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elfy-elf-imagines · 4 months

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— Elven Instinct | Legolas Greenleaf *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Legolas x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff

▹ Words: ~2.1k

▹ Summary: When you know, you know. There's no other way to explain it.

▹ Note: I listened to Margaret by Lana on repeat while writing this, 10/10 recommend. Also, unedited because it's 2am and I want to SLEEP.

You’d met Legolas early spring when the winds were still bitter and the frost was beginning to melt.

The moon was high and the chatter was mellow, the defeat of Sauron still fresh in everyone's memory. He’d been wearing his ceremonial armor and you a white dress. The jewels you wore shimmered like stars and your eyes shone like moonlit water. A human woman from a minor noble house, you never expected catching the eye of the elven prince that helped save the realm.

Legolas’ eyes followed you intently, entranced by your sweet voice and the slight creases around your eyes when you smiled. It had been three times your eyes had met and after the third time, Legolas found the courage to approach, downing his glass and leaving it behind. His hands trembled and a lump formed in his throat, but he’d kick himself later if he didn’t try. The pathway to you seemed miles long, the rest of the crowd blind to Legolas; it was as if a single light was guiding his way to you. His blood rushed and his heart raced; tingles lit his body up.

It was no shock when Legolas was a few feet away. You noticed him approaching, of course, you were entirely too aware of him and his lingering eyes. Liquid courage was found in a glass of wine that was sweet and tarte all at once. The alcohol caused your cheeks to flush but you knew the prince's presence would make them flush brighter. The alcohol would be a good excuse for the blush you’d soon have.

The noise in your mind grew hush once the elven prince stood before you. He smelled warm and fresh, well groomed and oiled with a hint of a woodsy scent. The smoothness of his features were nearly off putting, but the shy grin on his face was anything but unnerving. The tips of your fingers fiddled with the fabric of your dress and Legolas’ hands were clasped in front of him. Nervous and awkward, neither of you were sure how to proceed.

It was silent for a moment, replaced by the fumbling of the two of you speaking over each other. With the realization, the words were cut short and silence fell over the air. Your eyes fell to the floor and your teeth worried your lips while Legolas’ cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

“Apologies, my prince--”

“I insist my lady, you first--”

Another bout of silence. Neither of you could remember how casual conversation worked. You peeked at him through your lashes, a small giggle slipping past your lips. It made Legolas ease his stiff posture, melting into the sound of your voice.

“May I have your name, my lady.” He couldn’t recall being so shy when speaking with a woman. All the confidence age and skill brought was drained from his body; he was an elfling fumbling over his own feet.

“It is Y/N. I would ask for yours, but I believe that question is redundant.”

“Am I so well known?”

Your grin widened in a way that would make your mother grimace.

“One of the heroes who saved Middle Earth and the son of the King of the Woodlands?” There was a hint of teasing in your tone, lips curled into a slight smirk. “I perhaps heard your name a time or two.”

Legolas laughed, eyes shut and head slightly tossed back. A stray ray of light hit his head, illuminating him with a halo above his head. “I suppose my reputation does precede me, but I feel like we’re standing on uneven ground. You know more of me than I do of you.”

Some of the nerves that made you feel fluttery and sick began to disappear. His easy and smile and comforting aura felt as same as the childhood nativity you clung to. He put stars in your eyes in a way no one else ever had.

“I’m afraid my life is dull in comparison to the other attendees of this party.”

The half smile on Legolas’ face contorted into a much softer appearance. Eye bright and voice low, it sent shivers down your spine.

“I dare say you are more so memorable.”

Your lashes fluttered and your breath got caught in your throat. Subtly, you pinched the side of your thigh, sending a prayer of gratitude to whatever god led you to this moment. A shy giggle bubbled from behind your closed lips. Emboldened from the haze the wine created, you leave a feather light touch over Legolas’ shoulder.

“A bold statement considering you’ve hardly known me a day.”

Legolas smiled at your quick retort, leaning towards your body, his head tilted down to see you better.

“They say an elves' instincts are never wrong.”

You raised a single brow in response, a coy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. All thoughts of formality and proprietary thrown out.

“And your instincts say I’m memorable?”

Legolas paused for a moment before continuing.

“Well when you know, you know.”

Unsure of how to react, a small bout of laughter left your mouth. The rest of the night was spent with Legolas at your side. Even as nobles singing his praises and vying for the favor of an elven prince, Legolas never strayed too far. With a polite smile and nod of the head, he would quickly dismiss the well-wishers in favor of returning his attention to you.

The night passed far too quickly, and with the blink of an eye you found yourself in the isolation of your room with your blankets pulled to your chin. Behind your closed eyes, your thoughts and dreams were nothing but Legolas and a life you were certain was too far from your grasp.

---

The crisp spring air was traded for balmy, long summer nights. The world began to return to normal, all that Mordor and Sauraman destroyed slowly being rebuilt. The coronation of the king was approaching, the heroes of Middle Earth lingering in Gondor, including Legolas.

You hadn’t spoken since your first meeting, but he was everywhere you looked. Walks through the city, visits to the Keep, or wandering through the gardens; it didn’t matter where you were, he was everywhere. To his credit, he made it seem as if he was a subject of fate and not the mastermind setting the chess board.

And the board was currently being reset in a small nook overlooking the city. The queen sat in front of a stone table with a book while the king lingered around the edges, unsure of how to approach.

“I began to think you were a ghost I’d imagined.” You spoke quietly and wet the tip of your finger. Flick. Your eyes began to scan the new page of your book.

From the corner of your eye you saw Legolas take the free chair directly across from you. His hands rested on the table, fingers intertwined.

“Why’s that?”

A slight smirk appeared on your lips, barely visible over your book. Finishing the sentence you were reading, you shut the book and set it on the table. Eye to eye, you took in Legolas’ appearance. His casual leathers had been traded in for formal attire, a delicate silver circlet resting above his brow. Gods did he look beautiful.

“You seem to be everywhere I am, yet this is the first time you’ve approached.”

Legolas stared at you a moment; a slight furrow of his brow in response to the tilt of your head and sly grin. “I approached you at the celebration.”

“The first and only time, if we don’t take this moment into consideration.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, a grin pulling on his puzzled expression.

“You seem perfectly capable of starting a conversation and entirely aware of when we were in a room together.” The implication of his words weren’t lost on you, a slight flush betraying your embarrassment. You were entirely too aware of him.

“And how improper would that be?” You feigned a scandalized appearance, lightly swatting Legolas’ hand. “A minor noble woman approaching an elven prince? My mother would die from the embarrassment that scandal would cause.”

Legolas laughed; a short and sweet one that made his eyes turn to crescents. There was a flutter in your stomach and a misbeat of your heart. For a moment your eyes glazed over, not aware what Legolas was saying if he was speaking to begin with. He looked entirely too beautiful, his eyes too blue to be natural. Elves were supposed to be supernaturally beautiful, but none of the other elves wandering the keep were as beautiful as him.

“Ahh.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, the sound pulling you from the spell he cast. “How foolish of me to overlook that detail. In the future I will be sure to start all conversations, lest the public get the wrong idea.”

“A relief to hear you have agreed to stop silently stalking me. And they claim chivalry to be a dying behavior.” You rolled your eyes, the grin on your face dulling any snark in your words.

Your eyes returned to Legolas, the easy silence hanging over the two of you. The air was calm, sans a nervous fog over Legolas’ eyes. What was there to be worried over? The war was over, Sauron was defeated. You tried to remember what could be a cause of worry, but your mind came up empty. Even the remaining orcs were being hunted down and slain.

“But I’m sure that reassurance isn’t why you’re here.” You broke the silence, Legolas’ attention snapping back towards you. “What worried you?”

“I am to return home soon.”

Your mouth was parted, unable to hide the disappointment on your face.

“Oh.” The word was uttered so quietly you weren’t certain it was actually said. Of course he would go home, he’s a prince with duties to his people. It’s not as if there would be anything to keep him here after the King’s coronation next week.

“I wish you a safe journey.”

The tips of your fingers tapped against the smooth stone.

“You mistake me. It is expected of me to return home shortly after Aragorn’s coronation, but I am unsure if it is what I want to do.”

A slight furrow of your brows betrayed your confusion, but before you could open your mouth, Legolas continued to speak.

“We have not spoken nearly as much as I would’ve liked during my stay here, a predicament I understand to be a making of my own, but I--” He cut himself off, eyes lowering to the ground as he shook his head.

Oh.

The realization came with a bright red hue painting your cheeks. All this time, you never once considered the elven prince had affections for you. Each time you’d been in the same room, same hall, or same street, it never occurred to you he was building the courage to speak with you again. Had your first meeting had such an effect on him? Could he possibly get as fluttery and nervous as you do?

“I would like the chance to get to know you, Lady Y/N, and in time perhaps court you.”

Like a starstruck idiot, you stared at Legolas with wide eyes and parted lips. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears and in the distance there were birds singing, or maybe you’d just imagined that.

Legolas began to drum his fingers against the table, nervous eyes unable to meet yours. You’d been silent for too long, you realized. He may be getting the wrong idea. To assuage whatever fears were building within his head, you reached your hand out and placed it over him. It brought his attention back to you; wide eyed and flushed face he looked ages younger than he really was.

“I would love for the chance to get to know you beyond the surface level.”

Like dawn brightening the landscape, Legolas’ face lit up. Any petty fears or worries were banished from his expression. He brought his free hand to rest it atop your other free hand. He squeezed your hand three times before pulling them away. After a moment you hear the soft pad of footsteps on the ground.

A chair skids across the ground as Legolas stood from his seat, outstretching a hand towards you. “Perhaps the lady would grant me a walk through the halls?”

Gently, you stood from your seat, placing your hand in the crook of his arm.

“Lead the way my prince.”

#legolas imagine #legolas x reader #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #legolas #legolas oneshot #legolas greenleaf #tolkien #lotr #middle earth imagines #lotr movies #lord of the rings oneshot #lord of the rings #legolas fluff #mirkwood elves #lotr fanfic #lotr elves

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chelseeebe · 8 months

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menswear.

been wanting to write a menswear inspired lil ficcy for sooo so long n to celebrate the fact that i will finally hear it live after 9 years i thought this was a great time

a/n: i just wanna write a disclaimer that i am british and tend to britain-ise my writing so if it seems off for an american wedding don’t bite me x it’s ovulation week which is the only way i can explain this if i’m honest

summary: meeting steve at an old friend’s wedding could really only lead to one thing, couldn’t it?

18+. smut. alcohol and drug use. steve is a mess. no use of y/n!

steve’s still drunk from the night before, his tie crooked and one of the buttons on his shirt is uneven. he looked even more disheveled than he felt.

he hadn’t been keen on the idea of going to the wedding of his ex girlfriend and the man who essentially took her from him. not that he blames jonathan of course, he wasn’t exactly the gold standard boyfriend. he had his faults and would quite happily admit to them.

but still, it was confusing and weird and he’d tried to get out of it but robin had quite frankly insisted that he be there or else he was a terrible person.

so, as all sensible people would, he got absolutely fucking blasted the night before. he hadn’t meant to get so drunk but catching up with old friends and the kids he once looked after, had lead to him being carried off to his room by his best friend who was mumbling a bunch of profanities under her breath.

he still stank of booze, christ even he could smell it. it lingered on his body despite the twenty minute cold shower he had forced himself through this morning. there had been an attempt to style his hair but it mostly hung around his face in limp strands.

did you know the best way to beat a hangover is to keep drinking? hair of the dog and that. at least, that’s what he was telling himself. nursing a double whisky at the hotel bar at stupid o’clock this morning.

he didn’t have robin to hang off today, left to his own devices as she’d been recruited into the bridal party. her one track mind focussed on nancy and not her absolute failure of a best friend.

the venue was nice, a tad unorthodox and not where he’d choose to get married but it fit the strange pairing in a nice way. slinking up the cold stone of the aisle, trying to find his reserved seat among the crowds of people.

max pulls him into one of the rows, shoving him down on the empty seat with a small scowl on her face. she’d seen him struggling from her seat and had so graciously gone to help the poor man.

‘thanks.. max,’ he groans, nodding at the girl a she settles into his seat, honestly just hoping that the service would go quick so he could resume his pitiful drinking.

he sighs, thumbing through the programme. smiling slightly as he reads the officiants name, el hopper. they had just had to make this the strangest wedding he’d ever have the pleasure of attending.

‘do you know the bride or groom?’ your voice speaks from beside him, it’s the first time he’s realised that he’s actually sat next to anyone and he’s actually not in his own little world of misery.

‘huh?’ he asks, looking up to meet your eyes.

you’re smiling, looking as spritely as he wished he felt. clearly some people hadn’t got wasted the night before. amateurs.

‘do you know the bride or groom? sorry- i don’t really know anyone here,’ giving him a shy chuckle as your cheeks flush, maybe you would have to dip after the ceremony.

‘oh.. oh no, i know both of them.. nancy’s my ex girlfriend,’ he wants to kick himself because what on earth had compelled him to say something like that.

‘oh wow..’ you laugh, ‘not awkward at all then,’ kissing the back of your teeth.

‘it’s actually not.. not really,’ he shrugs, shuffling in his chair to face towards you properly, ‘i mean, if i had a choice i probably would’ve skipped but.. what can you do?’

‘right.. still, i don’t envy you,’ smoothing down the creased material of your dress, a deep green to match the earthy tones of the wedding.

‘d’you wanna know my secret to weddings?’ he smiles, leaning in.

‘mhm hit me.’

‘you just gotta get as drunk as humanly possible and they’re actually not so bad..’

‘isn’t it like..’ you check your wrist watch, ‘it’s noon,’ breaking into a giggle.

‘and that is why i started last night,’ tapping his finger on his temple, he was a genius really.

he wasn’t new to this game. having been forced to a plethora of fancy weddings with his parents and the wave of weddings from high school friends, he was wise to all the tricks in which made weddings bearable.

‘well, i might have to join you.. i don’t know anybody here,’ looking around at the hordes of strangers milling around the large room.

‘why are you here then?’ immediately wincing at his choice of words, ‘shit no.. i meant, do you know nancy? or jonathan? or have you snuck in?’

you giggle again and it’s music to his ears. sat next to a pretty girl who finds him funny? maybe today couldn’t be all that bad after all.

‘i know nancy.. we were roommates at emerson, she’s like.. the only person i’ve kept in contact with.’

he nods, going to speak but is abruptly interrupted by the sound of the organ chiming. your cue to actually start paying attention to the ceremony at hand. he turns his attention to the alter, exhaling heavily.

‘i’m so sorry.. i never asked your name,’ whispering with his body still facing the front, but completely leaning his shoulder into yours.

oh this wedding was about to be so much fun.

you had taken steve’s advice, who’s name you had now learnt, immediately downing a glass of champagne when you got to the reception. hey, if you were going to have to meet a thousand new people tonight, you’d have to be a little buzzed to do it.

it’s no surprise you’ve been shoved onto the singles table, finding your name on the board and slinking off to your corner of the banished. steve already sat slumped over at his seat which was suspiciously next to yours again. he totally hadn’t swapped out stacey’s name card for yours.. never.

you slide into the chair, ‘we have got to stop meeting like this,’ gently nudging his elbow with yours as to not alarm him.

‘huh,’ he smiles, eyes glistening, ‘it must be fate,’ swivelling on the chair to give you his attention.

‘must be,’ raising your eyebrows ever so slightly.

he’s nursing what must be his fifth? sixth? drink, this time opting for something a little more socially acceptable with a beer. if it weren’t an open bar he’d offer to buy you a drink but it seemed a little cheap.

‘so, where are you from?’ he’s utterly intrigued by you, desperate to know everything there is to know.

‘denver and then boston.. for college and now i’m in cincinnati for my job,’ you shrug, feeling immensely coy under his gaze, ‘i take it you’re from indiana like nancy?’

she had spoken about how people mostly stayed in their small town, they’d meet someone in high school and fall into the suburban family life without ever realising it. and then before they knew it, it was too late and they were stuck there. she was determined to not do that.

‘yeah..’ he sounds deflated, thinking of the place he called home, ‘but it’s home i guess..’ he taps on the table, ‘what d’ya do for work?’

