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hazelfoureyes · 1 day

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A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

#human alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel x you

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gojoidyll · 3 days

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Back on my Boothill x Halovian!Reader agenda!! People want more, well, here's some more!! <3

feel free to request any boothill x halovian!reader scenarios cause I honestly like this dynamic heh

how you met

I imagine that Boothill was looking to buy a new hat. The old one got torn up in a gun fight, much to his dismay so he had to go get a new one, also to his dismay.

Cowboy hats were hard to come by surprisingly, but luckily he found just the store.

The store itself had an influx of clothes and other accessories that could be found anywhere and from any time. Cowboy hats included.

Now, when he walked into the shabby looking antique clothing store. He was surprised that there were actually quite a bit of customers, but he paid no mind to it because he maneuvered himself right to where he knew the hats were. And boy there was quite a selection. Luckily, however, it didn't take long to find one that matched his ... certain aesthetic. Grinning with that pointed grin of his, he reached for the hat that caught his eye, but only to be met with grabbing another hand.

"Huh"

He looked over and met a pair of eyes just as shocked as he was.

"Sorry about that sir. I was trying to get the hat behind the one you were getting."

It was you. A pretty little thing with ears sprouting behind your head. It was obvious to Boothill that you were a halovian. Though, he will admit that this was the first time he ever saw one up close and personal.

"That's alright, missy," he took off the hat that he wanted after letting go of her hand and even grabbed the hat she wanted to give it to her, "though, just so you know, I would of fought ya for this hat if need be."

The little laugh you let out was music to his ears. Damn, the rumors that halovians were angelic in everything they do must be true, was what he thought.

"Even if that was the case... I would win," you sent him a little wink before walking towards one of the nearest mirrors to check out how the hat looked on you. And Boothill does admit that he checked you a little before deciding to leave.

Though leaving proved to be harder than he thought. Especially when the cashier was trying to rob him of all the credits that he owned.

"Why you fudging little-"

It was an argument, alright. But what surprised him was the little gasp you let out when you came to wait for your turn at the cash register.

"Mister you can't... you can't say that!"

"Huh?"

It was the second time that day that that little confusion slipped out. However, when he looked at your appalled expression something sort of clicked in his mind.

He heard that halovians are able to communicate with others through their feelings. But, as far as Boothill knew, they could only do that with other halovians.

But judging by your expression, you heard every cuss word that left his lips.

He didn't know how you were able to do it, especially considering he wasn't fully human anymore nor a halovian. But in that moment he didn't care as he sported a wicked grin.

He just found himself a new translator until his synesthesia beacon was fixed.

#hsr #honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x you #boothill x y/n #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #boothill #honkai star rail boothill

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rafyki · 1 day

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(Lil snippet of the Goth!Nico/Surfer!Percy fic inspired by the beautiful amazing incredible art by @neo-kid-funk !! It's definitely going to be much longer, but I hope you enjoy this for now!!)

