#it can get folded down but its still massive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions, and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

________________________________

“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.”

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms.

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3.

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful.

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms.

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected.

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care.

It also wore off in 24 hours.

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans.

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach.

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised.

The other two were different, they had… other urges.

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data.

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.”

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much.

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long.

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.”

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that.

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?”

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased.

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.”

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost.

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?”

He nodded and held his arm out to you.

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen.

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him.

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped.

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?”

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him.

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms.

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid.

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins.

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip.

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this-

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red.

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him.

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible.

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time.

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut.

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound.

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense.

Almost.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this.

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name.

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect.

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch.

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret.

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up.

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once.

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum.

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'.

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth.

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist.

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh.

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this.

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating.

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release.

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off.

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release.

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating.

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest.

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side.

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough.

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second.

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative.

It shouldn't take long.

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes.

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run.

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work.

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others.

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful.

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back.

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine.

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick.

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level.

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful.

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core.

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check.

It doesn’t last long.

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in.

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on.

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts.

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got.

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words.

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper.

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going.

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust.

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end.

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change.

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory.

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down.

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure.

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade.

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before.

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless.

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans.

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal.

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears.

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength.

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips.

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength.

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements.

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze.

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes.

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either.

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside.

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully.

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control.

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat.

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly.

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip.

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him.

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you.

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat.

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him.

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in.

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight, his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin.

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release.

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily.

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat.

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter.

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin.

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly.

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot.

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside.

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm.

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves.

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second.

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-”

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs.

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation.

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you.

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw.

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.”

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep.

“I’m sorry.”

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time.

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated.

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down.

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?”

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now.

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin.

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath.

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently.

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Happy to help.”

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused.

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.”

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong.

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation.

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close.

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe.

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul.

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered.

You frown and shake your head, confused.

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

2K notes · View notes

metranart · 6 days

Text

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 10)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert, slight! Megumi x reader.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship.

You shook your head, twice, rubbing your hot, red cheek against the sheets of their queen size bed. Satoru's fingers, too long, gently digging into the base of your neck, over the faint row of purple marks at the beginning of your throat, and Suguru watched as you opened your mouth, exhaling a moan that didn't even really come out. A muted choke that sent goosebumps all over his skin.

“Oh my, how I missed you-” Suguru breathed out, gaze never straying from his husband and the way he was bending, your delicate body in every possible angle. “(Y/N), did you miss us?”

In that moment, your words got stuck in your dry throat when Satoru's cock filled your hole with a single deep thrust, stretching you in one go. You squealed, panting, clenching your fists so tightly that you might as well being trying to hurt yourself, gasping for a breath of hot, humid air. Slowly, rocking to the same rhythm of the thrusting and swaying imposed by your white-haired sensei.

“Of-Of course she missed us, honey. Our p-pup only gets this tight when being craving for our attention,” the prodigy murmured next to your ear, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your left shoulder, “—I can barely move, Suguru.”

Suguru Geto smirked and licked his upper lip, watching Satoru drop his hand to your belly and run his fingers there, along the outline of his own cock marked beneath the quivering muscles. You leaned back, unconsciously fleeing from his touch when his other hand trailed all the way between your joined legs until he reached your swollen, spent and pitiful, folds… quivering pieces of flesh that did its best to keep that gorgeously massive piece of cock inside.

A mere breeze of air, a mere gush of breath made you shiver all over, due of how sensitive you were, your folds shiny with saliva and cum residues, too exhausted to stop quivering, and Suguru LOVED each second of the show his husband was giving.

Your small, feisty hands scratched at the white-haired man's skin, pinching the flesh and biting lightly but your weakened form made it a pitiful effort to regain some control.

"I loooooove when she gets like this," Satoru confessed, and his husband agreed with a fond chuckle. "Me too, but right now I prefer her more... docile, so if you don't mind, cutie."

You weakly agreed with your head as best you could, and both smiled lovingly down at you, and then Suguru ripped the hair tie out of your hair, swatting Satoru's hand away and tightening the hair tie around your wrists, leaving your little, hyperactive hands out of the way.

"There we go," he said, adoring the sight of you, all tired smiles and happiness while tied and at their mercy, without a doubt you were theirs. “Sugu, you are a genius.” Satoru praised, still snuggled deep inside you.

Suddenly Suguru's gaze went down, and the depravity of his next act almost made you faint in his husband's arms. Lowering himself down, faced the trickle of translucent liquid escaping your pussy, it was a web of cum, a combination of his and Gojo's. Sliding out of you slowly but steadily with each wicked thrust of Satoru's hips. There was no more room inside you, it was either cum or cock, not both.

Satoru gave him a salacious grin from ear to ear.

“-Want me to make her purr, loud and pretty, just for you, my love?”

Suguru’s lips stretched with perverted pride, and you made a noise, like you were choking, like you couldn't breathe properly, and then Satoru flipped you over, leaving you on your back, throwing both legs over his shoulders and pounding into you so hard that suddenly the only thing you heard was your endless moans, even over his own rapid breathing and Suguru’s constant praise and encouragement for him to go faster.

You threw your arms up, blindly holding on to the edge of the bed tightly, as if your life depended on it, wrist tied up, it didn’t matter, nothing mattered. Satoru leaned forward into you, biting your mouth and neck and one of your breasts, filling the lone patches of clean skin -where Suguru hadn't leave a hickey- with deep pink marks, the kind that would later turn dark and purple.

Suguru spat into his hand, pumping himself twice before asking.

“(Y/N), could you open your eyes, please?”

His request seemed to take a moment before it hit you.

“-Baby, please… my lo-…love…. (Y/N)… please-”

Something felt odd. He didn't sound like him anymore and his hands didn't feel big and powerful against your skin anymore, your pussy tightened bringing you to an exponentially powerful orgasm, but those tight, gummy walls convulsed around nothing. Your eyes snapped open, and it wasn't Gojo's beautiful blue eyes or Geto's piercing jet black orbs that were staring at you... it was Megumi's prejudiced stare... Megumi-

You slowly began to remember your reality. Megumi, your boyfriend. Megumi, to whom the bed you were sleeping on belonged to. Megumi, who right now looked at you with morbid curiosity—

"Finally awake,” your brand-new boyfriend said, “you were moving and trashing in your sleep, sweetie.”

Of course you were, the constant throbbing between your legs was no dream, you could feel it even now like a reminder of what you really wanted and WHO your heart truly belonged to.

“What were you dreaming about?" Megumi ended up asking, insistently, something nagging at the back of his mind, urging him to corroborate his place in your subconscious mind. The sorcerer let his hand caress your thigh up and down while he waited for your reply, like a loving boyfriend would do, but also to check his theory. Your skin was, indeed, bristly and sweaty, and his curiosity only grew. "Tell me, you know you can trust me... what were you dreaming about? Something good, no doubt."

The sorcerer smiled playfully but that smile didn't reach his eyes, eyes that no longer could hide a hint of annoyance. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me…. He chanted internally. I need to know…

"......-(Y/N)?"

A timid grin ghosted your lips, and just once your thoughts had settled, you dared to lie.

“I-I…actually don’t remember, baby.”

You had finally shaken off all the sleepiness and could remember why you were there, in Megumi's bed, taking a nap while waiting for Yuji and Nobara to arrive. It was the first group mission in years, everyone was going. Former students and teachers. From Panda to Principal Yaga. They had to cover a lot of ground, so a lot of help was needed.

Megumi looked down at you, his hand never leaving its soft caress on your thigh, but his eyes said something totally different. You're lying, I know. Keeping your heart steady and your expression innocent was starting to weigh on your peace of mind.

Since the day you and Megumi became a couple, the wet dreams began, more and more intense, more and more vivid. At first, were just sporadic images of Gojo and Geto, but soon, were scenes taken from the most pornographic movies. They took you, over and over again, until your eyes fluttered open and you felt the squirting wetness slipping down between your legs, your pajamas soaked in sweat and cheeks burning. Shaky legs and labored breathing. All because of a dream. It was torture, these dreams were almost daily, every time you fell asleep your mind catapulted you back to them.

It was a nightmare to wake up and see Megumi's face light up, know that it was because of you… and have to lie to him.

"My d-dreams are very sporadic," you disguised the tremble in your voice with a yawn, "... sometimes some nightmares make me move. The worst missions get stuck in my head-"

"You were moaning,” he was emphatic about it. “Like… a lot." A curious eyebrow rose on his forehead and your nervous giggle prompted him to press further. “You were purring so pretty-”

Megumi made a meaningful pause to watch you closely and noticing the insistent heat on your cheeks, grinned a little more wickedly that he was accustomed to. “-like when we kiss or we…” he lifted two fingers and wiggled them, reminding you of some other intimate stuff his fingers had done to you and you laughed, a coarse laugh that sounded way to fake and anxious.

“Really?” maybe playing dumb could get you out of the hook. “I-…I…” dammit! Think! “I-… probably….” say anything, just don’t say you were dreaming with both his parents fucking you stupid-… “I-… probably was dreaming… about… you, baby.” You lied, shamelessly, “Dreaming with my Gumi.”

A derisive snort was heard from the other side of Megumi's bedroom door, and he quickly spring to his feet to yank the door open, poking his head out to find…. an empty hallway.

"Hello?" he called, suspiciously. "Gojo, Suguru?" he called again, but again there was no answer, so he shrugged, giving one last onceover on the area before going back inside with you and locking the door behind.

The sound of the latch being set and locking you, giving room to a more intimate scenario, frowned the brows of certain nosy special-grade sorcerers who were just too good at hiding.

With discreet steps, emulating a shadowless ninja, they both returned to their initial position with their ears against the wooden door so they could hear better. Suguru threw an irritated look at his husband whose expressive reactions almost got them into trouble, to then put a finger in front of his lips, the white-haired rolled his eyes, pouting, embarrassed.

“So…” They heard Megumi say, “…. You were dreaming about me, huh?”

"-Who else would I be dreaming about, Gumi?" you were pushing your luck. Suguru and Gojo shared a worried look while waited for Megumi’s verdict.

Their boy took his time to answer, analyzing you promptly, making you nervous all over but also seizing his chance to make a very smart move. A move that only a man raised by two wolves would come up with. The lips on your handsome boyfriend’s face stretched, far from shy, and without warning drop onto the bed, his head claiming your thighs as his precious pillow to be able to look at you from his new privileged position.

"So, if I was already in your dreams…” he shared in all his cool calm, “why don't you let me make your dreams come true?"

Three sets of cheeks blasted with heat, two out of anger and one, out of embarrassment. Megumi snickered amused, witnessing first-hand how adorable you looked all flustered, feeling even more proud, him being the cause. On the other side of the door, two older sorcerers were about to lose their minds.

Gojo's hand was already on the knob without him realizing it, it was only the feeling of his husband's strong grip on his wrist that stopped him from turning it... Geto shook his head, yet Gojo seemed possessed by something visceral inside him... Something jealous and possessive was burning to get out... Geto shook his head again, and their eyes met...

COMING SOON PART 11....

➡️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

172 notes · View notes

w3r3theli0nshunt · 1 month

Text

Minotaur Soap! (18+)

W! Blood (shit tons) slight sexual themes, violence, fluff (can’t believe it either) reader is injured, Soap is a Minotaur 🤯 maybe slight angst? Tooth decaying stuff, tried making the Minotaur appear a little 🤏 more humane than they usually are ehehe 😅

Who smells your sweet blood and hears your choking sobs as your feet scrapes against the cold, filthy ground while you lean with one hand against the wall of the cemented maze . You’re oblivious to the fact that the 8 feet tall, muscular built Soap is lurking in the shadows behind you, watching your every move with caution before he plans on approaching. Following the trace of the small droplets of your blood who assaults his senses and animalistic instincts to feast on your flesh and suck the marrow out from your bones to fulfil his hunger, instead, he wishes to keep you in one piece. Sensing that you’re not good for him dissolving in his stomach acid, he doesn’t prepare his long nails to dig in that supple skin of yours or his sharp teeth to sink into you.

He stalks behind you, feeling an unfamiliar sensation in his filled stomach from the other sacrifices he’s been dined on, their skin tissues remain between his teeth and their blood still lingers on his tastebuds. But seeing how you struggle to keep your limping form moving in the endless maze that only Soap can localise in and without his guidance, you won’t find a way out or to his home.

You dry your sweat on your forehead with your arm that is heavy to move and exhaustion is preventing your motivation to continue seeking a way out, still knowing that mazes are traps when it comes to sacrifices, whose lives are labeled as useless. Unwed, unbred and a virgin, you’re no place in for society and bear no importance for the village you once called home. Your limbs get heavier by every step you take and your vision becomes hazier, so you let your knees fold and fall helplessly to the cemented floor. You gaze at your wounded leg, how crimson is oozing from the deep cut and the intense ache caused by any slightest movement.

How kind of the priest to grant me more mercy than sending me of the maze, you sarcastically think.

Tears falls mercilessly as you close your eyes to accept your fate, ending up as dinner to the hungry beast that awaits settled in the huge maze. You can still hear the other’s screams and pleads for help as the Minotaur beastly grunted and growled as he fed on their flesh on their conscious state. Your compassionate heart hopes for the other’s souls to find their way to the Gates Of Paradise and be reborn as people with a meaning, that they can live in harmony and receive every good they deserve. You can’t help but wonder how heaven may looks or if you’re pure enough to reach it. You let your head lean back against the hard wall, its coldness spreading on your scalp to cool down the fever.

You swiftly open your red eyes by an inhumane huff, and your eyes take you into the shadows where the noise originated from. Looking deep into the darkness, you spy two blue orbs looking back at you, your vulnerable form. It’s the Minotaur. But you don’t have the strength to fight or even be afraid, not even when his huge form becomes more visible by his every step towards you. Lazily, your eyes travel on his huge, beastly form. His broad shoulders, huge horns piercing out of his human shaped skull with an overgrown black Mohawk between them, massively built fur pectorals and large arms that can easily snap bones like sticks. His hooves clamps against the floor, legs shaped like a bull with a tail hanging in the middle above his clothed buttocks.

You have to bend your head up in order to be able to look into his eyes who bores holes into you. He then looks at your bleeding wound and kneels down beside your leg. You hold your breath and close your eyes, thinking he’ll begin lavishing on your leg in order to make you suffer. But just to your surprise, you open them again when you feel his nails gently caressing it instead, before ripping a piece of his cloth that is wrapped around his lower body. The only clothing he has on, mind you. He mildly wraps your leg and slows down the pace when he hears you whimper in pain before tying a loose knot.