‘i’m an editor at a publishing house,’ his expression says that he doesn’t entirely understand, ‘i work with a lot of writers and basically tell them what to do,’ that was the very basic premise of your role but you’d gathered that he probably didn’t actually care much.

‘oh wow.. so you’re boss lady then?’ swigging on the now-warm liquid, he’s listening intently to whatever comes out of your mouth.

‘hah.. not quite,’ fiddling with the tiny name plaque in front of you, ‘one day.. hopefully,’ you were never a fan of talking about yourself, ‘so what do you do?’

he rolls his eyes playfully, ‘work for my dad, i didn’t get into college soo.. he gave me a job,’ eyes wandering to the guests now joining your table, ‘but really i’m just a glorified assistant and even that’s being generous,’ playing off his disappointment with a small laugh.

‘well that doesn’t sound too bad..’ picking up on his demeanour, ‘shall we get another drink before we have to sit through the awful speeches?’

his pretty pink lips curl into a smirk, ‘i like your thinking,’ standing from the table with his hand offered out for you to hold.

‘i-i’ll say a couple words.. c’mon,’ he grins, stepping up towards the small stage, hopper reluctantly passes the mic over to steve, watching apprehensively as he climbs onto the stage.

robin sighs, this could really only go one way and she sure as hell did not want to be in the room to witness it.

there’s a chance that you two had slightly overdone it with the free bar.. you wince watching him up on the stage. the opinions of these people meant absolutely nothing to you but quite obviously did to him.

‘as you all know.. nancy is my ex girlfriend-,’ there’s a collective groan from the audience, ‘but.. but no, that’s not what i came to say.. i wanted to say that-,’ he hiccups into the microphone, ‘that the first time i properly spoke to jonathan, he beat my ass and fuck did it hurt,’ chuckling to himself, ‘but that ass kicking actually.. and you won’t believe it, but it made me a better person and y’know what.. i’m really happy for you,’ he thrusts his glass into the air, ‘so, please join me in a toast to our newly weds.. you deserve it,’ turning to face the cringing couple at the table.

nancy gives him a small smile, it wasn’t exactly shakespearean but the sentiment was nice and he hadn’t embarrassed himself or fallen off the stage head first so she was going to take it as a win.

‘thank you, steve,’ jonathan nods, steve’s sure he can see a tiny smile on his face despite the lousy speech he’d just given.

hopper claps him on the back as he gets off of the stage, taking a mental note to keep an eye on the boy for the rest of the evening. the free bar may not have been the wisest decision after all.

steve collapses into his chair, immediately leaning into you, ‘that was good, right?’ taking a sip of his drink.

‘uh.. yeah, maybe didn’t need to mention the ex girlfriend thing buuut.. i don’t think it was that bad,’ you laugh, watching as he nods in self satisfaction.

‘good, i’m glad you approve,’ his eyes are narrow, glossy as they look back at you, he tilts his glass for you to cheers.

‘cheers.. to a not-so-bad wedding,’ you say, knocking your glasses together.

‘and to new friends,’ he adds, that same grin you’d now become accustomed to after only a few short hours.

‘to new friends.’

you and your new friend had sorta maybe totally took full advantage of the free bar and the tiny bag of magic powder steve had kept in his blazer pocket. it wasn’t something you’d usually indulge in, but the champagne had gone to your head and the party was getting dull so..

‘i just wanna say.. i don’t do this shit all the time,’ using his credit card to push the powder into small lines on the edge of the basin, ‘just for when i need a little pick me up..’

he looks up at you from his hunched over position, he’s half-smiling as he pulls a ten dollar bill from his wallet, fiddling around as he rolls it into a small cylinder, offering it to you.

you’re cramped into one of the tiny cubicles together, your back pressed against the cold wall, ‘mm hmm and me either.. just to clarify,’ carefully placing the half-empty champagne flute down on the sink.

‘ladies first..’ hand brushing against against the small of your back as he stands up, mere inches from your face.

you oblige, bending over to sniff the powder, wincing as it stings on the way up. holding out the note for steve to take, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the note. perhaps it was the copious amounts of alcohol but you could’ve worn you felt your heart miss a beat.

he stands back up, holding his nose. eyes still very much refusing to leave yours. they’re a beautiful chestnut colour and you’re sure they looked even better with a sober mind.

‘ready to dance?’ you ask, raising your brows.

his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth to wet his lips, ‘in a minute,’ your heart pounding in not only your chest, ‘fuck- can i kiss you?’

‘please-,’

interrupted by his lips pressing against your own, eyes fluttering shut as his clammy hand finds your waist, pressing himself into your chest.

your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, his tongue glides over your bottom lip, mouth opening for him, as your fingers thread into his hair. he tastes of beer, cigarettes and the mint he’d not-so-sneakily shoved into his mouth before bringing you in here.

it’s all teeth and tongues, his hands getting grabby as they begin to roam around. you so desperately want to jump up onto the sink and let him fuck you into the porcelain right here. pressing your thighs together trying to satiate the growing ache.

you don’t, obviously. his lips chasing yours as you pull back, clawing at the back of his neck, the thumping music of the reception getting louder as someone enters the bathroom.

you put your finger on his lips, willing him not to say a word as the stranger locks themself in the cubicle right next to yours. he’s smirking, pupils blown out from the substance you’d shared. it was exhilarating, pushing his knee between your legs, fingers digging into your sides.

jesus christ, it feels like you’re in this position for eternity. waiting forever for the mystery person to vacate the bathroom. growing impatient as his fingertips dance around your hips, teasing as they tug on your dress.

eventually, they get the fuck out and steve is on your lips again before the door had chance to shut fully. moaning softly into his mouth at the sheer feeling of his thigh brushing against yours. you were a mess and he’d barely touched you yet.

‘shall we.. go? i have a room upstairs,’ mumbling between kisses, not wanting to let go of your lips for too long.

there’s a banging on the door just as he’s managed to slip your dress off. you clutch the material to your chest, covering your dignity in fear of intruders.

‘steve? you in there?’ a woman’s voice calls through the wood.

your eyes widen, absolutely certain that he’d had some hidden girlfriend who was now positively fuming that he’d disappeared with you.

his head slumps as he breathes out, hair brushing against your face, seemingly relieved with whoever was outside, ‘it’s rob.. let me just..’ he clambers off of the bed, ‘she won’t leave until i answer.’

steve swings open the door, met with an unimpressed robin. she’s been scouring the party for the last hour trying to find him. only to find out that he’d last been seen with a girl no one had ever seen before.

‘heyy rob.. everything okay?’ he asks cautiously, well aware that he was shirtless, belt hanging from his pant loops.

‘is everything okay with you? you just disappeared.. what’re you doing in there?’ eyeing his disheveled appearance.

‘ah shit i’m sorry.. i couldn’t find you,’ lies, he hadn’t even looked, far too interested in getting you back to his room.

her eyes narrow, glancing down at the hastily removed heel in the doorway, ‘d’you have a girl in there?’

he frowns at his best friend, ‘wha-? i’m just, going to bed..’ following her gaze to the shoe, ‘yes.. there is.’

you try not to giggle from behind the door, watching as he kicks your shoe backwards into the room.

‘ew,’ she grimaces, ‘why’d you answer the door, you freak.. i’ll see you in the morning,’ scoffing as she walks away.

steve closes the door gently before making his back to the bed, ‘i’m so sorry.. she woulda called the cops if i didn’t answer,’ climbing onto the mattress, sat on his knees in front of you.

‘oh? and she’s your..’ slightly bemused as to who that even was and why she seemed to care so much.

‘best friend,’ he leans in, tugging at the dress still pressed against your chest, ‘so where were we?’ devious smirk painting his face as your grip begins to loosen.

he presses forward, connecting your lips once more, nudging you into laying back, hovering over your body with one hand attempting to wrestle the dress from between your bodies. it lands on the carpet with a soft thud, his hand now free to roam the length of your body, fingers softly brushing over the waistband of your underwear before settling on your thigh. it’s cruel and teasing, you’ve already wasted so much time.

you move your hips upwards, chasing his touch. utterly desperate to feel him again. groaning into his mouth, not bothering to hide your impatience. steve smirks, walking his fingers up toward your hip.

his fingers slip into your carefully chosen panties, choking for air as he pulls back from your lips, ‘holy shit.. you’re soaking,’ still lingering around your aching heat, not doing anything to satisfy the growing wetness.

‘shut up,’ you grumble, pulling him back onto your mouth. rutting your hips to signal how desperate you really are.

he finally gets there, middle and forefinger travelling between your slick folds, rubbing pathetic circles around your clit. you’re grateful for the long awaited release, detaching from his lips to moan.

‘ohh fuck,’ he mutters, feeding off of the delightful sounds coming from your mouth. his cock twitching against your thigh.

‘please,’ you whine, unable to take any more of his incessant teasing. it had gone on for what felt like forever. you blame the various substances for your neediness and the subsequent lack of embarrassment for it.

‘keep begging like that and you can have anything you want,’ rescinding his fingers to tackle his own belt, hastily unbuckling the metal and yanking his suit pants down. boxers coming to rest around his thighs shortly after.

your eyes widen at the sight of his leaking cock springing up. you had felt that he was big but holy shit, this was something else. your surprise doesn’t go unnoticed, his veiny hand fisting his cock as his other hand comes to rest beside your head.

‘i’ll go slow,’ he breathes, eyes hooded as his chestnut eyes gaze into yours. he was used to the apprehension by now. your clammy hands grip onto the back of his neck, feet coming to rest on his lower back. nodding quickly underneath him.

he slides into your cunt achingly slow, his mouth falling open. a strangled sound rumbling from his throat, ‘fuck.. you feel.. so good,’ staying where he was, assessing your reaction before making his next move.

it feels like he’s splitting you open but it’s good. burning desire filling your veins, ‘fuck me..’ you nod, ‘please fuck me,’ becoming accustomed to the feeling of being full, pleading for him to just move.

you don’t have to tell him twice, an animalistic growl escaping as he begins to thrust his hips. he’s still holding back, you can tell but it’s oh so much better than his stagnant pace of before.

your eyes struggle to stay open, eyelids fluttering as he slams into you. hitting the sweet, soft spot you’re sure only he could reach. back arching off of the mattress, sweaty chests colliding, chasing that feeling.

‘oh my god,’ you moan, loud enough for whoever is staying in the adjacent room to hear. it’s filthy, lewd and desperate. the sound of his balls slapping against your supple skin, fastening in response to your encouragement.

‘yeah?’ he pants, reaching his hand around to brush the wild hair from your face. ‘been waiting to do this- nghh.. all fuckin’ day,’ relentless with his tempo, pubic area perfectly catching against your throbbing cult, hurtling you towards your orgasm.

‘fuck,’ you grit, eyes screwed shut. it’s disgusting how the sounds of your cunt fill the room, even worse that it was encouraging him. pounding into your hole ruthlessly, grunting as he nears his own orgasm.

the familiar sensation twists in your stomach, mouth hung open as it’s useless even attempting to muffle yourself. ‘steve..’ you mewl, more as a warning that you were fast approaching your release.

he can feel it, the way you clench around him and the utter mindless babbling coming from your mouth were all too familiar. ‘you gonna come? huh? you wanna come?’ struggling to keep his own composure.

you can’t even verbalise your response, nodding maniacally while your legs squeeze around his waist, keeping him deep inside as you begin to tremble. stomach flipping and your head becoming fuzzy, the tip of his cock nudging against the spongy spot as you come undone around him.

the pleasure is almost overwhelming, tears pricking in your eyes as you writhe against him. ‘shitshitshit,’ whining breathlessly into his ear.

‘oh fuck,’ he barks, beginning to lose his rhythm. hips stuttering as he fills you up, thick ropes of cum painting your walls. pulling out far too late and collapsing on top your sweaty body.

chest rising and falling in time with his as you try to regain your breath, still clinging onto his neck while he buries his face into your shoulder, arms wrapping around your back.

‘oh fuck is right,’ you remark, giggling at his pathetic demeanour. fingers running through his damp hair, his wet lips pressing against the skin of your neck. your mind still too hazy to truly comprehend the implications of him coming inside of you. something for tomorrow you to worry about.

‘i’m sorry,’ he mumbles, cocking his head to finally look up at you, ‘your fault..’ attempting to crack a joke.

‘oh it’s my fault?’

‘oh yeah,’ shifting off of your body and onto the bed slightly, still holding onto your waist. ‘i’d have a baby with you any day,’ wrestling to pull the blanket over your bodies.

you narrow your eyes, resting your head on the soft pillow, choosing to blissfully ignore his comments. the toll of the long day starting to take on your body as your eyes begin to close. snuggling into the side of his body, tangling your leg between his.

‘i wasn’t joking,’ he murmurs sleepily, fingers brushing your back softly.

‘shut up.’

you’re wary of even waking him, wondering if it’d be easier to just slip out unnoticed. maybe you could leave a note on the bedside table for him to find.

no. no, that’d be rude. most one night stands you wouldn’t even be contemplating it, you’d have ran out of there the second you were awake. something felt different with steve.. like maybe you shouldn’t.

you nudge his arm, leaning over his body.

‘steve? steve.. i have to go..’ you coo softly, coaxing him awake.

he jolts, snapping his head in your direction, ‘huh? what?’ squinting as he comes to, head already pounding from the copious amounts of liquor he’d ingested last night.

‘i have to go..’ smiling at his sleepy demeanour.

‘what? no.. no no, where are you going?’ voice heavy with sleep, a whole octave deeper than it was last night.

‘i’ve gotta check out out of my room and drive home.’

he sits up agains the pillow, stretching his arms out with a stifled yawn, ‘now? it’s so early,’ his fingers wrap around your wrist, ‘stay.. ten minutes,’ gently trying to pull you back into the bed with him.

‘it’s a long drive.. i can’t,’ you mutter, standing strong despite the overwhelming urge to just get back into the warm bed with him.

‘let me walk you back then,’ the smooth pad of his thumb tracing along your wrist, ‘gimme like.. five minutes and we can go,’ dropping your arm as he springs out of the bed.

‘you don’t have to.. really,’ you persist, watching as he shimmies into a discarded pair of sweatpants, frantically searching for a clean t-shirt in his suitcase.

‘well i’m going to,’ he pulls it over his messy hair, it had been neglected the last few days and he’d been kicking himself for not looking his best for you.

you simply smile at him, nothing you could say would change his mind so it was easier not to and you weren’t exactly averse to spending more time with him.

he emerges from the bathroom looking slightly more put together, ‘okay i’m ready.. let’s go,’ grabbing his wallet, nearly empty cigarette box and his room key from his discarded pants pocket and grinning.

it’s a comfortable silence on the way back to your room, steve nodding his head at a few wedding guest stragglers who were either doing the exact same thing you were doing or trying to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

the atmosphere is pleasant, almost natural as you walk the halls. arms brushing against each other with every step.

‘well, this is me,’ nodding at the basically untouched hotel room. you’d stepped foot in it once to drop your bag off and hadn’t seen it since.

steve’s biting down onto his bottom lip, ‘you really gotta go now?’ sounding a little disappointed.

‘i’m back to work tomorrow.. i’m sorry,’ trying to disguise your own disappointment. realistically, you probably wouldn’t see him again. just a one time, crazy wedding story you would look back on fondly in a few years.

‘i’m not,’ he offers, trying desperately not to let this go. dating in hawkins wasn’t great, and he wasn’t sure that he’d ever find someone like you even if he searched for his entire life. he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least try.

‘oh?’ raising your brows.

‘yanno, i’ve never been to cincinnati before,’ smirking down at you, ‘i was actually thinking of taking a little vacation there.. like, this week?’

the corners of your lips twitch into a smile, ‘you know what? that sounds like a great idea.’

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington au #stranger things x you #steve harrington fanfic

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blueeyedheizer · 8 months

Note

Hii can you write for Cassie using prompts 15 and 17

#15 - Look at you, all flushed and pretty. You’re perfect.

#17 - "Can we wait a second? I wanna take a picture of you right now." (18+, smut under the cut)

back to post this because it got lost in my drafts. sorry <3

"I wasn't flirting with him." Cassie sighs, her fingers threading in your hair as she watches you pull her panties down her legs. The dress she had meticulously picked for Maddy's birthday party is pooling a her waist as she sits on one of the two regular sized beds in the guest room, legs spread wide.