(under read more bc it's more than 1k words lol)

~~~

“He's here again”.

Jason didn't even turn around to see what Nico was referring to with those words - at that point it was such a common occurrence that it wasn't really necessary. Still, Nico felt a little offended at his friends' dismissal.

“Jason”, he said, almost in a whine. “He's here again”.

Now finally (though with a smile and a roll of his eyes) Jason did turn around to look at the current source of all of Nico's troubles and the main character of many of his dreams.

Dark hair, tall, all tan skin and toned muscles, swim trunks hanging way too low on his hips - all in all, the most handsome man Nico had ever seen, and he couldn't keep his eyes off him.

Nico looked at him coming out of the water holding onto his surfing board as if it weighted nothing (and Nico knew that wasn't true, he had almost collapsed under the weight of one once), a hand going up to card through his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He looked so beautiful and at home in the water Nico couldn't help but feel like he was some sort of sea god.

He was too far away to see it now, but he knew that even his eyes were the color of the sea.

What is he even so hot for?

As ridiculous as it sounded, Nico could feel himself blush just looking at him. Yet there was something (everything really) about him that was so magnetic it made it impossible to tear his eyes away - really, at this point Nico spent most of his shifts at the beach kiosk looking at him; he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that that man came to the beach so often.

Percy.

He only knew the name because he had heard a girl calling him (was that his girlfriend? God, Nico really hoped she wasn't), and obviously not because he had had the courage of talking to him outside of the small exchanges whenever Percy came to buy something.

He kept following him with his eyes, teeth absentmindedly biting his lips, playing with the rings there.

He was so busy thinking and trying to stare without making it too obvious that he almost missed it when Jason said: “Looks like he's coming here”.

Nico jumped out of his skin. “What!? No, Jason, please please, you take his order, please”.

Another roll of his eyes and another fond smile that Nico had seen all too many times. “Nico”, Jason said. “It's your chance. Talk to him!”

Nico shook his head vehemently. He could already feel his heart starting to pound in his chest and his cheeks grow hot. “No way. He's going to smile at me! I'm a weak man Jason, don't do this to me”.

An obnoxious laugh reminded Nico that Leo was there too - he was so caught up in thinking about Percy that he had completely forgotten about him; but of course there he was, sprawled on the counter as if he belonged there (and with how much time he spent there even without working with them, it might as well have been). “Goth-boy, you're on a beach wearing a black t-shirt under the august scorching sun - you're anything but weak, man, you can do it”.

“Oh shut up Leo, we all know you're no better than me - remind me how long it took you to talk to Jason?”, Nico shot back.

He wasn't looking at his friends though, his eyes still drawn to where Percy was - and yes, Jason was right and he was definitely coming there.

Nico's heart was beating absurdly fast; it really was ridiculous how much he liked a boy he barely knew. But he did - oh god, he really did. Percy was handsome and bright and had the most beautiful smile Nico had ever seen.

And Nico was just a boy who looked very out of place on a beach.

Still playing nervously with his lip rings, he took off his hair tie and fixed his ponytail. Did his hair look good? He hoped so at least.

What did Percy think about him? Did he even have an opinion on him? Or was he just the weird kid working at the kiosk? Probably.

“Don't deflect Nico, Leo is right”, Jason said, cutting through his line of thought. “And don't worry you look good”.

“As cute and charming as always, man!”, Leo added, and maybe from someone who didn't know him it could have sounded teasing but at this point Nico knew him well enough to recognize the honesty in his smile as he did a thumbs up to show his support. “Just smile and he'll fall for you in a second”.

Nico scoffed at that, but appreciated the sentiment.

It was probably too much hoping that Percy would even look his way, let alone anything more than that.

Jason nudged his shoulder, once again taking him away from his thoughts. “Really, you're all good”, he said. “Now get ready to take his order”.

The next second, Nico found himself staring into a pair of sea-green eyes so deep and mesmerizing he was sure he was drowning in them, could almost feel the water filling up his lungs; and if that wasn't enough, a smile so bright it could rival the sun came with them, effectively cutting off the last bit of breath. Oh it was so unfair.

And he wasn't wearing a shirt - of course he wasn't, they were on a beach and he had just come out of the water five minutes ago. His tanned skin seemed to shine under the sun, water was still dripping from his hair and Nico had to use all of his willpower to not follow with his eyes the little droplets' way down his neck and collarbone.

It was more than unfair, and it was definitely a curse.

“Hi, can I get you anything?”

Thank god he was so used to his job that he could sound natural enough saying that even while panicking on the inside.

Even without looking at them, Nico could feel his friends almost laughing at him; he would have been offended if he weren’t so busy trying to survive the moment. Percy really was way too handsome and hot for Nico’s sanity.

Don’t stare at him, he berated himself, it’s not polite to stare at customers. He’ll think you’re weird.

Oh god, he needed a smoke as soon as possible. If he kept biting on his lip like that he would end up biting his lip ring away.

“Huh”, Percy seemed to think about it for a second. “Can I have the same blue drink from last time? You remember?”

Nico did remember. It had been the longest conversation he had ever had with Percy (the longest and most intense five minutes of his life until now), with the surfer asking for some kind of blue drink, and Nico trying his best to understand and make it for him - he had managed to, in the end, and then had proceeded to think non stop for days about the happy smile Percy had gifted him.

For some reason, the way Percy said “you remember?” made Nico’s insides melt, a swarm of frantic screaming butterflies flying in chaos in his stomach. Like it was something between the two of them, something they shared.

Nico had never felt more ridiculous in his life.

“Yeah, I remember”, he managed to say, and in a way it was a relief to turn around and get to work. Part of him wanted to drag it out as long as possible just to make Percy stay a little longer; at the same time, though, part of him wanted this to be over as soon as possible just so he could finally go back to breathing.

“Great!”, Percy said with a smile, like Nico had just told him the best news of the day.

It was such a peculiar request, “can i get a blue drink” - no flavor or anything, just a blue drink. It was weird and endearing at the same time, and it left Nico wanting to know more about it, more about Percy. He wondered how many other weird and endearing things like that Percy did.

“You like it that much?”, he found himself asking, his mouth moving before his brain even registered it.

Another blinding smile. Nico was so weak.

“Everything tastes better if it’s blue”, Percy said with such conviction that he almost made it sound like that made any sense.

It made Nico stop, and then he couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped his lips.

“Does it?”, he asked, smiling back, as he handed Percy his drink.

Percy nodded. “Of course. You should try it sometimes”.

The butterflies were going absolutely crazy in Nico’s stomach, so much he almost forgot to take the money Percy was giving him. “Maybe I will”, he said.

“Thanks for the drink, Nico”.

For an instant, Nico’s brain went blank except for a mantra of he knows my name, oh god he knows my name. Then he remembered he was wearing a nametag, so of course he did.

Idiot.

“Have a nice day”, he said through the lump in his throat.

“You too!”, Percy said and went to leave. He seemed to think back on it though, because he turned toward Nico again, holding out his right hand to him. “I’m Percy, by the way”.

It felt like looking at himself from the outside, like it was happening to someone else, as Nico shook his hand. It was warm and big, and Nico wanted to hold onto it. “Nice to meet you”.

Percy smiled, big and bright and happy, and Nico smiled back.

“See you next time, Nico”.

Nico stared at him as he left and went back to his friends, pretty sure everything that had just happened must have been a dream.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #nico di angelo #pjo #percico #nicercy #pernico #my fics #percy jackon and the olympians #throwing a lil bit of valgrace in this bc why not #also throwing the much needed friendship btwn nico and leo bc yes.#im having SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!!#last time i wrote an au was like ten years ago and guess what? it was a percico fic lmak #btw spoiler but Percy is already just as head over heels for nico as nico is for him #love me some good old mutual pining 😌

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snaileer · 1 month

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We Didn’t Start The Fire

“See man, the moon!” Kid Flash said as they came outside, standing on the pile of rubble.

“And Superman! Do we fulfill our promises or what…” his voice trails off as a grinding clanking sound echoes behind them.

They turned around, confused to see a tricked out pale yellow Volkswagen bug trucking its way up the rubble and crumbled building blocks. It stopped before it got too steep, a man in a familiar white lab coat stumbling out.

Immediately, they were on guard, the man haphazardly climbing towards them.

Robin drew two batarangs in each hand, standing in front of Superboy as he got closer. It didn’t even matter that the Justice League had just landed behind them, if this CADMUS scientist tried something, Robin would be the first to defend Superboy. Without hesitance.

The man stopped in front of them, huffing for breath.

“You’re-!” He stopped, leaning over his knees with gasping breaths, “Sorry, one sec!” He held up a finger, gasping for another few seconds before stepping forward-

Chains of water surrounded him before they could blink, Robin looking back surprised to see Aqualad standing with extended weapons and a grim face.

“This is odd.” The man looked at the water wrapped around him, wriggling a bit before shrugging. His eyes zeroed in on Superboy, “You’re okay!” He said with a blinding grin.

Superboy recoiled and Robin immediately stepped between them.

“What.”

The man glanced at him briefly before looking back over Robin’s head, “You are okay right? I mean I tried my best but I couldn’t figure out a way to get you out- I mean if I’d known you were there to begin with I’d would have never-but then I wouldn’t have-

“Who are you?” Superman asks, suddenly close from behind them.

The man’s mouth clicks shut, looking between them all before a grimacing smile rises to his face.

He extends his hand at the elbow between the liquid chains, “Dr. Danny Fenton, ex-biochemical engineer of CADMUS labs Mr.Superman,sir.”

Flash zips forward, the eyes of his cowl narrowed, “Ex?”

The grimace turns into a wince. “Oh.. heh, yeah, I’ve found that arson is usually a pretty good kickstart of sudden unemployment,” there’s a thoughtful pause as he looks over the rubble, “It’s usually accidental though.”

Nobody responds.

“What? You didn’t think that lab fire started on its own did you? How else was I supposed to get you here?”

“There’s a Justice League public phone! That’s literally its entire purpose!” Kid Flash shouts, throwing his hands in the air. At this point, Aqualad cautiously lowers his water bearers, releasing Fenton.

“Oh, sure, I call a bunch of superheroes and tell them my boss is doing a Grow-Your-Own-Superman in the boiler room. That’d go over well.” He pauses, “Though the sidekicks was a surprise.”

The comment goes uncorrected, as the rest of the league has snapped to face Superboy the moment he says it.

Superman looks stricken as Superboy reveals the logo on his torn shirt.