You look at him with doe eyes, a sea of questions flowing in your mind as his eyes don’t seem eager for blood, not yours at least. He’s probably playing with his meal, you think. Giving false hope until the damsel in distress puts trust on him and then, he’ll dig in. That seems crueler than just a quick end, and you don’t fancy the idea of it happening to you. So you remain seated, cautiously watching his every move and preparing yourself for the promised end the priest told you about.

“You….pain?” Soap grunts, finger pointing at your wound. You look confused, shocked all between heaven and earth. Should you be alarmed? Or is this genuine acts of kindness? Nonetheless, you shake your head, unwilling to test his patience. He grunts in response and gently lifts your seated form, a sense of relief washes over you that the pain and coldness caused by the hard terrain vanishes. He hovers you above his wide shoulder that perfectly fit you as he begins moving. You swallow as you’re unknown to what his true intentions are and can’t help the stubborn knot in your stomach that refuses to go.

“Where..are you taking me?” You dare question, the only time you’ll open your mouth, you promise yourself. The headache forming in your skull as your upper body is uncomfortably facing the flooring, spotting the remains along the way. Guts in piles, blood decorated on the walls and heads carelessly thrown aside. You swallow once again, fearing that it’ll eventually be your fate.

“Home” Soap grunts as he adjusts his large arm that is holding your legs, a sensation of a throb in his lonely cock as he feels your soft skin and your innocence. Haven’t attempted to run away or defy him like the others like the good little human you are, letting him take you and claim you. You’re right to admit that you don’t know his true intentions, but he knows you’d prefer not to. How would a little sacrifice react if she’s to be the mate of the blood thirsty Minotaur who reap the lives of human beings while being half a human himself? She would freak out and that’s when the defiance begin, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. You’re already brought meaning to his lonely life who’s been aching for companionship like anyone would and that you numb those intense feelings of unhappiness, therefore you can’t leave, not when his heart can explode with the love he already harbours for you.

Reaching the central part of the maze, he sets you down on the pile of hay he calls his bed, hugely structured to carry his heavy weight. Lying on your back, you watch as Soap tries to start a fire with rubbing two sticks together in a supernatural pace until a fire ignites, he throws the flaming woods on the pile of logs until they also get infected with the fire. With a huff of approval, he resumes his attention to you, returning the eye contact. He lays down beside you, causing you to fall against his furred upper body when the bed shifts, leaning down against him. His fur is soft, but his musk makes you scrunch your nose, but yet you remain snuggled against his warmth. Laying your head on his large, firm pectorals with an arm planted on his 10-pack.

You feel his arm wrapping around your own body as he draws you closer, offering a quick lick on your neck. He enjoys it, lying on his back, watching the grey clouds travel in the depressing sky with a cute little human snuggled up against him, slaying all kinds of loneliness he once felt and displace it with love. A unfamiliar feeling, but one he’s been waiting for. Everyday his hopes of finding the perfect human to indulge in, a human to carry his babies and spread his animalistic genes. But also a human he can love, one he can reveal his own humane self that actually exists beyond his animalistic impulses and instincts.

“Aren’t you gonna eat me?” You’ve been patiently waiting for that question that is desperate for an answer in order for its fear to settle and for your heart’s beating pace to slow down. A simple yes or no will do for you, but at least just an answer to confirm. You’re tired of being so intensely afraid while being comfortably snuggled against the soft fur and met with such compassion not even your own family granted you.

“No” He grunts, pulls you closer as if your skins are stitched together, as if you’re one person. An animal and a human, the mixture Soap is.

“mine” it comes out like a growl but the rough reply is softly morphed when his cheek lovingly nudges yours as he groans in satisfaction. you’re his mate and he doesn’t intend to hurt you, intentionally. Sure, your sweet blood would taste more delicate than the other’s bitter tasting plasma. and your soft flesh would probably be as delicious as marinated steak would be for you. But his ache that concerns you, is for your pleasure along with his. Your combined ecstasies, a bittersweet sensation like chocolate. He’ll be cruel, but he can be just as sweet. And it depends on your preferences, because he’ll do anything for you. Anything for you to stay and anything for experiencing this cuddling session everyday.

But you ponder on the thought. Maybe belonging to someone, a Minotaur, isn’t as bad as you thought it’ll be. Your life may finally have meaning and this Minotaur has brought you more comfort than anyone in your whole 20 rotations around the sun has. And being in his embrace feels nice, your own personal pillow. You don’t mind the hay itching your sensitive skin or the pain in your leg caused by the forming infection, this beast lying before you, holding you like he’s protecting you - he is. You close your eyes, succumbing to sleep, wondering what future you’ll participate in and what delicacy’s may follow.

“Love….you” Soap grunts, leaving a hesitant peck on your cheek before closing his eyes. The depressing sky above, transfiguring into a clear blue one with rainbows and white coloured clouds, coloured by your very presence.

I actually got inspired by another creator who wrote a similar story, but with a König Minotaur. Our stories are of course not similar as I’m not the type to copy someone else’s hard work, but I’ll def link the story if I can find it because it’s so good.

#cod #cod mw2 #soap x reader #soap x fem reader #soap cod #minotaur #slight angst #fluff

174 notes · View notes

seat-safety-switch · 2 months

Text

We are in sort of a crisis, you and I. Amazon has its tentacles in every industry across the globe. Once, we cheered the death of the old gatekeepers of retail, only to find ourselves now not knowing who to trust. When you order a part from KZYBYG Tools, how do you know if it's any good compared to POIYAT?

Reviews won't help: they're run by teams of millions of robots, swarming on each new brand. After enough actual humans get mad at their two-swings-and-you'll-miss-it hammer, they simply wrap up the brand entirely and buy another thousand cybernetic evaluations. Be that as it may, I still left reviews when I was wronged by a tool.

Early on in childhood, I discovered that I have a unique power to make those in authority insanely angry for no good reason. Book reports, field trip reports, court stenography: these were all theatres for massive conflict in my younger days. I bring this power to the Amazon reviews now. My words puncture egos half a world away.

How do I know that it actually makes them angry? Because I've lured out the engineers. That's right. My technique is two-fold: one, call out a technical detail of the tool, and two... get my facts wrong. They can't resist responding to that. Then I just ignore them. Eventually, some pencil-neck cost-reduction asshole shows up on my front lawn, demanding to debate me about whether or not external-Torx security screws are in fact weaker than the regular kind.

This can't last forever. Eventually, the tool manufacturers are going to realize that all their prize cheap-ass engineers have mysteriously disappeared after taking an unannounced rage vacation to my property. By that time, though, me and the dozen or so engineers that I've trapped in my basement are going to have our own garbage tool brand all over Amazon, slamming their sales down. Customers can't resist: the shipping is slightly quicker. We might even try to make a store or something, where you can come in and buy it. Same day. We'll have them on shelves. Just ignore the handwritten notes inside, pleading for help or at least food and water. That's what we call a quality guarantee.

175 notes · View notes

zweiginator · 2 months

Note

just a silly thought abt Patrick when you're in uni and pat is staying the night in your dorm but of course its the only time he gets to spend with his girl before he has to go to another state so he's gonna want to fuck her nice but sadly you have a essay due for the next morning so pat works out a compromise- he fucks you while you type away at your computer, he promises he'll be gentle but...we know he's not gonna be (srry this is like my first ask)

patrick visiting you for a week or so around midterms because it's the only time he has to make the trip. and you're already behind on studying and completing assignments because patrick has been adamant about spending as much time together as possible--which you are more than okay with. luckily, you weren't worried about most of your classes which had waived a final exam in favor of a project or something a little less stressful, but your hardest class opted for a long final essay--one which youve barely started.

and patrick is on your bed, snaking on top of you. he has long since peeled his t-shirt off and is licking and nipping at your neck.

"doesn't this feel good?" he moans into your ear, grinding against your cunt.

"it does--" you reach for your laptop and patrick clicks his tongue, pushing it further away. "pat, i have an essay due tomorrow morning."

he unbuttons your blouse, palming your tits and he knows just how to fucking make you melt but you're being adamant.

"patrick--fuck you're making this hard."

he licks your nipple. presses an open-mouthed kiss to it, moaning around the sensitive flesh. "that's the point. 'm so hard."

and when you look down, he has a massive tent in his boxers.

"patrick. you knew when you came to visit that it's a busy time in the semester."

he stands on his knees and pushes his boxers down. his cock is flush against his stomach and a trail of dark hair leads your eyes straight to it. he's practically twitching, begging for you without saying a word.

he begins to stroke himself. slow and deliberate and the veins in his forearm are bulging as he holds himself tighter. precum seeps from his tip and he pouts to you.

"im so fucking hard--please."

and the problem isnt whether or not you want to fuck him--because you do. but the five-thousand word minimum imposed upon you by the meanest professor you've ever had looms over your head like a threat. and patrick looks so pretty like this. bottom lip pushed out. preening for you, he shows you his cock like an animal desperate to mate.

"you don't want me?" patrick moves closer, hisses as he feels how sensitive the crown of his cock is. you look at his perfect fucking body and huff.

"i do want you."

he grins.

"but i have to write this paper."

it falters.

"can you fuck me while i type it?"

patrick grabs your laptop and puts it on your pillow.

"i'll be gentle and quiet. a very calm fuck." he nods and a curl falls over his forehead.

you laugh at him, but shrug. laying on your stomach, you open your laptop and start getting to work. you try your best to focus as you hear the wetness of patrick's cock still in his hands. he yanks your shorts down forcefully.

"patrick." you scold him.

"oops." he says near your ear and you tilt your head to give him a kiss, just one. he tries to deepen it but you pull yourself away.

he huffs. and then he's kneading your ass in his hands. muttering under his breath about your body. your pretty little pussy. he checks to see if you're wet. you are. he sucks the finger that he just swept through your folds into his mouth. you want to see his face.

you feel his cock at your entrance and you clear your throat, typing faster. as you thrum your fingers over the keyboard mid-thought, patrick pushes into you, holding onto your waist tightly.

"fuck--jesus."

"patrick--" you try to scold him but it comes out more like a moan and you can almost hear the smirk on his face.

"yeah, baby?" he pulls out completely and you squeak, pushing your ass back towards him. "you want more?" a sharp slap on your ass.

you ignore him and type again. you've written about 150 words. fuck.

"oh that's right." patrick presses his chest against your back to groan and whimper into your ear. "goody two shoes is doing her homework."

he gives you slow, deep strokes that make your head loll forward. he knows how you crave to feel every inch of him. so he gives it to you.

he grabs your hair, pulling it into a messy ponytail.

"write your fucking paper." and then he fucks into you with sharper, faster thrusts. the sound of his pelvis smacking against your ass.

"fuck--i'm trying." you type more and patrick reads it out loud.

the sentences are jumbled. words misspelled and out of order. historical facts that are tinged with fiction. the end is a jumble of letters and apostrophes you typed as patrick made your body limp with pleasure.

he reaches around and pushes his fingers into your mouth. you suck on them and swirl your tongue, mewling as he starts fucking you again.

"you forget how to write? my cock's in you so deep you're a fuckin' mess."

drool is pooling on your mousepad and you can't even speak as his chest sticks to your back, his hips moving in sharp yet languid thrusts. soaking him, choking him.

patrick just closes your laptop and leans down next to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth before he moves your lips to his. your mouth falls open and you manage to open your eyes to look at him. your hand clamps over his, desperate to cum.

"you may have to ask for an extension." a smile against your lips. your legs are shaking and you can't even make out what he said. you just nod. and he nods back, mocking you.

#ask #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #ily this ask was everything

236 notes · View notes

kisakis-boyfriend · 9 months

Text

An Oni's Beloved

Author's Note: Requested by @ninjacomix !! Check out the original thirst right here!

Pairings: Yae Miko x malereader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, oni!reader, sub/bottom!Miko, size difference, breeding, rough sex, public sex, fingering, eating out

Lil size queen Miko 🩷

Miss kitsune loves the fact that you're big (in more ways than one)

You tower over her delicate frame in and out of the bedroom easily. Honestly it can be a challenge for Miko not to get turned on even when you're doing something innocent, such as holding hands or standing next to her...

Slinging an arm around her little waist and grabbing her hip with your much larger hand gets the lady dripping with need rather quickly

Depending on how many people are around, you might just slip your fingers in between her thighs and rub her pussy right then and there

This is usually the first step to full-on public fucking

Miko's milky thighs instinctually spread to make room for your hand as you rub over her folds, spreading the newly forming wetness as it accumulates at her entrance

“Ooh... D-darling...come now, th-the other– other shrine maidens will see this...” The kitsune softly moans. Unbeknownst to her, she's already begun to rock against your hand as it wedges between her legs, soon to be knuckle-deep in her wet cunt

Your teasing yet authoritative voice brings a beautiful blush to Miko's cheeks and nose as you ask, “And when has that stopped us before? I seem to recall a time as early as last week when you were stretched on my cock right here— up against the Grand Narukami Shrine.” The smirk in your tone was quite obvious, and it's not like you weren't telling the truth... Miko's urges often lead to risky romps during her duties

“Haah... M-more...more more moremoremore—!! Please, darling– aa-aaahh~ ” Always one to give in to her libido, Miko clung to your muscular arm and whined into your skin for relief. You rolled your eyes playfully, obliging your girlfriend by dragging her around the corner of the building where they hand out fortune slips

Miko braces herself against the wall after you lightly shove her against it, biting her pink lips to prevent any indecent noises from giving away your location. Her clothing is quickly lifted and stuffed into her mouth, muffling whatever was soon to come out

The kitsune's thighs squeeze together as the open air sends a little chill throughout her body; now exposed from the waist down. Your cock is freed from your pants, stiff and ready to fill a tight hole to its maximum capacity. First, you'll fuck Yae Miko's thighs, lubing yourself up in the process. Then you'll slap your dick against her glistening cunt, earning a stifled whimper from your lover as her hole clenches and releases a string of slick

Finally, you'll push half of your massive cock inside — groaning while Miko squeezes your length. Even with her pussy dripping everywhere, the initial stretch still hurts a bit. You have to allow the little thing a minute to adjust. Once she does though, you fuck the life out of her

You're not even trying to be quiet after a few minutes inside Miko's pussy, it's gripping you so fucking tightly, warm and slick with need. Just how you fuckin' like it. The poor maiden handing out the fortune slips can barely hide the look on her face as she recognizes the animalistic grunting from behind her stall. You're moaning expletives with every snap of your hips into your girlfriend's tight cunt, growling downright disgusting things above her while you both lose yourselves in carnal pleasure

By the time you're finally done, Yae Miko's thighs are shaking violently while thick lines of cum run down them. Staining her skin with the sticky substance and the smell of sex. If anyone looks down they will definitely notice the globs of cum accumulating at the head maiden's ankles. Your cum

—

Speaking of dirty talk...Miko fucking loses it whenever you break out the dirty talk 🥴

She's always so composed, but once you whisper or growl filthy words into Miko's ears? She's gone. Her brain is consumed by horniness

“Fuck, baby... You were made to take oni cock, weren't ya?” She's instantly cumming

“Yeah, take it. Take the whole thing, doll. Gonna fuck your womb and fill ya up~” She's clenching around your cock, milking you for all you're worth 🩷

“This is what you wanted, right? Wanted this fat fuckin' oni dick to ruin your cunt? Isn't that what you said, babe?” Yes, yes it was~

“Haah...yer my little cumdump, aren't you? Mine. My own personal oni breeding meat, yeah?” Yes! Fuck yeah she is!! 🥴

Miss Yae Miko is also a cumslut & creampie queen!