You scoff humorlessly, meeting her gaze.

"What, you think I didn't see that little stunt you pulled back there?" you part her legs some more, running your palms up and down the warm skin of her inner thighs, your lips kissing the crease where her hip and thigh met, moving dangerously close to her core. "How you ground against him... and how hard you made him?"

As you lean forward and stick your tongue out to drag it up her folds, Cassie's reply dies in her throat. Her eyes roll back when your tongue stiffens, the tip of it coming in direct contact with her clit without warning, slowly flicking left to right.

"I didn't do it on purpose." she eventually manages to get the words out, her breathing becoming uneven. "Oh—! m-my God, we... we were just dancing." Cassie gasps, tossing her head back.

"Don't fucking lie to me." you spat. "He wanted to fuck you, didn't he? Bet he wanted a taste of that sweet pussy, too." you laughed. "Do you know him?"

"No."

Lick.

"Did you tell him your pussy belongs to me?"

Lick.

"I...I- fuck, oh my god," her words trail off as you suck her clit between your lips, then pull back with a soft pop just enough to free yourself to speak.

"Did you?"

"N-No, I—." she whines and you dive back between her legs, licking around and sucking on her clit, wondering how long it’ll take for that boy to look for her and walk in the room to see the two of you like this.

"Who's this pussy belong to?"

"You." she sighs, annoyed that you've already pulled apart from her clit. "It's yours."

"That's right." you bring three fingers to her pussy, spreading her folds, moving up and down around her labia, looking at her to take in her reaction. Finally you push a finger in, easily with how wet she is. "And don't you forget it."

Cassie's body shakes as she moans, her arms giving out causing her upper body to drop to the bed. You seal your lips around her clit again and Cassie can barely think anymore, thighs spasming as pleasure floods through her body with every flick of your tongue. She keeps a tight grip on your hair, pushing you closer as she grinds against your mouth, the bed starting to creak just slightly. She tries to speak, her words slurred as the pleasure builds.

"I was— it's— fuck, baby." she cries out. "I wasn't flir— hmph, flirting with him. I would've never— n-never done that to you. Ah—!"

You dismiss her completely and pull away, your mouth detaching from her cunt with a pop. "I'm going to fucking ruin you." you laugh, kneading the skin of her thighs. "I'm gonna make you come again and again until you beg me to stop."

Cassie nods furiously, her face growing redder by the second.

"Yes. Yes, do it. Make me come— please." she whines.

"Fuck, Look at you." you laugh, looking up at her in awe. "All flushed and pretty. You’re perfect.”

The heat of your mouth has her crying out as your presses yourself right back into her cunt. Your lips close around her clit, sucking harshly. She can hardly contain the moans and pathetic little sounds that slip past her lips, her back arching with every little thing you do.

"I'm gonna... uh! I'm gon—" the last of her sentence dissolves into a moan as one of her hands find the crumpled sheet above her head, grasping for anything to hold as her teeth sink into her bottom lip.

"You're gonna what, baby...?"

Before she can even think of answering, Cassie's body goes rigid. Her legs tremble near violently around your head and her hand keeps a firm grip on your hair, a desperate scream ripping from her throat as she comes, the vibrations from your moans only prolonging the pleasure.

Cassie is incoherent by this point, too overwhelmed with pleasure, and you just keep going.

You keep eating her out, making her come over and over like you promised, pumping your fingers inside her until the coil snaps again and she lets out a guttural scream, her body trembling and clenching as the aftershocks of her orgasm continue.

You make her come a total of four times with just your mouth and fingers, and she's boneless by the time you're done with her, lying there completely blissed out, dried tear tracks down her face, her pussy red and swollen and still aching from the overstimulation.

"Are you okay?" you murmur, touching her so carefully as you clean her up. Cassie can't manage much more than a whimper and a nod, still catching her breath. "You did so well, baby. Such a good girl for me." you praise, pressing the lightest of kisses along her jawline.

"I love you." she whispers.

"I know, baby. I love you too, so much." you bring your lips back up to hers, kissing her softly, your tongue running along her bottom lip before catching it between your teeth. Cassie sighs at the feeling and your lips quirk into a smirk as you let go, pecking her lips one last time.

"We should head back..." Cassie reasons, finally in control of her thoughts again. "Maddy must be wondering where we went."

"Can we wait a second? I wanna take a picture of you right now."

Cassie chuckles, propping herself onto her forearms, brows raised in amusement as you get off the bed.

"Did you bring your Polaroid?" You wink at her and nod, pulling the camera out of your handbag which you had previously set on a chair nearby. "You already have a thousand pictures of me naked." she chuckles and you climb back onto the bed with her, pecking her lips softly.

"I want a thousand more."

#cassie howard x reader #cassie howard x fem!reader #cassie howard imagine #euphoria x reader #cassie howard fanfic #cassie howard smut #euphoria imagine #euphoria fanfic #cassie howard

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buryustogether · 11 months

Text

lilac - chapter 7

miguel o’hara x f!reader

wc: 5.3k

summary: the truth will always come to light.

warnings/tags: smut, p in v sex, domestic life, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), mentions of murder/bodies, knife violence, angst, choking, kidnapping

author’s note: listened to am i dreaming while writing this and bawled

Two weeks later, you found yourself slipping into one of the private rooms at The Menagerie, feeling the thumping, thrumming music all the way from the floorboards through your feet and into your teeth. Your very heart seemed to shake with the vibrations. Your thin, sparkly cape-like train swayed behind you as you moved quietly into the room, brushing against your thighs as you locked the door.

“Hi, handsome,” you said to the customer sitting in the chair in the center of the room. The neon lights were too bright, too loud, like you were floating in a dream from another planet. “How are you doing tonight?”

Before you were able to turn around, to even get in another breath, the man was up behind you, his chest pressing into your back and his hands trailing down your sides. His breath fanned across your ear, your temple, your neck. You would have told the guy to back off if you didn’t recognize the low, even voice that spoke just inches from the shell of your ear.

“Good to know you greet all your customers the same way,” murmured Miguel from behind the painted porcelain spider mask. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as his hands slowly slipped up your front, edging along the underside of your breasts. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, thinking they were special.”

Your racing heart slowed its uneven tempo as you were unable to put down the grin set upon your lips. You turned your head ever so slightly so that you were able to see a sliver of his wide, massive frame hulking over yours behind you. Moving upon their own accord, your hands reached up to rest over his where they sat on your stomach. Then you tugged his palms up so that they cupped your breasts through the flimsy fabric of your monarch costume.

“If you wanted me to touch you,” you said, just audible over the beat enveloping you both even here in the private room, “you could have just waited until I got home.”

“Hmm - but where’s the fun in that?”

Finally turning around, you smiled and reached up to nudge the spider mask over Miguel’s face. Those features of his - those beautiful, rugged, wonderful features of his - were bathed in the neon from the lights as you pulled it off his head entirely. His smirk was predatorial, hungry and eager to start the hunt for what he was after. You pushed against his chest, backing him up across the room because suddenly the roles had changed, and when he sat back in the chair to stare up at you, he knew it.

“The fun in that,” you said as you sank down to your knees before him, “is that you get to moan my name as loud as you want at home.”

This was how it had gone for these past two weeks, and that was how it went for the next one, as well. Pure bliss clouded your mind like a fog that refused to go away. Even if you wanted it gone, you couldn’t have gotten rid of it. Your brain was partially blind to the world around you as you went about your life as if you weren’t dating Miguel O’Hara, as if you weren’t housing Spiderman in your shitty little apartment, as if your world hadn’t been uprooted for the absolute better.

It went like this even when you called up the school at the beginning of the third week, reaching out to the front desk ladies who always did crosswords and snapped bubble gum instead of actually doing their jobs.

One of them picked up on the fourth ring. “Washington Elementary, this is Janice at the front desk.”

“Hey, Janice,” you said as you leaned over the countertop of your kitchen. A small cry attempted to escape you, but you were successful in keeping it down. “Listen, I know it’s short notice, but I need to use - hmm! - a couple of my vacation days I have saved up. I-I’m going out of town for the week and I won’t be back… back until next Monday.”

The front desk lady was typing away on that ancient computer of hers with those tacky nails, though you were barely able to hear it over the racing and thundering of your heart in your ears. “Alright,” she drawled in a voice that was way too slow for you. “Did you have a particular substitute in mind?”

You pressed your lips together until they ached as you pressed further up against the counter, practically folded over it at this point. “Nope,” you said, your tone strained and tight. “Any will do. And thanks! See you next week.”

“Wait-”

You clicked your phone off and sent it skidding further down the kitchen countertop, finally able to release the long, strangled cry that you had been holding in the entire call. The long, thick cock buried inside your sopping cunt had been shallowly bucking into you while you talked, and the wide, calloused hand pressing you by your upper back into the counter hadn’t helped, either.

You exhaled a pant and whimpered in pleasure as the man behind you leaned over your smaller form, his warmth pressing up against you. “Good girl,” Miguel murmured against the shell of your ear, then bit it gently with the tips of his fangs. “I told you you could stay quiet for me.”

Days were spent lounging around the apartment, recovering from the throbbing ache the previous day’s (or, oftentimes, that morning’s) sweaty, heated session had left you with between your thighs. You would tidy up your home or run errands, always anticipating the soft sound from your bedroom of the window being rolled up and the near-silent noises of Spiderman crawling in from the fire escape. Afternoons you would spend bent over the nearest surface - the counter, the arm of the couch, the bed, the coffee table. He didn’t care, and neither did you. And the evenings were spent with dinner with your new little family, or out at late night soccer games flooded with light from the torches over the field. No matter where you were, whether it was his leg pressed against yours or his hand slid into your back pocket or just his hand atop yours, Miguel was always touching you.

It felt like a dream. It felt like maybe you’d died and gone to heaven, because, really, life in this smog-ridden, violet-colored sky couldn’t be this good. It shouldn’t have felt this good.

And, of course, because all things must come to a close, an end, a stop - this dream did.

It was late in an afternoon, when the sky outside had just finished painting itself with the dull colors of sunset, that you found yourself folding laundry in the living room and watching the news on your television. Unconsciously, because you had been doing this for nearly three weeks now, you made three stacks of the clean clothes; yours, Gabriella’s, and Miguel’s. His and yours were set aside to go back to the bedroom. Hers would stay out here and be stored in the drawers of your shelves; if the O’Haras were going to be staying with you for much longer - which you really, really hoped they did - you were going to need a bigger apartment. Gabriella needed her own room. And you and Miguel… you needed a bedroom with thicker walls.

You’d decided to wear one of his favorite dresses - a short, pink little number - in anticipation for when he retired from patrolling the city this afternoon. He intended, as he’d told you this morning before you both got out of bed, to come home, fuck you until you saw stars, have dinner, then go back out again for a night watch.

And you had no problem with that.

You’d just reached down to grab a shirt from your basket when there came a knock on your front door. Not gentle, but not unfriendly, either. Standing straight and turning the television down a few levels, you silently padded across the apartment and stood on your tiptoes to raise yourself to look through the peephole. The multiple golden locks glinted to your right.

You’d expected to find a neighbor asking for a favor, or maybe girl scouts selling cookies for their little fundraisers. Hell, even your landlord coming to ask if the new additions to your apartment would be staying permanently, and if so, demanding more rent. But instead, you found three people you had not seen before. They were an odd little trio, one that made you take a second glance after you had scanned them all over once.

The one who had knocked on your door was a woman with dark skin and large, round glasses with tinted lenses sitting on her nose. One of her hands, the wrist decorated with bangles and other bracelets, protectively held the massive bump on her stomach; she looked ready to pop and have her kid any day. On her left was a boy that looked no older than twenty; he, too, was dark-skinned, with dreads that stuck out like a halo and multiple rings affixed to his nose, his brow, his ears… Eyeliner had been applied to his lids, and across his back was a sleek-looking electric guitar. And on the woman’s left was a middle-aged man in a fluffy bathrobe, busy adjusting the baby carrier strapped across his front. The toddler inside giggled and attempted to paw at his fingers.

Your first thought was that they were just a strange-looking family, maybe asking for directions or hoping for some charity. But if that was the case… why had they come up to your floor?

Taking a breath, you unlocked your door and swung it open. The trio looked up - including the red-haired baby - and they all seemed to do a double-take on you, as well. The man’s lips parted in surprise. The teenager quirked an amused smile. And the woman pressed her lips together in a sense that said she saw something she didn’t like.

“Now we know why the bloke’s stayin’ ‘round here,” said the boy in a thick English accent.

Blinking a few times, you nervously folded your hands over your stomach and put on your best smile. “Hi,” you said to the tiny group. “Can I help you at all?”

The woman - who had visibly composed herself - returned your smile and straightened herself out. “Sorry to bother you,” she said in an apologetic way that, if you thought you heard right, sounded more on edge than anything else. “We’re looking for Miguel O’Hara; he’s a friend of ours. Does he live anywhere around here?”

For a brief moment, you flashed back to that day at Alchemax, when you’d overheard Lyla the defective AI talking to Miguel about spending time with friends. Were these the friends she’d been speaking of? Fuck, you suddenly wished you remembered their names. “He lives here, actually,” you said, then stepped aside to welcome them in. “Would you like to come inside? He’s out… running a few errands, but he should be back any time now.”

One by one they filed into your apartment, practically filling the little kitchen your front door opened into. The boy hopped up on your kitchen counter, adjusting his guitar strap across his chest and spreading his legs out to take up space.

You introduced yourself to them, told them your name. “Can I get you anything to drink?” you said, eyeing the strange little trio as they took in your apartment. Suddenly you felt like you were being held under a microscope; they were examining your decor, the pictures on your walls, the half-finished stack of laundry still sitting on the couch. You guessed you’d expected Miguel to have more… plausible friends. Other scientists at Alchemax. Fellow single fathers. Not a stylish pregnant woman with something against you, a manspreading teenager who was leaning back on his hands on your damn counter, and a middle aged man cooing at a toddler strapped to his chest.

“No, we’re fine,” said the woman.

“Actually,” said the man, earning himself a swift glare from his companion, “do you have anything sweet lying around? She just had lunch, and she gets fussy if she doesn’t have the dessert I promised.” He gestured to the red haired little girl sitting in her carry-on seat, staring up at her father with large, wide eyes.

“Peter, stop it,” hissed the woman.

Shaking your head, partially to dismiss the strangeness of the whole situation, you stood up on your tiptoes and began to search through your cupboards for something sweet; you’d been keeping a lot more treats around since Gabriella had moved in. “No, it’s okay,” you said as you handed the box to Peter, who gasped dramatically for the sake of his baby. “I need to get rid of these anyway.”

You stood back against the sink, feeling awkward in your own home as the strangers waited. Clearing your throat and attempting to look busy folding a dish towel, you said, “So… how did you guys meet Miguel? He hasn’t really talked about his friends much… at all, to be honest. I kind of thought he was more of a lone wolf.”

“Hah!” the boy on your counter barked out a laugh. “That he is, love.”

“We work with him,” said the woman. She reached up to adjust her tinted glasses, and it was then that you noticed she wore a silver band around her wrist with some kind of orange interface - a watch of some kind? You peeked at the other two, and realized they wore them, as well.

“Really?” you said, tilting your head and forcing yourself to smile. You glanced at the boy. “No offense, but… I didn’t think Alchemax would hire anyone so young. Are you an intern?”

“They wish,” he replied and crossed his ankle over his other leg. He wore bright teal sneakers, one sporting yellow laces and the other, blue. “Don’t think some stuffy, thieving corporation like that could handle me even if they tried.”

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, in the process of breaking up cookies to give the toddler against his front. “Sure, Hobie,” he snickered. “That’s why.”

“He told you he works at Alchemax?” said the woman, who had come closer to you than you realized until she was just feet away. You were able to see her eyes through her shades - almond-cut and heavy-lidded, those brown irises filled with an emotion that you could not place. It intimidated you slightly, and you wanted to look away, but her words brought an unfamiliar sense of unease slowly rolling through you.

“I… yes?” you said, wringing the towel in your hands now. “He does work there. I’ve - I’ve been to his office before. He’s a geneticist.”

“Jessica…” said Peter in a voice that sounded akin to a warning.