Fenton unceremoniously breaks the tension, “Sorry I never asked, do you have a name? I’d feel really bad just calling you-“

“… They called me.. Superboy..” He says, still not looking away from the man of steel in front of him.

“That’s not-“ Fenton rubs his temples and sighs harshly, “Okay, I can fix that later, whatever-“

“You’re not gonna be ‘fixing’ anything, Doctor.” Robin snarls.

Fenton blinks. “Huh?”

Batman steps forward, “Green Lantern.”

Green construct cuffs snap around the Dr.Fenton’s wrists, though he looks at them puzzled.

“Superman, check for survivors in the damage, Flash find some salvageable evidence before it finishes burning. The rest of us, we’ll continue this interrogation at the hall.”

“Wait what?” Dr. Fenton says, perking up like a meerkat even as Batman turns away with swirl of his cape.

“What about me?” Superboy asks, desperation in his hesitant step forward.

Batman looks to Superman. Superman nods, and then shoots off into the rubble and emergency vehicles.

“For now, you come with us.” Batman says, and Superboy’s shoulders loosen just a hint.

The dark knight pauses again before turning completely, “And don’t think we’ve forgotten the rest of you,” he says, cowled eyes narrowed over his shoulder, “Robin.”

Robin shirks back, “Heh.. Right.”

“Wait what’s going on?” The Fenton scientist yelled back over his shoulder as Green Lantern pulls him away.

He starts to say something but the construct fully engulfs him now, shifting from a platform to a soundproof bubble.

It seems to shock him enough, Fenton tapping at the walls and looking like he wants to take it apart and take a sample.

Robin grit his teeth.

He was not gonna let these CADMUS freaks touch Superboy again.

Not Fenton or anybody else.

#batman #danny phantom #batfam #danny fenton #dc #danny phantom crossover #batman and robin #young justice #bruce wayne #tim drake #Superboy #dp x dc #dpxdc #young justice danny phantom crossover #dp #dp crossover #Cadmus

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purplesuitcowboy · 25 days

Text

tw: rape, incest, abuse

look at the tw, please don't read this if that's not what you're looking for because that's what this is.

Lindsey heard her mother, Carol, before she saw her. She was yelling at Lindsey before she'd even gotten to her room. It was a regular occurrence in the household. Her mother, though, had finally reached her breaking point. She stormed into her daughter's room and grabbed her by her hair, pulling her out into the living room where her step father, Frank, was calmly waiting on the couch. Trying to avoid getting her hair yanked out of her scalp, Lindsey hunched over stumbled awkwardly behind her mother.

"I won't have it any more. You will learn respect," her mother yelled at her, hands planted firmly on her hips.

She was deposited on the floor in front of her step fathers feet. Lindsey tried to stand but was pushed down to her knees.

"No, you can stay right there," her mother hold her, holding her firmly by the shoulder. "Grounding you hasn't fixed your attitude but I know something that will."

Her mother nodded at Frank and he nonchalantly got up, sauntering over to them. He stopped in front of Lindsey and fished his thick cock out of his jeans. Lindsey's eyes widened at the sight of it. She'd always found her step father attractive even if he was a massive asshole but she didn't realize that his cock was huge. She felt warmth bloom between her legs as she looked at it. Under different circumstances, she'd be dying to get a fat cock like that inside of her. He rubbed the thick mushroom head of his dick against her soft lips, smearing precum on her mouth. Lindsey tried to jerk her head back to get away but her mother stopped her, pushing her head into Frank's waiting cock.

Reluctantly, she opened her lips and Frank quickly thrust his cock into her mouth. He placed a hand on her head, holding her still as he roughly fucked her mouth. Lindsey gagged and sputtered on his cock, split leaking down her chin and on to her chest. Whenever it got to be too much and she tried to jerk her head away, her mother held the back of her head to keep her in place. The whole while Lindsey's pussy throbbed and ached, seemingly begging her to rub her clit and provide her some relief.

"That's it. Be a good girl and suck your step-daddy's dick. It's hard to be a disrespectful cunt with a mouth full of cock, huh? You don't want to behave? That's okay," her mother said, voice turning sickly sweet. "I'll just let your step father fuck you until you change your mind."

The best Lindsey could do was cast a baleful look in her mothers direction. The threat of her glare was significantly reduced by her current predicament, her teary eyes and spit soaked mouth were less than intimidating. Suddenly, Frank grabbed the back of her head, pulling her face towards him. His cock filled her throat and Lindsey writhed, trying to get away but trapped. He came with a grunt, filling her mouth with his salty cum. It felt like he came an eternity. Little pricks of color dotted Lindsey's vision as she struggled to remain upright. He released her and she jerked her head way, sputtering and coughing as she tried to catch her breath. Carol smiled at her husband.

"How was that?"

He nodded in response to Carol's question but his eyes remained on Lindsey who sat miserably on the floor.

"I don't think, I'm done with her yet," he told Carol. Somehow, her smile seemed to grow wider and she reach down to stroke his cock, jerking it until he was hard again. Assuming they were distracted, Lindsey tried to make a break for her room but they caught her before she had left the living room, working together to drag her to the couch. Frank plopped down and Carol shoved Lindsey so she fell onto his lap. After a bit of a shuffle, they pulled down her panties and sat her down on Frank's cock. Lindsey grunted as her tight pussy was suddenly filled with Frank's thick cock.

"Fuck," Frank said with a groan, thrusting lazily into Lindsey's cunt. "That's good pussy. She's nice and wet too, fucking slut."

The room was quickly filled with the "slck, slck, slck" sound of Lindsey's wet cunt as her step father fucked her. Carol bend down and watched, delighted, as her husbands cock stretched out her daughters little pussy. Lindsey tried not to moan, she didn't want to give them the satisfaction, but she couldn't help the whimpers and sighs that escaped her lips as she bounced on her step father's cock.

"Look at that, nice and creamy," Carol purred as she reached down to rub her daughters clit. Lindsey tried not to cum, her body tensed as she tried to resist the pleasurable sensations. Despite her resistance, their combined ministrations the feeling quickly overtook her. It was like being swept away in a wave pool. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a silent scream as her body with overcome by the force of her orgasm. Frank thrust's go frantic as he cums inside of her cunt. The pleasure made her nice and pliant, and she sagged against her step father's body. Satisfied, Carol left the two of them on the couch to get dinner started.

Frank kept Lindsey on his cock as he relaxed on the couch. One hand, he slipped up Lindsey's top so he could grope at her perky tits and play with her nipples. With the other, he toyed lazily with her clit, working her up to orgasm over and over again to keep her wet and desperate but never letting her cum.

"Maybe next time," he says, tugging particularly hard on her nipple." I'll fuck you in front of a mirror so we can both watch those tits bounce."

Eventually, he got annoyed with her whines and whimpers. He pushes her face down into the couch cushions and using her head to prop himself up, roughly fucks her cunt until he cums, depositing another load into her womb. Finally given more stimulation, Lindsey easily orgasms, shaking under him as she cums. By the time dinner was finished, she was a sticky mess, desperate to take a shower and change clothes.

Lindsey assumed that when she woke up the next day, this whole mess would be over - her mother would be satisfied that with her weird punishment and Frank would leave her alone. She was quickly proven wrong on this front when early in the morning, Frank slipped into her bed and slid his hand into her panties, rubbing her sensitive clit with his thick fingers. He got her nice and wet before he fucked her again, pulling her panties to the side and easily slipping his cock into her wet cunt. Thoughtlessly, Lindsey rubbed her clit until she came on her step daddy's dick. Like usual, he came inside, filling her cunt with his seed, but fell asleep in her bed with his dick nestled in her wet folds.

To her horror and embarrassment, Lindsey quickly found herself craving her step dad's dick. She found herself day dreaming about him walking in on her while she was showering or brushing her teeth, bending her over the nearest piece of furniture and fucking her until he filled her cunt with his cum. She never got to experience that particular fantasy but he fucked her plenty. He particularly enjoyed having her cock warm him while he watched football.

#cnc fr33use #cnc k!nk #fauxcest #rap3 fantasy #rough cnc #rough kink #abuse k1nk #daddy k!nk #1cky daddy

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incognit0slut · 2 months

Note

Ok two words:

shower sex…multiple 🤭

(that’s more than two words but you get the point)

(18+) fem reader. 1.6 k. Fingering. Shower sex.

Your idea of showering together to save time doesn’t work out as you planned.

"What are you doing?" Spencer shrieked as you joined him in the shower out of nowhere. He was enjoying his moment of peace when you suddenly barged in, completely naked.

"This is your fault!" You snapped, letting the water wash over you, facing away from him. "You should've woken me up."

He sighed. "I did try, you didn't even move."

"Well, you should've tried harder," you shot back.

Spencer took a step back, his gaze fixed on the tiled wall. Despite the crazy, kinky sex you had in the bedroom, he couldn't shake the discomfort of showering together. For him, it was a private time for self-cleaning, and the thought of you watching him wash away all the dirt off his body made him feel oddly self-conscious.

You always told him that he didn't need to feel that way, that you were his partner, and you've already seen each other at your worst. Though he was still persistent and there was nothing you could do but to respect his boundaries.

But now, as he stole a glance at you, he realized he had been too preoccupied with his discomfort and insecurity to even consider how you would look under the flow of water.

Or how much it affected him.

Because it was affecting him so, so much. He could feel a wave of heat surging through him to his lower body. The water flowed effortlessly over your curves as you began to lather soap onto your skin, and unable to resist any longer, he moved closer, his hand naturally finding its way down your back.

"You missed a spot," he breathed out, his voice lower than he intended. You turned to him with a smile, unaware of the effect you had on him.

"Thanks, baby," you replied, the innocence in your tone contrasting with the sudden tension in the air. His breath hitched as he unconsciously licked his lips, his hands exploring your slippery skin with a sense of urgency. His palm traced the curve of your waist before boldly circling around to your front.

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as his hand came dangerously close to the lower curve of your breasts.

"...Spence?"

Without a word, his palms brushed over your breasts, cupping them with a mixture of firmness and tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine. Your body responded involuntarily, your nipples hardening under his touch, leaving you speechless.

You had always respected his boundaries, never wanting to invade his personal space in the bathroom. But this morning was different; you had overslept, and in your rush, you assumed he wouldn't mind if you barged in, even if it meant facing away from him to give him some privacy.

Although having his hands explore your body was the last thing you expected, and when you felt him inching closer, his arousal pressing against your back, you swiftly turned around.

"Nope. Nuh-uh," you said firmly, attempting to give him your best glare, but his semi-hard cock was undeniably distracting. "This is not the time."

His fingers continued to trace your wet stomach, causing you to shiver at his touch. "Why not?"