Cum in her, cum on her anywhere, just give her every drop. Please? 🥺

Cover her perky breasts in your seed, shoot some on her wet tongue too~ Cover her lithe body in that thick fluid~

But also! B R E E D her puh-lease!! Give her all of your little oni babies!! Miko will beg so sweetly for your sperm swimming around in her little womb 💞

She's very much the type of lady to melt when you softly eat her pussy after you creampie her!

Let her relax and lay back on a comfy surface, spread her pretty legs, and eat her creamy cunt~ You'll get to hear the cute airy moans Miko lets out as you do

Soft gasps fill the room as you lavish your wife in tender affection after a rough breeding session. Miko's pussy drips with your most recent load of cum, still gaping a bit from your enormous cock stretching the muscle

Everything feels so weightless at the moment; what were once degrading slaps to Miko's cheeks turned into rubbing her ass softly, lapping at her fucked out pussy while her slender legs rest over your shoulders. You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face while you clean your wife up. Her scent and taste are addicting. It's hard not to bury your tongue inside of her and fuck her cunt all over again, but you restrain yourself for the time being

The kitsune's hands drift down, reaching for your hair so that she may comb through it gently. Moaning out, “Ooohh, mmm~ My love, that feels–” A particularly loud gasp escapes the exhausted lady as your tongue brushes against her clit, sighing out her next words with a dopey grin, “So, so wonderful~ ”

The moment becomes your own personal heaven; shared by only the two of you as your hands reach out and interlock with Miko's. You hum with your mouth greedily sucking on her cunt and she arches off of the blanket, squeezing your hands and panting hot puffs into the air. Neither of you want this to end. So, for now, you'll continue nibbling on your lover's soft folds and Miko will push closer to your warmth

#my writing #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #yae miko #yae miko smut #yae miko x reader #sub miko #oni reader #yokai au #male reader #dom reader #top reader #genshin x male reader #yae miko x male reader #headcannons #requested

813 notes · View notes

pursuitseternal · 9 months

Text

“The Second Day” of “Antics of the Newly Ascended:” staring Batstarion🦇

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 1.3K Pure antics and comedy

🦇 art by @marimosalad Link to full art

Summary: You can’t pick a lock without your Rogue, even if he is Ascnedant now. So you wait… and wait… until a new unexpected visitor flies in.

CW: Banter, Poop jokes, Tav filtering Astarion’s threats and antics, sneezes, and cute fluffy vampiric bats with an attitude 🦇 (no smut)

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterist

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Hells, what is taking him so…flipping long?”

For a split second, you think Gale might actually swear, but no. The goody-two-shoes scout wins out in the end. You giggle anyway.

“Said he’d be back quick with a new set of lockpicks ready to go, Mister Ascendant Lord and expert of the underbelly of Baldur’s Gate…” Gale huffs and folds his arms crossly.

Karlach snorts next to you, both your backs leaning against the alley walls. You keep to the shadows, eyeing up the house you need to enter… surreptitiously. Those Flaming Fist have been everywhere lately, and you still needed your Rogue to break you in nearly everywhere in the City.

“He’s probably too busy doing Ascendant things to hurry, Gale,” Karlach chuckles, peering her horned head into the street.

“Like what?” you ask, folding your arms and pouting your lips, “what could he possibly be doing but rushing back to be with me?”

Gale rolls his eyes, seeing the wry expression on your face, he realizes you joke. “Oh, good one,” he chortles. “Oh lots of things, I would imagine if I applied my wildest musings…”

“Get to the point wizard!” Karlach slaps him on the back. “More taunting, fewer words.”

Gale sputters for air after having it knocked from his body. And you laugh at that.

Suddenly, you feel a breeze pass your face. A blur of white settles on the wall beside your head. Hanging upside down.

A fluffy white bat. It chitters at you.

“Oh shit,” Karlach jolts at the sight. “That thing is massive.”

It seems to chitter more.. proudly at that. You narrow your eyes at it… your other companions draw away a step, leaving the beast with space.

“If Astarion were here, he’d probably call it a snack and snatch it from the air…” Gale jabs, a self-confident smile on his face, proud of his own humor. His own best entertainment.

“Naw… he’s too busy picking out new fancy clothes…” Karlach peers into the street.

“Too busy trying to burst into a sea of mist…” Gale laughs.

You giggle, thinking of something he did just that morning, for an hour, “Preening his hair into a perfect coif before kissing his reflection…”

Gale’s mouth snaps shut. The bat on the wall chitters noisily again, flapping its wings as it comes to dart around your head. “That bat is all over you,” his eyes narrow, “but I’m fresh out of Speak with Animals potions for now.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind, maybe he’s lonely…” You hold out your hand, an offering to let the little mammal rest somewhere soft. “Gives me something to look after until Astarion comes back.”

“Don’t let him see you’ve got a new pet…” Gale taunts, leaning closer to peer at the creature that now rests in your palm, “He might get jealous and snap it up in his fangs.”

Does… is the bat… glaring at Gale?

You look closely, but Karlach guffaws. “Oh oh, I’ve got it. I think I know what’s keeping the Vampire Ascendant! He’s probably stuck taking his first shit in two-hundred years...”

Okay, now that bat in your palm is definitely glaring, and chittering, and… pissed. You look closely at last, it’s white fur catches the sun in shades of silver, its eyes are a deep red… almost a crimson…

You stop. “Astarion?” you murmur at the little creature, patting its head with a single finger.

It… He… bounces on your hand, chittering away, pointed little face nodding.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach groans. “How the fuck did you turn into that?”

Gale leans closer… but not too close just in case. “I’ve read that some Vampires can take forms themselves, if powerful enough.” He grins widely, “Could be ferocious werewolf, or noxious cloud…” that grin twists, “Yours is adorable, if I do say so myself, Astarion.”

You can almost hear the ire in the noises that he makes in reply. Still nonsense chatter, but the emotion is clear.

He is not amused.

“Gale, you do realize he will turn back, and he will be pissed,” you warn with a shake of your head. You freeze, a whisper tickling inside your mind as the creature in your palm twitches and rests. “Astarion says it’s not his fault you're a pack of incompetent… oh,” you pause, patting him on his head with a finger, “I’m not going to say that part, my love.”

“He’s… talking to you?” Gale twists his head and raises a brow. “Like, mind to mind?”

“Yes,” you nod, “we are just as baffled at the moment, I will be honest with you, even if he said not to tell you…” the bat starts scrabbling up your arm, chittering even more noisily than before. “Stop whining, darling. You’ll figure it out.” He comes to rest on your shoulder, hanging upside down from the seam of your shirt. “And he says he would rather you never again speculate about his bowel movements either, on pain of… I’m going to say, a severe talking to.”

“That’s not what he said is it?” Karlach guffaws.

You can’t help but let your finger scritch under his little chin as he dangles from your shoulder. “No, no,” you giggle as you watch his beady little eyes flutter shut at the petting. “He used his regular ascendantly foul mouth.”

“Well, Vampire Ascendant or not, he’s not going to be much help breaking and entering in that form, is he?” Gale snips, rolling his eyes.

“He says he would be more than happy to talk us through it, if we… oh, again? I’m not suggesting that, my pet,” you shake your head, removing your scratching finger to wag it at him. “Naughty,” you chide.

“How did you get like that anyway, Astarion?” Karlach chuffs, folding her arms and swaying on her feet.

“He sneezed,” you reply. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to share that. I’m sorry, my love. You really should be more obvious about what is for my ears… er… mind alone.”

“Maybe…” Gale gives a mischievous grin, “if we get you to sneeze again… maybe you’ll change back to a form with fingers that can actually do some good.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a little bit of powder, and blows.

The little bat writhes, fur standing on end, flat folded nose twitching before….

“Achoo!” The sneeze echoes off the alley walls, a burst of black mist that tingles your skin as his tall, lean and wiry body forms against your arm. You can sense his irritation, out right, cuttingly sharp annoyance lacing his angry breaths. Once the mist clears, Astarion is, in fact, glaring at you all. Crimson eyes dart from one to the next. “I am… going to fucking kill you,” he hisses.

“Shh…” you cajole, raising your finger to scritch under his smooth chin, clenched tight in his rage. Instantly, the moment you begin your gentle petting, he eases, eyes fluttering shut.

“I think he likes that, soldier,” Karlach whispers a giggle. “Do you feed him little treats when he’s a good boy?”

“Only if he gets us into that house with those dexterous hands of his,” you chuckle and slide your hand to stroke his cheek.

“Fine,” he sighs, exasperated, tired, and annoyed. “But not one of you breathes a word of this to Halsin… or Wyll… or… anyone.”

“Agreed,” Karlach slaps him on the back.

He begins rummaging his lithe fingers through his pack, turning those crimson eyes on you as you watch. “And you, my consort, don’t think I’m not going to make you pay for that mirror-kissing comment earlier…”

“Don’t think you won’t have to earn those chin scritches, my love,” you giggle in return as he flashes that fanged smirk at you.

“One more, my darling?” he purrs, watching the others start into the street already. “One for the road, one in case we die today?”

Your fingers reach quickly to oblige, his eyes closing to savor your attentive care. And you giggle, “Who can argue with that?”

412 notes · View notes

lesbiankimdahyun · 3 months

Text

CONTRACT LOVER IV: MOMO

1.9k words

CW: A/B/O dynamics, G!P, we're rly toeing the line with consent and instinct, Momo is NOT feeling very nice

A/N: i kinda uhh blacked out while writing this and then got too shy to edit sorry if there are errors! 🫣

[A!Momo x F!O!Reader]

“On your back,” Momo ordered. You could barely move, but did your best to roll over quickly as Momo joined you on the bed. You knew you were really in for it now. It had been too much for Momo– Sana getting to go first had only left the oldest Alpha feeling edged and teased, neither of which she particularly enjoyed.

You watched with renewed anticipation as Momo hovered above you. The extra dark look in her eyes made you feel trapped as she used her knees to spread your legs apart while her hands held your wrists down. There was hardly a need for her to do it– you were too immobile by now to get away from her even if you wanted to.

Your gaze moved down to her massive, leaking cock and you swallowed thickly. It stood proudly on its own despite its size, the tip a flushed, deep pink. Just looking at it made more wetness leak out of you. Your bed sheets were soaked by now, but there was no time to think about that.

Momo let go of one of your wrists and stuck three of her fingers into your mouth. Her thumb and pinkie finger held your face steady. “Suck,” she commanded in a low voice, and you obeyed immediately. She watched, her gaze intense with desire and impatience.

“Fuck what Sana says,” Momo said, mostly to herself. “I like it when you cry.” Her other hand moved away from your other wrist, only to be wrapped around your neck instead. Her voice was low, level and steady, but her scent gave away how aggressive she was actually feeling. Every Omega instinct you had told you to run from such a rough Alpha, but she only tightened her hold on your throat. The pressure felt good, even as she added more and then even more, making it hard to swallow, let alone breathe with her fingers still in your mouth. You felt a prickle of sweat on your forehead. You’d always known Momo to be a dominant Alpha, but this was almost downright predatory, even for her.

The corners of Momo’s mouth turned up with a hint of a smile as she watched you watch her. She tilted her head suddenly, inhaling deeply. “Aw, feeling kinda scared?” she pouted at you mockingly. “Cute.” She adjusted one of her knees between your legs so you’d get just a hint of friction from it. You squirmed at the feeling, clit throbbing. Momo chuckled beneath her breath at your reaction. “I’m literally cutting off your air supply and you still can only think of cumming?” Momo took her fingers out of your mouth. Her pout was long gone. “Then you’ll cum on my cock until you can’t anymore,” she said expressionlessly. Satisfied with your wide eyed silence, she took her fingers out of your mouth and let go of you.

The Alpha lined herself with your entrance, rubbing her tip along your folds. She took her time, admiring your utterly ruined pussy. “Greedy slut,” the Alpha said. “Ready for more even after being knotted once already.”

She leaned down and pressed herself against you then, guiding her cock sliding into you with a filthy, wet squelching sound thanks to the cum inside you that was now leaking out and coating Momo’s shaft. She let out a slow breath, adapting to the immense pleasure of having your cunt take in her length.

The Alpha was by far the biggest of the three, and you moaned loudly, already feeling stretched. She rocked her hips slowly, but the fullness was overwhelming. You moaned again, more gutterally now as your pussy throbbed around her. You couldn’t believe what you were feeling: her knot was already beginning to form. The familiar sensation of pain and pleasure was coming back now, and so were the tears in your eyes as you let out a pained mewl.

“Tears already, baby? Too bad,” Momo said. “Touch yourself,” she commanded, and you obeyed, bringing a hand down between your legs to touch your eager clit. Having cum once already with Sana, you knew it wasn’t going to take much to push you over the edge this time. After a few minutes, you let out a small hum of satisfaction. You hardly noticed the pain of Momo’s cock rutting into you with your brain focused on how good it felt to finally get some relief of your own again. But Momo’s cock couldn’t be ignored, not with it adding more stimulation than your poor, abused cunt could take. You gasped and shuddered, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. Your thigh muscles twitched and you bit your lip.

“Momo…” you whimpered. “S-slow down…” But Momo was too focused on watching her cock slide in and out of you to hear you. She fucked you at a steady pace, only bringing you closer to the edge. “Momo, I–fuck,” You moaned, bucking your hips. “M-Momo!…” your eyes screwed shut and your thigh muscles tensed as you came, coating her length in more slick. You panted, reaching up to brush your hair from your face. Finally noticing you had cum, Momo slowed her pace momentarily. “You’re not done yet,” was all she said, then grabbed your hand and brought it back down between her legs.

You let out a soft wail. “T-too sensitive,” you protested, but she held your hand down.

