noises growing desperate. He brings a hand to your clit, thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until you tighten around him, squeezing his cock as you come undone with a shout.

You collapse forward and Joel wraps his arms around your low back, holding you steady as he plants his feet and pounds his cock into you with harsh thrusts, chasing his release. Your teeth dig into the sensitive skin of his neck and the sharp sting sends him over the edge. He pulls out at the last moment, his cum splashing between your bodies in thick spurts.

You lie on top of him, catching your breath. Sweat grows sticky on Joel’s skin as the cool air settles around them, your back erupting in goosebumps as you shiver. He maneuvers your bodies until you’re cradled against him again.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

When you nestle closer, body lax against his, he smiles in triumph.

_______

You wake before Joel the next morning, body sticky with the mess from the night. You cringe, wiggling away from Joel’s hold. You find your discarded shirt and water bottle, intending to soak the fabric to wipe yourself clean, only to find your bottle is empty.

You locate Joel’s backpack, knowing he keeps his water bottle in there. You dig through the contents, hand bumping against the familiar bulk of a handgun. Your brow furrows. You haven’t seen Joel use a handgun. He uses the shotgun on his back, the other weapons you’d collected from the raiders stored in your bag.

You pull the weapon free and inspect it. You know this gun. It’s the same gun you’d learn to shoot with, the first one Liam found in the aftermath of the outbreak. Your blood turns to ice.

Joel said he’d seen Liam get attacked by a clicker. If that’s the case, when did he get Liam’s gun?

The sound of Joel moving in the sleeping bag has you shoving the gun back into his bag and grabbing the water bottle you’d gone in search of in the first place.

You’ll have to worry about your discovery some other day.

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #dark joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic request #joel miller masterlist #the last of us

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celenawrites · 1 month

Text

— a soft life: unofficial prologue

Summary -

Retired and domesticated, Johnny and Simon look forward to the next step in their life as a couple - parenthood. However, initiating this process turns out to be a lot trickier than usual.

And then enters you, a tired grad student who is desperate and willing to be their surrogate for some much needed cash. Needless to say, they find themselves orbiting you - like planets to the burning sun.

Warnings - A/B/O dynamics, Metaphorical ramblings of 'killing' parts of one's personality, reader is implied to be an immigrant and POC so expect topics of misogyny, sexism and threats of forceful marriage/parenthood to pop up in later chapters, Unbeta'd and unedited contents so mistakes are inevitable, etc.

Word count - 1, 128.

series masterlist || read on ao3

Your eyes burn.

The black cursor blinks against the empty white expanse of your Word document, taunting you and your incapability to muster up anything to write for your thesis. You shut down your laptop after staring at the blank document file for what seems like hours, barely mustering up the concentration needed to finally name the topic of your research thesis.

You lean back against the black ergonomic chair and it creaks under your weight, and you can feel the way your back cracks as you stretch your arms over your head. You take off your glasses, and then let your palms rub at your aching eyes as you contemplate what more you could do to distract yourself from your imminent doom.

Between your laptop and piles of printed papers, textbooks and notes lies an opened manila envelope that has delivered devastating news to you at a crucial point of your life.

The education system is unfair in many ways, and going into academia and research is definitely not going to be a walk in the park for you. But your passion for the subject had you undeterred - leaping at the first chance of pursuing your postgraduate degree from one of the most prestigious universities in all of the United Kingdom. And yet, the printed letter you had received last week is threatening your dream and you do not know if there is any way for you to salvage it.

You have rapidly applied for financial aid, scholarships, internships and even odd jobs - but most of the potential employers have either ghosted you or put your name on a never-ending waitlist. You cannot wait till next year to know if they would hire you for minimum wage, damn it.

By the time they reach out to you, you might already be well on your way back home. And you do not want to go back home.

A few tears of frustration bubble up in your eyes, leaving hot tear tracts on your skin as you try to wipe them away. You need a break. God knows when was the last time you had slept.

At moments like these, when life was too much and the stress made the idea of death all the more inviting to you, your inner voice - your Omega, someone you have suppressed and killed with your own violent hands, would resurface into your life like a phantom and she would haunt you with incredulous ideas and sweet impossibilities. Need someone, need Alpha, she would whisper to you all sultry, Wanna be taken care of. Too much, too much, too much-

And you would bury her remains again.

You cannot be soft. You cannot be kind. You cannot let people know you care.

It would only get you killed. Or worse.

You get up to leave the room on shaky legs and your knees buckle after staying so still for hours on end. You enter the small kitchen, put the kettle filled with water on the stove and turn it up to high heat as you lean against the island and rub your hands over your languished face. You’re so tired. So fucking tired.

The kettle simmers over the fire, letting out a small hiss from its spout. You pay it no heed. You think and think and think of all the possible ways you can salvage this mess of a situation - only to end up with nothing.

The market hasn’t been kind, and you do work as a TA and some freelance work online as an editor to ease your financial worries, but it is not enough.

You can always take up more shifts at the floral shop, but that can also possibly interfere with your academic schedule - which is the last thing you could possibly want. You can always call back home, but the very idea of it fills you with dread and makes your stomach turn and sicken you even more. You could-

The kettle lets out a loud whistle, steam oozing out of it rapidly and the mobile phone in your jeans rings at the same time, startling you into action. You turn and hurriedly turn the stove off, letting the kettle rest on the island as it lets out all the steam stored in the ceramic vessel.

You abandon the pot of leafy concoction, opting to go outside into your living space to finally pick up your ringing phone. You wipe your clammy hands on a hand towel lying nearby before you swipe the green button to pick up the call.

“Hello?” you state your name, “Who is it?”

“Good afternoon, Miss” the feminine voice greets you over the mobile, “This is the Larksky Fertility Clinic”.

Your heart stills.

You read the email the clinic representative had sent you after you got off the call with her.

Alice was her name. Alice sounded like a kind woman.

You read through the attachment files in the mail. The pamphlet outlined the vision and works of the fertility clinic, highlighting their doctors and the various fertility testing and treatments they offered to people and couples alike. The other attachment files consisted of the bare minimum information about the couple that are currently seeking you out in order to conceive.

Mr. Simon Riley and Mr. John Mactavish.

Both are ex-military - one of them is a personal fitness trainer and the other runs a security company. They’re willing to negotiate the price for your ‘assistance’; which is something you’re grateful for, even though you’d have done it for free once upon a time.

While you have always been unsure about parenthood being the right path for you (and your personal aspirations and fears wouldn’t necessarily allow you to indulge in such ideas just yet), you have always wished to help people create the families they deserve. And you believe this call to be some sort of sign, corny as it might sound to some.

Maybe it's divine intervention. Or manifestation. Or some spiritual signal.

You have always been willing to help others out in any way possible - from taking on extra workload and sharing necessities to blood donations and volunteer work. At one point, you had been looking forward to helping people out with completing their families - eager to see them so ecstatic about becoming parents. The idea of doing this for money solely leaves your mouth dry, as if you have swallowed cotton - and yet, yet.

It wouldn’t hurt to try, anyway. Sending out a response through your email, you confirm the time and date of the meeting with the clinic. You console yourself and reason with your heart (or what is left of it anyway) - you need the money, you always wanted to do this, now is a good time anyway.

A/N -

I decided to post this almost scrapped prologue in hopes to motivate myself and to keep on writing some more. Hopefully, I will be able to post more in May. Also, forgive the few grammatical errors in this piece, I haven't been too keen on correcting such errors at the moment. I will eventually clean this up later on. I just wanted to put this out there so that I can work on the later parts of this series.

#call of duty #cod:mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghoap au #tw a/b/o #call of duty angst #cal lof duty fluff #char.simon ghost riley #char.soap #🌸.a soft life #celena.writes

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scribble-dribble-writes · 1 year

Note

Absolutely adored your last story!

If you don't mind, I'd like to request something too. What about Miguel's reaction to the reader telling him they are with child? 👀 Feel free to write this to your heart's content 🩷

Have a great day! x

I'm not usually a fan of writing pregnant scenes unless and until it is absolutely required. Given Miguel's backstory, it is definitely required haha. So hope I did your ask the due diligence.

Hope you like it 💖💖💖

---

Magic

The digits in the clock changed with a click. It was past midnight and somehow, you couldn’t sleep. You laid still, soaking in the silence and taking comfort in the soft pale light that filtered into the room.

Arguably with what you learnt yesterday, your mind should have been a warzone but instead it was a question paper staring back at you, waiting for you to choose the right answer. You preferred the battle field. You sighed, the warm hand that rested on the peak of your hip trailed up higher making your skin feel smooth as if you were made of butter.

He pulled you closer to him, even in his sleep he craved for you presence. You had been warned about him, to not marry him and yet you heeded to no one’s advice. Instead, only choosing him when any struggle arose. He was always the answer, you couldn’t be without him and with how he nuzzled into your neck seeking comfort, you knew you held some value in his life too.

So if you were going to choose him again, you were having to say goodbye to a different chapter in your life.

“You're still awake aren’t you?”, he asked you, his voice raspy as he stirred from his sleep.

“How could you tell?”, you asked still laying as you were.

“Reading you has always been a part of my reflex.”, he mumbled with pride as he placed a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder.

You let out a quiet chuckle, now turning towards him to hide deeper into the panes of his chest. Skin on skin, there was no telling where his limbs intertwined with yours. The steady rhythm of his heart only made your throat drier.

“A charmer, even in the dead of night.”, you traced your finger over his collarbone to tuck your hand beneath his arm in the end.

“My spells won’t work on anyone else.”, he spoke with his eyes closed, still caught in the in between.

You didn’t intend to wake him, he was tired as is and now you were keeping him up. It stung you, the one thought that had been on your mind since yesterday. You were failing, in being a wife and now, as a mother.

“Because you’re the magic.”, his words dripped like candle wax, beautiful and yet it burned your heart.

“Only you think so.”, you closed your eyes, hoping to fall asleep as his hand rubbed your back, the soft gesture easing you to relax.

“Puedo preguntarte algo?”, his words had a little slur to them as you hummed in response.

“Why did you hide you were sick this morning?”, the calm in his voice made your eyes pop open as you drew in a sharp breath, now with him holding you so close, he could read you like a book.

“There was nothing to hide, Miguel.”, you were digging a deeper hole.

“It wasn’t all too concerning to trouble you.”, you were now wide awake.

“Mi cielo.”, he murmured.

“Come to me with all your troubles, por favor.”, even as he spoke you could tell this had weighed him down.

You were still thinking it through when he prompted you again, “So?”, he was lulling you to give up the truth.

“Why did you then sneak off to the doctor’s?”, now he was awake too. There was a certain bite to his words, crisp with tension and worry.

You didn’t need to see his eyes to tell that he was afraid, you could feel it in the way his muscles stiffened. The thought propped up again. That you were failing, at being his lover and his wife by keeping things from him.

But was your guilt and fear more important than his feelings?

To have put him through the worry of fearing he was going to lose you too.

He was always the answer, he would give up everything for you if you asked and you would do the same. Selfless for eachother that it often put you in a spot to make decisions for him.

But what would he say?

Did you want to put him through the pain of his past by placing a child in his hands?

“Because,”, you looked up at him, to note his gaze was already on you, hooked on your every word.

“I’m carrying your child.”, you let the words slip from your tongue, like you were letting go out the helm of your ship towards what could be the point of it’s destruction.

You were sure, that having lost his daughter once, he wouldn’t want to put himself through that heartbreak again. You watched as he tensed up again, to slowly rise up to rest his back against the head board.

“Oh.”, he said, but you couldn’t tell from his sober tone.

“So nothing life threatening.”, he reached out to caress your cheek.

“No.”, you drew yourself close to him. Ironic, that many believed you lit up his world but he was the fire to your winter. You only found respite in his arms.

“When did you come to know?”, he rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Yesterday.”, you told him, to which he hummed taking in the information.

But his eyes slid to yours, “Why didn’t you tell me?”, the way his eyes looked pale in the dim light, you not confiding in him had hurt him.

“Miguel, you know the life I come from.”, you turned serious, that somehow in his presence you couldn’t continue to lie anymore.

“What if I’m not a good mother? What if instead of building this family, I wreck it instead?”, you asked, your blood turning cold with images of this fear manifesting in your mind.

“And it would result in you being heart broken, over the child you lost.”, you slumped into the cover like a little pebble, giving in to the pull of your panic.

“I love that you think of me always, mi ángel.”, he reached for your waist to pull you up over his torso such that you could meet his eyes.

“But in this circumstance, you’re wrong.”, his index finger smoothed the wrinkles on your forehead as you fought back tears.

“I can see it in your eyes, you will be an excellent mother. Your love is endless and patient, you made me believe in all this again.”, he gestured to the setting around you.

“So don’t let your fears destroy you.”, he wiped the tear as it landed on your cheek.

“As for me.”, he paused, his eyes turning distant for a second.

“As much as I loved Gabriella as my own,”, he ran his fingers through your long hair.

“She wasn’t.”, he pursed his lips.

“This variant of mine had everything I could only dream off. Replacing him meant I only enjoyed a life that was a lie.”, he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Which hurt more when I lost it.”, you could see the sadness in his eyes.

“Nothing was real from the beginning.”, he gave you a lopsided frown, which broke your heart as you felt his pain as your own.

“Almost as close to a figment of my imagination.”, he inhaled deeply to sigh.

“But you.”, the sadness vanished and in it’s place happiness restored his features.

“Our home.”, he looked up at the ceiling.

“It’s all real.”, he smiled, his eyes slowly trailing back to you.

“So no, this wouldn’t hurt me.”, he nudged your nose with his as though this was all you had to remember, to never forget that he was sure of this.

“I’ve wanted this, I want this next chapter for us. It's time.”, he confided in you as he closed his eyes to pull you closer, to rest your forehead on his and when you did, the question paper in you mind vanished. It didn’t have the answer you wanted to choose, because in this second you had both chosen to choose eachother.

“You surprise me in the best ways.”, you told him as you reached up to take his other hand.

Holding onto his fingers, you guided his hand over to place it over your womb and when he opened his eyes, there was a new passion in it. A new fervent resolution that what he had now, he would protect with his life, that his entire life was right here in the confines of his arms.

With that burning desire, he caught your lips with his. It was a sleepy kiss that was my no means perfect as the ones in the morning were but it was surely more important. You and him weren't going to be the only ones in this house anymore.

“Like I said.”, he spoke over your lips.

“You are magic.”, he said as he trailed his fingers over your lower abdomen.

So you kissed him again, softly, your hands scaling the incline of his back to hold his neck.

But he pulled away to catch his breath.

“Vamos, mami. You need to have a good sleep.”, he placed you into the side of your bed with a sudden air of discipline, as he had remembered what time it was.

“I’ll make you fresh lemonade in the morning to combat the sickness and also –

“You need your sleep too, papi.”, you cut him off before he began to panic and pulled his hand over your waist as he chuckled to settle into your covers.

“Bien, bien.”, he calmed down settling into the same lazy rhythm with his hand slung over you that finally made sleep arrive sooner than what you both had expected.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099

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the-steambird · 6 months

Text

[ 011223 EDITION ]

GENSHINBLR — NOVEMBER, 2023 EDITORIAL

EXTRA! EXTRA! Over here, dear reader! As we enter the twelfth month of the year, read up on what’s happened this past month of November on Genshin Tumblr!

From your Editors: Crow and Ely.

COLLECTIVES — November Events !

TRENDING! || From Journalist @meidnightrain

1989 Event — 21 songs to 21 fics with the Genshin characters; A celebration to the release of Taylor Swift’s 1989 album, with fluff, angst, and hurt / comfort galore! Our journalist Meisha takes us through the re-recorded album with various Genshin characters X GN! Reader ranging from Aether, to Furina, and many more in between!

NEWS FLASH! || From Editor @yuellii

Fontaine : Dark Blood — A supernatural-themed event to continue off the spirit of Halloween in November; Dark Blood follows three separate one shots of vampire Neuvillette, werewolf Wriothesley, and puppet Lyney X GN! Reader. Our editor Ely executes horror through her writing, so readers, please heed her warnings carefully in each fic!

COLUMN — Individual Spotlight !

LET TWO EYES BE UNDECEIVED, Lyney / By Editor @rainswept

Summary from the editor: Growing up with you by his side, falsities were always something Lyney could see through. He preferred not to use them, not for a long time — but once you were gone and he and Lynette were left without someone to do the group’s dirty work, he forced himself to inherit the way of living you left behind.

“So excited for this one! Editor Crow’s been showing me their progress—honestly such a must-read for Lyney fans when it comes out, teehee.” — Editor Ely.