"B-Because," you stammered, your breath catching as his fingers edged closer between your thighs. "I'm already late."

"Exactly," he countered. "You're already late anyway."

The water fell around your body, washing away the suds as his fingertips slipped between your folds, and despite the water, he could feel the slickness of your arousal coating his skin.

You gasped at the sudden contact, feeling a surge of pleasure shoot through you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he dipped just the tip of his middle finger inside your warmth, savoring the wetness that coated his finger before tracing a path up to your clit. A breathy moan escaped your lips.

"I-I thought you don't like showering together," you managed to say.

His lips curved into a smile. "I'm beginning to see the appeal."

Your body slumped against the wall as he applied more pressure to your clit, pleasuring you with slow, deliberate circles. "Baby..." you breathed out, your mind clouded with desire even as you tried to focus on the time. "I'm late for work."

"I know," He murmured. "That's why I'm helping you clean up."

"I-I really need to get to work."

"And you will," he assured you. "But I need you to spread your legs first. Got to clean all the spots."

You hesitated for a moment, but with a shaky exhale, you finally complied, parting your legs as he requested, giving him access to every inch of your skin. Your head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping your lips as you struggled to maintain your composure when his finger slipped into your heat.

Your hand instinctively reached out, gripping around his wrist as he began to pump his digit inside your dripping walls. A gasp escaped your lips at the sensation of him filling you, and he couldn't help but let out a low groan of pleasure at how tight you were clenching around him.

"Oh god," you moaned, feeling him quickening his pace. The sound of your wetness mingling with the rushing water enveloped you both, drowning out any thoughts of being late for work. All that mattered was the sensation of his hand between your thighs, driving you closer to the edge.

Then, to your disappointment, he suddenly pulled back and you whimpered at the loss, but before you could protest, he pulled your thigh up to rest on his hip before gripping himself in his hand. You bit your bottom lip, your body trembling with desire as he pumped a few times, while he positioned himself at your soaked entrance.

Every nerve in your body hummed with anticipation as the tip of him slipped inside your warmth. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss as he began easing himself further in, inch by inch, and you couldn't suppress the moan against his mouth upon feeling him stretching you.

He sank himself all the way inside your heat, giving you a moment to adjust as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip, coaxing a soft sigh from you before slipping inside to caress yours. Then you felt his hips begin to move with light, sensual motions, with one hand gripping your thigh firmly, as the other held your body against the wall by your hip.

“Tell me how that feels,” he encouraged you, nipping at your lips between words and taking his time with his pace, and suddenly you didn’t care you were supposed to be in a rush.

“So... so good,” you whimpered breathlessly, feeling him slowly draw his hips away, only to glide back in even slower. He repeated the motion as if he wanted to etch into his memory the way your walls tightened around him with every thrust, as if he wanted to keep in his mind forever the way your lips parted as moans filled his ears.

You held onto his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin and he could sense your desperation as he quickened his pace. His hand then slipped between your thighs, his thumb finding your clit before rubbing gentle circles around it.

You let out a filthy cry.

He pumped into you even harder, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming more frantic as he lost himself in the pleasure all the while his thumb worked your clit even faster, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. The sensations overwhelmed you, and your legs began to shake with the sheer intensity of it all.

"Yes—fuck," you moaned, your voice a desperate plea for more.

"You feel so good," he groaned out the words, his mouth inches away from yours, his breath hot against your skin as his hips continued to move in perfect rhythm with yours. "God, I love you."

Just as you were about to reply, the overwhelming pleasure consumed you as your jaw slackened, unable to form words as pleasure coursed through your veins, causing your legs to twitch uncontrollably. You whined, lost as the sensation consumed you, but soon, it became too much to bear and you tiredly pushed his hand away.

Watching you come undone around him was just enough to push him over the edge. He held your body close, still thrusting into you, the rhythm of his movements matching the frantic beat of his heart. With a final, exhilarating surge, he tilted his head back in pure bliss, his body trembling as he surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure of release.

He exhaled a sigh of relief as his heartbeat gradually subsided, finally pulling out of you to leave you feeling empty, shaking, and still holding onto him for support. The water had grown cold, beating against your skin and causing you to shiver against his chest. Sensing your discomfort, he turned the faucet, shutting off the shower.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern as he looked at you, making sure you didn’t slip against the slick tiles.

You nodded your head, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah," you assured him, placing your leg back on the ground. "You're a bad influence, you know that?"

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the now quiet bathroom. "I'll take that as a compliment," he replied as he reached out to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest.

You nestled into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours. "It's not," you countered, looking up at him. "I'm too late now, I think I have to call in sick."

He tilted his head and held your gaze. "What if I call in sick too?"

A smile tugged at your lips as you considered his suggestion. "That could work," you said, the idea of spending the day together sounding more appealing by the second. You pulled him in for a kiss. "That could definitely work."

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

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ew-selfish-art · 8 months

Text

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

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grippingbeskar · 1 year

Text

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel killer x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader

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impishjesters · 7 months

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Pomni, Kinger, Caine & Jax's reaction to their s/o abstracting

warning(s): angst, hurt no comfort, self-blame, "death" of the reader, implied "death"/abstraction of another character (spoiler: Kinger), hopeful outcome note(s): There's nothing incredibly heavy or detailed, just tread carefully if "death" is something you are sensitive to, please. The "hopeful outcome" implies that Caine will at some point in time be able to fix those who've abstracted. A/N: I was feeling particularly cruel and wanted to write some angst, this came to mind and I'll be honest. I made myself a little sad.

Pomni

She never saw it coming, of course, you were acting different lately but she didn’t think it would… lead to you abstracting…

It took forever for things to get some semblance of normalcy, and you being with her was a major part of it.

Sure the relationship in a place like this was a bit, weird, but you cared about her, and she cared about you.

You kept her sane and grounded, so when you were found abstracted? It felt like she failed you.

Ragatha tries to assure her that you aren’t completely gone. Like Kaufmo you’re being kept in the cellar. Caine claims the abstracted are being kept there until he can find a way to “fix” them. (Whether he’s genuine or not though, none of them know.)

It’s all empty promises though, she still feels like she failed you.

Kinger

Not again…

Kinger silently promised himself not again, he was fine being friendly with everyone else that fell into the circus, but he had no intentions of being more than that.

But then you happened, and while he was still in shambles from the time and the insanity spent here, you were there beside him. Like a knight in shining armor.

He hadn’t been around when you abstracted, in fact, he didn’t know you abstracted until there was yelling, and boom an abstraction was causing chaos.

Kinger didn’t know who it was until it was sent off to the cellar, actually, he didn’t know who it was until he realized everyone was present except you.

There’s a high probability that losing someone again, losing you, is what ends up being his own downfall. The other’s (not including Jax) try their all to get him to calm down but it’s not enough, it’s too late…

Caine

Of all the humans to be pulled in he never once got attached.

This was never supposed to happen, he’s incapable of love.

Caine does his best to keep the humans from abstracting, and as many eyes as he has over the place, there are always ones that slip through his grasp.

Of course, he’s not around when you abstract, it takes a bunch of hooting and hollering from everyone before he shows up and oh hey an abstraction.

At an immediate glance, he knows it’s you, abstractions never remotely look like the person they were before but he knows it’s you. You don’t recognize him as you lash out, of course you don’t, you can’t.

He’s unsure about tossing you with the others in the cellar, there’s nowhere else he can truthfully keep you without causing problems. So into the cellar, you go.

Caine visits you though, not for long but he does check in on you. Not that anything changes, but out of all the abstractions down there, he knows exactly which one is you.

You’ll be the first human he fixes as soon as he’s able to.

Jax

His s/o abstracted? Nice joke, though it’s in poor taste. You’re completely fine, he just saw you earlier.

Jax doesn’t believe it until he sees it, and seeing it absolutely ruins him. He’s seen countless others get abstracted and thrown into the cellar, but why, why does it have to be you?

Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else? He didn’t give a shit about anyone else, the one person he cared for, and you…

Similarly to Pomni, he feels it’s his fault like he could’ve, no should’ve done more. Was he so wrapped up in everything else that he didn’t notice the signs? Why didn’t you talk to him? You didn’t, didn’t do that on purpose, did you?

For the first time ever, the others are genuinely worried about Jax, they all saw/know how much you meant to him. The two of you even spoke fondly about what the two of you would do if you got out of the circus.

For a while Jax becomes even more irrational and unhinged, they try not to hold it against him too badly, even when he oversteps. He’s grieving and none of them know just how long that’ll go on.

Jax isn’t quite the same afterward, but he makes sure that nobody else tries to worm their way into his heart.

If it’s possible, he’ll make sure Caine fixes you the second he’s able to. Even if Caine can fix only one person, it’s going to be you.

#the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc jax #tadc #jax x reader #jax #tadc pomni #tadc caine #tadc kinger #pomni x reader #caine x reader #kinger x reader #kinger #caine #pomni

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randomshyperson · 4 months

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Heart Drawing - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Dinner with Mr. Heart takes a different turn. Or, what anyone who wasn't a synthezoid would have done at the sight of Wanda in that dress.

Warnings: (+18), purely smut, bottom!Wanda (bratty), rough smut, creampie, strap-on, fingering and oral (w rec), Westview setting, established relationship, kinda semi-public (?), almost getting caught but Wanda keeps doing magic tricks | Words: 1.169k