“Rub your filthy little cunt, or I’ll do it for you,” said Momo. You closed your mouth quickly. At least if you were the one touching yourself, you’d have control of your pace. Your fingers found their way back to your clit slowly, and you squirmed as you began to rub yourself again. Momo’s eyes watched in rapt attention as you fought to find a pressure and rhythm that wasn’t too overstimulating, but everything was too much. Your eyes brimmed with more tears and your muscles twitched, sore and sensitive from your second orgasm. You whined, starting to cry as the sensations slowly, slowly started to become pleasurable again. You could only look up at Momo and plead silently with her, but she offered no comfort other than a quick kiss to your cheek.

“You’re going to cum again for me,” the Alpha said. Be a good girl and make that pussy squeeze around my knot for me.” Her words only added to the near-blinding bodily feelings you were experiencing. She slowed her pace, but just cockwarming her would’ve been enough to make you climax again– and you were about to. You whimpered, unable to hold back any longer. Your cries were silent this time as you came, clenching around her tightly. Your hand dropped to your side limply as your muscles relaxed, finally hitting your peak. Your mind whited out from the pleasure, and then you let out a shaky gasp as you came back into yourself, the overstimulation returning as Momo continued to pound into you.

Momo leaned in, licking your tear-stained cheeks. She greedily scented your neck, wanting to rid you of all traces of Sana and Mina. It didn’t take long for fresh tears to replace what Momo had lapped up. She plowed into you, the sound of your continued crying accompanying her wet, sloppy pounding.

“F-fuck,” she growled, squeezing one of your breasts in her hand greedily. “Take it, yeah...”

Your mind and body felt on the verge of breaking. Unable to form any coherent words as she continued to rail you, you panted with each thrust of her hips. The longer pieces of her wolfcut-styled hair tickled the edges of your face while her scent flooded all of your senses. It felt like her scent was the only thing keeping you tethered to the mortal world. Momo was a powerful Alpha, smart enough to use her scent to help keep you in submission beneath her.

“There you go,” came Momo’s honeyed voice. It sounded far away. “Empty that pretty head of yours, I’ll fill you right up instead.”

Within another couple of minutes you were cumming again for her. “MOMO!” Your orgasm was nearly blinding, your lower body muscles spasming as you came around her. Your pussy pulled her swollen cock in, letting her knot finally slip inside. The Alpha groaned with pleasure.

“Good girl,” Momo hissed, giving her knot a few exploratory thrusts inside you. “So, so good for me…” Then she moaned again, as if just remembering that her knot was buried inside your womb. She resumed thrusting in you quickly, desperate for release.

“Tell me you want my pups.”

You knew she was close when she asked things like that— Momo loved to hear you beg for her.

“So b-ah!-bad, Momo,” you cried desperately. You continued. “Make me yours, make everyone see who I spread my legs for.”

Momo’s eyes widened at that and she let out a full blown snarl in response. She licked the length of your neck and then opened her mouth, her teeth poised against your skin to sink into your neck at any moment, as if daring you to move beneath her.

You encouraged her still, tilting your head slightly to speak softly in her ear. “Doesn’t my pussy feel s-so good?” you purred for her. “Fill me, Alpha, p-please, please give me your knot--”

“Ah~ FUCK!” Momo grunted, finally spilling her seed in you. Panting, her hips eventually slowed to a stop while she emptied her heavy cock in you.

It took nearly twenty minutes for Momo’s knot to deflate. When she finally was able, Momo pulled out of you as gently as she could, her dick wet with cum and slick.

“You’re pretty when you cum,” Momo murmured, admiring you in your ruined state. Then she got dressed as if nothing had happened, casually grabbing you a glass of water and humming to herself while turning a few lamps on. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed; the sun had long set.

It took all your energy to roll over onto your side, and when you did, you saw Momo checking to make sure her post-sex hair wasn’t too bad in the mirror. She caught your reflection’s eye as she collected her keycard and phone. She winked and smiled at you, clearly feeling back to her normal self.

“Oh, before I go…” she started, coming back to flop onto your bed. She tapped her phone’s camera icon and turned the camera to face the two of you. Momo took your cheeks in her hand and leaned in as if she were going to kiss you, then took a quick photo.

“For Mina,” she said with a smirk, quickly sending the photo off to the other Alpha. “You know. Proof of life.”

You rolled your eyes. “She’s going to hate you for that,” you said.

“Only for like three seconds,” Momo said. “Because she’s also going to love me now that I’m sane again and you’re free to keep playing Animal Crossing or whatever.” Momo raised an eyebrow at you. “You know you like, don’t have to play that with her if you don’t want to, right?”

You only laughed a little. “I know. I like it, really.”

Momo shrugged in response. Then she got up, moving toward the door. She paused before opening it, though, turning back around to you suddenly and pointing at the nightstand where she had left your glass of water. “Drink,” she ordered, not moving. Her dominant nature worked well on you even outside of sex, you realized, as you immediately picked up the glass and took a sip. When she kept watching, you took another.

“Good girl.” Satisfied, Momo finally turned and left.

#twice imagines #twice abo #twice a/b/o #alpha!momo #twice smut #twice x fem reader #twice x y/n #twice x reader #g!p twice

177 notes · View notes

writingoddess1125 · 1 year

Text

Call Me Sir

Mihawk X Reader

A mildly spicy peice! If people want I can make a Pt. 2 full full blow SPICY scenes. Enjoy!

Warnings: Sexual themes, strip teasing

It was a rather stormy night, perfect for a nice cozy evening in. Laid up in a massive bed wearing your comfiest oversized sleep shirt (cough stolen from your husband cough), a cup of hot tea on the nightstand as you snuggled in the blankets with a good book a single bedside candle lighting the room. While it was typically lonely here on Kuraigana Island, but you never minded. It was your home and one you shared with your lovely husband.

You had been married to Mihawk for many years, truthfully you were one of the reasons he became a warlord was to keep you safe. He never wanted what he choose to do as a living put you in danger, it was just one of the many things he had done and continues to do to show his love and dedication to you.

As you laid there reading, you picked up the sound of footsteps. Smiling as you knew immediately it was Mihawk. He made it a habit of stomping a little bit so you could hear him coming- after nearly giving you a heart attack a few times when he just randomly appeared behind you. Right on cue the bedroom door opened and he stepped in, Looking to you briefly before removing his hat and coat.

"Welcome home Honey" You smile sweetly at him, getting up tk greet him. He bent down gently for you to place a gentle kiss to his lips which he quite greedily returned which earned a giggle from you.

"I take it you misses me?" You teased, Peppering his lips with more kisses. His eyes locking onto you as he accepted every kiss.

"Very much" He mumbled, watching you as you slipped from his grasp to put his had and coat away. Taking his sword from him as well to place it in its rightful spot next to his side of the bed. He always found it amusing to watch you do this- He had always voiced he was content in placing his things away however you insisted- The sword that was taller then you and sharp you managed to just barely pick up, Sporting a little wobble at its weight as well. However always impressed how you never managed to cut yourself on it either.

"There!" You chirp as you set the sword down and look back at the Warlord as he sat on the ended of the bed. Peeling off his boots and setting them aside before finding you again with his gaze.

"How was everything? Same as usual?" He nodded, never caring to share in the carnage he did on a daily basis. Instead gesturing for you to come forward, obediently you did and he wrapped his arms around your waist and nestled his in the crook of your neck. Humming softly as you take it upon yourself to run your hands through his spiky locks.

"Here I'll get dinner started for you, im sure your hungry" You said ready to walk off but Mihawk doesn't release his hold on your waist. Instead tightening it ever so slightly.

"I have something for you" He mumbled against your neck, Making you raise a brow. Mihawk did like to spoil you, always liking to bring something back. Typically a nice book, or pretty jewelry for you. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a small black paper package wrapped carefully with red thread. He releases you enough to hand you the gift. Smiling as you carefully open the wrapped gift- Unfolding the wrapping paper to see a neatly folded fabric.

You gently hold up the fabric a blush starting to crawl over your cheeks. It was a black shear babydoll lingerie top, Small red bow accents decorating the lace getup, as well as the completely open back and incredible short 'skirt' paired with black lace stockings that had the same accents. You met your husband's eyes and could see him watching your face closely, A hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Can I try it on?" You ask a bit playfully, Still blushing as you hold the clothing item. He nods getting comforble in his seated position. You step back ready to go change behind the changing wall but hear him give what could only be described as a tsk of disapproval.

"No.. Right here" He said calmly, a look that was the closest to amusement he got played on his face. Watching your cheeks grow red at the instructions laid before you. Nodding softly as you slip off the large night shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Standing there in your panties before your husband as you slowly pulled them down, feeling his yellow eyed watch your every move. You slip on the stockings first feeling the fine fabric tickle your flesh as you straighten them out, You couldn't help but feel arousal at this. Especially with how Mihawk's seemed to be eating up your appearance- Finally the top, being pulled over your frame with great care. It was smaller then normal, the fabric too tight over your chest and not even bothering to fully hide your nipples.

You couldn't help but blush- noting that the matching lace panties that would typically be with a set like this was strangely missing.

His eyes racked over your form, Like he was savoring every bit of you before devouring you heart and soul- He reached forward, his long fingers running down your arm till he grasp your hand carefully. Pulling you closer to him and smirking at the sight of your flustered face.

"Give me a turn" He said lowly, his eyes shining with what could only be described as delight. Still holding your hand as he assisted in giving a little twirl, Watching the lace of the black lingerie flare up revealing your thighs and ass.

"Beautiful" He praised, making another wave of warmth wash through you. As if knowing how to make every part of you ache he let his fingers run up and down your form.

"T-Thank you Drac-"

"Sir.. Call me Sir" He cut you off his voice practically a purr, your face probably as red as a tomato at this point. Feeling a wave of warmth flutter over your body as you nodded at his command, Having to press your legs together in fear of falling to your knees and making a fool of yourself.

"Thank you Sir~" You say softly, earning a approving grunt from the Warlord. His hand travels down to your thigh wrapping around the soft flesh as his other hand grabs your hip. Guiding you to his lap, one hand still on your thigh giving a teasing squeeze which squeaked a moan out past your lips.

Mihawk smirked in approval as his lips quickly found yours, his lips having a sense of gentle urgency. As their lips met you could feel that heat blooming even more, settling in your core like fire being lit inside of you. His hands climbing up to cup her ass and giving a hard squeeze, a moan being pulled from you which he greedily swallowed. Pulling away briefly to give hungry kisses down your neck, You body responding and arching in direction of his lips.

"I hope you're ready my Love, I've been thinking of this for weeks~" He growled out as he playfully bit your chest. His eyes glowing in the dimming bedroom as he stared at your face waiting for a reply. You couldnt help but smile, flushed with lust and Purring back.

"Yes Sir~"

#mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #x reader #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #one peice #one peice x reader #one peice live action #one piece #one piece live action

989 notes · View notes

cozy-writes-things · 3 months

Text

Electric Love: Pt. 1

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

All of my fics so far have followed the same universe, so I thought it's only logical that I post an introduction to that universe.

The old man peering at you through puffy eyes and age seemed to have an air shrouded in mystery. His thin, white wisps of hair seemed to stagnate in place as he adjusted his button down.

“This old thing has been around for years now,” he gruffed—an unreadable tone—as his hand encased the yellowed plastic, “I don’t remember what happened to it; must have dropped it, or let some animal chip away at it.”

The dingy, vintage computer before your eyes surely had not been dropped, nor torn into by some animal. It sat upon his countertop completely destroyed; as if it had burst and shattered from the inside out, ripping the glass into jagged shards. You swallowed this thought; this was no time to debate the old man. He seemed to be quite senile as it was and pushing any further seemed like a fruitless effort. Instead, you stretched a thin smile his way, pursing your lips in thought.

“You actually think you can get this thing to work again?” he queried, raising a salt and pepper brow at your expression.

“Well, I’m not sure, but… I’d like to try,” what you hadn’t told him, however, was your infatuation with electronics. Ever since completing your bachelor’s in computer science, you have been tinkering away at many different projects in between jobs, building custom PCs, fixing old Game Boys, and many others. This little computer was an addition to your ever growing collection.

It came from a company you had never heard of before, only to learn it had become defunct in the 80s due to some inexplicable software issues in their products. This certainly intrigued you, as prodding into its code could provide some useful insight to real, vintage tech that just doesn’t exist anymore. But, that’s only if you manage to fix the heap of destruction limply hung before you.

The old man stiffened at your words, ever so slightly, before rattling out, “Well, if you do, don’t bring it anywhere near me. I can’t stand all this tech, and gadgets, and whatnot. Pisses me off.”

“Right,” you interjected, knowing people like him tend to go on long, anti-future, anti-technology rants, trying desperately to beat him to the punch, “well, how much do you want for it?”

He stilled, contemplating for a moment, “twenty-five should be fine.”

“Perfect,” you chirped, padding against your pockets and bag searching for some cash. Pulling out your wallet, you waded around the folds, only to find a crumpled up and faded ten dollar bill and a debit card.

“Ah, I’ve only got a ten…”

He rolled his eyes, “of course you do, you got PayPal, then?” Your cheeks flushed a burning red hot from embarrassment, “ah, yes, I do-”

“Great, just pay me that way,” he bent down and scribbled something messily onto a note, “here’s my information. I made sure to set this up for people like you, you know. Nobody carries cash anymore, or so my grandson tells me.”

You force out a nervous chuckle.

“That’s certainly true… these days, ah…” you unlocked your phone and began inputting his information into PayPal before pressing send on the digital payment, “okay, it went through.”

“Perfect. You need help getting this hunk of junk to your car?”

“No, I should be fine, thank you, sir,” you croak as you heave the broken computer into your arms, heading towards his door.

“Well, come back if you want to buy anything else. Nobody goes to yard sales anymore, it seems.”

You can only turn your head and chuckle at his quip, before awkwardly dashing out of his apartment and towards your car. The dampened asphalt from the rain squelched under your toes as you lugged the large piece of tech to the passenger side.

“There,” you whispered, to nobody in particular, as you awkwardly buckled the computer in place, “hopefully you won’t fall that way.”

And just like that, you were off, headed towards home to begin the massive project that was repairing this obsolete device.

“What to do with you?”

You groaned as you thumped the solid mass of plastic and metal against your desk, “you’re incredibly broken.”

First and foremost, it needs a screen replacement. Which is easier said than done. Especially considering the company who manufactured these things hasn’t existed in 40 years. Unfortunately, a close replica will have to do. Maybe you could even upgrade its screen with something with a bit more prowess.

Poking inside of its components seemed to tell a different story. Miraculously, none of the motherboards were damaged with the same ferocity the screen had been. There seemed to be some sort of dried, caked on water damage of some sort, that left a sticky residue, but otherwise, everything seemed to be relatively intact. The yellowed casing could use a wipe down from the thick layer of starchy dust, but it seemed to hold its original shape with surprising ease.