Jessica’s lips had pursed into a thin line, one that set a line at the corner of her mouth. You backed further against the sink. “Do us a favor and call him,” she said, but it didn’t sound like a favor, and more of a demand. “We really need to speak to him.”

Swallowing thick and steeling your heart, because no longer did you refuse to be ordered around in your own home, you set down the rag and stood straight again. “I think it would be best if you all left,” you said, looking around at the three. “I’ll tell Miguel you dropped by.”

Then, like they were a pack of animals all sensing something you could not - even the damned baby - they all turned their heads in the direction of your bedroom. Their eyes were focused, all other movements ceased. It was one of the strangest things you had ever seen. Then, finally, you heard it, too - the sound of your window being opened, of a heavy weight vaulting inside and landing on the hardwood floor with a soft thud.

“Perfect timing,” said Jessica, and a film of goosebumps trailed over your skin.

For a long, agonizing few moments, you all stood perfectly still, waiting for Miguel to appear from the bedroom. The only sound was the television still playing the news and the soft cooing of the baby against Peter’s chest as she continued devouring cookies.

Feeling your heart racing in your chest, listening to it thunder and roll in your ears, you took a breath and called, “Mig?”

His reply came from the bedroom just a moment later. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah.” You turned a wary gaze to the strangers standing in your kitchen, wringing your hands, now. “Could - could you come here, please? Now?”

He must have sensed the slight waver in your voice, maybe he smelled your nerves in the air - he seemed to have been fine tuned into your senses now - because at once, the bedroom door opened and his careful, mindful footsteps tread down the hall. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him enter the room still in his suit, his hair mussed from having just deactivated his mask. When he laid eyes on the intruders cornering you in the kitchen, he stopped solidly in his tracks.

“There’s the man of the hour,” said Hobie, then lay back entirely across the counter to grin at your boyfriend upside down. “Fancy catchin’ you here, ain’t it?”

Miguel stared hard at the teenager, his chest rising and caving in an uneven pattern and fists clenched at his sides. “Get down,” he ordered in a low, frightening voice that told you at once - these were not his friends. “Now.”

“Miguel,” said Jessica as she crossed the kitchen to meet him. “We seriously need to talk about this.”

“About what?” he snapped.

She pulled an expression that screamed this was not the first time they had talked about this. One hand resting on her swollen belly, she raised the other to gesture around your apartment. It threw your heart out of tandem. “About this. What are you doing, O’Hara? This - this is insane. I don’t know what kind of screw came loose in that brain of yours, but you’ve completely lost it.”

You had no idea what they were talking about. For a moment, you thought she was speaking about your relationship with Miguel. Then a moment became seconds. What was happening? Who were these people and what business did they have interfering with your lives?

Miguel stared daggers into the woman, but she only returned them with equal heat. He took a breath in through his nose as if he were going to say something, then quickly, with intent, turned his eyes to yours.

Understanding at once, you squeezed past Peter, who was now letting his daughter dig through the bag of cookies, and tread carefully past Miguel. You were practically able to feel the fury radiating off of him in waves. “I’ll give you all some privacy,” you said softly, tiptoeing back into the living room. You took up your previous space beside the couch and resumed folding the laundry, but your mind was still back in the kitchen. What the fuck was going on?

Your eyes were trained on the news, but your ears - and attention - were straining to hear the conversation being whisper-shouted just in the next room.

“You’re out of your damn mind, Miguel!” Jessica said. “Purposely changing canon events? Redirecting this dimension so it wraps around your little fucking finger? What’s going on?”

“This is different,” Miguel hissed, and you knew at that moment that he was distraught, because he was letting his fangs get in the way of his speech. He hardly ever let that happen. “I’m balancing the canon events. This dimension is still stable.”

You recognized Hobie’s voice, thick and heavy with his accent. “Really?” he said, and you heard the electric twang of his guitar being fiddled with. “What’cha call that glitch in Brooklyn, then?”

“Why exactly are you here, Brown?”

“Don’t know. Wanted to see fur fly, I’spose.”

“We’re here to take you back to HQ, Miguel,” said Jessica in that stern, commanding voice that she had used with you. “You’re tearing this reality apart at the seams. You know what happens if you do.”

Trying to listen in further, you took a step toward the kitchen, placing a hand on a shelf beside an empty vase.

“You have no power over me, Drew,” Miguel snarled. “In fact, I’d say you’re far out of line.”

“If I am, you can’t even see the damn line anymore, you pompous ass.” She exhaled a breath, likely trying to calm herself. “You’re the one who preaches to the others how dangerous altering canon events are. Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, I think we know why,” Peter piped up then, but his voice was light, teasing, even. Trying not to sound hostile, trying not to invoke those powerful claws and fangs. His daughter cooed and babbled.

There came a moment of long, palpable silence. But your attention was then drawn to the television, to a breaking news coverage.

Jessica exhaled. “You can’t save them, Miguel,” she said in a voice that almost wasn’t there. “Either of them. You’re damning them by staying here.”

“Enough,” came Miguel’s deathly quiet whisper.

“You’re killing them,” she snarled then, and the baby’s nonsense silenced. “Both of them; that little girl, that poor woman, you are literally tearing them apart from the inside out.”

“ENOUGH!”

Your hand slipped and knocked over the vase, sending it to shatter into pieces on the floor. The conversation in the kitchen ceased, but you did not notice any of it. Your eyes were glued to the screen, lips open and heart stopped in your chest and world falling apart at the seams.

From the kitchen, Miguel said your name. He - along with the strangers - stepped into the living room. You felt a hand on your arm, and it sent pinpricks like fire racing through your skin. They all followed your gaze to the television, where a reporter was listening to an earpiece.

“That’s right,” she said to the camera. “We’ve just confirmed that the remains of the body found by authorities just two hours ago are, in fact, from renowned Alchemax geneticist Miguel O’Hara. Reports are saying he allegedly died from a gunshot wound inflicted by a second party. The body was found hidden in an abandoned warehouse set for demolition to clear room for -”

The silence in the apartment was so tense, so thick, you could have sliced it with a butcher knife.

And that was exactly what you intended to do.

That hand on your arm had tightened its grip. Slowly, because you were afraid if you went too fast you’d faint, you turned your head to look at Miguel. Not Miguel. Not Miguel O’Hara. Because Miguel O’Hara was dead. This was not him. An imposter. A twin, maybe. But nevertheless, an imposter.

This was not Miguel. This was a stranger - and you had fallen in love with him.

Holding your arm, the man was already staring at you. Those eyes that you had come to love, had gazed into while he held you, while he fucked you, were trained on yours with a certain kind of glaze you could not decipher. The strangers were all watching the pair of you, waiting, unsure of just what was about to happen.

The man said your name in that way you loved. Now it made you sick. “Hey,” he said, turning you to face him. He raised his wrist and shot out a web that clicked the television off. “Hey, baby, don’t listen to that. I was - I was called about this earlier today. There was a mix up with the names.”

You could not hear him. You only heard the blood rushing through your ears, only felt the icy cold that had replaced your veins. Slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, you padded past the man. Past the strangers. Into the kitchen - where you silently unsheathed a butcher knife from the block on the counter.

You felt his presence behind you, like a ghost, like a shadow; like the stranger he was, following you. That’s what he had been doing all this time. Following you, stalking you. Pretending to be someone you would trust. Oh, fuck; had he taken Gabriella after her real father was killed? Had he been manipulating her this entire time?

He said your name again, touched your waist. And you struck.

With a cry that came from somewhere deep in your throat, filled with all the shock and rage and confusion and anger you had within you, you spun around and slashed the knife at the man. His senses must have gone into overdrive, because he jumped back, then shot out a web to stick your hand - and the knife - to the countertop.

“Miguel!” cried Peter as the others crowded in after him.

You released a scream at the four of them, trying desperately to pull the webbing off your hand. “Leave me alone!” you shrieked up at the man watching you with wide, frantic eyes. “Get out! Get away from me!”

“Hey, hey, baby, you have to listen to me.” The man grabbed your other fist when you tried to swing it at him, pinning you down against the sink. When you screamed again, he clapped a hand over your mouth. “Listen to me, baby. You remember what I told you that day at Alchemax? About twin dimensions and realities?”

Jessica took a step forward. “Miguel, enough,” she said, but her words fell on deaf ears.

“It’s true,” he said to you, bringing his face close to yours, despite how much you tried to pull away. “I’m not from this dimension. Mine, my home - it was destroyed. This reality’s Miguel, he was a done case, but I stepped in, you understand me? I couldn’t let Bri be an orphan, I couldn’t -” He stared at you, his heavy breath fanning over your face, his eyes wide and desperate. “I couldn’t let you go, don’t you see that?” He shook his head slightly. “I’m still Miguel. I’m still your Mig. I’m still yours.”

Then his mouth was on yours, his hands holding either side of your head in a grasp that felt as though it were bruising your scalp. He tasted just like you remembered, just how you liked, just like how you loved. And for a moment, for a stupid, foolish moment, you were kissing him back. Because he was still your Miguel. He wasn’t from here, from your reality, but dammit, he was still yours.

But your body acted upon its own accord, shoved your mind and your logic out the window. Because you’d gotten your hand free of the webbing. Letting go of the knife, you shoved him backward, ducked under his arm, and ran for the front door. He yelled your name, roared it, but you were quicker than him. You slammed the door open, swung around, and threw it shut, then dashed down the stairs of your apartment building.

Your lips still tasted like him.

When you burst into the fresh air, you looked around for only a moment before taking off running again. You’d left everything behind - your phone, your wallet, everything - but you couldn’t stop running. Couldn’t stop running from the man who had - from what he’d said - taken the place of a dead man, played father to a child that was not his, loved you like it was actually meant to be.

You knew now that Lyla the AI had not been defective. You knew now that you were supposed to be dead by now, strangled to death by your ex boyfriend. You knew now why Miguel was late that first day picking up Gabriella. You understood everything.

Through the tears you realized were spilling down your cheeks, you managed to look a few feet ahead of you and skidded to a stop, nearly crashing into the people in front of you. A crowd of onlookers from every street on an intersection were watching, filming, screaming, as a skyscraper glitched and warped in on itself, folding and twisting as if it were on a television screen and the signal was going out.

Then, across the street, a car began to glitch. It skidded through a red light, plowed into another vehicle crossing the intersection.

A few blocks down, there came an explosion that rocked the entire street. People screamed and ducked.

Oh, fuck. It was happening - like Jessica had said. Your reality was tearing apart.

Because of Miguel.

You began to back up with the crowd as, around you, your universe was tearing apart at the seams. But then from behind, there came more screams and shrieks of panic, a symphony of chaos and pure, unbridled panic. You turned to face the street, and your heart turned to frozen, petrified ice within the confines of your chest.

The villains Spiderman - Miguel - had been putting behind bars this past month had broken free; Doctor Octopus, Kraven, the Vulture… they had all escaped, now joined together as they approached the small mass of people you stood with on the corner. Leading them was a figure you did not recognize; purple and black costume and tactical gear, mask of pure violet with electric eyes that shone like the glinting tips of the claws on their hands.

The figure entered the crowd, which parted like a sea for him, swarming in every direction possible. You backed yourself up against the front of the building you stood beside, feeling horrified, panicked tears spilling down your face as the person stopped just inches away. With one clawed hand, they reached up to gently wipe away a drop cascading down to your chin; you felt the blade of the claw nick you, and the tear was replaced with a sliver of blood.

“Please don’t cry,” said the person - said the man - behind the mask. “Not here.” You couldn’t help the warbled, strained cry that escaped your throat when he brought his head closer to yours, so that his mouth was leveled with your ear. “What’s the matter, babe? Don’t recognize the Prowler?”

Babe.

Suddenly, in that moment, you didn’t care that Miguel had lied to you. You didn’t care that he was from another dimension, that the fates had destined you to be apart. You didn’t care about any of that. You just wanted to be in his arms, shielded from this awful world falling apart at the edges by those sinewy arms and that red, chilling gaze.

You wanted Miguel because when the Prowler’s mask dematerialized and he pulled his head back, you knew the face staring back at you.

Ferris gave a wide, unnatural, sickening smirk as he watched realization dawn in your eyes. That smile curled even further when it was replaced with fear. “Take it easy, babe,” he said, his lips just inches from yours. “There’s a lot of work to be done to be getting this worked up just yet.”

Behind him, Doctor Octopus leveled his shades as one of his long, winding, mechanical arms unfurled from beneath him. Clasped by the back of her jacket with the sharp, glinting claw was Gabriella O’Hara, curled into herself as she sobbed loudly and hung onto the metal for her life.

Leaning in closer yet, Ferris shot out a clawed hand and wrapped his palm around the column of your neck. His fingers fit perfectly around the bruises just beginning to fade there; like puzzle pieces, because no matter how hard you tried to shape or bend or destroy the shape, there would only ever be one correct fit. “Let’s take a walk,” he said. “You’re going to help us catch a spider.”

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood @jenniferdixon05207 @moonchild-cupcake @venomous-ko @marvelouslovely-barnes @syarblu @fruitcupsworld @soooooyesbutactually-no @hopefulcandywitch @elwyn7 @oh-theseus @thepanwiccan @takayomi @dreamingofbucky @yuuuumii @p1nkliquor @scammer-get-scammed @mlishe

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel atsv

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vulpisnocturna · 5 months

Note

Hi im so glad you’re back! can I request chrollo x reader overstimulation?

You certainly can, and I will absolutely comply! 😩 there is a shortage of Chrollo smut and I am here to serve 🫣

Masterlist

NSFW - MDNI

Warnings: overstimulation, dirty talk, dom Chrollo, possessiveness, rough sex, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink

Word count: 2.9k

Pale fingers ghosted the skin of your arms, up and down, teasing and exploratory, and you could practically taste the smug smirk that adorned his well-defined lips, which brushed against your jaw and the column of your throat. You shivered as he breathed in the scent of your perfume mingled with the natural smell of your skin, and he let out a soft sigh.

‘Relax for me, mh? You are so tense… do I make you nervous? Does your blood rush to your stomach? Is your breath shallow and uneven? Do your legs feel weak? Is your heart hammering in your throat? Is your lower stomach so very tight and hot, my little darling? Your skin is pebbled with goosebumps, and you are shivering so much…’ he murmured against your ear, his voice a little raspy, husky and suggestive, warming you up like a bottle of vodka thrown into a fireplace. You swallowed as Chrollo’s lips trailed back to the junction between your neck and your shoulder, kissing gently, languidly.

‘I crave you’ his voice was sin itself as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, and his fingers curled around your hips possessively, greedily, squeezing over the fabric of your skirt. You bit down on your lower lip, your eyelids fluttering close. His bangs tickled your cheek, and his lips pressed against your jaw, your neck, his tongue licking the column of your throat erotically.

You let out a soft, breathy moan, which earned you a pull against his body and his teeth nibbling and pulling gently at your skin.

‘Chrollo…’ you breathed. He stroked your hair, grabbing it and pulling it slightly, exposing your sensitive neck to his greedy lips.

He smiled down at you, his dove grey eyes drinking in your expression like it was liquid gold.

‘I like that look on your face. Such a needy girl’ he purred, voice barely above a whisper, and before you knew it, you were pinned against the wall, hands flat above your head, his mouth ravaging yours. Your mind went haywire, and you moaned against his lips. Chrollo’s cologne filled your nostrils, his body pressed against yours, his tongue traced your bottom lip and his teeth tormented it. That was the thing about someone like Chrollo. Calm, controlled people like him usually needed an outlet. That outlet happened to be you.

He gripped and kneaded your ass with his free hand, his tongue caressing yours with a passion that pierced through you. Calm people like Chrollo could become a blazing inferno of passion in the blink of an eye.

His hand trailed up to your throat, fingers pressing on the sides, reducing the blood flow to your head, making you dizzy. You let his feral passion consume and ignite you, stoking the lust and longing inside you until nothing was on your mind except him.