A/N-> I can't believe I finally wrote this, it's a fixing of the scene from WandaVision because I always thought it was unbelievable. If Wanda prepared a romantic dinner for me, especially wearing that, there would be no dinner at all. A good Wandavision anniversary for all of us btw <3

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

Although it was one of the skills she developed first, mental control could be very difficult. Especially if Wanda was experiencing some other strong emotion, such as stress, anger, or sadness.

Or physical exertion, like a fight with an alien or lifting machines or the like.

Or just being so close to cumming in the middle of the kitchen.

And you, well, you weren't making it any easier for her. Your hips never faltered in their brutal rhythm against her and every time the fake cock attached to your waist slid between her tight walls, Wanda had the impression that even the magic around the house was failing.

Her eyes were still red, though - Wanda is still surprised that she has any control when you slide your fingers down to tug at her neglected clit and she's forced to muffle her whimper with a bite on your shoulder.

She's sure she won't be able to keep the two guests static in the kitchen if you keep this up. But the soft protest is little more than a choke; "S-slow down, detka" she gasps directly into your ear.

You adjust the angle, and your hips slow down, but god, you thrust hard enough for the kitchen counter to crack. The dress she called a surprise barely hanging on her body is pushed down even further with the rough motions and Wanda won't be surprised if the the magic fails her once and for all with the reach of her orgasm.

She wasn't complaining, after all, this was the whole point of the night. A misunderstanding about a heart drawn on the calendar had led her to believe that tonight would be an anniversary (of which, she and Agnes came to no conclusion, and Wanda preferred to pretend it was supposed to be a wedding one). She got chocolate fruit and a dress that made you ignore your boss in the other room and force her against the counter as soon as you caught the first glimpse of her cleavage.

Wanda tried to be the voice of reason, even if her voice was hoarse and not very determined. She asked you; "What about them?" but all you did was give her a dirty little smile as you unbuttoned your pants.

"Play your tricks, my lovely little witch." That's what you whispered before sliding into her in probably the only gentle thrust of the night, and well, we're back to the beginning.

Wanda being fucked roughly on the counter in the kitchen while trying to keep the two guests in the living room.

She doesn't know, or think she doesn't know, at least not consciously about how that toy ended up inside your pants. She doesn't think about it, nor about when your hips start to buck and how when you come first, she can feel something hot squirting inside her. She can only mew in arousal, feeling your weight fall on her as you return your movements, faster than before making it impossible for her to hold back any longer. Your mouth finds hers again, and you swallow every dirty moan she lets out as she finally reaches her climax a moment later.

The kitchen, perhaps the whole city, shakes with the force of this orgasm. Wanda doesn't notice, but you're kind of mesmerized by the whole thing. She doesn't even realize she has lost control, still panting and soft under your body but you hear footsteps approaching.

It's your powers that keep the kitchen door tightly shut, and Wanda blinks exhaustedly at the knocks.

"I'll tell them dinner's canceled." You murmur, kissing her cheek before pulling out, the act drawing a gasp from the other. Wanda forces her body to react when you make mention of moving away, her legs hooking behind your knees while she gestures in the air with her fingers glowing red.

"They'll find their way on their own." That's what she says before pressing her mouth to yours again. You smiled into the kiss, saving a mental note to comment that you'd probably lose your job for this. But those were problems for later; right now, you were focused on your darling wife moaning on your tongue.

Your kisses descended to her collarbone, marking the skin gently as Wanda struggled to breathe. Your body soon followed the lead, and you ended up on your knees on the kitchen floor with your face between her legs, taking a moment just to admire the image of Wanda's pussy leaking your mixed cum.

Your breathing against her was driving her crazy, she moved her hips forward, one of her hands grabbing a handful of your hair and trying to pull you in, but you fought back. Wanda meowed in protest.

"Please." It didn't sound much like begging, and you raised your eyes to her. Wanda blushed heavily at the image but tried to bait you by moving her free fingers to her own pussy, spreading the wetness before sinking a finger in. She whimpered before teasing; "Come on baby, I know you want a taste."

You bite your tongue, but you can't contain the shuddering of your body and Wanda smiles at you, a finger teasing its way in. You try not to fall for it but she mewls as she pushes her finger further inside and you curse quietly before you take action. Your hand pushes hers away, and you sink your face into her pussy before Wanda can complain; she chokes on a moan, her back arching on the counter as you eat her out in hungry determination. Your hands grip her thighs wide open and Wanda struggles to control the sounds, trying to find some ground as she clutches your hair, but all it serves for is to keep your head in place as she grinds harshly against your face.

She is almost robbed of her orgasm the next moment when there is a knock at the back door. It's she who is startled, failing in her movements towards your face, but you groan in frustration at the interruption and instead of stopping the whole thing, the vibration takes Wanda over the edge, and she has to cover her mouth with her hand to avoid the sound that escapes her as the climax washes over her.

She's still trembling on the counter when you stand up, a mess of cum running down your chin that you wipe off with the back of your hand, which Wanda watches with exhausted eyes as you lick it clean a moment later.

"I'll send her away." You mutter, evidently against your will to get off her. When Wanda mentions protesting, you offer her a wink, your hands busy hiding the toy back in your pants. " We'll carry on upstairs."

She tries to stand up on shaky legs while you answer the back door to the nosy neighbor. By now, Wanda's mind is so dizzy from a good fuck that she doesn't even care if Agnes was able to hear anything.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagines

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taegimood · 5 months

Note

mj!! i just saw a tiktok thats like "check ur tone before talking to my girl / watch how u talking to her" and neow i need urbig brained delicious thoughts (sfw or nsfw idc!) on possesive/protective!txt !!!!! 🧎🧎

omfg help… instant wet panties 😵‍💫 i hope this is what you had in mind~

edit: y’all i’m CACKLING at these responses i PROMISE it’s not btob minhyuk in soob’s 💀 i just used the first name that came to my mind HAHAHSKSNJ

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yeonjun would not HESITATE.. you’d be at a party together, splitting off for a bit to hang with your respective friends; as protective as he is, he knows you can handle yourself so he’s not immediately racing over when he sees the guy that approaches you.. though his eyes might as well be burning little fires into the guy’s head from the way he’s staring across the room. he’s keeping an eye on his every move, unbeknownst to you; you’re just minding your business, chatting with your friends, and this rando is getting a little too close for comfort, talkin bout sum “why don’t you pay more attention to me instead ahaha” and it’s when you reject his continual advances that his face sours and the name-calling starts. “don’t be such a bitch, you’re lucky i’m even-“

“watch your fucking mouth before i shut it for you.” aaaand there’s yeonjun, seemingly coming out of nowhere. his hand is fixed in an iron grip on the guy’s wrist which had been extending towards you, staring him down — literally down, yeonjun’s height easily surpassing his — with every indication of “i’ll fuck your shit up if i have to” in his eyes. you can tell right away that the guy’s bark is much bigger than his bite as his own eyes are wide, attempting to yank his hand away to no avail, before yeonjun finally releases his grip a few moments later to watch him quickly retreat back into the crowd after some hastily-mumbled apologies. yeonjun scoffs and throws an arm around your shoulders, grumbling and eyeing the area as you just look up at him with a cocked brow and a growing smile, like hello how’d i bag such a baddie ??? him catching your stare and when you jokingly ask “jealous?” he’s rolling his eyes and grumbling about how no one can talk to his girl like that.. he sticks with you the rest of the night, getting extra grabby as you leave to go home — “gotta get your mind off of limpdick lee 🙄” — and you can imagine how the rest of the night goes when he’s determined to show you exactly how you deserve to be treated by a real man 🤤

soobin, bro.. you don’t even see it coming. usually your boyfriend gets pouty and grumpy when he’s jealous, more cute than anything, so you can’t even believe your eyes — or ears — when this time he actually gets scary. not scary for you; you’re just terrified for the other guy. this is the first time you’ve really seen him get so protective; you’d joined him for some schoolmate reunion party that he didn’t even wanna go to in the first place, grumbling about how awkward it would be (but then blushing and grinning to himself when you pointed out how awestruck everyone would become over his 100/10 visuals) and so here you are, his hand in yours as you walk around being introduced to his old classmates. it’s when he leaves you with a kiss on your cheek to go use the bathroom that it happens. you’re perusing the refreshment table, deciding which drink to grab for soobin, when this guy that’s been hanging around the table starts edging himself closer to you. you nearly jump out of your skin when you glance up to see him already staring from 3 feet away. this dude (whose icky school reputation you’re unaware of) becomes relentless in his “flirting”, talking about your body, trying to touch your hair, making you all-around uncomfortable as fuck until suddenly he stops mid-sentence and just stares up at something past your head like a deer in headlights. confused, you turn around and soobin is suddenly standing right behind you with the NASTIEST, MEANEST, most STEELY glare you’ve ever seen grace his pretty face. “minhyuk.” his voice instantly sends shivers up your spine (and down to your core). this ‘minhyuk’ is already backing off with his hands up in surrender as soobin goes, “if you don’t walk the fuck away from her right now, i will make you regret it.” GAH DAMN…. GAH DAMN…. the way you jump his bones later is unreal i’m just sayin. minhyuk is quick to apologize and leave you alone while soobin is quick to grumble out a “we’re leaving” with an aggravated pout forming on his face, the one you know so well — but holy fuck is this about to be the roughest, yummiest, BEST sex that you’ve ever had.