Following a closer inspection, it seemed as though the glass screen, and the components in charge of illuminating it, were the only things in need of replacing. A quick browse on Amazon, some tech forums, and a post on Reddit should be a good start in finding a usable replacement for this sad, broken gadget.

For now, however, you get some isopropyl alcohol and a soft bristled toothbrush to chip away at the water damage on the motherboards in hopes of restoring the electrical connections. You were quite hopeful that you’d get this little guy up and running just as soon as you could find the right parts. It’s only a matter of time.

#ai x reader #artificial intelligence x reader #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams 1984 #electric dreams edgar #electric dreams x reader #electric dreams #edgar electric dreams #objectum

156 notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 1 year

Text

Cargo. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 4)

3.1k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader 18+ / pt 1 / master list

His arms loosen and you turn around to face him. Bedhead is unreasonably sexy on him. You try to kiss him and he dodges you again, going for your neck instead. . . He starts giving you a light hickey. "You're evil," you say, pulling away to look at him. He smiles wickedly, then it fades. | next: part 5

Thank you @dark-scape for the mood board (and sounding board).

CONTENT WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ Noncon somnophilia just the tip (don't get too excited) dry humping, vaginal fingering, oral (M receiving), alcohol, reader wears his shirt, excessive dialogue, elvis reference, sex work references, NO HOG BBQ YET SORRY- It took on a life of its own, needed its own part (next Sunday) and I think you'll see why the pacing is better that way.

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-face All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.

The hotel shampoo and body wash smell like Joel after his shower, which makes you want to take the bottles with you. After your bath, you lounge on your bed in a towel, air-drying, finishing the movie, and replaying the night in your mind. Mainly how hot Joel looked between your legs. You also dwell on the fact that he wouldn’t really kiss you. Apparently, he won't sleep in the same bed with you either. It hurts. Like, it's physically painful.

You go across the suite to Joel's room for a shirt to sleep in. His door is cracked open and there's a green flannel folded on top of his luggage. It’s not weather-appropriate and you wonder if he brought it for you. He's tucked in, already asleep on his stomach with his shirt off, a massive arm sticking out over the white comforter and another under his pillow. You drop your towel to put the shirt on – leisurely, hoping he wakes up to the tempting sight – but he's already sleeping soundly. You've never seen his face so relaxed, but his brow is still somewhat furrowed.

You sit down on his bed to fasten a couple of buttons. He doesn't wake up. The irony doesn't escape you that you're watching him sleep when he's supposed to be the creep. Why doesn't he try to fuck you, you wonder. His words to Chad echo in your mind: If she told her father, you wouldn't be breathing. But that's obviously different, you think. That was about someone breaking your heart and physically intimidating you.

The hotel bed is tightly made, with the comforter tucked under the mattress on the side Joel isn't using. You wonder if you could slip inside without waking him up. You move the pillows out of the way, then slowly, inch by inch, wedge yourself under the sheets. When you're almost settled, he stirs. He blinks a few times, squints at you, then sighs, "Trouble . . ." He moves one of his pillows and hugs it, effectively putting something between you. It stings. You try to sleep but you end up sniffling.

He hears you and wakes up again. "C'mere, damnit," he half-whispers, half-asleep. His gruff bedroom whisper makes you wet. He lifts up his arm but doesn't turn on his side or move the pillow. You rotate the pillow slightly and rest your head on it with his arm over your chest. You drift off sooner than you expect.

At some point in your sleep, you roll over facing away from him. You wake up in the fetal position with Joel’s arm draped over you. Joel has turned onto his side, too. Your upper back is just barely against his chest. You scoot your lower body backwards to spoon with him, and your naked ass meets the tip of his cock. Arousal shoots through you like a bolt of lightning. It's the first time you've actually had contact with it. You didn't even realize he was naked.

At the first contact, his hips instinctively press his cock up against you, sending all the blood in your body to your core. You stifle a moan, not stopping to wonder why you don't want to wake him up. You carefully maneuver your ass to nestle his cock between your thighs. He thrusts in his sleep, gliding firm and wet against your folds, reaching your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

You unbutton your shirt then nudge his hand into it. His hand twitches and so does his cock. It pulls back a little and the tip is right at your entrance. Your hips tilt, nestling it there, the top curve of the head resting just inside without truly breaching you. You could sink onto him right now. It would be so easy. But you want him to do it himself.

You're absolutely throbbing, aching for him. He pulls back again with a sigh, then his hard tip bypasses your tight, dripping hole and glides to your clit again and you softly moan. You adjust your chest, wanting the movement of your breast to prompt his hand to cup around it. But instead of cupping your breast, his hand drifts up your chest. Then, it wraps loosely around your throat.

His voice is quiet but stern as his cock retreats then slides firmly against your clit with an aggressive thrust. His hand applies light pressure around your throat. “What’d I tell ya last night?”

You remember it well, how you foolishly claimed you weren't gonna fuck him and he replied, oh, I'm not gonna let ya, sugar. Blood drains from your face and your heart races. You scoff but don't say anything. Having made his point, his hand goes slack again. Humiliation drowns out your arousal and you begin to scoot away, but he follows you, effortlessly restraining you with one enormous arm.

“Calm down," he says into your hair, then half-whispers under your ear, "I’m still gonna take care of ya,” as he palms your breast. His hard cock nestles against your crack.

"Lucky me," you say sarcastically and begin to squirm away, but both his arms wrap around you. In a mocking tone, you parrot, "Take care of me," and add, "you're an actual whore, aren't you?" A veiny hand slowly works your breast then trails down your torso and digs between your legs. That’s all it takes for your arousal to return.

He gathers your ample wetness and uses his middle and ring fingers in a way he must have been perfecting since before you were born. You gasp and your back arches with tension building rapidly in your core. His bicep flexes under your neck as his other hand slowly gropes your breasts. His stiff cock slowly ruts against your ass while he touches you like you've never been touched before.

He grunts and you gasp on the edge of your climax. He softly bites your neck, and it sends you. He sucks your neck as you come. When your body finishes convulsing into his, his arms loosen and you turn around to face him.

Bedhead is unreasonably sexy on him. You can't resist. You try to kiss him.

He fucking dodges you again, going for your neck instead. "Haven't you seen Pretty woman?" Yeah, the one where a sex worker won’t kiss johns on the mouth because it’s too emotional . . .Joel starts giving you a light hickey.

"You're evil," you say, pulling away to look at him.

He smiles wickedly, then it fades. He opens his mouth to say something but stops short when you reach down and grab his cock. Your mouth falls open at its hardness and the fact that his hand is already around it.

He winces at your icy fingers.

You get up on your knees and straddle his legs, pushing the plush luxury comforter behind you. You fold at the hips and take a moment to admire his cock in your fist and breathe in his musk. Your thumb lightly traces a vein, and he exhales with a soft grunt. You look up and are greeted with a twinkle in his eye and a barely perceptible smirk. You want to wipe that smirk off his face.

You quickly succeed by holding eye contact while you wrap your lips around his swollen tip and tongue the slit. It’s already salty with pre-cum. He takes a deep breath and his lips part just barely. He puts another pillow behind his head for a better view. His face falls into a trance. When you begin to suck, he swallows and his jaw clenches. His eyes darken. You bob your head on his cock, taking as much of his shaft as you can without gagging, stroking the rest with your hand.

“Fuck,” he pants. His quads tense under you and his breathing changes. His hips rock gently into your mouth. Your eyes water as you keep blowing him. Then, his hand joins yours.

“Where ya want it?” he asks somewhat urgently. What a gentleman.

You don’t answer, you simply take his hand off his cock and place it on his stomach. You slow your sucking and relax your tongue. His hips thrust gently into your mouth and his hand floats to your head, but you send it back to his stomach again

“God almighty,” he groans. “Fuck me.” It’s a turn-on seeing him so desperate.

You edge him until you’re ready to see him come. Then, you suck with your whole mouth, your cheeks caving in as you firmly tongue the underside. Within seconds, his hips lift and stay lifted as he erupts in your mouth with a groan. His warm load hits the roof of your mouth first, and it’s so many ropes you lose count. You swallow, then return to the head of the bed.

You put your head on his chest and he strokes your shoulder.

“You’re the evil one,” he says, and you bask in self-satisfaction for a minute. “Nah, you’re right. You don’t wanna believe it, but you’re right.”

“About what?”

He sits up and your eyes glue to his inner bicep flexing as he reaches for his phone. His brow furrows as he reads something then dismisses it. Then he puts on the song Trouble by Elvis. He meant you’re right that he’s evil.

You hold out your arm and say, “I’m cringing so hard I have goosebumps.”

“Just for that, I’m gonna play DJ allll mornin’,” he says. He sings along as he walks to the shower, “well I’m evil, so don’t you mess around with me. . .”

. . .

Before Joel takes you back to your apartment, you have brunch at a restaurant overlooking the riverwalk. In the absence of other options, you wear your leather pants with the lacy top. You both get bloody marys. He wears his Ray-Bans and a white t-shirt, jeans as tight as always, and sits back lazily with one elbow over the back of his chair and his knees spread wide.

Your phone dings with a text from another family friend, Frank, asking if you’re coming home for the Independence Day barbecue, and it gets you thinking.

“Dad’s back this week,” you say to Joel. You instantly regret it for killing the mood, but it’s the elephant in the room. “Y’all still gonna barbecue?”

He takes a sip of his drink, then puts it back down. He looks at the river and furrows his brow, then his eyes return to you. “Why wouldn’t we? You gonna talk to him?”

“I dunno,” you say, not wanting to show your hand, but you’re leaning against snitching any time soon.

Joel tenses and his nose twitches. “What are you gonna tell’m?” He rubs one side of his beard. A waiter approaches from behind, but Joel doesn’t see him. “Gonna tell’m you climbed into my bed? Tried to fuck yourself on my cock?" There’s a bite to his words. The waiter stops in his tracks and awkwardly tries to pretend he wasn’t coming to your table. You look at the waiter and shrug and he gulps before nodding at you in acknowledgement. Joel looks over his shoulder then shakes his head at you and smirks as the waiter walks away.

Climbed into his bed. . . tried to fuck yourself on his cock. . . It sounds so bad when he puts it that way. Maybe it was. Your cheeks burn.

You sigh. "I wasn't -”

Joel raises his eyebrows at you.

“Just the tip," you protest.

Joel nods thoughtfully.

“I dunno what I was thinking,” you admit. You cross your arms and slouch down in your seat.

"It's never just the tip," Joel says.

"Why didn't you want it?" You ask pathetically

He sighs. "Nothin' to do with want.” He takes a deep breath and leans back. He looks at the river, exhales, then adds, "Trust me. . .Fuck." He takes a sip of his bloody mary and looks back at you.

"What then?”

The way he looks like he’s racking his brain, you wonder if he’s holding back just to drive you crazy. It certainly has your attention. In fact, you didn’t know how badly you needed to fuck him until last night . . .just minutes after he said he wasn’t going to let you.

Finally, he says, "It's bad for you, sugar."

“What is? Your evil cock?”

He smirks then shifts uncomfortably in his seat and looks at the river again. “I dunno what to tell ya. I've seen a lot. Don't wanna put ya through it. Shoot, look at your stepmom, she's damn near lost her mind.”

“You're just that good,” you roll your eyes. You have every reason to believe he is.

Joel sighs. “Nothin' to do with good. Shit, I’m not good, I'm just grown." He takes a sip of his bloody mary. "Don't you know any hot professors? Take 'em for a spin, you'll see."

You brush it off as his crude way of being modest. He could probably make bank as an actual gigolo from what you’ve seen.

"Then what is it?" you wonder. He gives it some thought.

"Reckon it’s ‘cause ya can't have me. No one can. I'm un-have-able."

“Why don’t you ever settle down?”

“Shoot, I dunno. When I was your age, I was already a father. Maybe I went backwards.”

You nod, appreciative of his effort to give a real answer.

He continues, “But ya know, monogamy just ain’t right for some people. Hell, even in a marriage. You’d be surprised how many are open.”

“How many what? Marriages?” You suspect his sample is skewed.

“Yeah. Relationships, marriages.” He crosses his legs. “Alright, my turn to ask you somethin’.”

Your heart rate spikes, hoping he won’t revisit the just-the-tip incident.

“Why'd you stand there and watch that night, hmm?" He cocks an eyebrow. It’s the first time either of you bring up the moment that started all of this. Sometimes, when you’re with him, you forget about it entirely.

You laugh at his audacity, then counter with, "Why'd you stand there and finish?"

"Easy. So I could nut.” He flashes his eyebrows with a casual smirk, then downs the rest of his drink.

"You did not just say nut. God, you're such a boomer."

"Alright, let's get outta here ‘fore we traumatize another waiter." He throws more than enough cash on the table then stands up and pulls up his jeans. He puts his hands on his hips and cocks a leg out, looking out over the river while you chug the rest of your drink.

When you get in the truck, Joel puts his phone on bluetooth and “Call Me,” the theme to American Gigolo, blasts on. He’s so lame. You shake your head at him and he has that subtle Dad joke smirk. His bicep stretches that t-shirt so nicely.

Halfway to your apartment, some kind of restricted call pops up and his phone automatically answers it. You swear it’s your father’s voice on the line that says, “You’re offline. What’s your 20?” Joel’s face changes entirely, and something tightens in your chest.

He scrambles to turn off bluetooth and puts the phone to his ear. You can still somewhat hear the other end of the line.

Joel glances at you and says, “Uhhh-”

“We’ve gotta move,” your dad says.

“It’s broad daylight,” Joel counters.

“The Bureau tracked down his number two and he’s on the move.”

Joel seems frustrated. “Why don’t you get Jesse?”

Your dad says, “He’s comin’ but they’re rollin’ deep. We need our best shot or it’s gonna be a shitshow.” Your heart is a mile a minute.

“Dad?” you ask meekly, too nervous to fully commit to asking.

“What was that?” your Dad asks. “Who was that?” You don't say anything else. You feel weak.

Joel glances at you regretfully. “Damnit, gimme ten and I’ll call you.”

“We gotta move, Miller. I need you back online.”

Joel sighs “Working on it. I’ve got cargo, k?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. "What kind of cargo?”

Joel looks at you again and answers, "precious.” He hangs up.

Joel hits the steering wheel angrily. He speeds back toward your apartment, clenching his jaw as his driving intensifies. You’re shaking. That was almost certainly your father, and it didn’t sound anything like a military training exercise, or a construction project of Joel’s, for that matter.

Joel silently fumes.

“Was that my dad?” you ask with watery eyes. He takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out as he exhales. Before he can answer, you foolishly let him off the hook with another question. “Did you just call me cargo?"