‘I can feel your heart thumping against my fingers. Darling… you look so helpless. So desperate. But I can make you even more desperate. And I think I have a craving that begs to be satisfied’ he said in a low, raspy voice, one that was rich and reverberated in your ears. He picked you up and tossed you on the bed, making quick work of tearing your clothes off you, his gaze dark and filled with hunger and possessiveness. You moaned and arched your back as Chrollo’s tongue traced your nipple and his fingers pinched the other one, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. His hand trailed to your thigh, and he squeezed and dug his fingers in the soft flesh, groaning against your nipple as he sucked it eagerly. You squirmed and let out a shameful mewl, which seemed to delight him to no end, because he chuckled and sucked a possessive love bite on the swell of your breasts.

Your fingers tangled in his raven hair, tugging and pulling, but Chrollo did not mind when you got a little rough. In fact, he loved every second of it. Chrollo was an eager lover, a greedy one that preyed and feasted on desperation. He sought to drain every drop of ecstasy you had to give, and his satisfaction was derived from your pleading and knowing he was the one driving you to the brink of insanity.

Chrollo’s fingers reached their destination fairly quickly, driven by his intense desire, but you were already sopping wet. He chuckled, giving you a grin that was a mixture between a boyish smile and the taunting smirk of a fallen angel.

‘Oh dear, it seems my little darling is quite desperate already. You are so wet for me’ he crooned, the pads of his fingers tracing patterns on your sensitive skin. Your breath faltered, and you whimpered, your hips twitching, your cheeks warming up at the taunting remark.

‘Chrollo- stop teasing’ you breathed, though his teasing was arousing too. He let out a soft scoff.

‘Why would I do that? It is so easy to rile you up. So easy… to make you weak with desire. And I love it’ he said, his tongue dipping to lick your ribcage as his middle finger started tracing torturous circles around your puffy clit that had you moaning and writhing. He pushed your hips down with a hand and pinned your legs with his body.

‘Ah- ah, ah. I am not finished with you yet. You’ll take what I give you, like a good girl’ he said in his rich, mellow voice, going back to tongue and toy with your nipples. You moaned more, helplessly trying to move against his fingers, be it towards him or away from him. You weren’t too sure.

Your hands cradled his head, and he smiled, dipping two fingers inside you and curling them in a blissful motion. You arched your back, letting a sinful moan pour out of your lips.

‘That’s it, that’s my good girl. Keep moaning for me, darling’ he praised, his voice hot and thick with desire as he started moving his fingers in and out, skilfully rubbing all the right places. You moaned, dragging him back up for a heated kiss that left you breathless. He kept going, kissing your neck and sucking on it harshly.

‘I am going to mark your skin, so everyone knows you are mine. Mine to hold. Mine to touch. Mine to tease. Mine to kiss. Mine to pleasure. Mine to keep’ he groaned against your ear, and you squirmed, the movement of your hips against his fingers getting increasingly more eager.

‘Ch-Chrollo… oh God-‘ you moaned, and he smirked, looking at your face, self-satisfaction written plainly on his features. His fingers worked faster and deeper, making your mouth fall open in a gasp as the coil in your lower stomach wound tighter and tighter and more intense, until you were clinging to him and kissing him sloppily as you came with a breathy moan.

Chrollo gave a satisfied groan and started kissing your neck again, teeth nipping at your collarbones, hands soothing and massaging your thighs, his mouth trailing down your torso. You squirmed when he spread your legs and started kissing your thighs, your face hot, your breath short from your recent orgasm.

‘Chrollo, wait… still sensitive’ you muttered. He gave a low, soft laugh against the skin of your inner thigh, before biting and sucking it, pinning you down when you tried to scoot away a little.

‘My poor little darling. She is so very sensitive’ he crooned, and pinned one of your thighs to the bed, flinging the other on his shoulder and blowing cold air on your clit. You let out an undignified whimper, which he promptly ignored to drag the flat of his tongue on your labia from bottom to top, tensing the tip of his tongue up as he reached your clit to flick it. You let out a loud moan, your fingers disappearing in the inky strands of his hair, and Chrollo groaned, fingers digging in the pliable flesh of your thighs as though he loathed to give you the space to squirm away from his face. His tongue twirled around your clit, pressing against it, uncaring of your whining and desperate strangled moans. His fingers glided to your cunt too, slowly pushing inside you, and he curled them, sucking on your clit at the same time. Your body twitched, and you cried out, writhing underneath him as the pain and pleasure mingled in an addictive mix. You were soon reduced to a panting, moaning mess, your hips rolling against his face and attempting to pull away from it at the same time, your chest heaving, your eyes closed as he continued to pleasure and torment you like his life depended on it.

He pulled back a little to give a smouldering, indulgent look, seeming to revel in the way your body begged him to continue even more than your voice did. He then got back down, increasing the intensity even more, sucking, flicking, curling, licking and spitting on your clit, leaving you no time nor chance to form coherent thoughts as he coaxed another orgasm out of you, one that felt almost mind-numbing. He pulled back as your aftershocks quelled down, and smirked at you, wiping his wet chin with the back of his hand and sucking his fingers clean. You were a heap of limbs strewn on the bed, unable to move, your eyes half-lidded, your swollen lips parted, your body reduced to a ragdoll.

‘Such a good girl for me’ he murmured, brushing your hair away from your face in a sudden tender gesture.

You watched him as he took his clothes off, tossing his shirt on the floor, revealing his toned arms, lean figure and pale, smooth skin. His trousers and boxers came off next, and his fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking it a few times as he looked at you before he lowered himself above you and started rubbing it along your wet labia. You let out a little whimper, and he groaned in the crook of your neck, nibbling at your earlobe and kissing your throat.

He pushed himself inside you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, driving himself inside you until the tip of his shaft was kissing your cervix. Your body arched, your nails raking across his smooth shoulder blades, your voice coming out in a loud, whorish moan at the feeling of fullness and warmth that pooled in your core. Chrollo moaned softly, his head thrown back to the ceiling, his fingers gripping your thigh and hip.

‘Ahh… you take me so well. So tight and wet for me’ he breathed in a thick, husky voice, his hand trailing down to your ass as you hooked your legs around his slim hips. You clung to him, a litany of whimpering, whining sounds leaving your lips as Chrollo started snapping his hips against you, the upward tilt of his cock making you cry with ecstasy and desperation. Your hips rolled against his, the pleasure soon overcoming the pain and sensitivity from your recent orgasm. He groaned, getting rougher and rougher by the minute, his grey eyes, usually so calm and detached, filled with animalistic desires and a feral, possessive thirst for pleasure and control. Chrollo grunted, spreading your legs and locking them apart and bent in the air with his elbows on the inside of your knees. You cried out, your head thrashing side to side as he started to trace circles around your clit with his middle finger, pinning you in place as he watched the scene with decadent, predatory lust, his eyes darting from the apex of your thighs to your face. You whined, tossing your head side to side and trying to push your legs back together.

‘Ahh! Too much~ too much-‘ you cried out, writhing and trembling, still struggling to close your legs. It felt too intense like this, like the pressure would make you explode, like there were hot pincers in your gut.

‘Mmm~ don’t you dare move, my little darling. You’re going to take all of me, and you are going to cum for me, aren’t you? Like a good little girl should’ he breathed, his voice rough and erotic.

‘Chrollo- I can’t- too much- I need…’ you moaned incoherently, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as Chrollo gave deep, rhythmic thrusts that pressed right against that sweet spot inside you that made you tremble and scream.

‘You can, you’re doing so well. Keep moaning and cum for me, sweetheart. I just want one more. One more for me’ he said, whilst you made desperate noises as the knot in your stomach got tighter and tighter.

‘Ahh! Please!’ you cried out, not even sure what the hell you were asking for. Was it release? Was it mercy? Was it more pleasure?

‘That’s it, there’s a good little girl… don’t you dare move an inch, my love. You are going to cum for me, or I will make you endure this for hours until you do’ he said, his voice raspy, his finger still circling your clit, his hips slamming against you, his face contorted in pleasure, satisfaction and pure, unadulterated lust.

‘Yes- yes! Chrollo- fuck… I need- I can’t…’ you screamed, your whole body shivering, your hips jerking, you cunt squeezing and throbbing around him. He let out a strangled, blissful moan as you pulsed and clamped around him with your intense climax, which left your ears ringing, your legs shaking and your vision flashing for a few seconds. He growled, gripping your legs and moving relentlessly, showing no signs or intentions of stopping or slowing down.

‘Chrollo!’ you whined, squirming and trying to get away, your overstimulated clit aching. Every sensation was more intense and overwhelming than the last, until all your nerve endings felt on fire.

‘Louder! Say my name louder’ he demanded, his eyes darkening with untamed hunger.

‘Chrollo, please!’ you cried out, tears brimming in the corners of your half-lidded eyes, your fingers clawing at the sheets, your body rocking back and forth underneath him.

‘Good girl’ he muttered, and leaned over your ear, ‘your body belongs to me. Understood? You… are mine’

You nodded frantically, pitifully, lost in the throes of passion and his control. Chrollo grinned, starting to lose his cool, becoming more and more intense the closer he got to his own climax.

‘Say it, sweetheart’ he instructed, his voice gruff. You whined.

‘’m yours, Chrollo’ you moaned. Chrollo smiled slightly, pleasure and satisfaction etched on his face.

‘That’s my good little slut’ he crooned, and your teeth sank in your bottom lip as he continued to pound you into the mattress. The knot in your stomach was there once again, despite not believing you were even capable of having another orgasm, it looked as though Chrollo was determined to push you further, to make you lose yourself in his arms. And you were. Your mind was empty, your body was ablaze with desire and pleasure, your eyes were bleary and fucked out.

‘Beg me to cum inside you. Beg me for it’ he said harshly, voice low and demanding. You could hardly even think with the intensity of the sensations travelling through your body.

‘Oh? Is my pretty little slut too fucked out to answer me? Would you like me to stop, then? Should I leave you like this?’ he taunted, thrusting roughly and deeply inside you, pounding against your cervix. You let out a loud, desperate scream.

‘No! Please, Chrollo- Cum inside me, please- please don’t stop…’ you pleaded, and he looked as though your words had sent him spiralling into a maelstrom of passion, satisfaction, pleasure and predatory lust.

‘Such a desperate, needy girl. Such a good girl’ he purred, his pale skin glowing with a silver gleam in the moonlight streaming from the window, his dark eyebrows furrowed, grey eyes narrowed.

You sobbed, writhing, the hot, tight pressure in your lower stomach becoming so strong you couldn’t think, couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but feel. You clamped and throbbed around him, and Chrollo let out a curse, becoming almost feral.

‘Yes, yes! That’s it. Fuck, that feels so… so tight- so good. Good girl. Cum for me. You can do it… oh God- I’m close’ he groaned, and you tossed your head side to side, your whole body trembling and shivering in his grasp, your vision blurring, tears staining your temples as a white-hot, mind-numbing orgasm washed through you like a tidal wave, making your whole body tense up. Chrollo moaned against the skin of your throat, biting down harsher than he probably meant to, his hips stuttering as he came inside you, your name a prayer of passion and reverence on his lips.

He swallowed, slumping on top of you, releasing the tight, bruising hold on your legs and catching his breath. Your own breath was laboured and shallow, your skin feverish, your eyes closed as you basked in the afterglow of one of the most intense experiences of your life.

Chrollo rolled over to your side after a minute or two, drawing patterns on your ribcage. He gave you a boyish smile, a rare sight of unadulterated warmth in his grey eyes.

‘You are incredible’ he murmured, planting a kiss on your shoulder. He cradled you in his arms, soothing you with his fingers grazing your spine.

‘You are mine and I am yours’ you murmured, nuzzling his chest. He sighed in contentment, repeating the phrase to you, like your own personal “I love you”.

#hunter x hunter #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo smut #chrollo lucilfer smut #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x you #kuroro #kuroro lucilfer #hunter x hunter smut #hxh x reader #hxh chrollo #hxh

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squirmhoney · 1 year

Text

Comfort Me

A/N: This a request for @lokis-queen01 Warnings: Smut. 18+. Incest. fingering. Innocent reader. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (Twin sister) Word count: 1.2k

Master list

"I hate it when you do this."

Aemond ignored you, huffing as he stripped himself of his tunic.

"Don't ignore me," you whined, hitting his chest as he took his place beside you in the bed.

"Sticking up for our brother as always," Aemond snarled, resting his head on the pillows beside you. "You have always preferred Aegon."

He knew that was a lie. Some words to rile you up in the way he was riled.

You sat up in the bed, looking over to him with a those soft violet eyes. "I hate it because you always come out upset and Aegon clearly wins every time."

"No he doesn't," Aemond barked back, grinding his teeth down as his jaw flexed.

"You land a few punches on him, congratulations. But I can tell you're still angry, I can literally feel it," you told him, pressing a hand to his chest.

It was heaving beneath your hand, Aemond's breath coming out shallow and uneven. You hated seeing him like this, so lost in his own anger that his vision became clouded.

He pushed your hand away, turning his gaze to the side. "Maybe you should go comfort our older brother."

Your eyes brimmed with tears, feeling deflated as you shook your head. Your lips trembled and your voice cracked slightly. "I do not wish to be around you right now."

When you tried to slide off of the bed, Aemond's arm wraps around you yanking you into his chest. His grip tightened, stopping you from leaving as you squirmed around.

"You're cruel when you want to be," you whispered, falling limp in his arms.

"Comfort me. Make my anger go away like you always do," Aemond hummed in your ear, sending a gentle shiver down your spine. "Please sweet sister."

You twisted your body around, falling onto your back as Aemond rested his body on top of yours. He buried himself between your legs and nestled his face in the crook of your neck. His nose rubbing against your skin before he pressed soft chaste kisses there.

"Aemond," you giggled, fingers slipping into his hair.

"Be good for me," he mumbled into your skin, licking along the base of your neck. He needed to know you were his, no one else's. His sweet twin sister, so innocent and pure that you wouldn't realise anyone else's intentions. Especially Aegon's.

That thought twisted something inside him, making him press himself further against you. Your eyes widened as you felt something press between your legs, making your cunt throb with an intensity you had never felt. Your lips fell open and your brothers name escaped them in a soft whine, "Aemond."

"Let me make you feel good."

"What do you mean?"

He answered your question with his hands, groping your sides under your thin gown. His rough hands had bucking your hips towards him, unsure or what was taking over you.

One of his hands slipped further, venturing downwards as he bunched up the skirts of your dress. His hand sliding up the inside of your thigh and up to your warm cunt. Your folds were slick, cunt still dripping from the small touches of your brother.

"Gods you're so wet for me," Aemond hummed, trailing a finger from your hole over your folds. "I bet you don't even know why."

"It's hurt," you whimpered, legs squeezing around his hips. Your cunt was throbbing in desperate need, hips squirming around from his fingers that were prodding at your folds. "Please, brother."

A finger slid into your entrance, stinging slightly as is stretched you out. Your body was so reactive, walls soaking his digit as he pushed it in and out of you.

"How's does that feel?" Aemond asked.

"Nice," you sighed, losing yourself in the feeling.

Aemond slipped from your neck, moving his head to rest against yours. He was instantly entranced by your dazed expression, your half lidded eyes and parted lips. He couldn't help but squeeze another finger inside you, curling both of his fingers to find your soft spot

"Brother," you yelped, walls clenching around him as your hand gripped onto his arm.

"Those pretty little sounds," Aemond groaned, using his thumb to rub against your puffy clit. "I can't ever let anyone else hear you. These sounds are mine."

"I-I -what's h-happening-" you stuttered unable to form a coherent sentence as a feeling bubbled in your stomach.

"Fuck, your walls are squeezing around my fingers." Aemond pushed his fingers in deeper, pressing them in an harsh and unrelenting manner. One that had your thighs rubbing around him and your eyes rolling back. "You going to cum for me? Cum for your twin brother?"

"I don't know what that is," you voice broken and whiney as your hips jerked up into him. "But I want to do it, for you." There was a look of determination in your eyes as your bottom lip pouted out for him.

"I'll show you." Aemond's thumb grinded harder into your clit, making you mewl for him. "Just keep yourself just like this for me."

"I-I-I -Aem-" you struggled at you tried to tell him something, as your abdomen grew tight.

"It's okay, I know." Aemond hushed your words, fingers working harder than before to make you cum.

You didn't know what it was that pushed you, maybe it was his soft gaze or the way he reassured you with kind words. But something made you snap, waves of pleasure shaking through your body as your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your eyes squeezed shut as his name came out as broken sobs from your lips, keeping you hooked on that feeling for a little while longer.