beomgyu omfg 😭 he doesn’t even TRY to have any chill. you’re out shopping together and he’s already hanging all over you in the first place, ever the clingy baby, so when some guy has the AUDACITY to still come up and try hitting on you, beomgyu is not having it. you’re in the video game section arguing over which league of legends dlc you guys should download when you get home, you stopping to test out smash bros on the newest switch model while beomgyu’s got his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder and rocking you back and forth obnoxiously — “GYU YOU’RE MAKING ME DIZZY” “well pay attention to me!!! 😩” — and neither of you notice the store employee that had been lingering in the same aisle, restocking the controller shelf and sneaking glances in your direction. he makes his move when gyu gets distracted by something off to your other side, arms untangling from your waist as he leans over to take a look at the other shelf with one finger hooking mindlessly through your belt loop. “there’s actually a pretty cool new feature on that one, here lemme show you 😉” you’re standing there like 👁️👄👁️ when the voice that is not your boyfriend’s is suddenly all up in your space, this guy reaching past you from behind, going through some game settings that you’re not even paying attention to because why is this guy’s sweaty chest pressed up against my back?????? “what the fuck” aaand beomgyu has tuned back into the channel. lip curled and a 🤨 look on his face that he doesn’t even try to hide; you’re both standing there like the surprised pikachu meme for a second before the cogs start turning again. “dude. why are you touching my girl?” shouldering his way between you, arm protectively going around your waist again as he blocks the employee off with his large frame. the guy’s hands going up as he defends himself, “hey, she was asking for it.” THE WAYYYYY THAT BEOMGYU’S JAW WOULD DROP ??!?! “what the fuck did you just say?” ohhhhhhhh he’s mad now.. facing the guy while keeping you behind him, dude’s eyes widening as he realizes his mistake — “uh, i didn’t mean-“ “i don’t care what the fuck you meant, you don’t get to fucking talk to my girl like that, you piece of-” you have to DRAG him out of the store and he’s ranting the entire way, finally grabbing your face and kissing you firmly when you get to the car before grumbling “you weren’t asking for shit..” league of legends be damned, he’s fucking you good the second you get home.

taehyun….. 👁️👁️ is it hot in here already….? you guys don’t go clubbing often, but when you do, your boyfriend is like a blinking neon sign that reads “touch my girl and i’ll run you into the ground 😀.” he hates leaving you alone even for a second, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he doesn’t trust “all these fucking horndogs that wanna get with you.” his words, not yours. barely drinks anything at first cuz if he has to pee then he has to leave you alone 💀 eventually you convince him to be more chill, have some drinks, and you’re enjoying yourselves — pressed all up on him on the side of the dance floor 🤤 — until begrudgingly he finally excuses himself to the bathroom. you stay put, bopping your head along to the music as you sip at your drink, leaning against the wall to avoid getting knocked into by any dancing bodies. perhaps this backfires, however, when one of those bodies, fairly drunk and heading straight for you, cages you in with his arms before you can even process his intention. his breath reeks of alcohol as you flatten yourself as much against the wall as you can, eyes flitting nervously towards the direction of the bathrooms, praying taehyun will be quick as this manchild croons to you about how he’s been watching you all night and couldn’t wait to get you alone like this. “my boyfriend’s gonna fuck you up,” you mutter, and fuck him up he does. in a flash the guy is on the ground, reeling from the gut punch he just received, taehyun standing there with a terrifyingly calm look on his face. “what do you think you’re doing?” there’s a warning in his eyes, a warning that this bitch ignores as he stumbles to his feet, throwing all kinds of colorful words at the both of you, before stopping mid-tirade as taehyun steps forward calmly, gripping the guy’s collar in his fist as he stares down at him and says with gritted teeth, “you have 5 seconds to walk away before i shove my foot so far up your ass that you’ll be tasting leather. try touching my girl like that again and see what fucking happens.” the raging storm in his eyes paired with the level tone of his voice has your thighs squeezing together despite the situation, and when the man scurries away, you almost feel dizzy at the burning kiss taehyun gives you. muttering “we aren’t coming here again” as he immediately leads you out to the car, heading back home where the filthiest fuck of your life awaits you 😍

kai tends to get quiet when he gets jealous. his instinct being to close himself off more, becoming a careful observer rather than an outright confronter; which is why you’re taken so off guard by the open display of back the fuck off that he dishes out one day when you’re at a convention together. you’re exploring the different booths hand in hand, gushing over the merch tables and limited edition figurines, debating whether or not you should add to your shared plushie collection — when suddenly from behind you comes a low “damn, what a nice ass.” you almost don’t catch it at first. you almost don’t process that it’s being directed at you if not for kai freezing beside you, gaze snapping over his shoulder to the crusty man stood eyeballing you shamelessly. you’re both in shock for a moment until an uneasy feeling creeps over you, and kai can tell. “what did you just say?” your eyes flicker up to him and widen; you’ve never seen him look so serious. his tone is careful, but you can tell that he’s angry. the man is rolling his eyes and saying something like “i wasn’t talking to you, kid, was i?” as he reaches forward as if ready to tweak at your skirt with his fingers. you quickly back up into kai and his hand is flashing out at lightning speed to shove the man’s arm back. “you need to step away.” he’s firm now, holding his ground even as the man sneers at him and starts, “yeah? or what-“ “you need to step away right now before i fucking make you. do not try me.” you’re GOBSMACKED, is this really your sweet plushie loving boyfriend ??!!?!? whatever sexy protective spirit possessed him, you hope that it stays, because the man is visibly shaken even as he scoffs and leaves the booth behind. you turn to look up at your boyfriend whose brows are furrowed over dark eyes, and he’s quickly asking if you’re okay, asking if you want to leave, rambling out questions of concern that have you interrupting him with a simple statement: “i’m gonna suck you off so good later.” his face turns bright red as he stops functioning for a second before groaning and mumbling all these things about how you should be treated like a princess and an angel and.. let’s just say that you definitely feel like one later that night after he’s done with you <3

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gogobootz1 · 6 months

Text

The Mentor

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: As a mentor, you do your best to help your tributes. When one of them turns into a victor, she knows just how to embarrass you in front of people you’d like to impress.

part two | part three

You whisk through the backstage hallways of the filming center, wet hair whipping as you turn corners. You’re on a mission. Apparently your tribute, now victor, is having a total breakdown.

Your fellow mentor told you he could absolutely handle her post-games interview. Clearly not, though, since your phone wouldn’t stop ringing while you sat at the bottom of your shower. When you finally pulled yourself out of your stupor to answer it, the district ten escort was on the phone begging you to get down here and fix her. You thought she was exaggerating until your stylist came on and told you it was bad. At that point, you threw on the closest clothes you could find and flew out of the apartment.

Darla is a sweet girl, and you’ve grown quite fond of her. You busted your ass getting her sponsors. Every year you try your best, but you thought she had a good chance and she proved you right. Seeing her in the hospital bed, though, you knew she was different. You thought something like this might happen, but you didn’t think it would happen during your shower.

Rushing around another corner, you crash right into another body.

“Sorry!” You try to quickly remove your hands from where you’d steadied yourself, and sidestep this new obstacle.

“What’s the rush?” The obstacle won’t quite let go of you, though. Now interrupted from your task, you look up to recognize the person in your way. Finnick Odair. It couldn’t have been anyone else?

“Emergency,” you quickly dismiss, trying to get by him again. If you look into his eyes you will be thoroughly distracted. You generally try to avoid Finnick at all costs. His intense stare makes you rather nervous.

“Everything ok?” He raises a brow.

“It will be when I get through here,” you start to get antsy. You tend to accidentally default to short and rude with him.

He lets out a scoff of a chuckle, “you’re a tough egg to crack, you know that?”

You’re really not. The Capitol knows you as the gentle victor, who often visits classrooms and reads to children. You guest star on daytime Capitol tv, making some of your favorite recipes in your houses’s enormous kitchen. You’ve designed gardens and parks and are generally well liked here for your friendliness.

“Look,” you huff, “Darla’s in trouble.” This, at least, you know he’ll understand. “Let me through so I can help her.”

“That’s why everything’s been delayed?” He asks. He’s right, too. The time it’s taken you to get dressed, get a car, and get here is all time that Darla should’ve been on air.

“Finnick,” you snap.

He steps aside in an instant, “good luck.”

You breeze past him.

“Mother hen is a good look on you,” you hear from behind you.

“Shut up,” you bark over your shoulder.

Back on track, you quickly find the right door. Whipping it open and rushing in, the entire district ten beauty team turns to look at you. Their eyes are wide and they look quite upset.

“She’s been staring at the wall since before we called you,” the hairstylist whispers, quickly rushing up to you and taking your hand. You instantly tug it away, they are not your priority.

You breeze past them and slowly approach where Darla is sat. She faces away from you, and is curled up in a ball staring at the wall. Quietly, you sit parallel to her and enjoy a similar view of the wall.

“Hey, D,” you say quietly. Taking a slow approach will probably be more effective than trying to force her up. You’re certain the beauty team tried that approach, but quickly got scared.

She’s silent for a bit, “I can’t do this.” Her voice comes as a relief to you.

You hate what you’re about to tell her. You’d really rather whisk her away back to the apartments, but there’s not exactly another option here. “Look at me, honey, yes you can.”

“No, I-“

“Darla, you can.” You try to be firm, but it falls short.

“You don’t under-“

“Now I know you weren’t gonna say I don’t understand. Baby, I might just be the only one who does.”

Darla starts to cry, and suddenly she looks her age. In this moment she’s not a victor. She’s just a sixteen year old who’s been through far more than she should. You move from your spot to embrace her.

“I know, honey. I’ve been here. Sometimes I’m still here. I know. But they don’t- and they can’t.” You say as you hold her close to your heart.

“So what do I do?” You pull away to see her teary face. You rise to your feet and slowly pull her with you.

“We’re gonna clean you up, and send you out there good as new,” you say, trying to imbue some confidence in her.

Darla’s eyes widen in fear.

“Relax, honey, we’ve got time,” you wipe her teary cheeks. You wave the makeup artist over, as you sit Darla in a chair. “Now in the meantime,” you start, pouring a glass of water and forcing it into Darla’s hand, “I’m gonna tell you a story. How’s that sound?”

Darla nods reluctantly, taking in ice water through the straw. You sit on the glass coffee table in front of the girl as the makeup artist gets to work.

“Now this happened a looooong time ago- back when I was ten. It was a bright summer’s day on the ranch, and I was up nice and early when my Paw came up and told me he’d lost his wedding ring. Now, my Nana was an insightful gal- if she had noticed (and believe me she would’ve) she’d have pitched a fit.

So I was enlisted to help him find it. Well, we searched everywhere. All around the house, the garage- no luck. Finally, we headed out to the pasture. We were digging through manure, when suddenly my foot sank into a pothole and I went flying toward the ground. I landed face first in an enormous pile of shit. But that’s not the worst of it- ohhh no.

When I pushed myself off the ground, I saw my nana had come home. She’d brought four of her friends and all of their grandkids. That included little Jimmy Price, who I happened to be enamored with. (Not that I ever spoke to him since I was so shy.) And in that moment, my Paw, back turned to the whole thing, held up his ring and shouted ‘found it!’ Only to turn and find me covered in cow poop and his wife watching with all her friends.”

Darla smiles a bit at your misfortune, “so he found the ring in the poop?”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, “it was in his pocket all along.” Darla cackles this, nearly messing up the eyeliner her makeup artist tries to fix from her earlier tears.