YOU’RE SO RED, ARE YOU OKAY?, Furina / By Journalist @definitelynotaneulasimp

A comedic review by Journalist Henry, in which the Archon of Hydro attempts at a date, but all goes wrong when she develops a terrible case of hiccups. Rumor has it: This fic is a part of Henry’s 1.5k Followers Event!

Want more Genshin women content? Definitely check out Henry’s own blog for characters like Ei, Navia, and more!

GOODNIGHT, Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @strawberrylabs

Did you know: Lyney, Freminet, Kazuha, Venti, Cyno and Childe have voice lines about you, dear reader?! If you’re having trouble falling asleep, hear what these characters have to say all about you!

A SIMPLE MISSION, Neuvillette / By Journalist @alaboadoa

Rumor has it: The Duke and the Iudex were caught whispering privately about you?! Read as Journalist Soph gossips all the juicy details about their conversation—it seems Monsieur Neuvillette might have a crush on you!

Just recently released: Journalist Soph also just recently released a new entry for Ayato, “INK TO PAPER.” Both of these works are featured in her 1k milestone event!

ONE CHANCE (PT.2), Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @ayaboba

“You give them one chance. How do they use it?” Journalist Anya returns with Kazuha, Lyney, Wanderer, and Zhongli—all who have just one last chance with you. Be sure to also check our her part one of this entry with Alhaitham, Diluc, Neuvillette, and Wriothesley, linked in her entry!

WHEN THEY LOSE YOU, Various Genshin Men / By Journalist @yrbladie

Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Neuvillette, Zhongli — ever in the mood for angst and no comfort? Then Journalist Naeris delivered us painful excepts on five different Genshin men and how they act after ( spoiler! ) losing you.

With Journalist Naeris also being on the rise and joining the writing train, be sure to check out all the other works she has published this month, as well!

FEATURE — The Editors’ Favorites !

YOUR SHADOW UNDER THE ILLUSORY MOON., Lyney / By Journalist @dulcesiabits

“this piece genuinely moved me. journalist liya’s writing is beautiful, and out of hundreds — maybe even thousands — of works that i have read, this has remained my favorite. it had me hanging on every word and i could genuinely feel the emotion put into it — her word choices and the way she conveys the scenes are profound in a way i cannot hope to describe. the ties and parallels part one has with PART TWO are so smart, too. hands down the most immersive and touching writing i’ve ever had the pleasure to read.” — Editor Crow.

JEALOUS-!, Ayato / By Journalist @jinxlixir

“LOVED this one! Takes place in a modern school AU with Ayato as the student council prez, and reader as his vice prez! The concept is every hopeful cliché, and Journalist Jinx did an amazing job characterizing Ayato so well—this one definitely stayed in my head for a while!”

“Not to mention: This little snippet is a continued concept of Jinx’s OTHER AYATO PIECE, one that’s much longer and written excellently!! I was practically squealing the whole time I read it… Ignore my tags if you decide to scroll through the notes.” — Editor Ely.

THE-STEAMBIRD is a Genshinblr Newspaper that posts news on the latest fanfiction and fanart! Editorials are published on the 1st day of every month, compiling your favorite works, featuring sections for journalists (writers) and photographers (artists).

Every month, from the 2nd-24th, we are in the nomination process. Writers and artists can nominate works they would like to see featured on The-Steambird for the month using our form!

#🗞️ — ꒰ news ! ꒱#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #lyney x reader #ayato x reader #furina x reader

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netherfeildren · 7 months

Text

With Mercy for the Disturbed

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: He's a father and then he isn't, and then he's in the perfect place with the perfect girl, and he's done so many bad things that terrify the both of them. And then, finally, he's saved and there are dancing bears and doors newly opened, and everyone's a little mad at the end of it all.

-OR-

the Hannibal/Alice in Wonderland AU wherein Joel loses his mind

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: AU; Extremely Dubious Consent; Or Non Con; You decide but vibes are definitely off; Dark Fic; Rough Sex; Face fucking; Oral Sex (f!receiving); Bondage; Unreliable Narrator; Memory loss; Blasphemy; Discussions of religious disdain; Discussions of morality; References to suicide; Beware of the old man who’s crazy and lets all his intrusive thoughts win; Older man/Younger woman; Creampie; Light breeding kink; Like very light for the likes of me promise; Possessive Behavior; Kidnapping; Joel POV

A/N: Hello and hallelujah, I’m so happy to be posting this!! For a minute after I finished Pink I felt like it would be impossible for me to write anything else ever again, and felt so weird and without anything left to say. I struggled so much just getting these words down, and it was supposed to be something very different initially compared to what it turned out to be, but I think I quite like the final product. I hope you do too.

And one million kisses and thank yous and all the praise in the world to @frannyzooey for giving this a little looksy over before posting. You’re the greatest and the bestest, Kelli, thank you so so much :)

Please heed the tags carefully and err on the side of caution!!! The goings on in this are very strange and this is probably the darkest thing I’ve written to date.

Word Count: 8.8K

Read on AO3

He can’t remember her name anymore, but he remembers the number. It’s been seven hundred and thirty eight days since his daughter died.

Sometimes, he’s not sure if he even remembers his own name. He thinks it’s Joel, and the sound of it brings him comfort in a way, when it’s especially dark and confusing in his mind, and so he tells himself over and over again that that’s what it is. Joel. Joel. Joel. I am Joel. That that’s what it’s always been. That that’s the name she knew him as.

Sometimes you call him that too.

He used to be a father, and then one day, so suddenly he can’t recall how it even happened, he lost everything. Like dominos falling over in his mind – the girl, and then his memories and then the man with the face like his. He plays dominos all the time now.

In his spot in the sun in the big blue room, wearing his whites and his soft socks and taking the pills they force down his throat. He plays dominos, and he does his exercises, and he thinks of that daughter whose name he can’t remember. He says his own name over and over and over again so many times until it’s not even a sound anymore, only a buzz or a hum or a scream.

His beard is thick and his hair is long, and he does not recognize his own face in the mirror. All he sees are ghost green eyes and dark hair and a fathomless sort of failure. A father, no longer a father. He goes for walks in the garden, he eats the food they give him even when he doesn’t really want to, even when it tastes like ash or greater madness than the one he’s already swallowed. And he waits for you. All the time he waits for you to come to him, he watches the big doors that go out into the world he’s too frightened and broken to step foot in now, draws his fingertip over the gristle of scar tissue at his temple mended over invisible fracture, and he waits and waits, and he says his name and he thinks of that nameless daughter and he waits and he thinks: the morning after I killed myself, I woke up in the perfect place with the perfect white walls and now all I do is wait.

He sits in his chair in the corner now and counts the seconds for you to come for him. Always at this time, always when the sun is at that spot in the sky. When it rains, and he can't tell where he is in the world, and the clouds are swollen purple gray verging on melancholy and anger, he feels something like despairing. Something like the sort of insane they whisper he is behind his back now.

He watches the puddles filled with dark mercury grow and grow like the ocean rising out of concrete, and the orange tree that drips and weeps and sags and he thinks he feels very much that way inside too. Sometimes, when the sun shines and there are no clouds and he doesn’t feel so terribly downtrodden, or maybe worse than usual, each orange blossom opens like a hand reaching out for him. Begging him not to do it, not to think of it, not to go back to that bad place. Focus only on me, she says. Focus only on the blue walls and the perfect room and the place where the sun sits in the sky, she’s on her way, she’s almost here.

The first time they’d told him he was ill – or dead – the first morning in the perfect room, he’d been angry, affronted or offended, and he’d howled and fought and said I’m not fucking crazy, it’s only that my daughter is dead. But as much as he’d fought or kicked or screamed, wept until he was brittle and dry as a whale bone, they’d not believed him. And so, he’d come to appreciate the peace of the perfection surrounding him, the perfection of a lie, or the perfection that comes to visit him in the shape of a woman, soft and round in all the right places and pretty. Fuckable. He tries not to think of it. He swears he does. But there’s little else to consider in the perfect place. So really, he thinks of little else.

You’re almost here, he knows it’s almost time.

A few more moments of the sun in the place where it is until it’s in the place where it should be, and then you’ll be here, and he looks down at the stone in his palm, held for so long it’s turned dark with his sweat now. I shouldn’t have, but I brought you something, placed it in his hand, done that thing with your eyes and your mouth that told him secrets he wasn’t sure you were even aware you were telling him.

He knows that it’s November now because you’d said it was, and he doesn’t know why, but when you’d told him, he’d wept and wept and wept. Become inconsolable which had sent you to worrying, put the different sort of look on your face, in your eyes, the one that vibrates, that screams instead of whispers. And he’s positive you don’t know you show him that one, but he sees it anyways, you’ve got a shit poker face. And he’d told you between sobs and chokes, it’s November and it’s terrible and I can’t explain why except to say that it’s as though the earth has suddenly realized that she’s grown old and cold and there’s nothin’ she can do to prevent it except weep, and I feel very much like this in my own heart too. And when he looks back up at the sun, it’s finally where it’s supposed to be, and when he looks back at the double doors that lead away to all his fears and all the bad, there you are. You walk towards him slow and measured, and you’re perfect, perfect, perfect. Precious, impeccable, absolutely exceptional in every way. He wants very much to ruin all that pure magnificence.

He knows that he did something very bad after his daughter, after they took her, lots of very bad things to lots of very bad people. He knows this, he remembers this vividly, enjoys the memory of it, savors it like something sitting sweet and light on his tongue.

The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love with the idea of a girl who was gone who’d come from me who is never going to be again. Who I never made enough time for when there was still time to be made.

You always wear beautiful clothes, and it makes him appreciate the blandness of his own. That you stand out, that he’s merely a blank canvas for you to inflict yourself on. Wool skirts and silk blouses and sheer pantyhose he wants to rip to ribbons with his fingers. Makes him appreciate the beauty of you, faultless, guileless. Sweet in a way he’d never witnessed before like a kitten that’s so adorable you want to squeeze and squeeze and smother until it bursts. Big eyes and a full, soft mouth and breathy voice, and then you’re right there.“Hi, Joel,” and yeah, that’s right, he does know his name, you remind him of it all the time.

“Mornin’.”

“Ready?”

“As ever.”

The room you usually sit in to talk has a big painting of a field in it, a bear in the far off center up on its hind legs, somehow, appearing as if it’s dancing away. Even the paintings are mad here, but he likes it, wants to dance away into the far off unknown like that too.

“The middle of the day’s not the best time for fishin’ usually.” Sometimes, you let him start where he wants. Silent until he chooses to break. He pulls the thought out of nowhere. “Bein’ out there’s just the excuse, I suspect, in the sun and the water.”

He listens to the scratch, scratch of your pen. You write with one of those fountain types with the sharp point, and he wonders if you’ve ever considered how easily he could turn it into a weapon. How smoothly it’d pierce the soft, satin skin of your throat he likes to fantasize about. He would never. But he does like to think about it, pretends it’s a show of your trust, wonders if the guards and higher ups know you bring something like that in here with him. Scratch, scratch, scratch, and it makes his brain itch.

“You used to fish?”

“Think so.”

“Are you remembering?”

“Nah.” The morning after I killed myself, I lost my memories – it’s only that they’d hurt everywhere I’d touched them, and so I’d had to let them go.

“No?”

You’ve got the loveliest voice, and sometimes he wishes he could tell you to stop asking so many stupid questions about him and talk about yourself. Endlessly. He chooses a new route. “What is it about empathy that people find so difficult to be generous with?”

That soft hum in your throat he loves, the one he feels soothe that itchy brain of his. “Humans can be inherently selfish. We’re born with only ourselves, we die with only ourselves, sometimes that gets in our way.”

“No… Don’t think that’s true.”

“No?” He knows you like to lead him sometimes, like a game he doesn’t want to enjoy. “You’re the one saying we’re greedy with our empathy.”

“Forgiveness too,” he adds.

The click of your tongue, “Do you think you’re forgiving?”

“Not at all.”

Scratch, scratch. Once he’d asked what it is you write about him during these talks of yours, and all you’d said was notes. It’s the only time he’s ever been angry with you, refused to talk to you for three days after that. Only because if you wouldn’t tell him things, then he wasn’t going to tell you anything either. “Then what’s the point you’re trying to make? What’s your question?” But then he’d missed the sound of your voice too much, had felt the burn of your gaze on his skin too intensely, had masturbated too many times without satisfaction to the memory of your eyes on him that he’d been forced to relent. He needed the sound of your voice in his head also to be able to come.

“Why is it so difficult?” He asks again because he has to understand. Because he needs an answer desperately.

“It’s hard to see someone as simply themselves, simply human – a sentient flaw, so to speak – when they make a mistake. And yet, as grievous or offensive as something can be, we all do it eventually. Some people have no patience for that.”

“Even though they themselves will eventually, inevitably, do it too?” He can feel himself getting upset, his heart beating too fast, a cold sweat sprouting at the back of his neck while his face flushes hot and red.

“Yes.”

“That’s bad.”

You shrug, “Perhaps.”

“Selfish.”

Again, “Perhaps.”

And then the true source of his anger, “I think I’m like that.”

You nod like you understand, and he wants to shake you and make you see that there’s no way you actually could. “Would you like not to be?” It pisses him off when your voice goes all even and patient like that.

“Yes. I hate people like that. I hate people that can’t find it in themselves to forgive – to give someone a second chance.”

“Why do you think that is?”

He can’t help himself when he vomits the words, not fully expecting them to come out so slicked in truth as they do. “Because I wish someone would give me one, even if I don’t deserve it. F– forgive me– But even then… what does it matter? What does it matter if I’m forgiven, given a second chance, absolved of all my sins? Look at where I am. Look at what I've become. I’m entirely lost to myself. You know, sometimes I can’t remember my own name if you don’t remind me of it.”

“You’re Joel. You had a daughter. Her name was Sarah.” He flinches at the sound of it, wants to bare his teeth at you like a rabid animal. “Your brother is Tommy. He calls every Friday at three o’clock to ask how you are. You’re Joel Miller.” That’s right. The morning after I killed myself, I met my brother for the first time. The real him. The him who’s afraid of me. The real Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. Sometimes the name rings familiar in his mind, again, when you remind him of it.

He shakes his head, swallows a gruff sound, tries to shutter the manic look he knows floods his eyes, reverts back to his initial thought, “False senses of moral superiority disgust me.” The sun’s shining in at an angle so that there’s a single tendril of sunlight wrapped around the slim of your crossed ankle, gripping the nylon covered limb in its light. Joel’s eyes shift jealously from that held piece of you to the shadow of far off rain he can see in the distance through the window, trying to find some measure of peace in the sight. It’ll reach here eventually, and he tries to ground himself in the inevitability. “Yes, there’s right and wrong. There’s also humanity. There’s also the right to grow and learn, and to make mistakes that, in the end, make you better. Who are you to condemn me? Is your glass house so pristine not a stain mars it? Grace, forgiveness, empathy… I find those infinitely more valuable than whatever false sense of good and bad you’ve decided makes me worthy or not,” he says, eyes cast towards the coming rain. He can feel your gaze on his face, and he does not want to acknowledge it.

“But the things you did were bad, Joel. You hurt people. You killed people.”

That makes his eyes snap back to yours for the way you say it. As if you’re sharing a bit of inconsequential news with him. The weather is about to hit, the rain is almost here. Can’t you see it, just there, in the distance? Voice so even and soft. Sometimes he calls you angel, when he knows he’s charmed you enough just to get away with it, when he’s said all the things he knows you want to hear from him and smiled all the right smiles that cost him so much. Voice like a goddamn angel, face like a goddamn angel. Everything else… like something come straight from Hell to drag him down to where he really belongs and never let him go.

He eyes you suspiciously. “The Bible says an eye for an eye. They killed my daughter so I took their eyes.” And then other parts.

“And then their lives…” And then their lives. He nods once, succinct. “You ascribe to the scripture?” You snap that little leather bound book open again, red, scratch in it once again, all your secrets about him. That itch returns, stronger than before. He bites down on it, chews it away within himself.

“What? Like I believe in it? Fuck no. Fuck religion. It isn’t real. A weak construct made for weak men in need of comfort. And– and… like what – it’s going to save my soul? I ate that a long time ago, angel. Look at where I am…” He shrugs, letting his head fall back in a circular motion, coming to rest on his shoulder. He can’t help but smile at you, he knows you hate it when he gets like this, all ornery and heretical.