Aemond slowly came to a stop, pulling his fingers out of you as he brought them up to your face.

Your eyes lids struggled to stay open as you gazed up at Aemond. He was smirking, putting his sticky fingers in front of your face as he played with your juices. He sucked them, moaning at the taste.

"That's not fair," you complained, sulking all of a sudden. "I wanted a taste."

Aemond shoved his tongue in your mouth, wrapping your lips in for a feverish kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue but the taste went as you both lost yourself in each others lips. Aemond finally pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

"You can't tell anyone about this," Aemond's voice was firm, lifting one of your legs up till your knee met your rib cage. "Understand?"

"Why?" Your eyebrows furrowed, completely confused why you had to keep this a secret. "Why can't I tell people how good my brother makes me feel?"

The words had his cock twitching in his pants, biting his tongue to hold himself back. "It's a twin thing," Aemond was quick to say, pressing his crotch against your legs. "No one would understand. Especially mother."

"Okay, Aemond," you agreed, nodding your head with a small smile. "Will you make me feel like that again, please."

A dark grin covered his lips, sinking down between your legs. His lips pressed against your wet folds, placing a soft kiss against your sensitive nub. Your cunt twitched a bit, basically begging him to touch it as you moaned for him again.

"I'll do anything for you," Aemond told you between little licks. "Anything."

Tag List:

@ophelialaufey @cl-0-vr @julianaaleticia @azzir11 @auratiqs @targaryenmoony @brb-readingurfic @aegonsgf @poppyflower-22 @ietss @lilostif16 @candypurplebutterfly @mandiiblanche @much-adoo-about-smut @valsandoval @jamespotterismydaddy @floswife @yearninginpages @dragonslutsblog @coriellesmarya @schniiipsel @esmeralda-tupi @alexxavicry @itsapurrfectstorm @singular-itae @f4ll-for-you @jallen0126 @piceous21 @witchy-jadda @hb8301 @ebaylee422 @sallyscigarettes @clairacassidy @sachafirebringer @tssf-imagines @aleemendoza2425-blog @savagemickey03 @readsalot73 @midnightrqin @spinachtz @watercolorskyy @magnificantmermaid @janelongxox @multitargaryen @eddiepicker @sahanna @smayhem @bebeos @joliettes

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut

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parvulous-writings · 1 month

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can i request karlach, jaheira and shadowheart x dhampir bard gn reader headcanons? maybe also platonic headcanons for astarion.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/gore/flesh, descriptions of eating blood/gore/flesh

Notes: So I didn't want to go entirely with like, typical dhampir straight off the bat, so I rolled a d8 to see what reader would hunger for! The reader thirsts more for flesh/raw meat than blood, but can be sated with either! I was SO stoked to write this! Sorry if I focus more on the Dhampir side of things, I just... LOVE the idea <3 They might be a bit uneven! My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Karlach

Initially, Karlach didn't really notice anything out of the ordinary with you. Sure, you had a... slightly offputting aura to you, but who in your little rag-tag team didn't? You seemed so funny to Karlach - your dark humour complimented her own very well, and she loved that about you. The fact that you were a bard made it all the better; when you weren't regaling the group with various tales, Karlach was making suggestions for insults you could use against opponents. You also taught her an insult or two, mostly because her delivery is always amusing to you.

She knew that you had a few... better than average abilities, but you often dismissed them if anyone tried to bring them up; your speed, your strength - and especially your rather uncanny ability to charm almost anyone to your cause. It's a very helpful skill for you to have, and since you don't want to talk about it, Karlach leaves the topic be.

As you spent more time on the road together, and grew closer, Karlach began to notice a few things about you. Your songs would often dwell on the gore of a tale, and even add it in - like it was something that you couldn't take your mind off of. She brushed it off though - bards always seemed to have something that they would focus on in their songs, perhaps the violence was just your thing, rather than the victory or the romance that other bards tried to emphasise. Even if you weren't the typical lovey-dovey bard that she was used to, she was definitely not complaining when you serenaded her in the evening.

That was her perfect evening - quality time with her lover, snuggled together in her tent, with you quietly playing and singing to her. Even if your songs can be a bit morbid, she loves hearing the sound of your voice.

She also noticed that you didn't often eat with her and the rest of the group - in fact, it was more like you never did. She didn't understand why, though - you always seemed so eager to eat. It was like your appetite was never really satisfied. It took her having to stalk you out into the woods one evening to discover your rather... Unsavoury appetite. The shock she felt at first made her freeze; how would someone rationally react to the sight of someone they loved eating flesh? How would someone react at all, let alone rationally?

Karlach ended up just standing there, unable to take her eyes off of you as your teeth tore into the meat in your hands. Things were starting to make sense to her - your songs focusing on gore was like the mind of a hungry person focusing on food. You were halfway through your meal when you saw the barbarian standing there, and you couldn't help but freeze too - your hunger, or rather the sating of it, was one of the only things that you had actively tried to hide.

"You'd seen us with Astarion - why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell me?" You thought Astarion's affliction was... Rather simple, in comparison to your own. A vampire, people knew about - a mortal, turned undead by another vampire, fed by blood. When you thought about that, you felt... Worse - your hunger couldn't be sated by blood alone. You had to have flesh as well, you craved it.

And, furthermore, your origins weren't exactly conventional; perhaps for Dhampirs, yes, but in general, not really. Having one vampire parent wasn't brilliant when talking to, well, anyone.

Thankfully, Karlach just about takes it in stride - though she doesn't appreciate secrecy between the two of you, she can kind of understand why you'd wanted to keep it that was for a while; no more secrets though. Lovers don't keep secrets, in her book.

Jaheira

Jaheira's wisdom had immediately set off quiet alarms about you after knowing you for a little while; seeing how you act around people, your constant noticeable hunger, the lot. She never brought it up, however. When your back is against the wall, you need as many allies as you can get, and you were certainly a favourable one, despite your oddities.

She had further inklings when you decided to entertain those taking shelter at Last Light. Your playing was divine - but that wasn't what irked her. What is was, was the more prominent canines that she could quite clearly see when you sang. She tried to blame it on the wine, but deep down she knew it wasn't so. She just didn't want to think that one of her currently most trusted allies was undead. Another reason she pushed it aside for the time being was because she knew it would be foolish to push away what seemed to be her best hope of getting out of the Shadow Curse alive. It was more than foolish, it was downright stupid - in times such as this, you must take every little blessing that you can.

It was during the battle at Moonrise that her suspicions started to be proven correctly. Your speed was unmatched by all but your pale elf companion, your blows hit just as hard as your barbarian friend. Not just that, but she had seen you bite one of your foes whilst in a frenzy of hits.

During the night-long celebration that followed the battle and all it entailed, Jaheira decided to confront you. You had stalked off to some mildly secluded area, just out of sight of the campfire, and Jaheira pursued. There she found a sight, that despite her suspicions, she had not expected. What she had expected was the amount of blood that had managed to smear itself round your face; what hadn't crossed her mind was the sheer amount of flesh that accompanied it. The way you tore into it, fangs first, was near feral - it was certainly a gruesome sight, and the druid was at least glad it was her who had found you, and not anyone else.

"I understand the necessity to hide such a secret from the masses, however, you're not exactly subtle with, well, any of it." Her words were not meant to chastise, but more to guide - she actually wanted to help you a little bit. You were valuable to her - both as an ally and a companion, and she would do near anything to help you. The world was unkind to many beings, dhampirs of course being one of them. She knew she couldn't shield you from all of the adversity you may face, but she could try and help you.

And so she does - or she tries her best, as you all head to Baldur's Gate. She doesn't exactly approve of your tastes now that you've entered the city, but understands that sometimes, needs must. She encourages you to resist if you can, and only take those who truly deserve death if you need to feed.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart didn't think there was too much out of the ordinary with you at first. To her, you were... Just a bard. A bard who mainly sang about violence, battles, and gore. Though, every bard has their gimmick, so she didn't think much more about it. She supposed it was a nice break from the norm of love and ancient legends.

Despite being fairly learned in things that lurk in the night, it took Shadowheart a while to figure out that you were a dhampir - though, she blamed part of that on her memory suppression. But, when she did finally figure it out, she wasn't entirely surprised. The fact that there was also a Vampire and a Warlock in the party... There was little left that would surprise the Sharran.

"I suppose I should have seen it coming... Your ballads about the innards of your foes, your sneaking off during supper... Not to mention your preternatural speed and strength, and those sharp canines of yours... All the signs were there, even if somewhat contradicted by the fact that you're alive. A pity I couldn't see it sooner. Then again... I suppose having two supernatural allies is better than having one, hm? That being said... No more secrets. I can't trust you if you hide things from me."

Despite your... Condition, she's actually very comfortable around you. She was quite perturbed when she caught you mid-feed- "I thought Dhampirs only fed on blood?!" You had to try and explain that in fact, there were many kinds of dhampirs - some had sanguine hunger, similar to their undead counterparts, others like yourself fed on the flesh of a victim, but there were even those who fed on more abstract energy, such as dreams. It was quite a shock to Shadowheart, but she kept her questions to a minimum.

As your journey continues, she asks you to sing to her more and more - often requesting to hear about your favourite things; your home, where your favourite haunt was before the mindflayers, but often, she likes to hear of your finest kills, and the feast that ensues after. She'll often jokingly muse, "Do you ever wonder what my flesh would taste like?" "Sometimes... Though I try not to dwell on the thought for too long... I think you'd taste sweet - aromatic, even... A true, refined delicacy."

She'd laugh quietly, and then ask you to sing to her again as she leans against you. The longer you spend journeying together, the more she comes to trust you. She finds it easier and easier to open up to you, knowing that despite your neverending hunger, you would never turn your fangs towards her... Unless she asked, of course. She likens your struggle to resist to her struggle with her faith to Shar; it's a long, inner struggle that often, you cannot speak to anyone about.

When you get to the city, she does make jokes akin to "I'm sure no one would miss him... Do you think he'd taste good enough?" And wouldn't say no to the idea of you potentially eating members of her cloister, now that they are somewhat after her.

Astarion (platonic)

This man nearly outs you on more than one occasion. He says each time that is it "Merely an accident, a slip of the tongue, if you will... It won't happen again..." But, I can guarantee, it will. It's a near daily occurrence.

This is because that, being a vampire himself, Astarion knows what to look for, when it comes to being around someone like himself. Sure, you don't have the trademark paleness that a vampire often possesses, but you have nearly every other feature. After one full day of travelling with you, observing your behavior, seeing your prowess in battle, and hearing your ballads of blood, guts and gore... He knows. He saunters right up to you, and says it nearly loud enough for the whole camp to hear. You clasp your hand over his mouth, begging him to stay quiet. The last thing you need is to be ousted to your party, when you have no idea how to react.

To begin, Astarion tries to give you tips on how to hide your true nature. After a while of staring at your frankly disinterested face, he realises that there's no point. So, instead you start to discuss the... Finer points of your diets - what tastes good, what doesn't; it's a brilliant bonding point for the pair of you. It's what a lot of your friendship is built upon, and you can't complain about it - it's nice to finally have someone who can understand the insatiable hunger, the need to hide, all of it... Even if he does constantly criticise your ballads for being "inaccurate" when it comes to the descriptions of the blood and the gore. He truly can be a stickler for being right, sometimes. You eventually learn to ignore him, though.

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infernalodie · 10 months

Text

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 || 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐙𝐨𝐫-𝐄𝐥

“𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘍𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥, 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘰𝘢𝘩 𝘖𝘩, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩“

Inspo: Chase Atlantic - PLEASEXANNY Chase Atlantic - Tidal Wave

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: Kara knew this wasn’t right, but she needed you...

Warnings: Faint angst, kidnapping, branding, stockholm syndrome, mindless smut, praise kink, fingering and overstimulation.

Words: 1194

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

“So fragile for someone who promised me you would be strong. So disappointing.”

Tears streamed down your cheek, eyes puffy with the crimson complexion to them. Body quivering under Kara’s twisted gaze that didn’t shed a single ounce of mercy. The smell of burnt flesh plugged your senses as you fought the cold sweat. Still very aware of the ache between your legs that Kara wouldn’t help you deal with.

“I-I’m doing m-my best, Daddy.” Kara could only scoff at such a statement. You’d been sobbing since she plunged her fingers into your cunt. Fingers curling and pulling you skillfully toward the high you’d been begging her for.

But the moment she lasers her name into your name, that’s when you give up. It left a sour taste in her mouth that she fully expected you to fix. Which explained why she wasn’t going to give you any more of her help.

Kara ran her thumbs over the raw etchings of her work. Smirking at the sweet cries that echoed past your lips, wiggling beneath her vice grip. “Your best is not good enough, petal. I expect much more from you,” she said, “and I am waiting for you to prove yourself.”

You managed a whimper, shifting in her hold. But her thumbs continued to trace the wounds, enjoying your pitiful state. “Come on. Show me why you deserve to cum.”

Being under her calculated and judging gaze left you unsure of how to prove yourself to her. A month ago, you’d been fighting with her and paid the price for expressing the clear lunacy she displayed by kidnapping you. But now, you were trying to please someone who wasn’t afraid to hurt you. Clinging on to promises that she made that some small part of you knew wasn’t true. Because there was another part of you that loved her dearly.

Sitting up carefully, you pressed soft kisses along her neck. Eager to taste more of her skin on your tongue. Kara could feel your hands tremble, hesitant to grasp her forearms. She could hear your uneven breaths simmer to a steady labour. Likely feeling the heavy exhaustion of the burns taking their toll on your state. But you continued to try and please her. Defiant to not let this night be full of disappointment.

So, you did more than you knew you were capable of in this state. Hoping that would get Kara interested in giving you what you needed.

She tilted her head, allowing you to press further against her. Her hands explore your sides. Letting you rest on her thighs and run your hands through her short strands of hair. Nails gently digging into her scalp with your teeth nipping at her jaw. And her eyes rolled back, hands slightly clenching on your sides and kneading at the flesh gently.

“So good for me. Such a good girl.” Her lips curled into a grin feeling you pressed further against her. “I’m never letting you go again, baby. Never again.”

Kara tried to step away—letting you live your life. She tried to focus on her powers and put them to use. But seeing you move on with someone new hurt. So, she promised herself that she would keep you to herself and that even if you are allowed the chance to leave her home, you would be known as hers. No matter how far and who helped you get away from her, they would know by the brand across your stomach that a storm was coming their way if they aided you in hiding.

She knew what she was doing to you wasn’t right. But acknowledging that; did it make her insane? If she recognized her problems, did it ultimately make her a bad person? See, she believed it didn’t. As long as she was honest, she believed this was just who she was. And she would eventually do what she could to change for you. But that wouldn’t happen until you gave yourself to her entirely.

One of her hands slid between the two of you, fingers slipping through your slick folds. Her smooth palm pressed against your clit, making you inhale sharply. Seizing the faint rock of your hips as you held her tighter.

A soft laugh fell from the Kryptonian’s lips, her other slightly patting your side. “You earned it, sweets. Go ahead.”

Her permission turned you into a puddle of eagerness. Rocking your hips without a set rhythm with your face mere inches from Kara. Eyes swimming in her twisted loving gaze that you remembered used to be pure.

Pushing thought away, you peppered her skin in kisses. Thriving off the fact that her little hums of approval were gifted with a faint delve of her fingers into your cunt. Ever so slightly pulling and tugging at the knot that slowly became increasingly tangled with each roll of your hips.

“Good girl. Keep it up.” Kara kneaded at the fat of your hips. If she had the choice, she would have your sable skin pressed against hers each moment of each day. And seeing you this desperate only made her wish upon it more. Drop everything superhero related to just be near you. Put you in this state constantly and have you for herself. She never wanted anyone to see you or ever have a sinful thought of you.

She wanted you for herself.

Eventually, your hips began to move roguishly. No deadset rhythm. Just desperation is found in your movements. The sweet little noises that fell from your swollen lips. And no matter how sore your hips were, you chased after the high.

So, Kara indulged herself by dipping two fingers deeper into your entrance. Gently prodding the soft spot that made you shiver against her. Each thrust was accompanied by a gentle press, slowly tugging you toward the summit you sought out.