“Sorry sugar, no time right now.” You ride in silence, bracing yourself as he careens around a corner.

The tears in your eyes threaten to overflow, then one does.

Joel pulls up to your apartment. He waits with one hand still on the steering wheel for you to get out, but when he looks at you, he sees that big fat tear run down your cheek and his face softens.

“Aw, shoot,” he says, and unbuckles. “I’m an asshole.” He gets out and jogs over to the passenger side. He opens the door for you and you slide out of the chair lazily, numbly, not quite wanting to meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he says, and tilts your chin up. Suddenly, it seems like he’s in no hurry at all. He takes off his Ray-Bans and looks at you like he’s trying to heal you with his eyes. You finally make eye contact and take a shaky breath, trying not to full-on sob. His thumb brushes away your tears, then the same hand cradles the back of your head. You stand there reading each other’s eyes. Slowly, your head begins to pull like a magnet toward his lips. You almost feel like his hand is ever so subtly pulling you that way. You steel yourself for rejection anyway. But then, Joel’s head drifts toward yours.

His beard lightly prickles your skin as your lips lock and his free arm wraps around you. You’re caught off guard, but in less than a second, you don’t care about anything else in the world. Joel’s tongue parts your lips and you accept it hungrily. His lips are soft but strong as they suck you into him. Your mouths are needy for each other. His hand behind your head pulls you further into him. You kiss like you’re sharing a last breath of air. Then, he seals the moment on your upper lip and pulls away. The whole kiss can’t be more than ten seconds, tops.

“Gotta go, Trouble.” he whispers, then swallows solemnly, looking down. “I’m sorry.”

He jumps in his truck and peels off.

next: part 5

thank you all so much for reading and engaging. y'all are the best ILY!!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #perdo pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#toxicdbf #dbf!joel

1K notes · View notes

backtotheshitshow · 8 months

Text

Wood & Words

Woodworker! James Potter x Princess! Reader.

Summary: Y/n was looking for the castle woodworker to make her some new thing but she might have found something else instead.

Warnings: i don’t know fluff? James has trouble reading in this one….its for the plot I promise.

Part2

James was on his way back from gathering wood from a nearby grove, his horse carrying the necessary gear to pull the massive logs back to the castle grounds.

As they trotted down the path through the fields, he looked about, taking in the scenery.

The grass around him was still damp from the last rain, but the sun was starting to warm the air to be comfortable and he enjoyed the feeling of being out and working.

He dismounted his horse as he arrived back at his wood shed, beginning to unload the logs from the cart.

There’s a small knock on the door of the shed.

“Excuse me. Um Mr Potter is it?” James hears from near by, causing him to stop what he was doing .

To his own surprise he turns to see the princess.

He quickly hid his surprise and nodded to her. He couldn't help sneaking a glance at her.

Her beauty was stunning, and just seeing her made his heart beat faster, a wave of heat running through him.

He smiled at her, his hazel eyes twinkling. He found himself staring at her, captivated by her presence.

"Yes, I'm James... Potter, your majesty." He answered her trying to not look to nervous.

He was very used to being left alone so the sudden visit was setting off his nerves a bit.

“Um how can I help you?” He asked.

“Ah yes… I’ve come to inquire about something.” She said stepping further into the wood shed towards James.

“Of course how can I be of servous?” He said wipping his hands on his pants and taking a few steps forward.

As he got closer she mentally noted that he was a lot more handsome than she thought he might be, despite the dirt that speckled his face and clothes.

“I’m aware that you often make things for the castle. Chairs and things. I was wondering if you would be able to make a few things for me?” She asked, holding her hands behind her back.

“I’ve brought a um…a list.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her sleeves.

James looked down at the list that he was handed. As he looked at it, an awkward realization dawned on him.

The letters on the parchment swirled as they always did. As if his eyes refused to focus. An irritated look spread across his face.

“Is there something wrong Mr Potter?” She asked concerned.

He looked at her with a sheepish smile. “I’m not…I’m afraid I’m not very good with words your majesty.” He hands her back the list, avoiding her eye contact.

“Oh…” she seemed shocked by his response.

“I’m so very Mr Potter I…I did not mean to…” y/n cut herself off. “That’s alright. I was only hoping you could make me a new book stand, an easel and a stool, I doubt you need a list for that” She said a bit more confidently.

James smiled warmly as she apologised. Not being able to read wasn’t usually a problem. Most of his instructions came with pictures. And it’s not as if he couldn’t read at all, he knew basic words.

"Absolutely, Princess. I can make that for you. Do you have any specifications on what you want them to look like?”

“No. I’m sure whatever you make will suit perfectly fine.” She was quiet for a moment as she thought.

“Perhaps I can repay you for your service Mr Potter. You make the things I asked for and I can perhaps help you with your reading skills?”

James liked that she was being so kind, but the thought of anyone, let alone the princess helping him read made him feel less than adequate.

“There’s no need for that you majesty. This is my job after all, no need for repayment….” James says.

“Well I can still help either way. I’d love to get you some books perhaps.” Y/n offered with a smile.

James was getting irritated, he was trying to be nice but she kept pushing the subject. He didn’t wish to talk about his reading abilities anymore.

“Fogive me if I speak out of turn your majesty, but I don’t wish for you to teach like I am some small child. I have done perfectly fine in life so far with out it.” James says turns away putting some wood in a barrel.

Y/n felt saddened by his response. She hadn’t meant to upset him.

“I-I apologise Mr Potter I did not mean to offend you. I simply…..” she sighed, looking down.

“Very well thank you for taking on this task. I will return Friday next week. Will that be enough time?”

“Yes that should be more than enough time.” He said bluntly.

“Well thank you…um have a nice evening.” Y/n said leaving quietly.

James watched her leave. His heart was racing and his mind was racing even more, He was not sure, but he couldn't help feeling as though he’d disappointed her some how.

……

The following day y/n returned to the wood shed, knocking quietly as she had the day before.

“Mr Potter? Are you here?” She called.

James heard her voice as he was working on her book stand. He wasn't sure why she was here when they had agreed on next Friday, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see her and find out what she needed.

"Yes! I'm here! I'll be out in just a minute," he said, not wanting to keep her waiting much longer.

“No no take your time I’ve only come to drop off a small gift” y/n explained.

James walked towards her, face dirty and hair a mess, wipping his hands of sawdust with a rag.

James raised an eyebrow at the mention of a gift. He would not complain, but he could not understand why the Princess would want to give him anything, let alone a gift.

“A gift, your majesty?" he asked, still taking the time she offered him.

He was curious and, at the back of his mind, just a touch excited. It wasn't every day that a beautiful princess went out of her way to give him a gift.

“Ah yes….I know you said you didn’t want my help. I understand how you may have felt yesterday. I can see how it may be a bit of a sensitive topic for you. I found this at the markets today.” She placed a book entitled ‘Reading 101’ on his work bench.

“It’s not a childrens book. It’s more..mature then that I thought it might help.” She gave a quick smile.

James wasn’t sure what his reaction should be, he had said he didn’t want her help, but this gesture made it clear she wasn��t taking no for an answer and that oddly comforted him.

Y/n saw the unsure look on his face. “Please except it. I only wish to help.” She blurted out.

“Very well. Thank you.” James said. Moving back to his work.

“Oh…right yes. You’re welcome.” Y/n replied.

James took a glance over to her, he noticed a defeated look on her face. As she began exiting the wood shed he called out to her.

“Your majesty!”

Y/n turned around quickly.

“I mean it…thank you.” He said.

A beaming smile creeped its way onto her face. “Have a nice evening, James.” She said before disappearing.

—————

Hope you enjoy.

Feedback and suggestions are always helpful.💜

#james potter #james potter blurb #marauders #james potter imagine #James potter au #James potter x reader #James potter x y/n #marauders x y/n #marauders x reader

218 notes · View notes

ackerifle · 9 months

Note

Can you make an asylum patient needy yandere levi ackerman x asylum worker or reporter reader also do you do crossovers if so are you familiar with outlast or the Mount massive asylum

a spoonful of sugar!

yan. asylum patient levi ackerman x fem asylum nurse. reader

+ CW. — au: recon psychiatric hospital, reverse power dynamics, solitary confinement, medical drugging, escapement, morally grey darling, mentions of: mistreatment/abuse of patients, illegal medical procedures; my apologies, i’ve no knowledge on outlast, or asylums for that matter (but the effort is there, trust); not proof-read.

there is something innately unnerving about working so late into the night. it doesn’t help that any remnants of the sun’s presence had since been replaced by the humorless light of the moon, almost mockingly as it shone down on the equally dour and somber asylum. but much to your pleasure, you had been away for the entirety of the day, a blessing for you, but a curse for the recon psychiatric hospital. the asylum without its head nurse may have been left in ruins had you not returned any sooner, all thanks to a particularly high-maintenance patient, one you happened to be on your merry way to see.

delivering medications was child’s play; wonderfully easy, lacking in any form of demanding labor, and so effective. in spite of the fact that you were still quite privy to the more intense and morally questionable procedures performed by the doctors and assisted by the fellow nurses, it wasn’t like you to get your hands dirty. perhaps that is why they always stuck you with the night shift, because it was much simpler and favorable to deal with unconscious patients.

in your dominant hand grasped a singular nonbenzodiazepine pill, colorless and bland, an all white capsule with the only labeling being a letter ‘z,’ engraved on the surface of the medication. it was pinched between your forefinger and thumb, and you were careful as not to be too rough; what would be a sign of poor handling on your part, but you also held an insouciant grip on it to prevent any powdery residue from getting onto your skin. a glass, or rather faux-glass, cup took the empty space of your other hand. a glass half empty with water from two corridors down, courtesy of the leaky faucet from the dingy kitchenette. for once, the water appeared tasteful in the luster of the night, it made you lick your lips when you held the clear glassware up above you as you passed beneath the ceiling lights.

your pace was slowed so as to not allow the water to slosh around too much within its confines, and you made sure the uneven steps on the top floor’s staircase wouldn’t impair neither your ankles, nor fingers. when you had conquered the ascent and found yourself steady on flat ground, you stood motionless and inspected your hand, letting the pill gracelessly fall from your fingertips to the cup of your palm. folding your hand to cover the tablet, you continued down the daunting hallway.

had you not been working at an asylum, you would’ve run for the hills upon seeing such a sight: formidable walls and weak floorboards that creaked under the slightest weight, defectively dismal lighting that was unreliable at its best (constantly flickering) and completely useless at its worst (broken and shattered), and an indefinite silence that would likely cause one to go mad. this was the location deemed as ‘solitary confinement,’ seeing that there was no applicable area for those who deserved such a punishment. the courtyards and other floors were regarded unfit, as it was often frequented by patients and staff alike, and the most suitable section, the basement, was… occupied for more unruly operations.

the latter thought causes a cold shiver to crawl down your spine, and you shake your head with leaden stagnancy to avoid remembering the imagery. thankfully, it doesn’t take long to reach your destination, and you bend down to crouch in front of the door before you. with observant eyes, you gently set the cup down onto the floor, grimacing at how it touches the ground, and you retract your fingers from the body of the glass once the water’s splashes reduce to complete stillness. rising to your feet and straightening your posture, you dig into your pocket, rummaging for the ring of keys set, and looking for the singular key to the top floor’s only inhabited room. you avoid looking into the pathetic excuse of a window, eyes trained to the doorknob; insert, turn right, and pull back. sliding the ring of keys back into your pocket, you take a risky hold of the glass, raising it back up to your level by the rim.

there is absolutely no sense of urgency when you open that door, guiding it with your dominant hand as the inside of the room begins to reveal itself. stepping inside and far enough away from the door’s line of movement, you make eye contact with the patient residing within the recon psychiatric hospital’s loneliest floor, and he does not look happy. your gaze doesn’t shift, locked in place as you feel around for the door, pushing it back with a harsh shove, and only moving once you hear the bolts fasten it closed with an obnoxious slam. you idly meander your way over to the bed, where he is sat, one leg crossed over the other and his hands interlocked atop his knee. he doesn’t look to be someone who requires psychiatric treatment like this, but you’re no fool.

“i heard you gave dr. zoë quite the scare earlier.” you turn your hand faced up, unfurling your grip and displaying the capsule that continues to sit unperturbed in the cradle of your palm. a sour expression was already present on levi’s face, but at the mention of your peer, his eyebrows furrow and lips tug further into a frown, “where were you?”

taking a small step forward, you gradually traipse closer towards the bed that was pressed into the right corner of the room. he is motionless, even as you near. you dully tilt your head to the side with a quizzical look, it is only until you’re within arms reach does levi unravel from the stiff position, uncrossing his legs and unfolding his arms, “you can’t go terrorizing our psychiatrists and psychologists—”

“where were you?” your face falls at his demanding tone, but that is the least of your concerns once you feel levi’s eager hands on your body. simultaneously, he languidly spreads his legs apart until there is enough room for you to stand in between them; something you fail to take notice of as you’re far too distracted by him grabbing you by your torso, digging his fingers dangerously close to the underside of your breasts, then sliding down and tapping his fingers against the sides of your stomach, squeezing almost playfully, before he ultimately decides to sink his claws into your hips.

abrasively jerking you forward, levi’s arms snake around your waist until his hands meet one another overtop the curve on your lower back. you gasp when he pulls you closer, gaping with distraught panic at the glass of water, which fortunately did not spill, but it had come close. your knees collide with the inner side of his thighs, and you clasp your hand that was holding onto the z-drug to restrain it in place, so as not to lose it. once fully retaining your stability, your eyes dart down to levi, offering him an irked glare and placing the closed fist of your dominant hand on his shoulder, attempting to push him back to provide yourself some space. he doesn’t budge whatsoever, even when you continue your futile efforts in prying him off of you.

“where were you?” he repeats for the third time, but when he asked, levi didn’t sound pushy or domineering, unlike the previous two times, just bemused. your attention finally drops down to him, analytically observing as he gaped up at you. it was almost as if he looked at you with vacant, absentminded eyes with the way he refused to avert his gaze, but his gawking was anything but absentminded. his eyes felt intimate, accompanied by his endearing touches and the close proximity. you felt intimidated to hold this unspoken staring contest, “i, well, i was away.”

levi leans into you, until his head can rest in the crook of your neck. you’re rigid in his hold, refusing to let up your firm posture, only slightly bending to accommodate his height, “where?” you grind your molars together, and although you have the right to leave his questions unanswered, you do respond anyway just to satiate his curiosity, “my presence was requested for an asylum in stohess.”