You purse your lips, shake your head at him gently, and he wants to eat the lipstick from your soft mouth. “You believe in angels though… you call me–”

His smile cranks up another notch for a single beat. “Gotta believe in somethin’ that’s right in front of my eyes, don’t I? What d’ya think, that’m crazy?” And his eyes slide to the window again, smile melting off his face. “‘Sides they told me so–”

“Who told you what?” Voice slow, measured, all serious-like. He rolls his eyes, feels the stone of anger in his belly heat, spin, jump to his throat.

“They killed my daughter,” he spits like a whispered scream instead. The shadow of rain is closer. If the dancing bear were out there, it’d be lost to the deluge by now. “I should’ve done worse. I would have, had I not been thrown away in here.” He remembers that a man with a face like his left him here, but he doesn’t know who. He shakes his head, jostles the non-memory out of his ears, searches harder for the dancing bear, killed a bunch’a people, he murmurs to himself, once more again, because he likes the sound of it.

“So you’re talking about yourself. You want to be forgiven.” He doesn’t like when you tell him, when you don’t ask. It makes him feel like you know something he doesn’t, and he wants to know everything you know.

“No. I don’t know.”

“Do you feel thrown away, Joel?”

“I feel forgotten – impossible to remember,” his voice cracks at the end, eyes suddenly wet and hot.

“By who?”

“The world.” He can’t remember his childhood. He can’t remember what he was like as a child, and it makes him sad.

You’re quiet for a long time, no more scratch, scratch, scratch, no more itch. No more angel voice, and then, very soft, like you know you shouldn’t. “I remember you. I haven’t forgotten you.”

Once, a time ago because he can’t discern lengths of it anymore, it doesn't exist here in the perfect place, amidst what, he thinks, is a lot that you know you shouldn’t have allowed, you’d changed the routine up on him. Had sent for him, instead of coming for him yourself. When he’d stepped into the room where you have your talks, you’d been facing the big window, looking out at the green, the line of your shoulders and the dip of your waist and the swell of your ass in your skirt that shifts like water around your knees and the saliva pooling heavy in his mouth, it’d been too much, too much for a broken thing, and you hadn’t turned. Like the pen, like more trust, you hadn’t turned to face him even though he knew you’d heard the door snick shut behind him. He’d stepped as quiet as he could up behind you, quiet like when he was sneaking to kill, and he’d brushed a single tip of his finger up the length of one of your skinny, little ones, so much smaller and finer than his thick, brutish ones, stroked the palm of your hand. You’d made the tiniest sound, interrupted by a swallow, but he’d heard it. He’d heard the want in it. He’d not forgotten either, and he sees that sound in your eyes now, again, as you stare at him with an intention he’s not so fucking crazy that he doesn’t know you shouldn’t possess.

He smiles a little again, and you don’t return it, but it’s okay, he sees the sound of your want in your eyes anyways, and that’s infinitely more satisfying to him. “It would serve us all well to remember to try to be a little more empathetic, a little more forgiving.”

You swallow, shaken, he can tell. Shaken by that thing inside you for him he knows shouldn’t be there. You scratch a little in the book, say slowly, “It starts with you, I think, you have to forgive yourself first.”

He doesn’t acknowledge that. There are things you talk about you clearly have no understanding of. You’re young. You don’t know better. He understands. “I think… I think, I haven’t been myself lately.”

“Who have you been?”

And again, he doesn’t mean to say it, but you tell him so much you don’t mean to say either that he feels he might as well also. “Someone–” That anger again, he can’t help himself even though he desperately wants to. “Someone my daughter would be afraid of.” Full blown rage now. At you. Yes, at you. You force things from him he doesn’t want to give you, and there’s a thing within him that wants to punish you for it, take a pound of flesh in repayment. “I want someone to forgive me. I want to be forgiven. I want to experience it.” Truth is like fire, hypnotizing, seductive, once it catches, inextinguishable. He wants to hate you sometimes for forcing these things from him, for not giving him a choice, and worst of all, done so unintentionally, unknowingly. He wants to not give you a choice either.

“From who?” You ask. Silly little girl. You need to learn the art of restraint, of temperance. He should teach you.

“Our hour’s up.” He looks away, dismissing you. As if he’s the one in charge here, and not the one caged. Divested.

“No, it isn’t. It’s–”

“Our hour’s up,” head snapping back towards you, barking– “It’s time for you to go.” And something in his gaze must tell how far he’s been pushed, by you, for you jerk up and out of your chair suddenly, turning to scurry towards the door, not bothering to say goodbye, not bothering to turn back, not bothering to notice the clatter of your pen on the linoleum.

He watches you go, a single black seam runs up the back of your hose, and the sight makes him feel violent, eager for darkness and the solitude of his white box room.

He doesn’t know why, maybe the way the rain beats against the singular tiny window in his room, maybe the way it whispers at him like all the other things that whisper at him now, but he knows you’ll come before he hears the stunted jangle of keys, the sigh and click of his door, the bare pad of shoeless feet on the hard floor, you’d thought this through, your too fast, too shallow breathing.

He’s staring up at the ceiling, arms crossed behind his head, cock hard, a little chafed. He wasn’t able to make himself come tonight, sometimes it doesn’t work, sometimes he needs the imagination of your wet cunt more than just the mere memory of your voice in his mind and the remembered feel of your gaze on him, but he’s never let himself picture the full act of fucking you. Thinks it would send him to a level of unhingedness he’d find unable to restrain in your presence. He only thinks of bits and pieces of you, like a dissected doll pulled apart for his half pleasure. Never the full thing, ever.

You try and say whatever it is you want to say several times before it finally comes out, all choked and feigned regret, but you do try and put on a good show, swallowed up by nerves as you are. “I– I just– I just came to make sure you’re okay,” you whisper. You’ve never been in his room before. He’s never had you in his space like this, and it makes him leak.

“You didn’t come for that.” Voice slow, still wide eyed, looking up at the white domed ceiling, something like victory in the shape of a hymn pounding through his veins. He won’t look at you until he’s ready.

“I… I felt badly about how we left things this afternoon. I shouldn't have– I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t end our talk the way– the way… Joel?” You stutter, trail off, voice small and unsure.

He sees you move out of the corner of his eye. One step forward, two back, pressing up against the door again. Little bunny full of regret for coming into the wolf's bed, and he moves suddenly, swift despite his age still. He has little to do here besides move his body, make sure it doesn’t grow rust. He sits up quick as a whip, swinging his legs over the edge of his too small bed, planting his feet wide and sturdy on the cold floor. He can see the tremble of your throat even from here, the pristine lines of you. Your hair and your face and your tits and the tiny little pearl buttons of your blouse like soldiers waiting to be felled on the battlefield. He’s going to rip them from you, pluck the garments keeping you hidden away from your skin, spread you out, filleted.

“That’s not what you came here for, angel.” He shakes his head slowly, and your panic ricochets higher, makes his cock harder. Your arm reaches back for the latch slowly, fumbling behind you, and he braces his legs. Your other palm outstretched, fingers trembling. He gives you another slow shake, as if that small gesture could keep him at bay. “I hear all the things you tell me. Don’t worry. I always hear.”

“Wh– what do you mean?”

“I always see the things you want me to know. I know… I know. It’s okay.”

“I don’t– I’m not sure… I shouldn’t have come.” Your hand finds the latch, angling your body to slip through as swiftly as possible, and his muscles coil tight and ready. “I just wanted– to– to make sure…” You pull the door open, move to slip away, and he lunges for you, catches the edge of the swinging door, lets you float in the lie that you’ve gotten away for a few seconds, scurrying a few paces down the dark corridor of his perfect place where he’s found his perfect girl.

The morning after I killed myself, I found an angel.

You make it as far as the bend in the hall before he’s trapping you in his grip, swinging you around so fast you bounce against the white tiled walls, cages you there, open mouth immediately at your jugular, biting down hard while his big palm completely smothers your face, forces your choked cry back down. His other arm wraps around your waist, lifting and dragging you back down the hall towards his white box and his little bed and all his fantasies, artery caught between his teeth, no more choices to be had, exactly like you leave him all the time. He whispers at you to be quiet, quiet, quiet, angels are always good, and then he’s shutting the door behind him, trapping you inside and plucking the keys from your skirt pocket, locking the two of you away together as you should’ve been from that first day.

You try and struggle in his arms, little feet kicking weakly at his shins, scratching at his sides where he has your arms trapped, but the sound of your fight is restrained, held low and gurgled in your throat, and he knows that you know that this is what you’d come for, that you’re getting exactly as you’d sought.

“Fight harder if you’d like,” he says low in your ear, throwing the keys to the far corner and wrapping both arms tight around you, pressing all the air out. Finally, fucking finally. He’s touching you, the plush heat of your breasts against his chest, the soft swell of your belly against his stomach. He’s so fucking hard he wants to rut into you like a beast. “I want you to be scared,” and it’s the foremost truth he’s ever shared with you. The heart of all his depravity. “I want you to want it so bad you’re terrified. As bad as I want it. I want you to not want it also. Want you to fight and cry and scratch and bite, and then take it anyways ‘cause I’m gonna to give it to you anyways. You always take all of my choices from me,” he adds on, voice going barely there, mumbled, pressing a tiny kiss to the tiny hammering pulse in your throat, and you let out your first soft moan. An angel singing right into his ear. Your fighting tells all sorts of lies. He hoists you higher, presses you closer, and you wriggle and squirm, grinding his erection into the soft apex of your thighs.

“Joel– stop, please– please. I– I didn’t think–” He bends his head to your breast, drags his nose over the hard peak he feels beneath the silk of your blouse, nuzzles there, enjoying the sound of your breathlessness, again that feigned shock. You’re right, you didn’t think, and it’s too late now. What did you expect would happen, coming here to his cage like this in the middle of the night? He catches the taut peak between the edge of his teeth, tugs gently, plucking your cords.

With a fist wrapped in the length of your hair he forces you to your knees at his feet, jerking your head back roughly so that your mouth falls open on a gasp giving him the opportunity to hook his fingers over the edge of your bottom teeth, stretching your jaw open wide. “Open– lemme see,” he orders. “I wanted you so bad,” dragging the pad of his thumb along the sharp edge of your jaw. “I want you so bad. All those days when you forced me to tell you things I didn’t want to tell you. I’m going to show you temperance now, angel,” he nods his head down at you condescendingly when you try and protest. I didn’t force you to do anything, “But you did. You did. You pulled things out of me I didn’t want to share. And now I have to have you. You always take all of my choices from me.” He clicks his tongue down at you, and there are tears in your eyes that go wide and something worse than frightened when he tugs the elastic waist of his soft white pants down, pulls out his angry erection and heavy balls. Your expression morphing from something worse than frightened, to something like desperate, like hungry, like his for the taking. And he’s big, he knows it. Much too big for the pretty little throat he’s about to force it down. But he’s going to be gentle, he’s going to help you, teach you.

“Joel, please–” And look at you beg, so pretty with tears in your eyes, running down your cheeks. He brings the searing brand of his erection to your cheek, presses the burning hot skin all over your face, coating himself in the wet of your tears, marking you in the thick male scent of him. And the feel of you, just like this, just this little bit – with his fingers still hooked over the edge of your teeth he turns your face so that your open mouth brushes against his length. “Taste– I know you’re hungry for it. Give it a kiss hello, little angel.”

Your eyes flash up to his face for a brief moment, almost too quick for him to catch, and then you’re pursing your mouth against him, swallowing the shudder that moves through his entire frame. A tiny kiss to the ridged underbelly of his cock, the drag of your lips against the length of him to the fat tip, and then another kiss with wet lips and enough tongue to undeniably lick up some of what’s slicking it. You want him, even if you won’t admit it, even if you cry or fight. It’s all he needs to know.

Still caught by the teeth he jerks your head back forward, opens you wider and forces his cock down your throat. You gurgle around him, whining, shrieking, false, he knows what you really want. Can feel it in the slicking of your tongue around the proof of his desire for you, he’s giving you everything he has, and he spits your name, purges it from his belly like an infection over and over again while he starts to fuck your mouth. Feels you gulp hard just at the right moment to get his leaking tip caught tight at the choking opening of your throat. He could come just like this. He could, he could. You’re all his. Fill your belly with his semen until it bulges, feed you himself until you’d never be without him. He lets his head fall back, looks up at the white dome, at the false home of the false God, tells you again, voice all cracked and broken and gone away from him, “I don’t believe in God anymore, but that’s okay. I have you to believe in now,” fucks harder, listens to your cries climb up the walls, savors the scratch and shove at his thighs when he tightens his fist in your hair to a painful degree. You always take all my choices from me, always. But he knows that if he’s to show you temperance he must exercise his own, and after a few more slick thrusts, he pulls wetly from your mouth, enjoying your whistling groan as you sag face first against his thigh. He pets your hair now gently, fingers twisting through the softness. He’d always wanted to feel it, memorize its texture, its scent. There is nothing about you that isn’t worthy of veneration, of doing the worst thing in the world just to have you, taste you, keep you.

He lets you rest for a moment, wonders at the fact that you haven’t screamed yet. You easily could, call for help, salvation, an escape. You haven’t, and it soothes him. Makes him feel disgusting in a way that doesn’t match up with how disgusting it should feel to force himself on his pretty angel; a self satisfied type of disgust. Something he should be more ashamed of than he truly is. But when you have so little, when you barely have yourself, when theft is the only means of self satisfaction, little recourse remains for creatures caged in perfect places with only bad avenues left to them.

He hauls you up by your underarms, lets his wet cock press trapped between the two of you, and he’s so close, so close, so close to what he’s needed for so long. He gathers you in his arms, cradles you gentle and with purpose. Tucks your hair behind your ears and wipes the tears and spit from your face, takes it the sparkle of your big wet eyes. So pretty. “Truly like an angel,” and chucks you beneath the chin when you shake your head at him. “You are. So pretty and so soft.” And then finally, like so many times he’d forced himself not to imagine it because he was terrified of what the fantasy would turn him into, no longer the dancing bear in the distance finding it’s escape, but a hungry one, a violent one, an animal so far beyond control all it could do was devour, he pulls you close by the tip of your chin and swallows your mouth whole. All tongue and teeth and the slick slide of your own fervor because yes, it’s there, tangling with his own mouth, pressing your own spit onto his tongue like an offering. You kiss him back.

You kiss him back.

And, “I want to make you my little butterfly,” he says, “Spread you open, pinned just for me to look at. Only me.” He whispers it into your mouth, soft and secret and true. He’d string you up if he could, split you open and peer inside, rifle through the shafts of your ribs like a lexicon that spells out the truth of who you really are. And then that sudden anger again, that furious stone spinning in his throat. His touch becomes harder, punishing, “You’re going to tell me everything about you,” he says with all that rage in his voice, spits the stone out at you. “You shouldn’t have kept secrets from me.” Fuck the little red book and the scratch, scratch, scratch. He’s going to have all your truths. He’s going to be the one taking all of your choices away from you now.

He hauls you towards his little bed, popping the pretty pearl buttons as he goes, knowing he’s going to go to his knees later to collect them like treasures for himself after this is done. He rips the blouse from your shoulders, shudders at your indignant little gasp with the sound of the tearing silk, and you’re all soft skin and fine lace and the prettiest thing he’s ever beheld with his own two eyes in this whole life.

You bring one delicate hand up to his throat, try and grip him there, push him back, but he presses into the touch, sucks at your mouth again, harder, biting, and you say onto his tongue that you shouldn’t, and please, Joel, just wait, but he won’t and he can’t and he tells you it’s useless to fight because he’s having you regardless.

“No, no– none of that. You’re going to take your fucking like a good little girl,” and something about his words or his tone or the look in his eyes must make the connection in your brian that this is happening click because you suddenly go boneless, head falling back to bear your throat for him, soft sound of concession slipping from your lips.

He goes in for the kill, he’s always been exceptional at that, after all. Teeth latched at your jugular, tongue up and across the slope of soft sugared skin, and you taste like salvation. He’s saved now, he’s sure of it. Everything he’d lost, his daughter, his mind, himself, he’s going to find it buried in your cunt. Joel is absolutely certain of it.

He divests you of your skirt, the pretty lace, leaves the nylons held up by tight elastic around your soft thighs, and then it’s all just bare skin and heat and your soft whimpers, the coolness of your hair between his fingers. He lays you out across the length of his bed, takes in the majesty of his winnings. An angel felled and caught. You lie there staring up at him, and there’s an innocence to your gaze that brings him to his knees, set down and at your mercy now. He parts your legs slowly, one small kneecap in the bowl of each palm, the softest skin he’s ever felt beneath these death roughened hands, and Joel could sob now, weep if he had the time for it. He spreads your thighs wide, palms dragging up the insides, calluses catching on the smooth nylon and watches the dip and hitch of your belly as you gasp and shiver.