And eventually, the knot snapped and the way your eyes clamped shut and muffled moans filled the plain cage was enough of an indicator for Kara who thrust three fingers into your dripping cunt. Ripping a sharp gasp from you as her fingers fucked up into you at an unimaginable speed.

Kara took amusement in the way your eyes rolled back and your cries of pleasure were sent directly into her ear. Barely able to comprehend or focus on what you felt. Bliss, numbing, overstimulation–they were all so much at once. And any chance that you tried to speak, it was full of incoherent cries as you drooled on her shoulder. Your nails embedded into your skin and pulled at her suit ruthlessly.

By the time Kara was done, you were a twitching sobbing mess. Your mind is barely able to formulate a thought not related to the constant shivers running down your spine. Or the inside of your thighs tensing and squeezing around the woman in front of you. Sharp and choked breaths fell from your mouth as you rested your head against Kara’s shoulder. A thin string of spit hits the woman’s chest as she gently caresses your hips.

“I’m never letting you go, Y/n. You’re mine till your last breath.”

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thedirtybeanlife · 11 months

Text

Random Task Force 141 Headcannons That I Need to Get Out of My Head

-Ghost-

has the biggest heart ever and refuses to show it to 99.9999% of the population

sleeps with a nightlight because he's scared of the dark

has a strict routine after missions are over, and he gets irritated if it's interrupted

prefers savory over sweet

enjoys beans on toast and eats it nearly every morning

listens to so much Queen and old classic rock

hates noisy environments

thinks a hot dog is a sandwich

likes dogs; bigger the better

^^ wants a st. bernard and plans on rescuing one when he retires

always carries a lighter and a single slightly bent cigarette on him

he doesn't smoke it, but he takes it out and looks at it every so often. nobody knows why

(it's his moms)

occasionally, if the times line up right, he stays with Price when they're both on leave.

they usually just grill and talk on the back patio sharing a bottle of the best whiskey they could find on short notice having the most random conversations

makes soap sew parts of his mask back together because he can never thread the string through the needle and Soap has steady hands

refuses to eat seafood

wears fake designer colognes that smell exactly like the real thing and lies about it

has never used mens 3-in-1 and brags about it

-Soap-

the worst case of adhd to ever exist

expert at cleaning guns

loves puzzles with complicated pictures

tired to learn how to play guitar and gave up on the first day

it still sits against the dresser in his room

skydives with practicing trainees when he gets bored

listens to the weirdest mix of music

i.e. Black Sabbath to Childish Gambino

(Gaz influences a lot of his music taste)

always has hidden candy somewhere

broke his wrist once and didn't realize until almost a week later

when he brushes his teeth he practically showers in toothpaste from how violent he does it

spends a lot of his time drawing whatever comes to mind in a small notepad he keeps in his pocket

gordon ramsey level chef over here

the entire task force begs him to cook for them when they have free time

has a shitty stick n poke tattoo on his ankle he did when he was 16 with pen ink and an earring

it's an uneven, wobbly smiley face with x's as eyes

is either really calm or really chaotic

no in between

-Gaz-

loud, contrary to popular belief

at least when he's not out in the field or working

avid video gamer

loves calm games like Stardew and Minecraft

the best music taste to ever exist

can also cook pretty well

soap and him often team up and play their own version of Chopped when they're bored on base

has a golden retriever named Max that stays with his sister when he's deployed

he got Max before he enlisted

hates beans on toast

beans make him gag

Ghost bullies him for it

likes working on the military vehicles and learning about how they work

even with his young age, he struggles more with technology than most of his superiors

doesn't like drinking or being intoxicated in any way

complains he's hot but proceeds to sit under five different blankets

will eat an entire pack of Oreo's in one sitting if you let him

please don't let him

he gets sick and complains that his stomach hurts all day

-Price-

big morning person

always awake by 5:00am

prefers his coffee overly sweet rather than bitter and black

has a small office in his house where he keeps his fancy cigars, liquors, and whiskey glasses

collects cool lighters

the team buys him a new one every year for Christmas

reads every morning when he drinks his daily morning coffee and every night before he goes to sleep

he's supposed to wear glasses but he doesn't like the way he looks in them so he only wears them when he absolutely can not see

cat person all the way

like Ghost, he's waiting to retire until he gets a new furry companion

he's not the best chef in the world, but he can cook a decently good meal

likes to help soap and gaz sometimes, especially if they let him grill something

gets stressed really easily, which makes his job so much harder

this poor man deserves a year long vacation istg

winter is his favorite season

root beer barrels are his favorite candy

always has some stashed somewhere on his person no matter where he is

absolutely has a dollar shave club subscription and uses the code from a survival YouTuber he watches

#fanfiction #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #fanfic #mw2022 #simon riley x reader #xreader #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #cod fic

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garoujo · 1 year

Text

・✶ ｡ﾟ hanma thinks it’s about time he taught you how to defend yourself.

♱ warnings — f!reader, grinding, teasing, hanma teaches you self defence but yk, bonten!timeline. / note. this is based on that lil ramble i posted a few days ago snifle ! i miss him already <3

it had been hanma’s idea, to teach you a few self-defence moves for the late nights hes at work — just enough to defend yourself if he wasn’t there, enough time for him to get there if you needed him.

he’d told you it would make him feel at ease, fuck—he’d give you his fucking gun if you’d take it but he knows you won’t, so he’ll settle with this. it was uncharacteristic for a man who seeked thrills as much he did to be so cautious, but your life was one he wasn’t willing to gamble on.

“keep your core tight, babydoll.” hanma drawls from where he’s standing across from you, he’s still in his expensive dress suit from work except the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows for a more casual look. his glasses are discarded on the coffee table to his left and he sends you an amber, hooded look accompanied with his usual smirk when you stand up straighter.

it’s immediate the sudden surge of warmth in your core, he was a daunting presence standing opposite you — all sinisterly handsome looks and lean muscle, there was something dangerous about him and you were fucking addicted.

hanma’s always been as good as he is yours, so the corners of his smirk seem to tug even wider when he notices you staring — tilting his head before sin smoothes along his features. “what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head, hm?”

“is my attacker always gonna be this handsome?” you quip and he really laughs at that one before he’s pinching between his brows, looking over you with a low hum that feels fucking filthy with how it drips through you.

“nope.” hanma eventually replies as his chuckle dies, popping the p before his lips stretch into another grin. “this is a one time thing, doll.” his words followed by another tilt of his head that makes your breath come uneven. “so show me what you’ve got.”

he doesn’t take any sort of special stance, no defensive tactic — but it’s like animal instinct the way he’s able to catch your first punch so easily, sending you another smirk with a raised brow before he’s pressing his lips against your knuckles and sending you back.

“fuck sake, i’m a killer, doll. gotta be faster than that.. again.” hanma grits through his teeth, a particularly sharp glint of something in his gaze before he’s standing taller and letting his eyes drag along your figure.

you do as you’re told, readjusting your feet before your fists are raised infront of you once more — you take a step, watch the way your boyfriends ambers gaze follows your movements. it’s like he knows which way you’ll make before you even do, he can read your body like he’s committed his life to studying it because he has.

you try to fake him out, take an extra step to try and catch him off guard but this was hanma shuji, a cruel man who was fucking feared for his unpredictability and skills.

so he’s there, crooked smirk in place when he turns to immediately meet you — moving out the way of your punch like you’re moving in slow motion before he’s kicking out one of your feet from underneath you and taking you down hard.

you’re a little disorientated as you fall, but the impact is cushioned slightly by the way hanma’s hand hooks around the back of your head, the other catching you both to allow him to loom over you. “didn’t know you were such a clumsy little thing, doll.”

you want to slap the smug grin off of his face but you’re pretty confident he’d see that one coming too, but just as you’re about to bite back with a retort you gasp with the sudden grind of his hips against yours — letting you feel the bulge that’s formed and throbbing in his slacks as he leans down to press his lips against your shoulder.

“shit, would you look at that.. you got me all worked up. feel what you fuckin’ do to me, yeah?” hanma exhales, long and low as his tone drops to something carnal — feeling him bury the words into your skin as he smears his lips along the base of your neck.

you exhale with his words paired with the fluttering pulse of your cunt every grind of his cock sends through you, your voice breaking into something prettier than it was a few moments ago as he rewards the sweet sound with another rough thrust of his hips. you feel one of his hands hook around your thigh to pull it around his waist, changing the angle slightly so he can rut you into the carpet beneath you, letting him press even deeper into you.

“shuji.. my class.” you finally manage to whine, your cheek bumping against hanma’s as his lips trace along your jawline — continuing upwards until they’re grazing the shell of your ear and he laughs, breathless before he answers with a low drawl and another languid rock into you.

“don’t need it.” he starts, turning to press a kiss against your cheek before he’s pulling your hips up higher — letting him graze his clothed cock along the damp little spot in your panties he knows will he fucking forming right now, knocking into your clit until you’re thighs are twitching, begging him for more.

“you really think i’m gonna let another fucker close enough to touch my girl in my fucking city, babydoll? oh, i’ll have those shitheads begging me to kill them.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x you #tokyorev smut #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x you #hanma x reader #hanma smut #hanma x you #hanma shuuji x reader #hanma shuuji smut #hanma shuuji x you

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jellieland · 1 year

Text

So Martyn talked on stream last week about some editing choices he made that perhaps shifted the narrative very slightly. And then there's that new red skin. As is probably clear, this is very much influenced by @theminecraftbee's watcher fics.

---

SHE DID NOT LAUGH.

Martyn startles slightly, and looks up from the fabric he's holding.

"Y'what?"

CLEO. THEY DID NOT LAUGH AT YOUR JOKE.

After a moment to process that statement, he sets the fabric to the side. The sea breeze is pleasant tonight, but apparently one evening to enjoy it is just too much to ask. "Are you seriously gonna come after me for that one? You lot have too much time on your hands."

There is a sense of disapproval.

YOU LIED TO US.

Martyn rolls his eyes. "Oh come off it, you know you love it really."

The disapproval congeals into menace.

YOU LIED TO US.

He shrugs disarmingly, the picture of innocent concern. "Look, if you wanted a reliable narrator you would be checking out one of the others. How about Grian? Or Scar, maybe."

A beat passes, and he snorts.

"Ha, no, can't actually keep a straight face for that, sorry."

YOU ARE TWISTING EVENTS TO YOUR OWN SATISFACTION.

At this, his expression shifts. The red cloth, set down on a chest, flutters slightly in the wind, and he raises an eyebrow. "Are you serious? That's rich, coming from you."

YOU SHIFTED YOUR PERCEPTION OF REALITY, AND THEREFORE TO AN EXTENT SHIFTED REALITY ITSELF, TO GET IN AN EXTRA QUIP AND MAKE YOUR EX-SOULMATE LAUGH AT YOUR JOKE.

"Now- hang on, ok, you make it sound really bad when you say it like that-"

YES.

"I- look, I know! I know. I did it without thinking and then I kind of realized I was doing it, and I really second-guessed myself, but- what difference does it make?! What does it actually change? What does it matter?" The last word is almost snarled, and he catches himself. Breathes in. Breathes out. Continues, voice measured. "And now you're here to poke me about it even though you don't actually care, just because you think it's funny to see my reaction."

TO AN EXTENT.

He reaches out and grasps a handful of the cloth, curling his fist around it. It crumples, a little.

The uneven band of white at the bottom of the banner is very bright in the evening sun. Bright against the red above it. It reminds him of blood, dripping down an axe or spreading through the water like ink. Or maybe it reminds him of sharp, smiling teeth.

It's a sash. Part of his new outfit. Nothing more.

"Ah, give me a break." He says. "You ever been skewered on a single pane of glass? Not fun. Not sure I'm at my most interesting to observe right now, if I'm being brutally honest."

WHITE IS A DANGEROUS COLOUR TO WEAR, YOU KNOW.

There is a short pause.

"Yeah."

IT STAINS EASILY.

Another pause.

"Yeah." He says. "It sure does."

IT IS FASCINATING HOW MUCH YOU MISS HIM.

"Right." He says, perhaps a little bitterly. "Well. Good. At least there's that, then, I guess. You know I live to entertain."

In a single, smooth motion, he pulls open the chest and pushes the sash into it.

"Not quite red yet, though."

He closes the lid firmly. He can deal with that... probably tomorrow, it's looking like. That's ages away.

"Not this time."

#limited life smp #martyn inthelittlewood #namemc spoilers #technically #my writing

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hms-tardimpala · 3 months

Text

Ficbinding: Saw collection

Warning: long post

As you may have noticed, I recently got into Saw, and the fanfic quality is phenomenal. The writers in this fandom are exceptional and unafraid to write the kind of freaky shit I love. In a month, I've read enough amazing fics to fill a small book, so I did!

As usual, the fics come first. There are nine, by four different authors (I found writers I love right off the bat in this fandom).

By @theflirtmeister:

Our land is sharp and glorious (3.5k, E) (special mention to this one for being the first Saw fic I ever read <3)

Tell me sweetheart (1.6k, M)

What suits your taste (3.3k, E)

By @degloved (Wolverton on AO3):

See me bare my teeth for you (1.9k, E)

The Issue series (3 fics, 7.5k, E)

Pig on speed dial by @gurokatt (2.9k, E)

Helping hand (1.9k, E) is by an anonymous author I salute, wherever they are.

These are all great fics I wanted to bind to make rereads easier and I recommend them all strongly (just mind the tags). A big thank you to the authors for replying positively when I reached out, I hope this is a good surprise!

Now let's talk shop.

This is my smallest book to date, and I have a good reason for that. As silly as it sounds, I wanted to make a book that could fit in a pocket of Amanda's cargo pants^^ I chose red for the cover and black for the headbands and bookmark to mimic the Jigsaw coat. This cloth is amazing: the pictures above show the book in real lighting (I took them at the window to catch what light was left today). It's a non-uniform blood-like dark red, which is perfect for Saw. It's also slightly reflective, as if it were slick, as you can see in this video under artificial lighting:

I went crazy with the cogs, I know.

I'm very happy with the fonts I chose: "s'AWsome" for the title, "impact label" for the fic titles (reversed for the author names), "underway" for the drop caps and "reem kufi" for the body of the text.

I decorated this book more! Every fic starts with an image of an object related to Saw (I used chains, blades, a puzzle piece, a bear trap, a scar, etc...). I also put the title of the fic and the author's name at the top of the pages. I wish I could have put something between these and the page numbers, but it would have been too small to look good. I used barbed wire for breaks in the stories because of course I did.

I'm especially proud of the "underway" drop caps, look!

They look like fingerprints!!! The oily residue and everything, you know!

What didn't work?

This time, most of what I did worked perfectly. Well, I did have to print, cut, fold, sew and glue this three times because I made mistakes when trimming the textblock. But in the end it's fine because I don't think the uneven edges are jarring when it comes to a Saw collection. There's a small spot of glue on the cover that I'll be the only one to notice. I could have strenghtened the back less for a book this size, it would have made it bendier.

One the whole, I love this book and the stories inside it and, as a craftsman, I'm very proud of myself.

Reminder: Feel free to ask me about materials, fonts and tools, it won't bother me at all to tell you what I used, but I'm too lazy rn to write it in this post that's long enough already.

#I hope this will prompt some people to check out these fics #thanks again to the authors for being super cool because I'm always anxious to reach out <3 #saw #ficbinding #bookbinding #coffinshipping #my bookbinding #I think that's enough tags for now

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ace-of-gay · 1 year

Note

ok so Stucky’s little struggles with sensory issues & recently their hair has been bothering them because the length is causing the hair to touch their neck & shoulders. so Stucky takes them to get their hair cut at a salon. this causes a tantrum because salons can be very overwhelming. Stucky of course isn’t mad at their little because they understand that it is just too much sensory stimulation for their little & it’s hard to process that especially in little space. afterwards, their little feels so much better with their haircut.

I just had to do this over the weekend. I have thick curly hair & especially with what I do, it was beginning to become too much. it was hard to manage, causing sensory issues, & giving me gender dysphoria. I actually cut it myself because I’m a broke college student 😂 it didn’t turn out too bad. it is definitely shorter than I intended but it’s just hair & it’ll grow back so it doesn’t bother me.

anyways I would love to see you write this

💖

Too long

Stucky x little neurodivergent reader

Word count: 1,506 words.