“and what business do they have that involves you?” levi withdraws away from your neck, only to place his chin in between your collar bones, angling his head to look up at you, “i’ve been requested for a possible transfer, there is a young girl over there, i believe her name is annie… regardless, they think she’ll do better in my care. that’s why i’ve been telling you that you need to treat the other staff nicer.”

levi gives you an incredulous scowl, hands shooting up to cup either side of your face and drawing you closer until you’re nearly forehead to forehead. his eyes are awfully scary when he’s this close, and his voice goes monotonous, “you aren’t going. that’s ridiculous, they need you transferred to help one patient?” he asserts as if he’s the one in charge of that choice, you scoff.

“it’s ridiculous to stay for one patient, levi.” you’re given a break from the leer he was boring practically into your skull as he rolls his eyes, “it’s not your place or mine to finalize this decision. please don’t be difficult, it’s past time you take your medication.” it is both extremely embarrassing and annoying that you have to beg him to do literally anything, considering it only further feeds into his power and control complex when it comes to you.

he’s quiet for a while after that. perhaps not totally out of the ordinary for him, but you can see the gears turning in his head. levi is thinking about something, and whatever it is, it cannot be good. suppressing your unease, you careen backwards, breaking free from his clutch, but not without dipping your clenched hand into his, finally letting go of the pill. levi’s focus is redirected to the little white caplet, and you nudge the glass of water against his other hand. you cross your arms, waiting impatiently, and his eyes briefly flicker towards you before placing the pill in his mouth, mindful as not to accidentally swallow it, before tossing his head back and taking a hefty sip of water. levi raises the empty glass, and you take it from him, practically snatching it out of his hands and kneeling to set it down on the discolored and tarnished floorboards.

when you stand up and dust off your uniform, levi peers at you expectantly. and you let out a defeated sigh, to which levi smiles, “come here.” you instruct him to do so, but it is you coming to him. levi reels you in by the buckle of your apron, causing you to stumble over your own feet. you place both of your hands flat on his shoulders to ground yourself, wordlessly scolding him with a glare, one that only makes his smile grow wider.

you set your middle finger and thumb on the underside of his jaw, pulling it down slack and examining the inside of his mouth. your other hand finds itself on his cheek while you force his head to the left, then to the right, “lift your tongue.” levi obeys, pressing the muscle to the roof of his mouth, you press an index finger down onto his front teeth, causing his head to incline. you’re far too focused on ensuring that he actually consumed the pill to notice levi had gotten increasingly closer to you, and more level as well. levi catches you off guard when he bites down on your finger—

“ow! levi, i— what the hell? why would you do that?” you jump back, cradling the injured appendage in your other hand, mortified at the bite mark it had left on his wake. levi doesn’t give you much time to fully curse him out like you had wished, seizing you by your hips once more and falling back onto the bed, sitting upright with you at his mercy.

you descend with him, landing in a position that has you straddling his lap. the flat of your palm pries at his shoulder and chest, while your other arm is captured by his own hand, unbothered by your feeble endeavors in distancing yourself from him. levi’s other hand slides across the back of your neck, gripping onto your nape with a strict hold before pushing your head forward. his lips are on yours in an instant, letting go of your arm in favor of cruelly pinching your nose. you almost gag, frantically gasping for air, and without hesitation, levi’s tongue bullies its way into your mouth. and through the feeling of his hand tightening around the back of your neck, of his teeth nipping at your lips, of his tongue dominating yours; there is the feeling of a foreign object, and it feels like a pill.

wildly fighting his hold renders you breathless, and this is a fight you cannot win. tears swell in the corners of your bleary eyes, and the urge to cough becomes more eminent. to subdue the desire to hack and wheeze — which would certainly end in you choking — you instinctively swallow back the build up of both yours and levi’s saliva that gathered in the back of your esophagus. levi draws back from the kiss when he sees the lump in your throat bob and disappear, but he makes no move to release you, only relaxing his hands in their place. and it is now that you remember why he was administered to this asylum in the first place.

“i should’ve done this a long time ago…” apart of you wishes that z-drugs were immediately effective, just so you wouldn’t have to be conscious during your struggle against levi— which was, as always, in vain. it must have been due to the lack of air that you could only recount fragments of what happened. you turned your heel to flee, but levi had pinned you to the ground, keeping you in place with a chokehold that was alarming for someone who had been allegedly sedentary during his time in solitude. if your memory served you correctly, the sound of keys jingling and a door being unlocked could be heard; but whether it was in your dreams or in reality is unknown to you.

but that wouldn’t matter, by now, you and levi would be far from the psychiatric institution. it was easy, laughably easy for him. despite the fact it was such a late hour into the early mornings, and that he was carrying an unconscious and seemingly violated woman on his back, no passerby dared to question him. why would they? he was in a guard’s uniform after all, a stolen guard uniform— and thus, all the onlookers had just assumed that levi was kind enough to help an exhausted nurse on a particularly rough night shift get home safely. oh you were going home alright, back to levi’s home beneath the cities above, and how delighted he is now that he’ll be the one taking care of you. at the end of the day, it is what ‘normal,’ lovers do, isn’t it?

#ackerifle #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader

175 notes · View notes

aquaquadrant · 4 months

Note

I’m having thoughts again (the horror). You may have answered this before and I just can’t remember or find it buuuuuut

Is/was there ever a dragon in Hels? If there was could they spawn it in again or is she just dead?

“a dragon?” the player huffs a laugh, giving you an odd look. “you know dragons aren’t real, right? it’s just fantasy shit, like the sun and moon.” they shrug. “anyway, uh, if- if you’re not gonna buy somethin’ then stop wasting my fucking time and get the hell out.”

~*~

“ah, i see you’re a fellow intellectual.” the player nods sagely. “data analysis has found plenty of evidence supporting the existence of an ‘end dragon’, through communicator codes such as ID tags for items called ‘dragon’s breath,’ ‘dragon head’, and ‘dragon egg’, not to mention the achievement ‘free the end’, which is supposedly earned after slaying this dragon. so while we can only extrapolate so much from nonfunctional comm commands, i’d say the idea of a dragon existing in other worlds is quite substantiated.”

they pause.

“did hels ever have one? well, that’s the question, isn’t it. while the existence of glitched end chunks throughout hels has been proven on multiple occasions, no one’s ever found an end island with the obsidian pillars required to spawn and sustain a dragon. of course, it’s possible someone found it long ago and destroyed it, or perhaps no one’s found it yet, or perhaps it exists in a different form entirely. if you look at how biomes spawn in hels…”

~*~

“what, hels ain’t bad enough for you as it is?” the player wheezes, shaking their head. “kid, if there’s a dragon in hels, you’re better off if you never meet it. we got enough problems without throwin’ a damned dragon into the mix, ya hear?”

~*~

“never heard of such a thing. seems like nonsense.” the player hefts their axe onto their shoulder. “now, move along before i kill you.”

~*~

“there was a dragon in hels, yeah,” the player says nonchalantly. “this old player took me in when i was a kid, used to tell me stories. i mean, he never saw it. it was more of a ‘i know this guy who knew this guy who knew this guy who knew this guy who heard that someone saw it’ kinda deal… well? do you wanna hear it or not?”

they smirk.

“… that’s what i thought. so yeah, it was this massive red dragon- or uh, maybe it was like orange with red flames on its scales, fucking sick, right- with huge teeth and insane fire breath and… actually, it might’ve been acid? or poison? fuck, whatever, the point is that the thing was nasty, alright, it used to swoop down on the early settlements and mow those motherfuckers down, eating players- or, wait, i think maybe it would just throw them? uh, i dunno how but- wait, where you goin’? hey, this is valuable information, you know! … fine, whatever, asshole.”

~*~

“how the hel should i know?” the player demands, folding their arms. “this world’s infinite and old as balls, and we don’t exactly have a consistent method of widespread information distribution. someone could’ve killed it yesterday and i’d have no fucking clue.”

~*~

“yeah, there was.” the player nods. “it was before my time, but i heard our admin killed it. whoever the fuck they were… makes no difference to me, but it’s a cool thought, right?”

~*~

“hm. been a long time since someone asked me that.” the player leans forward, eyes flickering in the firelight. their gaze is haunted. “are you sure you wanna know?”

they pause.

“… alright, then.”

“now, this was back in the early days of hels, long enough ago that some of the oldest players still remembered havin’ an admin. we didn’t even know ‘bout the end chunks. then one day, there was this sound. every player in the world heard it, no matter where they were. it was louder than any thunderstorm, louder than any explosion- the kinda sound that goes clean through you, splits your ears and rattles your bones.”

“it was a scream, only not like any i’d ever heard before. there was a raw, guttural quality to it- like a wounded animal- yet the power was undeniable. but there was some distortion to it as well; an underpinning of static like the whole thing was bein’ broadcast through a beat-up jukebox. just thinkin’ of it sends chills down my spine.”

“then a peculiar thing popped up in chat. someone had made an achievement, only we couldn’t tell who or what. all the text was scrambled, like those funny words you see on an enchantment table. never met anyone who could read it. but needless to say, this sparked an entire movement bent on discoverin’ what the hell had happened.”

“some of the more adventurous players went explorin’ and found the end chunks. players who knew a thing or two about data analysis started huntin’ through their comms, usin’ the data of an endstone block someone brought back. didn’t take long after that to figure it out.”

“they found there was a dragon that belonged to a separate realm from overworld and nether. the end, they surmised. y’know, where endermen came from. the dragon lived there, sustained by end crystals that were said to float atop obsidian pillars on the end island it called home- its nest, as it were. so, unsurprisingly, it was called the ender dragon.”

“and if you killed it, you opened a portal. where it’d lead was anyone’s guess, but it was a way out of hels.”

“i was young, then. young and hungry. i banded up with some other players and we consulted an expert- the founder of data analysis, actually- to extrapolate the coordinates for the main end island. only he didn’t find just one; he found ten sets of coords, spread out over hundreds of thousands of blocks, nearly a million blocks. he predicted that each obsidian pillar had spawned on a separate end chunk, and that each one would have to be tracked down to kill the dragon. we had to destroy the crystals first, you see. he thought it was a waste of time, a fool’s errand, but we didn’t listen. so we split up, takin’ one set of coords each, and set off.”

“they were all ‘bout the same distance from each other, so no one had an easier go of it. i took one northeast of spawn, seven hundred and twenty-nine thousand blocks out. the journey took years. not sure exactly how many, i stopped keepin’ count sometime after the fifth. the other players on the mission gradually stopped replyin’ to my whispers- i think some of ‘em gave up and turned back. wasn’t sure if i was the only one still goin’, ‘til i eventually saw their death messages in chat, one by one. mobs, lava, fall damage, the usual. some might’ve died on the way; traversin’ hels alone on foot is no cake walk, even without the concern of PVP. never heard from any of ‘em again.”

“but i’d gone so far that givin’ up wasn’t an option. even if no one else had made it to their pillar and destroyed the crystal, even if killin’ the dragon would be impossible, i had to see it through. so i kept goin’. it was a lonesome existence, bein’ that far from spawn; i went months without sayin’ a single word, at times, damn near lost my mind. but it weren’t all bad. i reached the unloaded chunks, saw naturally-spawned passive mobs for the first time in my life. i saw rare biomes i’d never heard of, even came across one of those glitched end ships with an elytra. journey went quicker, after that, but it was still several years before i finally reached the coords.”

“the pillar was exactly what you’d expect. a tall, round obelisk made of solid obsidian, rooted on a floatin’ chunk of an endstone island. there were some endermen millin’ about the place, far more than in any other biome i’d seen- ‘cept maybe the warped jungles- but no sign of the dragon. the crystal was at the very top of the pillar in an iron cage, so i flew on up there, thinking at least i’d do what i came to do.”

“soon as i set foot on the top of the pillar, i heard a strange sound. it was that little zippin’ sound you hear when an enderman teleports- only it was a louder, deeper, slower sound that seemed to shake the world. like i could actually hear the distortion of space and time itself. the air suddenly filled with a haze of purple particles, so thick i could hardly see, move, or breathe.”

“and then she appeared.”

“the dragon was all black, black as the void ‘neath bedrock, with spines down her back and huge, bat-like wings, deadly sharp teeth and claws. she was big enough to swallow me whole and we both knew it. but what really put me off was that she was glitched.”

“it’s the best way i can describe it. her body was flickerin’ around all crazy-like as if i’d gone cross-eyed, so she appeared in multiples at times, countless wings unfurlin’ from the distorted mass. anywhere i looked directly at her would suddenly seem… pixelated, almost, like her form was fracturin’ into pieces, like i couldn’t fully ‘preciate the whole. but i remember her eyes. they were pure white, so bright it hurt to look at ‘em, and as she moved they seemed to blink in and out of existence around her, like they couldn’t quite settle in her skull. like twinklin’ stars against the night sky, beyond the bedrock ceiling.”

“she was beautiful.”

“the dragon perched against the tower, claws grippin’ the obsidian on either side of me, curled her slender neck down ‘til we were face-to-face, and roared. it had that same quality as that sound i’d heard all those years ago, and i knew at once it’d been her death rattle. in my daze, i remember wonderin’ who could’ve possibly managed to kill such a creature? what kinda player would even want to?”

“i’d been well-prepared for the fight. full enchanted gear, potions, gapples. but starin’ up at her, i couldn’t bring myself to use any of it. i just stared at her, caught in a moment that felt like an eternity as she stared back, before i realized her breath was poison.”

“i ended up back at the world spawn. didn’t matter i’d set a respawn anchor nearby the end island- this seemed to overwrite it. lost everythin’, of course, but i didn’t care. my death message in the chat was glitched, too, in that same strange language. now, i didn’t share my experience with the rest of the world; only to those who asked, and only in the hopes of dissuadin’ them from makin’ an attempt of their own.”

“which brings us to the end.” the player finally sits back, studying you with a shrewd gaze. “now, you listen to me. that dragon ain’t somethin’ to be killed, understand?”

you nod.

“good.” the player’s expression changes. “so, i’m afraid you’re not gonna like the next part of the story. but nothin’s free in this world, least of all knowledge.”

the player moves, there’s a flash of metal, and suddenly there’s a sword in your gut. engrossed in the story, you hadn’t even noticed them equip it.

“sorry,” the player tells you with a grin, “but that dragon ain’t the only monster here. send my regards to spawn.”

as darkness consumes you, your last thought is that the white spots dancing across your vision suddenly look like dragon eyes, blinking from the void.

~*~

#hermitcraft #hels to pay au #HTP fic #my writing #using they/them bc none of these players are supposed to be existing characters #they are ALL random unnamed npcs and not intended to be any known helsmit #(except for a little mention of one in there- that’s exactly who u think it is)#anyway THANK U FOR THE ASK i wasn’t planning on writing a drabble for it but when the inspo strikes…

86 notes · View notes

undertheopensky · 4 months

Text

Sleeping By The Gravestones 2

Whumptober Day 28: Sacrifice

Characters: Legend, Hyrule, Four

Trigger warnings: Presumed character death, violence, blood, I am dead serious about the blood warning on this one

Read on Ao3!