“Are you scared?” He whispers right as his palms reach the uppermost part of your thighs, and you’re all softness and warm, damp skin, plush in a way that makes his mouth water and his gums ache, and then he’s finally laying eyes at the center of you, and you’re slicked in the gloss of your desire for him. Playing pretend, feigned fight and reluctance, but he’s looking right at the heart of you, and all he sees now is your truth. You shake your head no, let out a soft breath. “Look at this drippy little cunt,” and he drags his thumb over the pearl of your clit just as whisper soft as his voice is. A half screeched hitch claws up your throat, your thighs jumping at that first touch. He needs to see more, hooks a thumb at each delicate lip and spreads wide, but gently, so as not to hurt you. That’s for later. He stretches your little hole, enjoys the shy wink it gives him.

“My God… look at you,” he says with something like reverence in his voice. So slick and gorgeous. “I think this little cunt’s going to take me in very nicely.” He runs the pad of his thumb over your swollen clit again, clicks his tongue when your knees try to struggle shut. “None’a that, angel. Be good for me now.” He presses harder at your clit, runs his thumb down to your twitching opening, passes there lightly, coating himself in your leaking slick. “I wanted you so bad,” he tells you, one more moment for confessions before he starts. “I want you so bad. And you’ve always taken all my choices from me. Forced me to stay myself when that’s not who I want to be anymore.”

“You’re Joel,” you whisper, and bring your hand to circle the wrist of the hand he’s petting you with. Not pushing him away or pulling him closer, only a gentle manacle around the thick of his bone. He looks up and into your eyes as he presses his thumb slowly inside of you, hooking it over the thin edge, twists you open slow and gentle and measured, gets you ready for the thickness he’s about to split you open with.

“That isn’t who I wanted to be anymore. I wanted to forget all that, all the bad, her, I wanted to forget all of it. I tucked her name under my tongue for so long it became blood, and I wanted it like that. And you didn’t let me.”

Your thighs shift restlessly around him, and you bring one foot up to the edge of the bed, anchoring yourself there so that you can begin a gentle rocking motion of your hips, fucking yourself slowly on his thumb. Your breasts heave and sway with the motion and his balls go so tight and so searingly hot, he could come just now like this from the sight of you, suddenly green and untried like he was in his youth. He didn’t think it was going to be like this, and it’s like he’s wasting your honor, stealing it from you, but something given can’t be stolen and his plans are foiled, he’s not in control but he doesn’t really care either. He finally has you.

He bends his head, brings his mouth to your slick swollen cunt and takes the first sip. Groans so deep in his chest he’s more animal than man suddenly, sucking hard and sharp on your clit, he pulls his hand from you and laves his tongue over the entire slope of your sex, tongue dipping into the well of you. He spreads your lips again, wide, stretches your hole and fucks you with his tongue, big nose pressed to your clit, drowning in your sweet musk. Your fingers twine in the overly long curls of his hair, and he grips your thighs so hard he’s sure you’ll be left with the mark of him later which only makes him rougher, stronger in his hold. With your grip in his hair you sing for him in soft moans and whimpers and more feigned resistance with whispers of no, Joel, and please, stop while you ride his face, his entire mouth covering your cunt, eating it. More beast than man, not Joel, not a father, not a brother, not a killer, only yours. Carved in the image you’d wanted him to be. The one you’d made him with your words and your looks and your scratch, scratch, scratch. All those times you’d asked him what do you want, Joel? And he’d never had an answer for you because what was he supposed to say? You, this, freedom, your wet cunt, the far off field and the dancing bear and my daughter back, alive, my brother, face not unknown. My name, my name, I want my name back. I want myself back. To be alive. I want to be alive. You come on his tongue, first with a shudder and then with a groan, your entire body flushes hot, and it’s a concession of yourself and a door opening, the first vestiges of what the rest of his life will be.

“You’ve got the sweetest little cunt, baby. Goes so tight and wet and fluttery,” he licks up the sticky sweet of your come, runs his tongue over the wet around his mouth, feels it trickle through his beard. “Think I’ll keep you.”

Pulling his shirt up and over his head, he crawls up the length of you, slotting his hips between your damp thighs, pushing his soft pants down his legs as he goes, gathering the small of your wrists in a manacle of his fingers to pin them up above your head. He drapes himself over your body, covering you entirely with his weight and pauses for a moment, nuzzling through the curtain of your hair to get at your ear, your throat, your smell. “Are you going to fight back?” He says soft into the small shell of your ear.

“No, I don’t want to.” You turn your head further to the side, bearing more of your throat to him.

He follows your orders, runs a line of wet kisses up the delicate column, tastes the pulse of your heart and the slope of your shoulder. “Why not?”

“I don’t have it in me. I’m not a fighter, I came from a place where there was always fighting, where I always had to do battle constantly. I don’t have it in me now, anymore, ever.” You turn to face him again, lick at the line of his mouth, suck on his tongue, your hips rolling now against him, his erection slotted between the soaked lips of your cunt, swallowing him in warmth. “But also, because you were right. Because I want you. Because I did take all your choices from you.”

Your words pull a groan, a whimper from him, and he pulls his hips back, presses forward, uncoordinated and slipping against all that slick, hot skin. He lets one of your wrists go, keeps the other trapped above your head. “Fuck– grab my cock,” and he feels the heat of your fragile formed hand wrap around the thick of his cock. An ugly, brutish thing held by perfection. You squeeze gently, twist just barely, and he feels his tip rim puckered skin, hot and round and persistent, probing against you as you try and find the right angle. “I’m gonna ride this cunt – hard. And you’re going to take it just how I give it. And you’re going to beg for more and harder and you’re going to thank me.”

Yes, yes, yes. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel.

You notch the tip of his cock at the wet mouth of your cunt, and then he’s pushing in, saving himself, finding salvation, returning or leaving himself, it doesn’t really matter anymore. He presses in, in, in all the way until he’s sitting hard and heavy and deep inside of you, and he’s sure he can almost feel your heartbeat when he bottoms out, balls pressed to the slick curve of your bottom. Your breaths scratch in whimpers against his ear, his hair fluttering in the wind of your gasps, and your free arm wraps tight around the back of his neck, your hips rolling to take more, impossible, for he’s already deep as he can be, tip to womb. But he shifts his weight, grinds against your cervix and enjoys the sound of your pained moan.

“You feel right there? Where it hurts? That’s where I fuck you full’a my baby, little angel.” And his thoughts are unhinged, his desires full of madness and future and possibility. He pulls his hips back, drops them and shifts his weight forward inside of you. “And right there?” Grinds against your most sensitive spot, “That’s where I make you cream all over my cock.” He pulls his hips back again, focuses the tip of his cock at that desperate place inside of you and with his hand gripping your bottom to the point of pain he pounds into that place over and over again. The slick wet, obscene sound of his cock fucking in and out of your drippig cunt rings in his ears, and he grits thourgh clenched teeth, “Say thank you, say thank you. Beg me for it harder.”

And you’re so good, so good, and all please, Joel. Harder, harder, more. You’re so deep, it’s so good, please, more.

He’s going to fill you up and mark you and keep you for himself, and he bends his head, wraps his mouth around the full and heavy weight of your bouncing tit as he fucks you into orgasm around his cock. Going tight, tight as a fist, so wet it drips down his balls and onto the already soaked sheet of his too small bed, and you come for him the way he’d never let himself fantasize about before. Your moans like a song in his ear, and it’s so fucking good, better than any dream, better than anything the voices in his head or the dancing bear could have ever conjured up. He shifts upwards, anchoring himself above you so that he can look down at you as he fucks down deep into your cunt, cock punching against your womb so that it hurts, so that the look on your face is folding in on itself, but good enough still so that your pussy convulses again in another forced orgasm. He wants to look at you as he fills you with his spend, turns you into something he owns after this.

“Gonna fill you up now– gonna fill you until you’re leakin’ me.” Your hands slide up the soft slope of his stomach, his chest, fingers dragging through the hair there, twisting and pulling on it, up to his face where you cup his chin gently, eye to eye and all wrapped up in your cunt he starts to come, the thick heat of his semen coating your womb while you milk him deeper, every last drop of every last part of him he has to give.

When he’s done he pulls heavy and wet from you, the sight of your swollen red cunt gaping from him, he finally pulls the slick ruined panty hose from your legs, the marks of the too tight elastic leaving brands in your soft skin, he fingers the grooves gently, clicks his tongue at the sight in reproach. The only thing leaving marks in your skin now should be him. He pulls your wrists back into his grip again, and the look on your face is almost melting in submission, soft and spent and sloppy, leaking cunt all covered in him.

He ties each delicate wrist to the iron frame of his bed, tight, he can leave marks here now, you’re all his, and returns his attention to the source of his salvation, ignoring your protests as he eats his own come from your cunt until you’re crying a little too loud to remain undiscovered, coming twice more before he gives you reprieve, but he’s the one taking all your choices now, and you have no say in what happens after this.

He eyes the forgotten keys he’d thrown to the dark corner of his white boxed room, “If you’re not good and quiet, I’ll leave you here for everyone to find, naked and fucked and leakin’ me. Pretty used cunt for the whole world to see, that what you want?”

“No, Joel,” you shake your head, all falsely innocent gaze sparkling up at him.

And he tells you how good you are because the two of you are only going to share truths with each other now, only going to share everything. “I had nothing for so long. Nothing. Not even my own body, not even my own mind. Now I have you, and I won't give you up for anythin’. You’re mine now. They all told me so.”

“Who told you?” You ask softly, but he ignores the question as he draws his clothes back upon himself.

“I find myself so hard to remember and so easy to forget, but you remember me. You said so, and now I’m going to make sure you never forget.” Joel collects the keys and the pearls brought to him for his salvation, the dancing bear is so close now, and wraps your shredded clothes back around you, unties your wrists from the bed only to re-secure them, and hoists you folded over his shoulder for the taking.

Joel lost his daughter, and then he lost his mind, but now he’s found you. And they said it would all be okay now that he’s found you.

The morning after I killed myself, I found the end of my suffering, and at the end of that suffering there was a door – behind that door, I am alive again.

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katareyoudrilling · 6 months

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The Sweepstakes: Dave York (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Porn Star Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve never been able to explore your kinks with a partner. Could a night with a porn star give you that opportunity?

Word count: ~2.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: kink negotiation, some choking and breath play, unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms

A/N: This is rougher sex than I have written before, and I definitely got in my head about it. Please heed the warnings, but also know that it’s still me writing it, no matter how much Dave York tried to say otherwise. The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa. Bonus points to anyone who can guess which performer in particular inspired this one. Enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

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You can’t believe you’re standing in the room you’ve seen so many times on your laptop and phone. White walls, hardwood floor, gauzy white curtains, and most importantly… the bed.

You take a deep, calming breath and wipe your damp palms down your leggings as pace around the room waiting for him to arrive.

It all started when you saw an ad for “The Sweepstakes” advertised on your favorite porn site. It said, “Enter for a chance to win a night with your favorite porn star!” You filled out the form before you could even stop to think about it.

You won and now you wait anxiously for your choice to arrive – Dave York.

You love Dave’s videos. He can go from laughing and flirting to intense and demanding in the blink of an eye. It’s ridiculous how much that dichotomy turns you on.

You don’t feel turned on right now, though. You feel very, very nervous. You take another calming breath just as the doors open and Dave York walks in.

In his more scripted videos, he’s often cast as a businessman, wearing a suit and tie, or maybe just a dress shirt and slacks. In the casual, unscripted ones, he wears all black.

That’s what he’s wearing today.

His black sweater strains across his broad, muscled shoulders. Track pants hang low on his trim waist. He’s clean shaven and his dark hair is short and neat. If it weren’t for the intensity of his gaze, he would probably just look like an average guy.

He’s anything but.

Dave extends his hand to you and introduces himself. You manage to fight through the haze of nerves and arousal to do the same.

“Erin asked me to go over your sexual interest survey with you to make sure we’re on the same page, since your tastes run on the rough side.” His deep, gravelly voice vibrates through your body sending jolts of need to your core. It’s so much better in person than through a tiny phone speaker.

You met with the director, Erin, earlier in the day to sign releases and fill out paperwork related to your sexual history, health, and interests. You even agreed to be filmed for your private use. A chance like this doesn’t come around every day.

You nod and Dave looks down at the papers he’s holding.

“Let’s start with spanking, how hard do you like it?” he asks, warm brown eyes meeting yours.

“I… uhhh…. I don’t actually know,” you stammer. Dave waits patiently for you to continue. “My partners have never been willing to uhh… try things with me.” That’s an understatement. Not only have your partners not been willing, they have looked at you like you were crazy. “I like watching it. I like it when you do it,” you choke out, heat flooding your cheeks as you look anywhere but at him.

Dave sets the papers down on the bed and reaches for you, lifting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.” His hypnotic, liquid chocolate gaze starts to melt the tension you’re holding in your shoulders. “We can try these things and find out if you like them, but you have to talk to me. If you can’t, then we can’t. Can you do that?”

You nod.

“Say it,” he commands, but not unkindly. Heat floods your center.

“I can do that,” you answer, a bit breathlessly.

“If you say no, or stop, or anything else to indicate something isn’t working for you, I will stop immediately. Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he smiles and picks up the paper again. “Let’s talk about breath play.”

A burst of adrenaline floods your body as Dave moves closer to you. Holding your gaze, he lifts his arm and places the heal of his hand against your collarbone. Your heart beats loudly in your ears as he gently wraps his fingers around your throat. You can still breathe normally even as he squeezes gently.

“I will not squeeze harder than this, is this ok?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Good, remember at any time you can tell me to stop, and I will. Now…” he removes his hand from your throat and brings it towards your mouth. “I will only cover your nose and mouth for five seconds at a time, ok?”

“Ok,”

“Let’s practice.”

Staring intently into your eyes, he covers your nose and mouth and counts to five. Your fingers and toes tingle as the adrenaline courses through your body. Dave’s pupils dilate as he watches your reaction.

Five seconds isn’t very long at all, but you gulp in air when he removes his hand. The rush goes straight to your head and you sway towards him. Large hands steady your shoulders.

“How was that? Are you ok?” he asks, his voice husky with his own arousal.

“That was… very good,” you reply shakily. Your pussy is already throbbing, and you’ve barely begun.

“Good,” Dave murmurs. He’s still so close. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, he squeezes your arms before letting his hands drop. “Is there anything else you want?”

“I want…” you take a shaky breath, locked into Dave’s hypnotic gaze, “to be thrown around a little.”

Dave licks his lips, “Fuck yes,” he replies, closing the distance between you. “You want me to use you?” His eyes are as black as his sweater as he crowds your vision. Desire ripples off him in waves. It hits you that he desires you and it and makes your knees weak. You nod, hypnotized by his gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” he practically growls.

You whimper yes and melt into him as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. He’s so intense and overwhelming. God, you hope the cameras are already recording.

Your head swims with arousal as he explores your mouth, pulling you tighter against his broad frame. Your hands fist in his sweater as you fight the urge to climb up his body.

You break apart panting. Dave steps back, his large hands helping keep you steady.

“I have to take this back to Erin,” he swallows and holds up your paperwork, now slightly crinkled from getting crushed between your bodies, “and give you a few minutes to make sure you haven’t changed your mind.”

Dave steps away from you and heads for the door. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before. You lower yourself to sit on the edge of the bed on wobbly legs.

He pauses at the door and turns back to you, “One more question. Are you wearing underwear?”

“No,” you blurt out, surprised. He smirks and leaves the room.

You collapse backwards onto the bed, taking in a deep lungful of air to try to calm down. You’re embarrassingly wet between your legs.

No.

Not embarrassing, you correct yourself.

Just because your previous partners haven’t been open to trying these kinks does not make it embarrassing that you are into them. There wouldn’t be a whole industry devoted to these things if you were the only one. Dave certainly seems to be.

You push yourself back up to sitting. The nerves you felt when you waited for him the first time have burned away in the wake of your arousal. Your knee bounces impatiently as you wait for him to come back.

You pop back onto your feet when you hear the door handle begin to turn. Dave enters the room with a question in his eye. You nod. There is no way you have changed your mind.

He stalks towards you like a jungle cat and pulls you into another kiss, hands cradling your face. He’s less desperate this time, but still eager, confident, demanding.

You allow your hands to run down his sides, over the rippling muscles under his thin sweater. You feel the divot at his hipbone, but instead of trailing down to explore the swell you feel against your abdomen, you slip your hands under his sweater and draw them up his back.