Warnings: Reader is sensory averse, mentions of barbershops, scissors, slight meltdown'ish behavior, sensory issues, hair combing/ brushing meaning physical contact, etc.

Age regression is a coping mechanism, if your not knowledgeable and uncomfortable of the topic either read up on it or ignore please <3

No gender, weight, ethnicity or hair type mentioned, reader is at least slightly able bodied in this

Gn reader

90% edited to the best of my ability

Dont like it dont read it especially when theres warnings

It’d been a year and a half of you letting your hair grow out, the goal was a year potentially two if it wasn’t too bad but your hair grows fast and the weight of it being different now from when you had it cut is definitely a feeling that can make you turn on goals.

You made the goal a week after the haircut having already forgotten the burden of it touching your neck and covering your ears.

Hats were now impossible unless you tied it up but than there’d be an uneven feeling against the top of your head and that was not a desired sensation you’d wish to put yourself through.

There weren’t any safe hairstyles that you were able to comfortably do without them tugging on sections or it feeling uneven no matter the help you got from either of your carers.

Steve at shield for a business related event meant you were left with Bucky for the day, he tried his best to implement brushing your hair as a routine part of your day but the tug and pull hurt so had you’d whimper and writher in your spot if someone was brushing it for you often leading to you getting upset and telling them they’re doing it wrong even though they were just as gentle as you were, you would take over and do your very best but no matter how easy it was to get the brush through your hair it still hurt and the bristles and teeth of brushes and combs hurt so bad and felt like rakes in you scalp, currently you were sitting on the counter top infront of the mirror as Bucky carefully brushed and combed your hair.

Your face turned down in a winced frown, tears threating to spill from your glossy eyes, "bubby please stop, hurts bad, i try now" you whimpered trying your very best to keep from taking your painful frustration out on him, he could hear you slipping, "alrighty little bee, I’m going to make a snack for us, ill be right back, just shout of you need me"

you hated brushing your hair so much that you would help Bucky with his so he wouldn't feel the pain you felt.

It was always such an intimate and gentle thing for him, on stressful days where he felt stuck in a mindset that wasn't comfortable he would ask if you’d like to help him do his hair, often leading to him sitting on the floor in front of you how you do with him, carefully working your way through his hair.

He refrained from telling you that the pain and discomfort was probably just a sensory issue possibly allodynia, he feared if you knew it would make you feel lonely and not understood in the struggle.

Gliding the brush through your hair it would get through but it was a struggle.

Once so far into the struggle and pain it became a ticking time bomb for lashing out, a grumble as you tug one last time with no success, you take the brush from your hair, a broken sob taking it in both hand "j-jus stop hurtin mee please hurts so bad i gon break you, i hate youu!" followed by you throwing the offending brush to the floor, getting down from the counter you open Steve and Bucky’s hair styling kit, taking out the scissors and grabbing a chunk of your hair.

Bucky heard the ruckus and knew what was coming, making his way to the bathroom as quickly as he could while keeping a calm composure, he wished with all his heart that he could help you how you do him.

rounding the corner into the bathroom to see you holding the scissors in one hand and some hair in the other, tears burning trails into your cheeks.

"Hey honey bee, lets not do that, sharp objects are dangerous, can you please hand me the scissors precious? "Your trembly little hands slowly move to carefully hand Bucky the scissors that he sets aside out of reach, pulling you into a hug.

"I know it hurts baby, do you want to research some sensory friendly hairstyles and talk to Stevie about going to the barber tomorrow? Does that sound okay?"

Reluctantly nodding into his chest he places a feather light kiss to the top of your head, you definitely weren't paying complete attention because normally you wouldn't even consider the barber shop but he carries on for the time being, picking you up taking you to relax in the living room, no more brushing for today.

Steve waking in you hurriedly set your sippy down to go greet him at the door, bouncing on your toes waiting for him to take off his jacket and set his keys down, with every bounce you could feel the ends hit the sides of your face, neck, and your ears, quickly shaking your head to get the feeling to stop and you halt your excited stim, "dada i get haircut tomorrow please?" Still having convinced yourself that its an at home haircut.

Bucky had already briefed him on the decisions of today and the hope for tomorrow over text, also letting him know that youre not exactlyaware it was for a barbershop haircut but alas it was necessary.

"I don’t see why not little bee, has bubby helped you decide what style you want?" Nodding you take his hand pulling him to the couch to show him the picture Bucky saved.

The next day came quickly with you excited for your sensory freedom from pain and discomfort, it finally dawned on you where youre getting the haircut because of your comfort stuffy being safely tucked away in your bag, your hand in both Bucky’s and Steve’s about to walk out of the house when you stopped, terror in your eyes, they dont let go but instead hold slightly tighter onto your hands for what came next, you dropped all of your weight to the floor, there was no way a stranger in a loud building was getting near you with a pair of scissors.

Managing to tear your hands from theirs you sprint off to your playroom hiding in the back of your closet with your comfort stuffie.

They knew this was coming, its no suprise youre terrified, you only ever acted out when you were uncomfortable or scared so soothing you was the bis step "Baby i know you dont like salons, i promise daddy wouldn't take you to a bad place, its a sensory safe salon, no music, just us and two workers, does that sound okay?" Bucky soothed through the door It honestly did, it sounded much better than a normal barber shop.

you wearily walk into the hair salon for your appointment and like bucky had stated it was a very sensory safe environment which relieved some of the worry.

Being called over you sit in the chair as Bucky shows the hairdresser your choice Steve hands you your comfort stuffie "youre okay baby, i know its scary but we'll be just over there and we wont let anything bad happen to you" you nod and take a few breaths with him and than heads back over to the wait area.

"Quite the change, you’re gonna look amazing, the stylist cheers"

Going forth and doing your hair as decided the stylist makes sure to be as gentle as possible, knowing that your hair is an issue for you she makes the haircut go as quick and smoothly as possible, last in the process she picks up the comb and in that moment you clench your eyes shut taking deep breaths, holding tightly onto your stuffy, the comb easily glides through your hair a breath of relief. the change brought you much comfort, your hair no longer touching you face, neck or ears, brushing no longer feeling like a metal hose clamp to its tightest position and ripping your hair from your delicate scalp, now it felt like nothing, it was perfect.

The hair stylist unclips the cape cover and lets you head over to you daddies, a big grin upon your face, you shake your head rapidly, it felt like wind in the trees, ease and comfort, Bucky went to pay while you show Steve your new hair, "you look so good little love", bucky joins you both with a smile, "you did so good baby im so proud of you".

Stepping out into the slight breeze it felt so good and freeing.

The next while would feel amazing, being able to go about your days with fewer stressors, Bucky loves seeing you start your days with less discomfort and irritation from your hair being an issue, in all aspects its just hair, it doesn't depict who you are its grows back and it can be once again cut, and when that time comes youre certainnext time wont be so scary now that youve found a safe place.

Thank you so much lovely for requesting such a wonderful idea, i really hope this does your idea justice <3

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fictional-addiction · 11 months

Text

I'm Not Really Here. (Pt.1)

Relationship: Anthony Lockwood x Fem!Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, reader whump

Requested: no

Word count: 1.6k

Part: 1/2

Summary: A mission goes terribly wrong. You and Anthony are left to face the consequences. !! PART 1 OF 2 !!

Warnings: swearing, blood, angst, creeps

_________________________________________

It’s cold.

That’s the first thing to come to your mind as your vision swirls and flickers before you.

Something is cold.

Blood rushes to your ears as you try to lift your head, pounding headache pressing against your temples.

A very specific something on you is cold.

You try to lift your arms to support your head as the wail of your thoughts echo too loudly to focus.

Your wrists are cold.

And then, there’s a new thing that you become aware of. A sound.

Clink. Clink.

Where is it coming from?

Dazily, you’re finally able to pull your head up. Eyes closed as you try and still the intense roar grating through your mind.

God, why can't you move? And what the hell is that sound?

You shift.

Clink. Clink.

You shift again.

Clink. Clink.

It’s now when you realise that you’re not alone. At least, you can’t be.

Because you can’t be the one who handcuffed your wrists to the back of a chair.

Clink. Clink.

___________________

"..think we should start the process of extracting immediat…"

A voice faded into the room, trailing off as you twisted your head slightly to catch a glimpse of who had walked into the room.

The voice belonged to a rather… imposing man, whose stature simply towered over yours as he leant down, acrid breath mingling close to yours. Eyes, darker than a raven's feathers, gleamed cruelly under the flickering lights.

You wrinkled your nose distastefully as his scent overwhelmed you.

His mouth stretched into a wicked grin, revealing a mouthful of surprisingly brilliantly white teeth.

Odd.

He pulled back, and you're finally able to breathe the somewhat cleaner air as he turned to his accomplice.

"Bring in the other one."

The feeble, puny accomplice scuttled towards the door, squeaking out a tiny, "yes sir!" as he backed away and disappeared behind the rotting wood.

Your eyes followed him out, before returning to the large, unpleasant figure before you.

Your head continued to pound.

At least you could see better.

You weren't sure if that was necessarily a good thing.

A familiar voice echoed from the passage.

"...et go! Once my fellow agents realise I'm gone, you'll really have it the.."

Suddenly it was no longer just your wrists that were cold. Deep fear began to settle itself in every limb.

The voice was right by the door now.

"..y're top notch agents! Best in their field, you won't stand a chance-"

Your skin prickled with nerves. Please, no, don't let it be-

The door swung open to reveal the voice.

"-at all! Especially Y/n, you'll never be able to capture her a-"

The voice broke off.

You stared at the shoes of the voice, dread pooling in your stomach.

"Y/n," the voice breathed.

You dragged your eyes from the floor to meet the voice's, praying that by some miracle, it just happened to be someone who sounded just like him, and somehow also wore the exact same scuffed business shoes with the little jam stain on the laces.

Your hopes were immediately dashed.

Lockwood's face seemed to be stuck in an expression of shock as he took in your appearance. You weren't really sure what you looked like, but the taste of something dirty; something metallic, on your tongue told you that something must look... wrong.

You could barely look him in the eyes. Would he be upset? Afraid? Disappointed?

Instead you swept your gaze over his own appearance - he didn't look too bad. Some bruises on his wrist from being gripped by the man's accomplice, and a split lip seemed to be the only injuries.

You visibly relaxed. The man caught on to that.

He stalked closer.

"Bring him here." he commanded.

The weasel of an accomplice squeaked, jerking his prisoner forwards. Lockwood stumbled on the uneven floor as he was pushed towards the man.

He slowly turned to look at the young man.

You knew Lockwood was too proud to back down from confrontation. But still, you prayed that he wouldn't make eye contact with him.

"And now who may you be, sir? I would expect you know who Y/n and I are, what business do you have with us?"

Briefly closing your eyes, you let out a small groan.

Lockwood stared boldly into the man's eyes. Not a flicker of expression, besides defiance, could be found on his features.

The man sneered down at him.

"Eh, here's Anthony Lockwood in th' flesh, yeah? Big ego, smart aleck, naive fucker of an agent."

Lockwood's eyes flickered dangerously.

"I wouldn't say naive; more so subtle in the art of deflecting blame and avoiding situations like these." he replied.

The man guffawed. "Couldn't avoid this one, eh?"

"Well, if you would just enlighten me on why you have Y/n and I in this dingy basement, we could resolve this a lot faster. It'll be like we were never here."

At the sound of your name, your head snapped up from where it had been lolling as your headache worsened.

A laugh.

"Ah, she's proper 'wake now, hey? Shall we get started then?"

Your vision pulled in and out of focus as you struggled to follow what was being said.

"I…" you rasped.

Thwack.

"Answer the goddamn question."

Lockwood bit his lip to prevent from asking you if you were okay. He knew that if he showed his worry, they would capitalise on that.

Your face stayed stoic as you spat on the floor next to you, cheek flaming from the contact.

Raising your eyes to the man, you glared.

"Yes." you grated out.

With a curt nod, the man grabbed Lockwood's arm and motioned for his accomplice to bring him a chair, which he then shoved the young agent onto. He then turned to you, dragging your chair across the cobblestone floor to face Lockwood's, the screeching of wood on stone echoing throughout the dank room.

Once he let go of your chair, he beckoned his accomplice towards a long wooden table at the back, where they began to murmur under their breath.

Metal clinked and scraped.

You hesitantly brought your eyes to meet Lockwood's.

'I'm so sorry,' you mouthed. 'The mission didn't go as planned. They caught me as I was leaving their office.'

He nodded, mouth twisting in dismay. You knew he was hiding his disappointment in his failed plan. Anthony Lockwood was nothing short of a perfectionist, and took immense pride in his mission plans. You knew this was a setback he'd take upon himself as his fault - something you would constantly try to convince him not to.

But now was no time for regrets. Not when the man had strided back over to them with a hand behind his back.

He stopped with a rather loud thud of his boot against the stone.

"Well. Two- no, one agent who owes me," he squinted at Lockwood, "and one agent who got in my way."

"He," the man gestured towards Lockwood, "is in serious debt with me, you see. And you.." he leaned over your chair, lips ghosting over your cheek, "you, little lady, you're just for fun…"

You flinched away, and his mouth stretched into a terrifying grin.

Lockwood strained to keep his hands to himself. You flashed your eyes warningly at him, but to no avail. He sprung up and forcefully shoved the man away from you.

"Get away!" he ground out.

The man stumbled backwards, the remains of his smile ghosting his face.

"Ah.. the little man is protective of this one. Cliff!" he barked. "Get that sheet and tear off a piece. Lockie here seems to have issues keeping his goddamn hands to himself."

The accomplice, who now had a name, scurried towards the man, clutching a strip of material which he swiftly bound around Lockwood's wrists, securing them to the back of the chair - despite the young man's struggles.

Once Cliff ensured there was little chance of the material knot slipping apart, he backed away to the corner of the room by the wooden table, head bowed.

The man, who had easily recovered from Lockwood's forcible shove, advanced towards him with a rather dangerous glint in his eye. The clink of metal behind his back sent a chill down your spine, pulling you from your hazy state once again.

Struggling against the bonds, Lockwood glared fiercely up at the man.

"No matter what you do," he grinded out. "I can take it. I don't care what the hell you do to me. I. Don't. Owe. You. Bloody. Anything," he cursed, his voice laced with threats.

The man's lips curled into an unforgiving smirk.

"Oh, I know," he said, leering closer to Lockwood's face. "That's why I'm doing it to her."

___________________

Your blood ran cold.

To… you? What was he planning to do?

Lockwood's eyes widened ever so slightly. "No. No, she's of no worth to you, she has nothing to do with thi-"

He was abruptly cut off by the man. "Ah, but Lockie, you said so y'self - Y/n is your best agent. Now, wouldn't it be a fine day if I could get my money, and a pretty, pretty girl mess a'ound with?"

His voice dripped with sleaze, and you cringed away from it on instinct.

Lockwood saw your eyes close, and he knew what you were trying to do. You always did this when you were afraid, or fearful; close your eyes and try to convince yourself that you weren't really there.

I'm not really here. I'm not really here. I am NOT really here. You chanted in your mind.

The man's putrid breath grazed over your face, and you cracked one eye open to find him staring face to face with you.

It didn't work.

"Ooh, the princess is fin'lly awake again. Ready to start, princess?" he taunted.

Your eyes flicked open, full of hatred and discontent.

"Good."

The metal clinked behind his back once again, but this time, he brought it out to show you and Lockwood what it was.

"Well. Two li' agents who owe me. Now, which one wants to go first?"

___________________

also P.S apologies if there's grammer/writing errors😭

omg heyy my little raviolis and various pasta noodles,

how are you?! it's been so long and im SO SORRY. life is such a crazy deck of cards with wild twists and turns and unexpected trips to supermarkets at 12am cause you're craving ice cream. so valid tbh

anyhoozals

I MISSED YOU!! and I've seen the requests and I promise that I will be answering those. xoxo

i hope this will tide you over till then though😌

have a good day/night,

- fictional_addiction (yes this is hufflepuff-haze still, changed my acc name!) 💛

🕺

#anthony bloody lockwood #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood is a hazard #angst #imagines #hurt/comfort #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #blood #chaos rambles #lockwood and co #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwoodandco #love you <3

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