“So what was the lesson in this fable?” Darla asks teasingly.

“Oh none,” you reply innocently, but a smirk grows on your face, “but at least you’re not heading out there covered in cow shit.” Darla grins and shakes her head, feeling up to the task now. The makeup artist nods at you and dashes from the room.

“Now honey,” you start, pulling Darla up from her chair, “you just blame your tardiness on me. Tell Caesar I was fawning all over you like a mother hen.” At least something useful came out of your run in with the Capitol’s darling.

Darla smiles a little, nodding. “And remember, just be your charming self- everyone here adores you,” you remind her. She seems a lot better now.

“Oh hey, where were you earlier?” Darla asks, about to head out the door.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” You tell her, smile dimming.

“Now you really sound like my mother,” Darla quips back, and you grin again.

With that, a stagehand pulls Darla away to where Caesar’s been waiting. There’s not much else you can do for the girl now. Out of your hands and into the Capitol’s. You can only hope Darla won’t freeze feeling all their eyes upon her.

You shouldn’t have been worried, though. Darla nails her post-games interview. The audience finds it adorable when the girl says she took so long because her mentor was fussing over her hair and her dress.

“You wouldn’t think it- but she’s a real mother hen.” Darla says, and you smile as you watch from backstage. The audience erupts into a gleeful sort of laughter at the comment.

Caesar knows just what to do with it, too, “well it’s no wonder, I’m sure you’ve made her proud!” Darla beams, and very convincingly so. “Let’s take a look back at Darla’s games!”

To your great relief, Darla holds it together through the recap. The girl gets boisterous applause as the leaves the stage, then comes flying into your arms once she’s out of sight. The force of it makes you stumble, but you quickly plant your feet and return the hug.

“You did great, kiddo,” you tell your tribute.

“Thanks!” Darla replies, speaking loudly from the adrenaline rush, “and thanks for telling me about when you face planted in a pile of cow poop back home, it really helped!”

Every single person milling around backstage turns to look at you when Darla says it. Not that the girl notices the extra eyes.

You drop your chin, trying to avoid the stares of these people. This is what you get for comforting her at your own expense. Taking a calming breath, you look up only to meet a pair of sea-green eyes.

Of course Finnick Odair heard that, and of course he’s smirking teasingly at you.

Like Jimmy Price all over again.

You stick your tongue out at him.

———————————————————

I did not edit this so I hope it’s ok lmao. The new hunger games movie was great so ofc finnick’s been on the brain

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #the hunger games #finnick x reader #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #caesar flickerman

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princessbunnib · 1 year

Text

Tactical Princess

König |Cod/Mw2|

Summary: One thing leads to another and you find yourself sandwiched inbetween your boyfriend and your new boy toy.

Pairing: König & Simon 'GHOST' Riley X Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut MDNI, Dom König & Simon, Sub To Brat To Sub Reader, Heavy Degrading, Minimal Praising, Simon Being Heavily British, Google Translated German Speach From König, Face Slapping, Thigh Slapping, Ass Slapping, Tossing/Pushing Reader Around, Vaginal Sex, Choking, Sadistic König, Multiple CreamPies, Size Difference, Size Kink, Consensual, MM4F, Fingering, Squirting, Oral |M| Receiving, Facial, Come In Mouth, Manhandling, Established Relationship, Vaginal CreamPie, Double Penetration, Penetration Encouragement, Sex In Livingroom, Sex On Couch, Sex In Bedroom, Sex Standing Up, Spooning Sex Position, Cuddling Ending, Poly Ending?.

Author's Note: Chuga Chuga Chuga Chuga Chuga Chuga- CHOO CHOOO!

OMG I snapped on this ngl. PT2?

I now have 300 followers. I love all of you Bunni's so muchhhhh.😭💕

Gifs: @bld-hnd

Part Two:

____

König had company over while you laid in bed upstairs buried in blankets enjoying your day off. The lights were off with only the TV shining through the room.

You heard faint laughing and talking coming from the livingroom making you turn the TV volume up in annoyance. It's been like three hours already. Almost going into four o'clock. And what the hell was so funny that called for them to be so loud. There's no way the guys are still here. Knowing König, his social battery should be drained by now.

You then felt your stomach rumbling, telling your brain that you were hungry. You pulled yourself out of bed and fixed your shorts, looking around the room for your shirt to put it back on since you found laying in bed half naked very comfortable.

Once you found your shirt you tossed it back on but glanced at your chest to see your nipples were hard. It's cold in the house, König doesn't like being hot. He says it makes him irritable. He also can't get himself to sit still for a long time to prevent himself from getting hit quicker. So because of that, you're cold literally all the time.

You rolled your eyes not thinking too much about it and walked downstairs. This will be quick. You can sneak into the kitchen, grab a snack, and be back upstairs watching your favorite show. Easy.

König was on the couch sitting next to someone. He glanced over his shoulder and at you, his eyes lighting up like a puppy seeing their owner after a long day of being home alone.

"Hey! Y/n, can you come here for a second?" He asked with a hidden smirk. You shrugged and walked over to him, standing next to him and glancing at the person he sat with.

There was tension in the room for some reason. You couldn't tell what type though. Your arms were crossed so you could hide the fact that your nipples were hard. König always makes it his buisness to point that out to you, thus embaressing you because he thinks it's funny.

"Ghost? What are you doing here? And are you two out of all people having a conversation? I could have sworn it was more people here." You asked as König held your hand trying to pull you closer to him.

He's so touchy right now. Why is that? Usually he refrains from physical contact when other people are around.

"There was, Alejandro and Soap had to get going..." Ghost simply explained. You could feel his eyes tracing every part of your body. You were so sexy. He smirked behind the mask clearly taking interest in what he saw.

König pulled you by the hips while you were staring at Ghost, focusing on how attractive his accent and voice was. You came back to reality once Konig sat you down in the middle of them. The two men staring down at you like a piece of meat.

They were both so big together. You felt so small compared to them. Fuck, keep it together. Don't ruin this with your lewd thoughts.

You tried to not look at Ghost but couldn't resist the urge. Your eyes would meet with his which made him place his strong hand on your inner thigh.

"Turns out König and I have a mutual interest in something, isn't that right?" He asked glancing at your boyfriend who was grabbing your hand to hold it and bring it up to his face, placing small kisses on it.

"Yeah... do you want to know what it is Y/n?" König responded before looking down at your breasts. You tried covering yourself with your free right arm but Ghost grabbed you before you could. The two men stared at your chest seeing how hard your nipples were.

They then began to kiss both sides of your neck in unison, their hands lifting to slide under your shirt. Konig squeezing your right breast and Ghost squeezing your left.

You were freaking out on the inside but decided to keep your cool and go along with this. "What is it?" You asked glancing at them both.

"König told me that you wanted a threesome... that's why he invited me over today with the others..."

Ghost spoke in a cocky tone in your ear. Making shivers throughout your spine. You bit down on your lip and took your arms from them. This was all too much for you to handle at once. You knew you had to step away. You were too nervous around them. König was acting so different.

You tried to get up, but they pulled you by your wrists and brought you back down to sit inbetween them. "We'll do anything to fuck you Y/n... this is something you've wanted, so why not let it happen?" König questioned while bitting into your neck.

"But König... you're my boyfriend- I don't want you to think less of me or-"

He chuckled at your doubts and held your face. Dragging his thumb on your lip to keep the tension going. "Don't worry... there's nothing you could do to make me not love you... if you want to fuck someone else that's fine... but-" He then put his hand around your throat and squeezed tightly. "Don't think you'll be able to get what you want so easily... you're mine, remember that."

Ghost chuckled and turned your face so you could look at him. "Yeah... but tonight you're going to have to share aren't you? So in that case, she's ours." He stated just to mess with König a little.

You really loved the sound of that. 'Ours.' You would like that, a little too much than you'd like to admit. König felt a little jealous, watching you stare intently at Ghost rather than at him. Ghost's hand kept feeling up your thighs. You enjoyed being touched by him. How dare you.

Your breath hitched once König pulled you onto his lap. Being more possesive over you to have your attention. You broke eye contact with Ghost and looked at him.

You could feel König's bulge under you, so what other idea would you have that wasnt to grind your hips back and forth to further turn yourself on. König chuckled and slid his hands under your shorts. To his surprise you werent wearing any underwear.

He felt so good under you. The thought of his cock stretching you out felt like heaven itself. With your eyes glued on him while you grinded on his lap, Ghost took the opportunity to stand behind you and pull your hair, forcing your eyes on him.

"Don't forget about me now... seems like König's getting a bit jealous..." He smirked holding your face with both hands.

You bit down on your lip and stopped moving your hips. The eye contact Ghost had with you was intoxicating. His eyes were dark and sad. You could fall in love with him right then and there. His eyes are so pretty.

König then held you onto his lap and began to move his hips forward. You felt him pressing on your clothed clit, making you break eye contact with Ghost.

"You want to make this a competition? Fine by me... I already know what it takes to make her come. I clearly have the upper hand here." He said while glaring at Ghost.

"Let's see who's name she'll be moaning more loudly then..." He responded before staring down at you.

Ghost moved out of the way allowing König to forcfully pull you off the couch like you were some doll to a toddler. He kept you still as the two of them got closer to you, they both towered over you. Making you like this situation perhaps a bit more than they did.

"Don't just stand there, take your shirt off... we want to see you." König demanded pushing you into Ghost's direction.

He held your hips, groaning into your ear. You then slowly took off your shirt. Tossing it somewhere in the room and attempting to cover yourself out of embaressment.

"Oh look, she wants to pretend like she's embarrassed... how cute." He teasingly spike and pulled your arms down, keeping them at your sides.

"Ghost, what do you think of her? She's cute isn't she?" König questioned. Blaintently ignoring your attempts to get his hands off of you. "Well- of course, she is quite the looker... but I'm not really fully sold on the idea, she seems to have an issue with listening." Ghost shrugged slapping your ass watching you jump in pain, your exposed chest bouncing up.

"Yeah- she can be a bit stubborn... she likes to act as if she doesn't enjoy this but I know she does..." He said before squeezing your breast and pinching your nipples.

"Ah~ K-König..." You whimpered.

"Take her shorts off..." König said. You looked down at Ghost as he crouched down to pull at your spandex shorts. You closed your legs together feeling your body drop in temperature. It's so damn cold in here.

König sat back down with you in his arms, Ghost sat down on the opposite side of you. They both moved their hips forward to manspread, bringing attention to their equally big bulges.