Dave chuckles and breaks the kiss, allowing you to pull his sweater off over his head. You drag your fingers down the smooth, golden skin of his chest. You whimper as your fingers get to the waistband of his pants.

He reclaims your mouth with a curse and turns you, so the backs of your legs knock against the side of the bed. His large hands roam down your body and hitch under your thighs. Before you realize what he’s doing, he lifts you up and tosses you onto the bed.

You squeal as you bounce. But before your bottom hits the bed a second time, Dave whips your leggings down past your ass and pushes your knees into your chest. He dives into your pussy like a man starved.

Your squeals of surprise rapidly turn into moans as his expert tongue sweeps over your throbbing cunt. His question about underwear makes sense now.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the bedding as Dave presses you open and feasts at your core.

All the buildup of being here, discussing your list, and finally getting to kiss and touch the subject of so many of your fantasies has you pulsing against his mouth in no time.

Dave pulls back from you to stand by the bed with a satisfied smirk on his face, pulling your leggings the rest of the way off and tossing them on the floor.

As your orgasm fades, leaving you boneless on the bed, you can’t help the huge smile that spreads across your face, or the laugh that escapes your chest.

“What’s so funny,” Dave watches you from beside the bed, eyes twinkling.

“You just… just…. that was so good and I’m just so glad I’m here,” you smile up at him. You’re no longer nervous. You’re excited to be here and experience all of this with him.

“I’m glad you’re here too.” Dave begins to pull down his track pants and you scramble up and over to him to kneel eagerly at the side of the bed. Now it’s Dave’s turn to laugh. “Do you want something, beautiful?”

You preen internally at the nickname and don’t even bother to hide your enthusiasm.

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Look who has things to say now. I think that orgasm loosened your tongue,” he teases you gently, his eyes flashing with humor and want as he frees the cock you’ve been dreaming about.

He’s so perfect.

You lick your lips and pull your top over your head before lining up to take him in your mouth. Dave hisses as you draw him in. He strokes your cheek and neck as he watches you.

With every flick of your tongue the ache between your legs builds, until you’re moaning around him with every stroke.

You pop off to catch your breath and Dave eagerly claims your mouth. He climbs on the bed, pushing you onto your back and crowding your vision, never taking his mouth of you. He kisses down your neck and nips at your shoulders and breasts as he lines up at your entrance.

“You ready for this cock, beautiful?”

You nod and pull him towards you with your heels.

“So eager for it,” Dave growls as he presses into your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he fills you so perfectly. He plies you with long, firm strokes, pressing you deeper into the mattress, covering your body with his.

He’s all you can see and feel and you melt beneath him, giving yourself over to the force of him. Your orgasm begins to build in the distance, but before it can take hold, Dave rolls the two of you so that you’re now on top.

His hands stroke up your torso, cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples as you adjust to the new angle.

Dave pistons up into you, his abdominal muscles tensing with the effort. His strong hands hold your hips firmly against him. A boldness you’ve never felt before washes over you as you grasp one of his hands and bring it to your throat.

He places his hand exactly as he said he would, at the base of your throat. You lean into him, knowing you are in control and could lean back at any time, but the theoretical danger of it sizzles under your skin. His strong fingers squeeze slightly sending dizzying waves of pleasure through your body.

You stare into his eyes, never breaking contact, as he brings you to the brink. Your clit throbs, seeking the friction of his body, you’re so close to breaking when he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach.

He drags your hips in the air and presses your shoulders down onto the bed as he drives into you and smacks your ass. Your pussy clenches in response.

“You like that don’t you?”

“Yes, oh my god yes,” you babble incoherently.

“I feel that tight pussy grabbing me.” He smacks your ass again for emphasis and you clench around him again.

He is so deep in this position. He thrusts into you slowly, dragging his cock against your sensitive walls, allowing the orgasm to ebb away in favor of slow sensation punctuated with the stinging of his palm.

You press your hips back into him, savoring every thrust and allowing your mind to drift. You are not in control here. He will move you when he’s ready, you don’t have to think, just feel.

Seemingly to prove your point, he pulls out and flips you once again. This time onto your side before pulling you into his chest.

His strong arms band around your hips and shoulders as he enters your slippery cunt from behind. You are at his mercy and nothing has ever made you feel more alive.

He nibbles at your ear as he spews praise and filth under his breath – how good you feel, how wet you are, how he’s going to make you come so hard.

You don’t doubt his promises and when his hand comes up to cover your mouth, all you can do is take and take and take his cock.

You are only need and sensation, unable to move other than how he moves you. Everything else falls away except the white hot pleasure taking over your body. He has edged you over and over and you half expect him to do it again, but this time your climax is barreling towards you at full force.

“Give it to me,” Dave demands in your ear, and you launch off a cliff.

He removes his hand and you gasp for air, sparks clouding your vision. He doesn’t let up as you pulse and scream around him. He presses on your mound, intensifying the waves of pleasure wracking through your body.

He stutters and moans raggedly behind you, emptying himself into your fluttering pussy.

You sag against him, spent and floating. He presses kisses between your shoulder blades and up your neck as he helps disentangle your bodies.

You catch your breath, staring at the ceiling above you and then over at the glistening man next to you.

“That was…. amazing.” A whole new world has been opened to you, and you definitely like it. “Thank you.”

Dave props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you, angular jaw and aquiline nose catching the light of the fading sunset.

“That was just round one, beautiful. You have me all night.” He winks before kissing you once again.

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

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yanderu-deredere · 1 year

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swallow.

★ you don't know what the hell you drank last night but whatever it was, you needed to stay away from it forever. and you needed to get out of here. even if last night was the most perfect night in the world.

a/n: here's that next part that i promised ya'll and it's full of lore and i really enjoyed it a lot! it's definitely something and i hope you guys enjoy it! the next and last part will be out tomorrow so hope you guys are excited for that

like always, heed the warnings and hope you like it! not as smutty as the usual content! might actually be a bit sad...

part one (bite.) ★ part two ★ (chew.) ★ extras (bite and chew.) ★ extras (taste) ★ part three ★ (here) ★ part four (digest.)

pairing: poly werewolves x male reader word count: 2544

warning: bottom reader with male parts and pronoun, no explicit sexual stuff but allusions to what happened in the previous chapter

It felt like you woke up slowly and then all at once; you were vaguely aware of the things around you like the blanket over you, the body against you, the clothes on you, and then, suddenly, it hit you like a truck.

You bolted upright, heart palpitating in your chest, your eyes wide and your breaths coming in short soft spirts.

Then, you were looking behind you, still panicked, hoping everything last night was some sort of fever dream.

Beside you, on the couch, was Leonard, his fluffy hair a messy nest this early in the morning. His glasses were off, probably tucked safely away somewhere. He was yawning and rubbing at his eyes, looking at you all dazed and confused.

Oh, no.

"Wh-Wh-- Leo." You stuttered out before cupping your forehead, your head feeling like it was spinning "Please, tell me, last night--"

"You didn't fuck me within an inch of my life? No can do." Leonard didn't even give it to you slow and soft.

You let out a sound like a dying cat.

"What, don't tell me I was wrong about you." Leonard crossed his arms, looking angry at the fact that you were looking a little anxious "You said you were into guys."

"I'm into guys!" You snapped a little, your panic rising to something you couldn't control "I just-- I have a girlfriend! I hadn't even broken up with her yet! I cheated on her!"

Leonard looked a bit off-put by how you spoke to him; understandable seeing as your tone wasn't exactly friendly.

You wanted to apologise because it wasn't entirely his fault. It took two to cheat and, though he pushed you, you were the one that ended up caving eventually.

Before you could apologise, however, he just huffed and threw a pillow into your lap "Oh yeah, stellar girlfriend you have there! She hasn't even messaged you about where you are and she left you at the bonfire!"

You stopped for a second, confused, your anger dissipating as a nauseating feeling appeared in your stomach "How do you know that?"

Leonard seemed to realise that he made a mistake because his anger dissipated immediately too, replaced with an embarrassed expression "I-I--"

"I'm sorry he went through your phone."

Your head snapped back and you looked to see it was Mel with a tray in his hand. Behind him and to the side was Isamu with a similar tray in his hands too.

"Mel! L-Look, I-I didn't mean to!" Leonard snapped, turning his body away from you "I was just charging your phone and it turned on! There weren't any notifications so I looked through it and checked!"

"What kind of a pathetic girlfriend doesn't even text her boyfriend after he's been gone an entire night?" He continued, shaking his head, his tone absolutely disgusted.

"We wouldn't treat you like that." Leonard added, that disgust made way for a more sheepish expression as he finally glanced at you, hoping you would pick up what he was putting down.

You could, if you wanted to and, honestly, a part of you did. But you were scared to. So, instead, your eyes flickered to Mel, hoping he'd help you out.

Mel was just sternly looking at Leonard.

"Here, we made breakfast." Mel pushed the coffee table close with his shin before placing the trays down, Isamu placing his tray down right after.

Then, Isamu sat on the floor while Mel sat on the other side of you, the two of them looking at you expectantly, like they were excited for you to praise them.

The two trays contained four plates of waffles, each with butter. There was also a little thing for maple syrup and honey as well as a glass of orange and apple juice for each of you.

Then, if that wasn't enough, there were some eggs on the plates too and some bacon. It was a whole buffet, just for you. The cheater. The person who was going to leave them and go crawling back to your girlfriend.

You immediately felt bad "This is too much--"

"It's not too much! Especially after last night!" Isamu quickly interrupted you as he sat beside you, small smile on his face.

You felt your heart break a little bit in your chest but you knew you had to nip this in the bud or else you'd just end up leading them all on.

"I'm sorry, but last night-- I was drunk, and it was a mistake--"

"A mistake!" Leonard stood, his expression aghast like you'd just told him you murdered his parents "It wasn't a mistake! How could you-- Why would you--"

Mel held up a hand and Leonard immediately shut up but you could see that there were tears in his eyes that he was desperately holding back.

"I can see that there's some communication issues going on, okay, so let me just clear the air." Mel sighed, his hand still up like, if he put it down, Leonard would immediately pounce "He didn't mean it was a mistake like that, Leo, you know that."

"He just feels really guilty about cheating with his girlfriend, right?" Mel turned to you, that polite smile on his face not exactly reaching his eyes "If you didn't have a girlfriend right now, you would stay with us, wouldn't you?"

You gulped, your mouth suddenly feeling a little dry. You took a second to think about it. In all honesty? You nodded, cheeks feeling suddenly a little hot.

"You all are really great and I had a great time. It was really fun talking with you guys and drinking with you guys and the-- uhmmm--" Your voice cracked as you got even more flustered "The sex was really great, I swear!"

Mel grinned, that brightness finally reaching his eyes. He reached over and clapped a hand on the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin "Our darling here is just loyal to a fault, is all. Can we really blame him for that?"

Darling. You flushed even hotter at the nickname.

Like all the hot air was taken out of him, Leonard deflated, his shoulders sagging as he sighed "Whatever. Your girlfriend doesn't deserve it."

"You're right, Leo." Mel's hand on your neck fell and he used it to grab something. You realised it was your phone because he plopped it in your lap. "That's why he's going to break up with her right now."

You felt like ice water was dumped all over you.

"D-Du-Dump her? Right now?" You stuttered out as you looked to Mel, eyes wide and shaking fingers slowly taking hold of your phone.

You could see Isamu looking at you hopefully and Leonard smirking victoriously at you from the corners of your eye but all you could do was stare at Mel.

There was that polite smile again, the one that he used to cover up something much darker. It showed in his eyes; it was something predatorial, something that made you feel like a pinned insect, something that made you feel like you were in danger.

"I-I can't just break up with her." Your brain worked to find excuse after excuse, your instincts screaming at you to get out and run "I-I'd at least like to break up with her in person. She deserves that much."

Then, for some reason, you broke his gaze and looked down at your lap. When Mel sighed, you knew it had been a mistake to look away.

Instead of replying, Mel cupped your chin, his thumb and forefinger digging into your cheek a little bit. He tilted your head up so you were looking at him again and that polite smile that you were so wary of was gone.

Instead, it was replaced with that dark look he had that night, when he had Isamu in his lap. You felt less like an insect and more like a small rabbit surrounded by a bunch of wolves.

A bunch of hungry rabid wolves that wanted nothing but to chase you.

"You know we can't do that." Mel let the words out slowly, like he was speaking to an idiot or, perhaps, like it was hard for him to say "We can't let you leave for right now, darling."

"Wh-Why not?" You felt a zing of fear crawl up your spine as you tried to pull your face away from his hand. Instead of really succeeding, his grip on you just got harder.

"You have to understand that we just want what's best for you, darling. You understand that, don't you?" Mel spoke softly, soothingly, but the words weren't effective when he looked at you like that.

Like he could eat you without regret.

But, still, you tried your hardest to remember him yesterday, the way he took care of you and housed you. So, you nodded.

When you did, he let go of your chin and pulled you in by your waist, perching you on his lap.

As soon as he did that, Leonard and Isamu crowded close, the expressions on their faces akin to ravenous wolves.

It was like a trigger had been pulled and now there was something to how they were acting. You didn't understand it very well but you felt both scared and safe trapped in between all three of them.

"Why don't I explain while Sam and Leo feed you, hmmm, puppy?" Mel nosed behind your ear, his breath warm and causing your ears to turn hot.

You didn't think you had any say in it but you nodded for show anyway.

Mel looked thankful for that at least.

You thought that, when he said feed you, he meant like with a fork or something, However, Isamu and Leonard took turns ripping bite sized pieces off of the waffles and soaking them in syrup to feed you. With their hands.

You accepted them, even going so far as to lick their fingers feebly, since you felt like you didn't have much of a choice. And it seemed to placate all three of them too.

They didn't look as wolfish as before, that was for sure.

"You might not believe me but please keep your mind open." Mel sighed as if he'd had this conversation one too many times before "You see, the reason we can't let you leave is because... we're werewolves."

You stiffened in his lap. And not in the fun way.

Now, your previous wolfish comparisons felt like jokes.

Leonard snickered at your reaction, obviously amused before stuffing another piece of a waffle accompanied by a small piece of bacon into your mouth.

Mel was less amused and pressed a kiss to your temple "I know it's-- It's not exactly easy to believe. But, it's true. We're werewolves and you're our mate."

"It's why you can't leave. We won't be able to control ourselves if you try to leave." Mel continued to explain, his hand flexing around your waist as if just the thought of it made him angry or scared or something.

"It's worse for Leo. He's not had that much training." Mel hesitantly let go of your waist to run a hand through Leonard's blonde fluffy hair "His parents paraded him around in a circus. It took him a long time to find us. He hasn't had much time to learn control."

"So, what, the wolf--"

"No, not the wolf. Us." Mel immediately dismissed that thought "I know, the media promotes this idea that the wolf and the human are separate but it's not-- we're not two separate beings in one brain. We're werewolves. We're one thing."

"It's just that, when we shift, it's like being inebriated, you know? We can't control ourselves." Mel sighed, pressing his cheek against your temple "It becomes all instinct to try and help our shifted bodies to survive."

You had enough of this. You know you you said you'd keep your mind open but this was ridiculous.

Still, you supposed you owed them for housing you for a night and for, you know, hopefully eventually leading you out of the forest.

So, you gave them the benefit of your doubt "Can I see?"

It was their turn to stiffen and stare at you with shock.

"What, you seriously didn't think you'd tell me about werewolves and I wouldn't ask to see?" You huffed, crossing your arms and looking at them like they were the crazy ones.

Mel nodded like 'yeah, that made sense' but, when he looked to Isamu, the man shrunk back and shook his head like Mel was volunteering him for the War or something.

"N-No way! No way! I-I can't! I can't!" Isamu stuttered out, the panic obvious in his voice "I can't control it, not around him!"

"Well, Leonard definitely can't... You have better control--" Mel moved his hand to cup the back of Isamu's neck but Isamu moved away, shocking both you and Mel.

Leonard looked like you pissed in his cereal "That's not true! I could totally control myself!"

Mel shook his head, sigh ragged "No, you're going to end up hurting someone--"

You turned in Mel's lap and looked up at him "Why don't you do it?"

Isamu and Leonard audibly gasped and Mel looked at you like you'd suggested he cut off his dick or something. The grimace on his face would've been hilarious if it weren't for the fact that it was confusing.

"I'm-- It's not the same for me. I'm not like Sam and Leo." Mel tried to pull you back against him but you resisted, obviously displeased. "Darling, I don't want you to see me like that."