Missed the first instalment? Read here!

---

As they race down the narrow stone staircase, all Legend can hear is the screaming.

It’s close to the worst thing he’s ever heard. High pitched and wailing and agonised, the kind of sound no Hylian throat should ever make. The echoes make it otherworldly, reflecting back on itself until it seems to go on forever without a breath.

His eyes blur. He wishes he could just not listen but the sound reaches claws straight through to his brain and his spine and he can’t even cover his ears because he needs his hands free there could be enemies at any corner –

Instead the bottom of the stairs ends in a massive, iron-bound door. It’s so big they’ll struggle to move it even on the off chance it’s not barred, and the screaming is still so loud even with the muffling it makes Legend’s chest hurt. How are they going to get in? They don’t have time, what does he have, could he burn away the wood –?

Time hauls up his monster of a sword and Legend has a stunned moment of he’s not really going to – before the man brings it across the barrier with a thunderous crash.

The doors splinter and sag. Time hits them once more before one tears away from its hinges and they’re through, into a wide stone chamber that’s lit by too-pale torchlight and all Legend’s thoughts go to static.

The tiny smithy looks like a child laid out on the altar. Hands bound at the wrist and stretched over his head, ankles tied to the other end of the stone slab. Crimson flows off the edges in macabre waterfalls; blood soaks his tunic and floods the stone, pooling almost as far as the nearest bundle of linen. The nearest body. There’s at least a dozen, cultists in dark robes scattered around the room like windblown chaff, all of them as still as tiny Four.

Hyrule catches sight of Four – throat laid open too still and too pale – and gives a low, wounded cry.

Legend realises later that the screaming had never paused at all, but when Hyrule calls out it rises in pitch and volume into a shriek and the hazy darkness at the ceiling crashes down on them.

Legend’s thrown to his hands and knees by the force of it. It feels like a weight, there and gone again, and he’s scrambling back to his feet and laying sticky-wet hands on his sword as the others shout and grab their own weapons. But when he scans the room, there’s nothing to fight. No monster, no villain, no sign of whatever is still screaming. He knows now it isn’t – it can’t be Four.

He takes an unthinking step forward, towards Four’s body, and something sweeps him off his feet and sends him sprawling.

There’s more shouting as Legend rolls to his feet, ignoring the blood now coating his back and half his side, and tries to spot what had hit him.

The sconces lining the walls don’t stop the room from being dark. Shadows hover menacingly in every corner, drape themselves from the ceiling and gather on the floor. None large enough to hide a monster larger than a keese, but – foreboding, all the same. Like the shrieking that still hasn’t let up, muddling everyone’s voices, the echoes making the inside of this small stone room ring like the inside of a bell.

On the other side of the room – Time is moving to block the doorway, face grim. Hyrule’s already darting over to Legend. Warriors and Sky are starting to circle around the edges of the room, after a shouted conversation Legend can’t make out. He can’t even read their lips.

The light sources are magical, giving off a pale and smokeless light. There’s no reason for the room to be this hazy. Legend narrows his eyes.

When Warriors has to step around a supporting pillar, it puts him one step closer to – to the altar, and something moves and –

This time he sees it.

It’s not solid. It moves too fluidly for that, folding in on itself and spreading outwards without a care for such mundane things as bones and structure. One part of it can be so thin as to be see-through, fine fabric draped over an ever-changing shape, while another is thick and black and smoky as it lurches forward. Warriors staggers under the force of it.

Without thinking Legend steps forward, a shout on his lips that turns to a curse as the shadows whirl on him. Smoke and cloth and the heavy weight of dark magic, a hundred thousand tiny black birds wheeling through the sunset sky. They scatter to either side of the blade of his sword, untouched, to stream at his unprotected face –

Legend flinches back. His boot slips.

Warriors yells as Legend goes down again. His knees burn with the impact; his shoulder throbs, pain radiating up his arm where he’d caught himself one-handed, needing the other free to fend it off –

But it’s doubled back. Folded back in on itself to lurk in a shapeless mound between Warriors and the altar. As Legend watches, it rears up, flares gauzy wings in a threat display and screeches.

They’re too late, they’re too late, these bastards summoned something using Four’s life as the spark –

The Tempered Sword slips in his hand; Legend doesn’t drop it, but it’s a near thing, and he steps back to clean off.

There’s blood on his hands, cooling and sticky and thick. He’d known it was there. Known he’d fallen in a pool of Four’s blood. But it’s worse, somehow, seeing it; there’s a yank in his gut and a squeezing around his heart and his eyes have gone hot and blurry again –

He scrubs the blood away with his other hand, coming free in a slimy red film that makes his stomach turn. There’s still blood in the creases of his palm and between his fingers – but with the bulk of it gone –

Legend grabs the hilt of his sword and ignores the fact that the leather is wet and cold.

Sky and Wars are taking turns to dart in and cut away a few strands of smoke – though they’re making no headway. Anything that separates from the main body either falls to the floor and crawls over the stone back to the centre, or scatters to rejoin the soot cloud hanging fine and choking in the air.

Legend’s not the only one to see the problem. Sky sets his feet, and with the next swing of the Master Sword, light blazes along its edge and rushes free, cutting a path through the black haze.

It shrieks.

On the altar Four lies pale and bruised and lifeless.

Legend jolts forward, too late; the darkness is already closing in again, getting darker and more ominously solid by the second where it’s pooling over the stone. But it didn’t like the light – if they can drive it further – he shifts his grip on the Tempered Sword, calculating –

“Wait,” Hyrule calls, and Legend hesitates.

Stone splinters under Sky’s downwards strike.

It spatters away from the impact like dark blood. Splashes on the floor and pools there at the base of the altar between them and Four. Dark smoke comes streaming in from shadowed corners despite Sky’s best efforts, until it’s larger, thicker, just as powerful as it was at the start.

How do they fight it?

Hyrule steps in front of him.

The darkness screeches again.

“Four,” Hyrule calls, “it’s me, it’s Hyrule. You know me. Please, let me help you.”

The darkness hisses. Legend feels like he’s falling.

“I know,” says Hyrule, voice shaking. “I know. I’m sorry. Please, Four. You know me. You know I can help.”

There’s a moment where the world holds its breath. The screaming’s gone silent; the only sound is that of five heroes breathing hard, a shift of leather on stone as Warriors pushes himself back to his feet from the last time he’d been thrown. The cloud of dark particles sways back and forth.

Then, wavering, draws itself inwards.

The inky black takes a shape that’s almost familiar: the right height, the right silhouette, but featureless, all the detail lost in the void. It hurts, to see Four like this, and Legend lets out a sob that’s too loud in the suddenly-quiet basement. They were too late, and now Four is –

The blackness wavers; silver flashing across its surface in tiny streaks.

Then, warped and warbling and inhuman:

“I won’t let you hurt him.”

Hyrule swallows. “I’m not going to hurt him. I just want to help.”

“Don’t know you. They hurt him.”

“I know,” says Hyrule, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it!” the shadow screeches, fizzing at the edges. It steadies, reforms into something near-solid. “Won’t let you hurt him. Won’t let anyone hurt him. Not anymore.”

“But that won’t fix it either.” Hyrule edges closer.

“No! Stay back!” It lashes out, dark magic bursting into existence and cutting a slash in the stone inches from Hyrule’s feet.

“I’m a healer,” Hyrule says. He doesn’t baulk at a second flash of blackness, another furious hiss. “I know you don’t know me, but Four does. Link does. I’m a healer. I don’t know for sure what I can do, but – will you let me try? No matter what, I swear I won’t hurt him.”

The darkness wails, all grief and rage and wordless pain. It’s losing cohesion; going from a clearly-defined mirror of Four to a loosely person-shaped cloud.

“Please let me help.” At some point Hyrule’s abandoned his sword. He’s standing there empty-handed and earnest, one hand outstretched. Entreating. Please let me help you.

“Hyrule,” Legend hisses uneasily. If this – thing isn’t Four, then – what is it? Taking his shape, and fighting them so fiercely, and – it can’t really be protecting him, not when Four is already –

Already dead.

You were too late.

But Hyrule’s not listening. All his attention is on the darkness as it spreads back into that thin, gauzy veil. “Please,” he repeats.

The haze ripples; black silk in the wind, a flock of darting birds.

“Only you,” it cracks out, the words strange and warbling.

And Legend has to watch, as Hyrule walks fearlessly into the haze.

The second he makes it past the veil he breaks into a run. Blood splashes under his feet, drips from the altar; a faint and fading hope. Four’s throat is slit so deeply there’s a flash of bone as Hyrule slams his hands down on his chest and his head lolls. From all around him there’s an eerie keening sound; he blocks it out as best he can and focuses on the golden-green power streaming down his arms.

Please, he thinks. Please.

Four is so cold. Under the bruises on his face his skin’s near-translucent, too blue and too pale. His eyes are glassy. His chest is still.

All he needs is a spark, a single stubborn spark he can fan back to life. It doesn’t take much and Four’s a strong soul. Please. Please, Goddesses, if they’ve never granted him anything, give him this –

Then Four’s chest jolts. That first breath is short and strained; the second deeper, noisier, as air reaches his lungs and he starts to choke on blood.

Hyrule doubles his efforts, his own heartbeat screaming in his ears – or maybe it’s the darkness howling in relief. His arms burn under the strain. Lightning crawling down his fingertips, a spark he doesn’t need but he can’t let up now, not when Four is struggling for air, twisting weakly in his bonds while the massive wound at his throat slowly seals. His mouth gapes; his chest heaves with effort.

“Just a little longer, Four, I’m sorry,” Hyrule mutters. He hauls back on the lightning, feeling the shards of it under his fingernails, but it’s fine, it’ll be fine, Four is gasping underneath him as his windpipe seals closed against the blood that’s flowing free again, from all the vessels cut and crushed by the blow that nearly killed him. There’s a drain he doesn’t often feel. His magic is having to replace all the blood Four had lost – or at least a significant portion of it, because without it Four will die again, but magic’s not the best at creating something from whole cloth.

Some things, there’s just no substitutes.

When he slumps back, Four does too; weak from blood loss. His breathing stutters. But he’s breathing.

Almost as an afterthought, Hyrule cuts his hands free. His arms go slack, but after one brief moment of effort Four just lets them lie where they are, too weak to pull them down from above his head himself. Shit. He’s probably stiff after being bound for so long, too. “Here, let me help,” Hyrule murmurs. Desperation had scraped his soul dry of magic, but his support eases the way as he lowers Four’s arms, one at a time. “Just take it slow.”

Four winces at a particularly sharp cramp.

At some point the darkness had gone quiet. The malevolence that Hyrule had sensed, that had so frightened Wolfie – it’s gone, faded away to nothing. Or – almost nothing. The gap torn in the weft of the universe isn’t so easily healed, not when a Hero had come so close to death on this spot.

Not when there’s still shadows lingering close.

The veil around Hyrule had faded as he worked. Legend can see them now. Instead of hovering tight and defensive, the shadows are sort of – creeping up the sides of the altar, like a child peering fearfully over the edge. When Four whimpers in pain, it – it warbles back, and lurches up and over.

It trickles up Four’s form like a sunbeam in reverse; then as it gets to his chin and Hyrule is reaching with a hand covered in sputtering light, it peels itself off to hover above him. The form it takes is blacks and greys and reds, an inversion of the smithy – but clearly, definitively different to a dark.

His skin is a much darker brown than Four’s, with no sign of a dark’s ashen undertones. His eyes are red, yes – but they’re not the bright pools of malice they’re used to seeing. They’re just eyes, coloured red.

And his hair –

Instead of lifeless black or eerie white, it’s a shade of purple only slightly less vivid than the patch on Four’s tunic.

He’s looking at Four like he hung the moon and stars, and Legend realises – he’s never seen a dark with any expression other than fierce hatred or sneering, malicious glee.

Four draws up a slow smile and folds his fingers around the shadow’s grasping ones. “Hey,” he whispers, and there’s no fear in him at all.

“Hey yourself,” the shadow whispers back, and nudges close enough that their noses bump.

Four doesn’t even flinch. Just smiles a little harder so his eyes crinkle.

“Four?” He seems happy, but Hyrule has to double check. “Do you know him?” Do you trust him?

“Mm-hm. This is Shadow.” His voice is slow and wispy. Almost slurred. “Missed you,” he adds.

“Missed you too,” Shadow says, so close now his forehead is pressed against Four’s. Four’s eyes flutter contentedly shut at the contact. “Hey, no, don’t do that. You still gotta explain how the fuck you got into this situation. You’re supposed to be smarter than this, Rainbow.”

Rainbow? Legend mouths to himself, and thinks of Four’s tunic, all bright colours when it’s not covered in blood. Rainbow. What the fuck, that’s cute.

Four hums. It takes him a long time to get the words out – he’s still talking slow, so slow, and has to keep pausing for air. “It’s not… that complicated. I mean, if someone’s… going to do your dirty work anyway, you might as well… let them do it.”

“Wha – Rainbow, no, that’s so risky! Don’t you ever listen to the braincell??”

“The braincell… thought it was a great idea,” says Four, starting to grin.

“Vi, no.”

“Vi yes.”

The shadow muffles his groan in the crook of Four’s neck. Four giggles, honest-to-goddess giggles, and gets one trembling hand high enough to rest on his back. Tangles his fingers in the dark tunic with another soft hum. “Missed you,” he says again.

“We are going to talk about this later when you’re less loopy,” Shadow informs him. Four just smiles.

From outside their little bubble, Sky puts up a tentative hand. “Is that a conversation we can have somewhere else? That’s not covered in my brother’s blood?”

“Oh fuck yes, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Shadow says, head coming up from where he’d been all-but lying on Four. He swings himself off the altar, seeming not to notice the splash his boots made in the still-cooling pool of blood as he turned back to Four. “Rainbow, here, c’mon, I’ve got you.”

He’s the same height as Four, the same slight build. It should look ridiculous when he takes him into his arms. Hell, he should be struggling – Four’s small form is all muscle, and heavy with it. Instead, it looks all but effortless. Shadow nearly floats over the flagstones.

Four’s eyes flutter closed. With a soft sigh, he lets his head fall against Shadow’s shoulder, and stays there, still smiling. At his throat, a new scar shines silver.

#whumptober 2023 #skies writes #linked universe #lu four #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu fic #fourdow #it was meant to be implied but if we leaned on the plausible deniability fence any harder we’d fall right through so

85 notes · View notes