When they all looked at you like you were the crazy one, you just let out a loud noise of frustration "You get why I'm angry, right? You're telling me all of this unbelievable stuff and then, when I ask you to prove it, you won't!"

"You just keep making up excuses why you can't prove it! How can I believe you then?" You finally fought your way out of Mel's grasp, your phone in your hand as you stood, your face hot but this time with anger.

You were tired of being left to their whims! You were tired of letting them decide everything. You were tired of being scared of Mel, of being intimidated by how beefy and sexy they were.

"I'm sorry, but I just-- I think you're crazy!" You screamed, stomping your foot as a show that you were putting your foot down.

Mel looked at you sadly, like you were about to make the worst mistake of your life "Please, darling, don't."

Part of you felt like you were. The part of you that enjoyed them doting on you, that enjoyed their attention and their affection, that enjoyed the fantasy they offered you, wanted to believe them.

But the other part of you overtook that. The other part of you knew that these three were just crazy and you needed to wake up from this weird dream.

"If you won't help me find my way out of the forest, I'll just find my way out! Fucking keep playing this weird freak fantasy of yours for all I care." You stomped to the door "I need to get to my girlfriend."

Freak. Fantasy. Girlfriend.

Oh, no.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #oc x reader #male oc #male werewolf x reader #werewolf oc x reader #werewolf x reader #chaptered #melchior #isamu #leonard

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biblical-sense-and-sensibility · 8 months

Text

Whispers on the Water

A lesbian faefucker adventure

It had been nearly a year since she had moved in with her grandmother to care for her in her old age, taking over what once was the spare bedroom in the woman’s almost cottage-like dwelling on the edge of the swamp. She had always found her grandmother’s home to be a very cosy space, all tucked away from the main road with vines of jasmine overtaking the outer walls and the gentle sounds of nature always playing in the background. It was peaceful out here by the swamp, and all the fond memories of childhood visits came back to the forefront of her mind as she settled in. Her grandmother’s warning was the same thing it had always been: don’t go into the swamp. Why not, she refused to say, but her granddaughter had always heeded the warning.

Except, the older she got, the harder it became to resist the call.

She hadn’t told anyone about the call, although her grandmother definitely knew something she wasn’t sharing with the rest of the class, so to speak. From the first visit she ever remembered all throughout her childhood, every time she had been to her grandmother’s house she felt the swamp calling to her, beckoning her closer, trying its best to lure her in. It wanted her to get her feet wet, let the water wash over her like an embrace and caress her, to touch her hands to the bark of the great cypress trees. When she was a teenager she started having dreams of the swamp, and even sometimes back home in the city the swamp would call to her in her sleep across all that distance, and whenever she awoke from one of these dreams it left her for the rest of the day with a strange sort of melancholic nostalgia, an almost physical longing for the lazy blink of the lightning bugs reflected in the murky water, unable to stop thinking about the feeling the swampy air left on her skin, the phantom smell of azaleas in her hair every time she turned her head, haunting her with a bone-deep ache, a bone-deep need for the gentle curtains of Spanish moss framing the fringes of her vision and the gentle lap of liquid against her bare skin. The dreams, and the pull to the swamp that accompanied them in her waking hours, left such vivid impressions in her psyche - she could practically feel the sensations of that peacefully eerie scene as if she actually stood at the edge of the water, even all the way back in her air-conditioned bedroom in the city.

She had had the dream every single night since she moved in with her grandmother, and finally the pull toward the swamp grew too strong to ignore. The serene, lethargic pool invited her closer, closer, let me touch you, let me caress you, let me envelop you. Finally one day she lost the battle, unable to resist any longer, and went and rented a canoe to take out on the water while her grandmother laid down for a nap. Tremblingly she put one foot in then the other, the boat rocking slightly as she shifted her weight, and then she took off, not entirely certain of any purpose or goal but to explore, to weave in and out of the cypress trees and listen to the insistent buzz of the cicadas. Some of the Spanish moss hung so low that it tickled the top of her head as she made her way through the trees, her oar making gentle swishing sounds as she dipped it in the water, and the further in she got, the greater grew the sense of peace that descended upon her. Being in the swamp felt so right.

She felt like maybe she should have been concerned when the sounds of cicadas buzzing and wind ruffling the leaves and other little noises stopped altogether, leaving her ears ringing in the silence, but she couldn’t find it in her to be all that worried about the lack of activity; she was content, almost sleepy, and the quiet did not bother her.

Her boat bumped upon land - a little island in the middle of the swamp. Intrigued, she pulled herself all the way onto the shore and disembarked, exploring the place. An alligator sat on a rock, pure black, and when it saw her approaching it stood up and began to walk away; she could have sworn it beckoned with its head for her to follow.

So she did.

It disappeared behind a fallen tree, and when she walked around the whole length of the thing and to the other side a woman-like being of some sort sat atop the trunk, a soft smile on its face.

“You’re late,” it said in a croaking voice, and when it opened its mouth it revealed crooked white alligator teeth. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to keep people waiting?”

It took a while for the spirit’s words to register; she was too busy taking the sight of it in - pitch-black eyes, hair of Spanish moss, skin a rich brown like the soil beneath their feet with arms and legs that became rough and dark with alligator scales, its hands clawed and its feet more reptilian than human, with a thick tail sprouting from its lower back. It was naked, one hand playing idly with the Spanish moss between its legs, muscular arm crushed against a full breast with a dark, erect nipple. She roused herself. “Umm. What?”

“Oh, my darling,” the creature stood and walked with outstretched arms over to her, caressing her cheek with the back of a scaly hand. “Why did it take you so long to answer my call?”

“Y-your call?”

It smiled again, “I know you heard it. I know you received the dreams I sent you. And yet you did not come.”

“That was you?” Her brows furrowed, and she put her own hand atop the one the creature had rested on her cheek.

“It was, my darling,” the spirit confirmed, stroking her cheek with its thumb and bringing its other hand up to her shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.”

The spirit’s grip was strong, but not necessarily painful, and she swallowed, “Why were you calling me?”

“You never guessed?” It sighed. “Oh, my love . . . ” and it kissed her. Short, sweet, a pause, then again, with its tongue this time, and she groaned into its mouth, entwining her arms around its neck. Its hair was soft and fluffy, claws sending pleasant shivers up her spine as they raked lightly up and down her back, eventually dipping underneath her blouse to avoid snagging the fabric. The soft black scales of its palms were cool and smooth against her skin, dry and silky and gliding so easily down her stomach, down her ribs, pushing down the waistband of her skirt. She gasped for air as the creature took its lips from hers and trailed them, feather-light and teasing, down her jaw and throat, nuzzling its face into the dip of her shoulder, squeezing a nipple between sharpened teeth ever so delicately, the careful pressure sending shivers down her spine and a trembling sigh from her parted lips. Adrenaline burst through her system deliciously, and she tightened her fingers in a fistful of hair in response, almost involuntarily arching up into its mouth. It trailed its claws down her back, ass, thighs, threading through her pubic hair; the pad of one satiny thumb pressed directly on her clit, and she gasped, tears springing to her eyes from the intensity and suddenness of the sensation - she felt the spirit smile on her chest.

“Darling,” it crooned against her sternum, stroking her ass gently as it continued to rub circles into her clit, grinning into her skin as she writhed underneath its ministrations, hands raking through soft strands of Spanish moss. Its other thumb found its way to her suddenly very wet opening, and it laid her down against the fallen tree as it slid in, biting her other tit to her almost whimper-like moan as her eyes fluttered shut. It massaged her entrance for a bit, then jammed two fingers in up to the knuckle, pressing right against her G-spot, and she choked out an even louder moan, chest heaving. She had never blushed this hard - she had never felt this good. Her cheeks throbbed with the rush of blood from her pounding heart as the creature kissed her nipple again softly and relaxed its hand, sliding its fingers in and out of her more slowly, more gently, pressing lazy strokes with the other hand across her lips, over the clitoral hood, through her pubic hair, then back down, back and forth. She swallowed and closed her eyes, writhing against the trunk of the tree, pinned in place by the spirit’s hands, not literally, necessarily, but with the sheer pleasure of it, the overwhelmingly sweet sensation. Its hair was so soft as she ran her fingers through the curly strands of Spanish moss, guiding its head across her throat and breasts trembling and pliant as the rest of her was, wracked by sluggishly moving waves of euphoria, washing in and out, in and out, like the lazy shore of the swamp, like the languid thrusts into her throbbing cunt. It built slowly this time, the creature being more careful and deliberate in its movements, until finally it spilled over like one drop too many dripping into a glass, and she gave a loud cry, arching up off of the tree as she clenched around scaly fingers before her whole body relaxed, come dripping down her leg and the back of the spirit’s hand. It let her catch her breath as the aftershocks washed over her, kissing her breasts and stomach gently as it stroked her thighs, and she slid onto the cool earth with a sigh, running trembling hands down its back as she looked into the sky, fading with the first hint of orange sunset.

“My love,” it sighed again, and she pulled it in for another kiss, stroking the base of its tail as she did so. It groaned into the touch, vibrating against her swollen lips, and before she knew what she was doing she had pushed it onto the ground and spread its legs, diving between them with a little half-growl.

The noises it made were delicious.

She stuck her tongue as deep up its slit as she could get it, scooping up its slick without a care in the world; it tasted like citrus and grass with a kick that made her whole mouth tingle and sent a spark shooting down her throat straight to her clit, making her clench her fingers tighter into smooth dark flesh, and the claws in her hair tightened in response. The little bush of Spanish moss tickled her forehead ever so slightly as she ran her mouth up and down every fold and crease she could get her tongue into, to delightful little croaks and bellows that rumbled down the creature’s torso almost like a purr. Its powerful alligator tail flicked like a twitching nerve, whipping the backs of her legs in a strangely pleasant way as it thrashed back and forth, thumping against the earth with every little whimper that came out of its mouth in between the more beastly sounds it made. When it finished, they sat back in the earth together, her face resting between its breasts, and closed their eyes.

When she awoke, it was morning.

She sat up with a gasp, calling out, “Grandma!”

The spirit sat up to see what was the matter, watching her search frantically for her clothes. “What is it, darling?”

“I only meant to be gone an hour or two, I left my grandmother alone all night!”

It simply watched her as she dressed herself.

The spirit escorted her, hand-in-hand, to where she had left the rented canoe, and as she got in it said, “You must come back soon, my darling.”

“How will I find this place again?” she asked.

“Trust in the water,” the spirit smiled. “My magic will guide you. I will see you soon, my love.”

“Goodbye,” she smiled back, and it kissed her one last time before pushing her boat into the water.

She thought, occasionally, that she saw a black alligator surface alongside the boat.

When she got home, her grandmother was at the table drinking coffee, a shawl pulled around her shoulders. “There you are!” she said as she caught sight of her granddaughter. “Where in the world have you been, young lady? You were gone when I woke up from my nap, and you didn’t come home for dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Grandma,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to be out that long.”

“You didn’t go into the swamp, did you?”

Silence.

“Did you?”

A very quiet, “Yes.”

Her grandmother sighed through her nose, a long sigh, and took a sip of coffee.

“What do you know about the swamp, Grandma? Why don’t you want me to go near it?”

“Sit down,” the old woman gestured, and her granddaughter obeyed. She gathered her thoughts, then began, “I suppose it’s about time I tell you this. You see, when I was a girl, my older sister had a friend who was fascinated by the swamp. She told us she felt as if the swamp was calling to her. We all told her not to go in the swamp, our parents told her not to go in the swamp, it was dangerous, she could get lost, she could drown, she could get eaten by an alligator, she could get her boat caught on something and get stuck and be unable to call for help. But she didn’t listen. She went often into the swamp; at first it was only for an hour or two at a time, but then she started disappearing for longer stretches of time, even a few days, and eventually one day she went into the swamp and just . . . never came back. People went out searching for her, but they never found her, no living girl, no body, not even her boat. Eventually they pronounced her dead, although we never came to a satisfactory conclusion on what had happened to her; it was like she had ceased to exist altogether. My sister was convinced that the call she heard came from the spirit of the swamp, and that her friend had been killed by this swamp fairy. But we’ll never know. But what I do know is that the swamp is dangerous, and I don’t want to lose you like we lost that girl.”

It was silent for a bit.

“What did you see in the swamp?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged, her heart beating faster at the lie. “Water and trees and Spanish moss.”

“No swamp fairies?”

She laughed. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“All right, dearie.”

So she did.

The very next day, she left to go take a walk while her grandmother was visiting with a friend and wandered back to where she had left the canoe, bringing it again to the water’s edge. Trust in the water, the spirit had said. So she let the boat go with the languid current, and she found her way again to the island, and there the creature was, waiting for her.

“My darling,” it smiled with open arms, greeting her with a gratuitous kiss. She began to speak, but it shushed her, taking her by the hands and leading her to a bed of soft moss, laying her down to a peal of sweet kisses, unbuttoning her shirt as it went. Its sharp-toothed grin at the discovery that she wore nothing underneath sent her heart aflutter, and she sighed at is ran its fangs teasingly along her tit, swirling its tongue around her nipple and hiking her skirt up to her stomach to reveal her bare pussy ready and waiting; it flicked her clit eagerly, and she sighed again, bringing a hand up to tug softly at the creature’s nipple as her eyes fluttered closed.

It bit her breast, clenching its jaws just barely not tight enough to break the skin, but tight enough to sting deliciously and push a little whimpering moan past her lips as it swung one leg over her hip, smooth reptile armour sliding sensually across her bare flesh. It did the same to her other tit, then licked into her mouth with a fury that made her groan in earnest as it rocked softly against her, causing a delightful friction between their legs, and they bounced softly in the springy moss. She threaded her fingers through the spirit’s hair and hooked one leg around its back, on top of its tail, teasing its scaly ass with her foot as it crushed her breasts against its palms. They were both dripping with pleasure at this point, their slick making everything slide together so deliciously as the creature’s tail went thump, thump against the ground, those same croaking bellows rumbling pleasantly in its throat and chest, almost soothing, especially paired with the way they rocked back and forth. It refused to take its mouth from hers, not that she would have let it go, her hands tangled tightly in the Spanish moss of its hair, and everything turned slow and warm.

They came at the same time, then the creature relaxed on top of her, its head on her heaving breasts, and she reached a trembling hand up to stroke its hair as they caught their breaths together, the creature’s tail still softly twitching against her legs.

Eventually she piped up, “Do you have a name?”

“I have many names and no name,” the spirit shrugged, sitting up and getting off of her to allow her to do the same. “I am simply the swamp,”

“Well, that’s fancy,” she laughed, hugging her knees to her chest. “What does that mean?”

The spirit shrugged again. “You could call me after the swamp, I suppose, but the essence that is this being you see was never given a name.”

“Could I give you a name?”

“If you like,” it smiled, pulling her in for a kiss, smooth scales sliding around her waist. “But do we need names?”

“Hmm,” it had successfully distracted her with those claws trailing lightly across her ribs - but not entirely. “My grandmother knew a girl who disappeared into the swamp,” she said. “Do you know what happened to her?” and she told the story.

The creature sighed through its nose, stroking its own thigh as it thought.

“Do you know where she is?”

“I do,” it smiled. “She is me.”

“What?”

“A part of me, at least.”

“What do you mean she’s a part of you?”

The creature pulled her into its lap, threading its reptilian fingers through her hair as she relaxed into it. “Every hundred years or so, I must renew my powers, or the swamp may falter.”

“How do you renew your powers?”

“I must absorb a willing life into my own.”

“Like . . . you kill them?”

“No,” it shook its head. “We merge our essences into one, and she becomes one with the swamp, another piece of the composite being that I am. The girl your grandmother knew, she lives on, in a way. Her legacy of preserving this magic is her survival, even if she no longer exists in a form recognisable as her. When you look at me, my darling, you look into the eyes of the swamp itself, shining with the light of thousands of women who loved it enough to dedicate their lives to it.”

She pondered for a beat, indeed studying the spirit’s pitch-black eyes. “Will you do that to me?”

“If you like,” it winked. “But it won’t be necessary for me to do so for another few years; your grandmother’s friend will sustain the swamp for a little while longer.”

“Okay,” she reached up to push its hair out of its face. “So, why did you call me, then?”

It chuckled softly “Why do you think, my love?” and it pulled her in for a kiss.

It felt so nice, the slide of its scales against her bare skin, the keen drag of alligator teeth along her throat, the tail thumping against her legs as it pushed her down on her back again and dove between her thighs like a prayer, that guttural growl vibrating directly against her clit and making her moan, unabashed, unashamed, uninhibited, just pure pleasure in the moment and not another care in the world. They made such pretty music together, the two of them, little wet sounds of its tongue slipping in and out of her cunt and her soft moans set against the backing track of its rumbling bellows. It pinned her in place with scaly hands, claws digging lightly into the flesh of her stomach, and she hiked one leg up over the creature’s shoulder, rocking up into its impossibly soft lips, her own dull fingers grasping for purchase on the spongy moss, eyes closed in bliss. Her cheeks felt so warm, next to the cool of its scales, her rapid heartbeat throbbing in her face, her bits, her tits, and before she knew what was happening she was clenching around its tongue with a loud cry, then she deflated, going limp like a wet rag, breasts trembling weakly as she caught her breath, reaching a shaky hand up to rest on the head of the spirit which migrated up her torso with a trail of sticky kisses, pinching one nipple delicately between its teeth.

Then suddenly its breasts were in her face, and she opened her mouth like an obedient toddler, sucking softly at woody flesh which tasted of salt and grass and something almost smoky, those claws running encouragingly down her cheeks and shoulders.

“Oh, my darling,” the spirit breathed, rocking gently as it straddled her hips.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. The whole world was just the two of them on this island in the middle of the swamp, embracing each other as the lightning bugs slowly began to blink to life against the setting sun.

#monsterfucker #faefucker #fae fucker #monster fucker #nsft #monster lover #lesbian

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lunaflowers · 9 months

Text

and now you're mine (yandere!kai)

pairing: yandere!kai x reader word count: 3.6k genre: smut, angst, yandere warnings: yandere behavior, extremely dubious consent, noona kink, piv, yn has issues, references to stalking, kind of switch leaning dom kai?, some pussy eating, drugging, obsession, mental manipulation, dirty talk, a bit of mommy kink, kidnapping, some degradation and name calling

synopsis: kai has finally got you right where he wants you a/n: this is a yandere story, meaning it contains many dark elements. please heed the warnings and don't read this fic if this type of content makes you uncomfortable. i do not condone the behavior exhibited in this fic and i don't believe the member featured would either.

☆*: .｡. o🖤o .｡.:*☆

It wasn’t that you weren’t attracted to Kai, you definitely were. His extraordinarily handsome face with those full lips and strong jawline combined with his perfect body would’ve made you swoon at any other time but right now you just weren’t in the headspace for it. You’d just been dumped by your long term boyfriend (after you’d caught him cheating) a few weeks ago and your friends had pressured you to go on this date to get you out of the funk you’d been in since then. You had always had terrible luck with men and you were honestly on the verge of giving up on the male sex altogether. “The best way to get over a man is to get under another one,” your best friend had said, her best effort to convince you to meet Kai.

“Noona, what’s going on? Do you not feel well?” Kai looked at you concerned from across the table, his forehead kneaded and his lips in a slight pout. You must’ve zoned out while he was talking and you felt horrible as soon as you realised. You didn’t know Kai very well seeing as he was a co-worker of your friend’s but he seemed super sweet and he didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

“I’m sorry, Kai,” you said, giving him a small smile. “I’m just not feeling up for this. It’s nothing to do with you, I promise. You’ve been wonderful. I’m just not ready to date again and I shouldn’t have let myself be pressured into this. I’ve wasted both of our time. I should leave.”

You waited for his reaction and to your surprise he didn’t look angry or annoyed like most men would. Instead he gave you a smile and replied, “It’s okay. I understand. How about we have one more drink and then I take you home?”

You were relieved at his words but truthfully, you didn’t want to stay for one more drink. You wanted to go home, get into bed, and maybe watch Netflix before passing out, but you felt like it was the least you could do for him for being so understanding.

As the waitress brought the two of you another rum and coke each, you eyed Kai up and down. You definitely would’ve been all for this if you weren’t so hung up on your ex. You sipped your drink and continued chatting pleasantly with Kai. It wasn’t until about half way through your last drink that you began to feel a little woozy. You rested your head in your hands and closed your eyes, trying to keep your breathing even.

“Noona? What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay. I just probably shouldn’t have had that last drink. I really need to go now.” You tried to stand up, but a wave of dizziness made you sit right back down again.

“It’s okay,” Kai said, his voice soft and reassuring. “I’ll get you home.”

Kai got up and walked over to you. He gently helped you into a standing position. He had his arm around you and you were leaning almost your entire body weight on to him. He led you out of the bar and down the street.

“Kai,” you said, a bit sluggishly, “I live the other way.”

“I’m taking you to my place. It’s way nearer. Just until you sober up.”

You weren’t really in any type of position to argue so you allowed Kai to guide you to his apartment which was surprisingly close, just a few short minutes away. It was a walk up, above a shabby Thai restaurant and Kai had to carry you up the stairs. As soon as you got into his apartment, he sat you down on the couch. You were feeling worse than ever, not even able to take in the sparse surroundings, dizzy as well as sleepy.

Before you could say a word, Kai handed you a glass of water. You didn’t even know when he’d gotten it. “Drink up. This should help.”

You chugged half the glass of water down at once, feeling surprisingly thirsty as soon as he handed it to you. And he was right, drinking it did make you feel slightly better. “Thanks Kai. I really owe you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m not usually such a lightweight.” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes and he was wearing an unreadable expression on his face. You raised the glass of water to your lips again but Kai pulled it away from you, spilling some in the process.

“That’s enough,” Kai said, and you looked up at him in confusion. “Actually, noona, I’m kind of mad at you,” he said, to your surprise.

“What? Mad?”

“Yeah,” he set the half empty glass on the coffee table loudly. “I was really looking forward to tonight and you couldn’t even stop obsessing over that loser ex of yours long enough to give me a real shot.”

“I’m sorry?” You were completely baffled at what was coming out of his mouth. You wondered if you were maybe misunderstanding what he was saying. Why would he be acting like this?

“It was rude, noona. You were rude to me. I think you owe me a proper apology.”

Your head still felt heavy but you felt weirdly alert now. You knew that you were in an unsafe situation and all you wanted to do was get out of here. “I’m sorry, Kai. I should’ve been more respectful of your time. It was rude of me, like you said. I should leave now and not waste even more of your time. I’ll just call a cab and get out of here… Wait, where’s my phone?”

You looked around yourself and couldn’t find it. You couldn’t see your purse either. Had he taken them? Kai knelt down in front of you and grabbed your jaw gently, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Words mean nothing. You need to show me how sorry you are.” Kai said.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. “How would I do that?”

“You’re a smart woman. I know you know what I want.” As he said this, his eyes wandered over your body and you felt utterly disgusted at the realisation that hit you.

“I’m not going to fuck you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Are you insane?”

“Noona,” Kai said with a sigh, “I’m not going to let you leave here until you give me what I want.”

Your anger got the better of you and you slapped him across the face but he barely flinched. You realised now that he must’ve put something in that last drink of yours so that you would end up here with him, unable to fight back. The lethargy from whatever he’d drugged you with had made it so you couldn’t even defend yourself.

The slap seemed to have amused him and annoyed him simultaneously. He grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you down on the couch, getting on top of you. “You know what your problem is, noona? You’re a snob.”

“No…” you tried to protest but Kai covered your mouth with his hand, shutting you up.

“You are. You think you’re too good for me,” he said, almost sadly, his pout prominent. “Why? Is it because you make more money than me? Because I don’t live in a nice apartment like you? Because you’re older than me?”

He lifted his hand off your mouth and looked at you like he really wanted a response. “I don’t think I’m better than you, Kai, I swear. I’m just tired and want to go home.”

“Liar. And you’re not going home yet. I’m going to make you feel so good, I promise. Not that you deserve it.”

“Stop it, Kai,” you protested, but he didn’t seem to care. He had already pushed his hand up your dress and underneath your panties. As he touched your cunt, you both gasped.

“Hairless,” he said, smirking. “See? You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t want me. But it’s okay noona, I don’t mind if you don’t wax either.”

He was talking like a crazy person. You had no idea that Kai was like this and you were getting more frightened by each passing second.

You slapped him again and this time he pinned your hand down, looking at you with those doe eyes. “I don’t like that. Please don’t make me hurt you. I really, really don’t want to hurt you. I only want to make you feel good. Okay?” He bent down and kissed you on the cheek, moving his way to your lips. You turned your head away and he grabbed you by the jaw again and forced a kiss on your mouth. Tears sprang to your eyes and you blinked them away. You didn’t want to show that kind of weakness in front of Kai.

“Don’t fight me,” he said gently. He had softened considerably from earlier as though he really was trying to keep you calm now. “Please.” He began pulling at your dress, trying to take it off.

“Noo… Please,” you begged, but your protests fell on deaf ears. Kai was so singularly determined to have you it seemed that there was nothing that you could do or say that was going to stop him. It was exhausting. You didn’t feel like fighting anymore. He was just too big and too strong and you were so tired. It was just so much easier to surrender to his will. You let him pull off your dress, leaving you in only your bra and panties sprawled out on his couch.

Kai looked you up and down and whistled, his lopsided smile coming over his features. “You’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be. I don’t know how that’s possible.” He leaned down and kissed you again on the lips, more passionately this time, and you didn’t resist him. Despite your reservations, Kai was an excellent kisser and it felt good to be kissed again, to be desired again. You kissed him back automatically.

“Just be gentle with me, okay?” You said, as he broke the kiss.

He looked at you with eyes that were full of lust and you felt yourself clench involuntarily. Kai was undeniably sexy and as much as you hated yourself for it, you felt yourself growing wetter by the second. The panties you were wearing were white cotton, certainly not your sexiest, but they were already soaked through to the point that Kai could see your pussy.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants and it was all he could do not to devour you then and there. He’d been fantasising about this moment for so long, stroking his cock as he did so. Now that you were really here, almost naked underneath him, he thought he was going to burst. He knew he needed to calm down before he entered you. The idea of cumming his pants now that he was finally going to have you would be too humiliating to bear. Besides, he’d promised he’d make you feel good.

Kai took a few breaths, trying to think neutral thoughts while unhooking your bra and taking it off. He thought of what he’d eaten for breakfast that morning, about washing the dishes and putting them away, anything other than how fucking delicious you looked right now. Slowly, he pulled down your panties, savouring the moment your cunt was truly revealed to him.

As soon as he saw it, he knew he had to taste you. He couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to. He threw your panties to the ground and held your legs open. He leaned down and latched his mouth onto your cunt, giving your clit a lick. You squirmed as he did this but his grip on your legs kept them wide open.

“You taste so fucking good,” he said, licking his bottom lip. “Here, taste.” He kissed you on the mouth so you could taste your own arousal on his tongue. It was so erotic, tasting yourself mixed with his saliva. Kai made his way down your neck and to your breasts, biting and sucking on the way, being sure to leave marks. When he got to your nipple, he drew a circle on it with his tongue before beginning to suck on it as well. As his teeth grazed your areola, you yelped in pain but he didn’t stop. He bit it, just hard enough for you to yelp again.

“Kai… That hurts…” you moaned out.

“But you like it,” he smirked.

You did. Kai knew you more than you thought he could and you weren’t sure if you were alarmed or aroused by the thought of it.

“I need to fuck you now, noona,” Kai said suddenly, like he couldn’t hold back anymore. He took off his shirt to reveal his perfectly chiselled body and you couldn’t help but bite your lip a little. Fuck, he was sexy. He stood up to pull off his pants and underwear, and you admired his gorgeous body. Why did you have to find him so damn attractive?

He took his cock in his hand and gave it a few strokes. He was already rock hard but was getting himself ready for you. He knelt down between your legs and used his cock to tease your pussy lips, savouring the feel of the wetness on his tip.

“You want me to put it in?” He asked, making eye contact with you. He wanted you to want it, to beg for it, even.

“Yes please, Kai,” you replied, spreading your legs open further to his delight. “I want your cock so bad. Please put it in.”

He grinned as pushed himself into you slowly, eliciting a moan from you both. God, he just felt so good filling you up. Hearing you moan with pleasure from something he was doing almost enough to make him cum right there on the spot but he was able to hold firm, closing his eyes and going through the inane motions of his day again. He began moving within you, slowly, hoping to build up a steady pace that wasn’t too much for him.

“Feels good,” you moaned. Kai just felt so in tune with your body in a way that no one had ever been before, certainly not your ex.

“Yeah, you like it?” He asked, continuing to fuck you while he kissed your jawline. “You’re such a greedy fucking girl, noona…”

You giggled and put your hand in Kai’s hair, grabbing and tugging it a little so that he looked up at you. “You better make me cum tonight or you’re never going to get to fuck me again, baby.”

He raised his eyebrows at your challenge. “I don’t think it’ll be too hard. You’re literally gushing for me. You want me as much as I want you.” He used one hand to reach down and slowly begin playing with your clit, causing you to gasp. “I own this pussy already.”

You moaned in pleasure as he continued to rub your clit, the feeling of his cock pounding away inside you while his fingers were on your sweet spot was enough to almost push you over the edge. Kai, seemingly sensing this, stopped his ministrations, holding himself still.

“Kai!” You exclaimed, half frustrated and half amused. “I was close.”

“No way, noona. You can’t make it that easy for me.” He pulled out of you and sat down beside you on the couch, his back against the sofa cushions. “Get on top of me. I’m gonna make you work to cum.”

Annoyed, you did as he said. Straddling him, you took his length in your hand and lined it up with your entrance. This time it was your turn to tease him, lowering yourself onto him halfway and clenching. Kai grabbed your hips and forced you down onto him, while thrusting his own hips up into you. He looked almost irritated. “Don’t fucking tease me,” he said. It was jarring how he seemed to go back and forth between playful and serious. “You’re going to cum all over my cock like the good little slut you are… My slut,” he added.

You reached down and grabbed his shoulders for purchase. You bounced on his cock while he grabbed your ass. “Yes Kai, I’m your slut,” you whined out breathlessly. As crazy as it sounded after everything that had happened that night, you wanted to be his, to be owned by him. Being with him felt right and safe. He grabbed you and kissed you again and you moaned into his mouth.

“That’s right. Mine. Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love being your slut, Kai…” you moaned.

“And I’m the best you’ve ever had, right? You’ve never been fucked so good before, have you?”

“Never.”

You could feel your orgasm getting closer and it was making you desperate, you babbled incoherently about how much you loved his cock, how much you loved getting fucked by him, how you wanted him to own your body. “I’m gonna cum, Kai, please, please let me cum this time.”

“Of course, noona, you’ve been such a good girl,” Kai replied. “Cum for me,” he said, nipping at your jawline while fingering your clit.

It only took a few seconds to push you over the edge. The orgasm wracked your entire body as you let out an,”Oh my god, Kai!”

Watching you cum for him, and on him, felt like it was going to make him crazy. He used his strength to keep fucking up into you even as you came down from your orgasm. He was going to cum and he wanted to, no, he had to, do it inside you. He would ask your permission, but it didn’t matter what you said, he knew he was going to do it anyway.

“Noona… I’m gonna cum too… Won’t you let me cum inside your pretty pussy? Please?”

You panicked a little. You weren’t on any type of birth control and you knew that you were due your period in about two weeks, so it was likely a dangerous time for this.

“No, Kai… It’s not safe… Not tonight. Next time,” you replied gently, trying to climb up off his cock but he held you on to it firmly.

“Please, noona,” he said, his voice coming out with a whine. “Please… I’ve been such a good boy, haven’t I? I made you feel good, right? Haven’t I been such a good boy for you, mommy?”

Mommy. No one had ever called you that before. You hadn’t expected it, but the use of that word did something to you. You felt yourself clench.

“Yes, baby. You’ve been such a good boy,” you relented, grabbing his face and kissing him on the cheek. You whispered into his ear, “Cum inside mommy.”

With that Kai flipped you on your back while you were still on his cock. He was on top of you now and he sped his pace up, releasing himself inside you with a groan. He collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily.

After a few seconds, the two of you readjusted yourselves on the couch so that Kai was laying flat on his back on the couch while you were laying on your side beside him, half on top of him. You laid your head on his chest, feeling his heart pounding inside of it.

“You know what this means, right?” Kai said, running a hand in your hair.

“Mmm? What does it mean, baby?” You were on the verge of falling asleep at that moment but you forced yourself to stay awake.

“You belong to me now. No one else can touch you ever again.”

“Is that right?” You asked with a sleepy giggle. “And what if I don’t agree to this?” You looked up at him, batting your lashes.

He shrugged. “It’s not really up to you.”

“So what? You make my decisions for me now?”

Kai smirked but said nothing, kissing you on the forehead.

You opened your mouth to argue but then shut it again. To be honest, you were exhausted and what he was proposing didn’t sound so bad at the moment. It would be nice to be able to not think and put all your responsibilities on Kai.

You closed your eyes and fell asleep quickly. Kai slipped out from underneath you, careful not to wake you. He picked you up and carried you bridal style to his small bedroom where he put you down on his bed. He smiled to himself at how deep a sleeper you were, you hadn’t moved a muscle when he moved you. He covered you in a blanket and planted a kiss on your cheek before putting on some pajama bottoms and making his way on to the balcony to smoke a cigarette.

Everything had gone perfectly tonight and he couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. You were his, you hadn’t even argued. All those months of watching you and waiting, convincing your friend to set the two of you up had finally paid off. Tomorrow he’d take you to a secluded house in the forest where he could truly keep you all to himself. He didn’t want you to look at anyone else and he didn’t want anyone else to look at you either. Everything was set up there, the locks on the doors and windows so you couldn’t escape even if you decided you had regrets.

Kai put his cigarette out and tossed it over the balcony. He watched it flicker for a few seconds on the cement below before dying completely, excitedly thinking about what the next day would bring.

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#kim jongin smut #kim jongin #kim jongin x reader #kai smut #exo kai #kai x reader #yandere jongin #yandere kai #yandere exo #yandere kpop #yandere smut #exo fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #yandere x you #kim jongin fanfiction #kai fanfic

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yuta-nation · 3 months

Text

Selfish (Ayato Kamisato)

summary: your brother is upset about your sister's new boyfriend. you show him that you aren't going anywhere.

content: dead dove (do not eat), incest, big bro!ayato, afab fem!reader (no pronouns but reader is referred to as girl, sister, etc.), vaginal fingering, unprotected p -> v (pull out method), possessive! ayato, alcohol consumption ( reader is sober, ayato acts drunker than he is), chatty!ayato, teasing!ayato, he's kinda a bully, slight manhandling, voyeurism (ayato listened to reader get off w/o her knowledge) reader is hesitant, but everything is consensual.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: heed the content warnings, i have been clear and thorough. anyways i just think you're ayato's favorite sister.

Things between you and your brother had been tense for a while. Truthfully, it had been building for years, though it had only reached the boiling point in the past few months. The fuse was lit when your younger sister, Ayaka, began courting Aether. Your elder brother liked the man well enough as a friend, but no one was good enough for his precious little sisters. Despite being the youngest, Ayaka was as much of an adult as Ayato was, and he knew forbidding her from seeing the traveler would only blow up in his face. So, he gave the couple his reluctant blessing and put on a brave face around them. He didn’t even reveal his true feelings about the relationship to Thoma, fearing the younger man would share Ayato’s disapproval with Ayaka, Aether, or both. The only person he could confide in was you. And confide he did.

“There’s no way you’d leave your darling brother for another man, is there, Sister? You know better than to break my heart like that, don’t you?” Ayato hiccuped into his sake cup on the other side of the kotatsu. You doubted anyone, even Ayaka or Thoma, knew how whiny your brother could be after he got a little alcohol in him. Ayato was excellent at keeping up appearances, but he was willing to let down his walls around you. You were special. Though you had to admit, your older brother looked pathetic at the moment, clothes and hair disheveled, face flushed, eyes watery. Truthfully, he looked like a drowned rat, albeit a particularly cute one. He stared at you with those wet eyes, obviously expecting reassurance from you.

“I won’t leave your side until it’s time for me to marry; you’ll have me for another year or so,” you said before raising your teacup to your lips. Ayato’s lavender eyes met yours, hardening as he registered your words.

“If you think I’d allow both you and Ayaka to be married off, you’re sorely mistaken. And since she was the first to find a suitor, it seems you’re stuck with me,” he said with a sickly sweet smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“And what will happen to me when you finally marry? Do I become the nanny of your children? A spinster dependent on your charity?”

“You would remain my beloved younger sister and a pillar of the Kamisato clan. Besides, I will always love you more than any woman I end up marrying.”

“You are the most selfish man I have ever met. Ayaka didn’t need your permission to find a suitor. I just might follow in her footsteps,” you said with a roll of your eyes and another sip of your tea. You watched as Ayato lifted his head from the surface of the kotatsu and stood. He was surprisingly steady on his feet considering how much he had to drink, footsteps steady as he approached you. You felt the hair on the nape of your neck stand up as he settled on the floor behind you. You opened your mouth to question him, but before you could get the words out, he pulled you backward into his lap.

“Ayato! What are you–” You’re cut off by his hand covering your mouth.

“Selfish? Most definitely. And why wouldn’t I be? The archons blessed me with the most beautiful little sister, and you expect me to just give her away? Ayaka is different; I always intended to let her marry. But you’re special. You’re all mine; don’t think I’ll let you go so easily. Do you understand?” Ayato squeezed you tightly before removing his hand from your mouth, indicating he expected you to answer.

“It’s not right, brother. You must marry one day; what would your wife think?” you said, trying to be the voice of reason.

“I have no interest in what is right or wrong. I do not care what my future wife thinks of me; she will not be the woman I love,” he said, positioning you more comfortably in his lap. You could feel something warm and stiff poking against your back. You swallowed hard but made no move to pull away.

“And who is? The woman you love, I mean,” you asked, grateful to have your back to Ayato. You wouldn’t have been bold enough to ask if you had to meet his eyes.

“I think you know my answer, pretty girl. It’s you; it’s always been you, it always will be,” Ayato whispered as his head fell to the crook of your neck. He nuzzled his face into the expanse of your skin before exhaling in pleasure.

“You just haven’t found the right person yet. You will one day; this will pass.”

“And if I don’t want it to pass? What if you are the right person for me? If you were born for me? What then?”

“We still can’t be together, Ayato. T-think of Ayaka,” you stuttered out as his grip on your waist tightened and his lips began to graze your neck.”

“She doesn’t need to know. You and I have always been so good at keeping things secret from her. Besides, she has Aether. Don’t you and I deserve to have something? Deserve to have each other?” Ayato rested a hand on your abdomen, tracing random patterns with his finger. His lips began to kiss your neck in earnest, though they were surprisingly gentle. He gave the flesh a teasing nip, earning a gasp from you.

“Ayato! You can’t. We can’t,” you protested, though you made no attempt to remove yourself from his grasp.

“Stop pretending you don’t want this too, pretty girl. I know you better than you think,” he said, hand moving higher towards your chest, taking a breast in the palm of his hand.

“You’re drunk, Brother. That’s all this is,” you justified, laying your hand over his as if you planned to pry it off your kimono. But you couldn’t bring yourself to remove his hand, instead just resting yours atop his.

“That isn’t the excuse you think it is. I feel this way about you sober; the alcohol just makes me more honest. The truth is, you’re the only woman on my mind. I think of you all the time. I think of kissing you. Of holding you, just like this. Of making you my wife. Of being your husband. Your lover,” he squeezed your breast to emphasize the last word, and you fought the moan that bubbled up in your throat.

“But most of all, I think of making love to you. Of burying my face between your thighs until tears spill down your face. Of splitting you open on my cock, until the only word you know is my name, until the whole house knows that you belong to me,” he murmured in your ear as his other hand found its way under the skirt of your kimono. His slender fingers locate your dampening panties, grazing the crotch and causing you to clamp your legs together.

“Come on, sweet girl. I can feel how wet you are; you want this, too, don’t you? Stop pretending; just be honest for once. Let me show you how much I love you. Please,” he whispered the last word in your ear. You felt your resolve crumble into dust, and your legs fell open, granting him access.

“That’s my perfect girl,” he groaned, fingers petting the damp fabric, running along the outline of your lips. You stifled the whine that attempted to leave your throat, causing Ayato to make a sound of displeasure.

“Ah ah, pretty. I want to hear you.”

“What about Ayaka and Thoma? They’re still–”

“Do not say another man’s name when you’re with me like this. I should be the only man on your mind right now,” he admonished as his fingers worked their way under the fabric covering your cunt, ghosting over your clit. You bucked your hips at the contact, chasing after the feeling of his fingers. You heard him chuckle darkly from behind you before feeling his lips on your neck once more. His hand on your chest moved lower and began to undo the belt of your kimono. He removed his teasing hand from your underwear to assist in divesting you of your clothing. In no time, you were stripped bare before your older brother. While undressing you, he had shifted you to be face-to-face with him so that he had a better view. You could feel his lavender eyes raking over your body, drinking in every detail. After a moment of his scrutiny, you began to feel embarrassed, hands moving to cover yourself.

“No, don’t do that. Come here, beautiful girl,” Ayato said, reaching out to pull you into his lap again. This time, you were positioned chest-to-chest with your brother, nipples hardening in the cool spring air.

You watched with pupils blown wide as Ayato lowered his head to your breast, taking one of the perked buds into his mouth and sucking. You whimpered at the feeling of his warm mouth encircling your nipple. You could feel Ayato’s lips warp into a smile without pulling away from your breast. He removed one hand from your hips to trace your lower lips once more. You let out another choked sound as his skillful fingers finally made their way to your clit. They expertly circled the bud with the lightest pressure, enough to bring you pleasure but nowhere near the amount needed to bring you release. You whined at the sensation nonetheless, hoping the sound would encourage Ayato to give you more.

However, your brother had always possessed more patience than you. He continued his teasing strokes around your clit as his mouth shifted to your other nipple, giving it the same attention as the first. After several minutes of his ministrations, your impatience got the best of you, prompting you to buck your hips against his fingers as your hands tangled themselves in his hair. Ayato pulled his mouth away from your breast with a wet pop, meeting your desperate eyes.

“Eager, are we?” Ayato said with a chuckle.

“Please, no more teasing. Be nice, Ayato,” you begged, rolling your hips once more.

“So needy. I could be much crueler, you know. I could just leave you like this, you know? Desperate and empty.” “Ayato, please! You started this!” You whined, eyes pleading with the man before you.

“You’ve always had the cutest pout. I’ll take care of you, sweet girl. I always have, haven’t I?” He asked as two graceful fingers finally prodded at your entrance before slipping in. You nodded your head in agreement and pleasure as you finally felt him enter you.

“I’m being so nice to you, aren’t I? What do you say when someone gives you what you want, hmm?” “Thank you, thank you, thank youuu so much, Ayato!” you squealed as his fingers reached the spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in pleasure. His thumb began to rub circles on your clit, prompting more whines from you.

“So polite. I think you deserve a reward for being so obedient, don’t you?” He asked as his fingers and thumbs picked up speed. His fingers bumped that spongy spot inside you with every thrust, and his thumb pressed down on your clit as he circled it, making you see little white spots in your vision.

“Well, what would you like as your reward, pretty girl?” Ayato asked before his lips attached themselves to your throat, sucking gently at the delicate skin.

“Wanna feel you i-inside! Please!” You pleaded, rolling your hips against his hand. His fingers felt like heaven, but selfishness was a trait you and Ayato shared; you desired more.

“I am inside you, silly girl,” he said, lips smiling against your neck.

“No, I want you inside me. Want your cock, please, Ayato!” You begged, pulling on his hair to bring his mouth to yours. He was happy to indulge in you, nipping at your bottom lip to gain his tongue access to your mouth. As his tongue entangled with yours, his fingers worked your cunt harder, scissoring them inside your heat. His thumb on your clit pressed harder and circled faster.

“You can have my cock as soon as you cum on my fingers. Sound fair?” he mumbled against your lips. You nodded before diving back into the kiss, taking control this time. Your tongue explored Ayato’s mouth as his hand explored your pussy, bringing you closer to the edge. It was harder to fight back your moans and whimpers as he prodded your G-spot and pressed against your clit. You could feel the knot in your abdomen tightening, warning you of your impending orgasm.

“Are you close, pretty? Gonna cum on my fingers? Come on, cum so I can fuck you properly,” Ayato encouraged as he felt you clench around his fingers. You began to hump his hand in earnest, chasing your high with vigor. You stopped trying to stifle your moans, instead letting your brother swallow them with his mouth.

After several moments, you finally felt yourself come undone, felt the knot in your stomach snap, and your pussy gush around Ayato’s fingers.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Making such a mess. So proud of you for letting go; didn’t that feel nice? Didn’t your big brother take care of you?” He asked, not slowing or stopping the motion of his hand on your cunt until you tugged at his wrist.

“I think you’ve earned my cock at this point. You ready for it, beautiful?” Ayato asked as he shifted you from his lap to lie on the floor.

“Please, Ayato, want it so bad,” you confessed, spreading your legs to him in invitation. He chuckled at your display as his hands went to undo his belt. He was swift in removing his clothing, shucking it off as if it had offended him. Soon, the two of you were equally bare before one another. Your eyes raked over his leanly sculpted body, taking in every mole and birthmark that graced his body. You let out a gasp when your eyes finally landed below his waist.

It was far from your first time seeing a penis; you’d lost your virginity to a certain male housekeeper a few years ago, but Ayato had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen. It was a pale pink that grew redder at the tip, curving towards his stomach. It wasn’t as lengthy as Thoma’s, but it was thicker and veinier by far. Just the thought of it stretching your walls had you squeezing your thighs together with want. Ayato let out a soft laugh at your reaction before lowering himself to join you on the floor.

“I can’t believe I’m finally doing this,” he whispered, mostly to himself, as he positioned his body over yours, settling between your hips.

“How often have you thought of this?” you asked in amusement as you wrapped your legs around his hips.

“Every day since you were 19. I thought it was my turn for the bath, but you were in there, touching yourself. I didn’t want anyone else walking in on you like that, so I sat outside the door until I heard you getting out. I heard every sound you made; I tried so badly not to get hard, but you sounded so needy, looked so pretty; I ended up cumming in my pants like a damn teenager. I’ve wanted you ever since. So don’t think I have any plans of letting you go after this,” He confessed as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“You’re such a pervert,” you said, pulling his waist closer to you with your legs.

“You’re the one who’s about to take their pervert brother’s cock. How are you any better?”

“Archons, Ayato, just fuck me!”

And with that, his cock finally found a home in your cunt. Just as you expected, the stretch of his girth was toe-curling, prompting you to dig your nails into his shoulders. You couldn’t help the squeaks and sighs that escaped you as he sheathed his length inside you. Your brother was surprisingly vocal as well, letting out more profanities than you had ever heard him utter in your life. When he was finally balls deep, he rested his forehead against yours.

“This is going to ruin me, you know? I’ll never want anything else, anyone else,” he said, sweeping a stray strand of hair away from your face. “Good,” you said, leaning in to catch his lips with your own.

With that, he began to move, giving shallow, tentative thrusts of his hips. Your small grunts of pleasure spurred him on, encouraging him to deepen his movements.

“Fuck, baby, you were made for me. This pussy was made for me and no one else. This is my pussy; it’s mine,” he groaned, picking up the pace to fuck you in earnest.

“It’s yours, just for you! Please don’t stop!” you whined as he gave a particularly deep thrust.

“Never gonna stop, baby. Pussy’s too good, couldn’t stop if I wanted to,” he assured, bringing the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight to your clit. He began to rub tight circles on the bud, never slowing his hips. You could feel your high building once more, jerking your hips involuntarily against his.

“You feel too good, pretty girl. Not gonna last. Need you to come for me, can you to that? Can you make a mess for me, baby?” You nodded frantically, willing to do anything to please the man above you.

“Close! So close, just a little more, please!” You squealed, no longer cautious of your volume. Ayato lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth again, increasing the pressure on your clit in the process. A nip to the sensitive skin of your tit and a pinch to your clit sent you falling over the edge of pleasure. You didn’t have time to warn him of your orgasm before you were gushing on his cock, coating his abs and pelvis in your slick.

“Good fucking girl! That’s it, make a fucking mess on my cock. You’re perfect, fucking, ah, perfect!” He praised, hips stuttering. He gave several more shallow thrusts before he pulled out of your warmth and fisted his cock, pumping harshly once, then twice, before he came, painting your tummy with his thick seed.

He rolled off of you and onto the floor before pulling you to his side. The two of you clung to each other as you tried to catch your breath. Ayato brought his hand to rest upon your head, gently petting your hair while you came back down to your body.

“I hope you know I was serious. That wasn’t a one-time thing,” he said as you rested your hand on his arm. You peeked over at him, taking in the flushed face and disheveled hair of the man who knew you best, loved you most in the whole of Teyvat. You allowed a smile to spread over your face as you spoke.

“I’m aware, Brother. I think we both need a bath.”

“Good idea,” he said, making no move to get up, instead pulling you closer to his side. You wouldn’t be leaving that spot anytime soon.

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