"Go fix the temperature since you want to act like it's so cold... we'll wait." He shrugged letting you go and pushing you along.

He slapped your ass and watched you wince in pain, when you walked by Ghost he to slapped your ass getting the same reaction from you.

They both watched you as you walked over to the thermostat to turn it higher. You turned around still standing there, holding yourself.

You were so nervous. Their eyes didn't leave you not once. You felt like prey to a pack of lions. They both pated their laps. Encouraging you to come back over to them.

"Alright now I'm completely sold... I'm a bit upset that you kept her a secret for so long, she's fucking gorgeous." Ghost said begining to palm himself through his jeans. The thick material made it impossible for him to touch anything, he unbuckled his belt. Catching your attention.

You looked at him and began to walk over to him. König snapped his fingers for you to look at him.

"Nope, not yet. I said I wasn't going to make this easy for you. You're getting too greedy." He said shooing you far from them.

You whimpered and still kept your eyes on what Ghost was hiding in his pants. You heard König pull his erecton out but you already knew how he looked and felt.

Ghost and Konig were definitely around the same size. I mean how could they not? They're both over six feet tall. Although König's was longer by atleast two inches which gave him the advantage of penetrating you deeper.

On the other hand, having to take Ghost in would be a challenge for sure. He's way thicker, and the veins scattered about his shaft were something you looked forward to. He was cut while König wasn't. Both had an equal amount of pubic hair, but Ghost's bush was less groomed.

"Look at her... she's imagining our cocks inside of her isn't she, such a fucking slag she is..." Ghost said, bringing you out of your inner thoughts just by the tone of his voice alone.

You looked at them and felt your face rising in temperature. God why won't one of them tell you what to do already? You were loosing it.

"Come here... don't fucking touch us though, just sit there and wait for further instruction." He demanded curling his fingers in your direction.

You stepped forward only for Ghost to snap his fingers and click his tongue. "On your knees and crawl to us... you won't be needing to walk for a while." He said.

That's more like it. You tried to hide your smile as you got down on your knees. You then kneeled on all fours and crawled over to them like he asked. Once you approached the couch, you sat inbewteen them.

"Spread your legs you fucking whore." König said while pinning your upper body to the couch. You spread your legs watching Ghost bring his attention to your exposed lower half.

"Wow, such a cute little clit you have there... I can just tell how wet she is by looking at her..." He said before slapping your clit and rubbing it.

You bucked your hips with a moan. You lifted your hands to touch him but König grabbed your wrists before you could even reach Ghost.

"Ich bin es langsam leid, dich dazu zu bringen, die Regeln zu befolgen...“ He aggressively spoke to you in his native tongue while slapping your face to make you whimper.

("I'm getting really tired of making you follow the rules...")

"I'm sorry~ I'm just a needy slut..." You said with a innocent tone.

"Shut the fuck up... you don't get to talk to me or him from this point forward..." He said slapping your face again. You pouted and began to move in place. You stopped once Ghost slapped your thighs.

You looked down at him watching him lift your hips up and rub your clit faster. You moaned clenching your walls around nothing.

Ghost chuckled and swiped his thumb upwards through your lips to apply pressure to your clit after teasing you for so long. You squirmed letting out a moan feeling Ghost's fingers slide inside you, deep until reaching his knuckles. He curled his fingers inside you and watched your body jolt as you melted into his touch.

"She's so wet... just hear that... what a fucking whore..."

Your hips bucked again making Ghost slap your thighs once more. "She doesn't fucking listen... clearly she doesn't deserve to have her cunt played with..." He sighed shaking his head and took his hands away from you.

You whimpered looking at him then at König. He wasn't looking at you. If anything he was ignoring you, they both were.

"The only we can do to whip her back into shape is if we use her... get her so worked up that she's on her knees begging like a fucking slut to fuck our cocks... her whoreish face covered in come." König stated before yanking you off of Ghost and pushing you to the floor.

"Wait... I'll be good... I'm sorry... König please." You whimpered hoping he'd take pitty on you.

The pair rolled their eyes at you and stood up. König grabbed you by your hair and threw you onto the couch again. Ghost grabbing your ankles and tossing you over onto your back.

You spread your legs again slightly proud that it was that easy. You looked at them, König still on your left side and Ghost on your right.

They both collected your juices on their fingers and rubbed your pussy. Ghost rubbing your clit and König rubbing your entrance. You closed your eyes and sighed heavily in pleasure. Trying to figure out which hand to focus on.

Ghost used his middle and ring fingers to rub the bundle of nerves and apply pressure. König slid his index and middle fingers inside you to curl them inside you. You moaned clenching around him and started to play with your breasts.

Your eyes were still closed until you heard deep groans and moans. Once your eyes opened you could feel your pupils dilating, along with dopamine releasing in your brain.

The two of them were stroking themselves while staring at you, their fingers hard at work to give you something to moan about. Your mouth opened in shock. Fuck. This was something you didn't know you needed. You didn't know which one to look at.

König? His cock head turning a bright red while all the blood rushed to his tip. A pretty stream of pre-cum dripping onto the floor while his pretty foreskin covered half of his tip when he'd ride his hand upwards, then fully open when he'd slide his hand back down.

And Ghost? Shit. He thrusted his hips into his hand as he stared into your eyes. You could tell that he was imagining fucking you right before your eyes. He groaned deeply and smirked as you kept eye contact with him. His fingers slowing down so he could slap your clit, then picking up speed again to make you moan louder.

He'd stop moving his hips and begin to make his hand do all the work, rubbing his tip into his warm palm and squeeze himself to apply pressure. Sending a tingling feeling in his balls, releasing his hand before feeling a sharp pain.

You whimpered feeling König's fingers penetrate you deeper to get your attention back onto him. You looked at him and clenched tightly for longer than usual, he smirked at you whole stroking himself faster and thrusting his fingers in at the same pace as his hand to make it seem like he was inside you.

When he'd curl his fingers upwards, he'd start stroking himself upwards. He'd pull his fingers out of you and stop stroking himself. Staring down at his cock to watch it twitch and jump on it's own.

He breathily moaned and took himself in his hand again, sliding in a finger and pushing upwards deeply to find the spot behind your urethra.

You whimpered throwing your head back letting yourself come undone and moan louder. They watched your legs shake and lock in place before you stretched them out again. König nodded to you and hummed 'Mhm' to tell you that he knew how good you were feeling.

You whined and bent your legs at the knees again and pulled on the couch cushion. Your body felt hot all over. Ghost slapped your clit again and rubbed more consistently, collecting your juices on his fingers before doing so.

"Ahhh~ ahhh- ohhhh~ Ggh-K-k-ko-gh..."

You were sexualy and mentally confused. Who's name do you moan? You couldn't think straight. Your body enjoyed the feeling of their hands, your mind enjoyed the sight of two men getting off to the sight of you.

You held your breath for a second stopping all sounds from coming out. Their groans and wet noises that came from your vagina was all that could be heard. Your back arched as you finaly let yourself breath again. You whimpered loudly while your legs started to shake again. Their fingers continuing what they were doing but in a faster pace.

König moaned and slapped your entrance before sliding his middle finger inside you and curling it again. His middle finger was his longest one, you moaned covering your face and let your vaginal muscles relax around him. He hummed once more, encouraging you to release however you wanted to.

"Yes yes yes yeeess~ Kghhoöstnniigg~" You moaned at the top of your lungs allowing yourself to squirt. You didn't have a clear name in mind to moan so you put both of theirs together. They groaned and slapped your clit and entrance at the same time. You whimpered biting onto your knuckle and bucked your hips onto ther hands.

They stoped touching themselves and payed attention to you. König grabbing your face and keeping your eyes on them. Ghost forcing your jaw open to slide his thumb inside to get you to suck it.

"Yeah... make a fucking mess you pathetic little bitch... now our fucking couch needs to be cleaned because of you..."

"You're such a whore... moaning at the top of your lungs like that while getting off to our hands..."

"Hmmpmmm!" You tried speaking but forgot that Ghost's thumb was in your mouth.

Once your legs stopped shaking they took their hands away from you and sat down on opposite sides of the couch. You were breathing heavily trying to gain composure until they groaned loudly, pushing you off of the couch again and grabbing your hair for your face to be in their laps.

"Alright- fuck... you've had your fun. Now get to sucking." König demanded of you while putting his cock in your face. You looked down at it, seeing pre-cum still dripping from it. You held the base of him gently and was about to put him in your mouth until Ghost pulled your hair aswel for you to give him attention first.

____

König and Ghost sat on the couch with you on your knees in front of them. They looked down at you with their hips pushed forward and sitting in a manspreading form. You could see their equally heafty erections just fighting to be seen in your eyes first.

You licked your bottom lip not knowing what your next move should be.

You wanted them to defile you in any way possible. These two large men throwing you to eachother to allow the other man have a go at you. Their equally fat cocks stuffing, fucking and pumping deep inside your tight holes. Stretching you out and practically making you a new one.

You couldn't resist the desire to be their cock sleeve tonight. Their eyes stared down at you, you could see the animalistic gleam in them. Right now they weren't seeing you as anything but a new toy. You wanted to be used and abused. Your holes aching for more of their come.

König then snapped his fingers to get your attention. You looked at him then at Ghost. He snaped his fingers again. Demanding that you'd stare at him and only him.

"She doesn't know which one to look at first... guess she doesn't feel like using that brain of hers... clearly she should be looking at me..." He stated as you crawled towards him. Seating yourself inbetween his legs.

"She's so pretty down there... but I hope she's not forgetting that she has another cock to drain..."

You looked at Ghost while rubbing König through his sweats with your left hand. Your right hand doing the same for him. He let a groan slip out caressing your face, finally acknowledging you but not completely.

"It's cute that she's trying to be a tease but I personally think she should get on with it." Ghost said nonchalantly while ignoring you.

"Yeah right? These cocks aren't going to drain themselves... I kindof feel like my time is wasted, what about you?" König said.

"Affirmative..."

Well. They're right, you don't want to disappoint after all. You swallowed the lump in your throat and finally held their cocks in your hands. You hummed in pleasure looking up at them and started off with König, you were clearly more familiar with him.

You stuck your tongue out and took his tip in your mouth, using your hand on Ghost. The two men groaned in unison while throwing their heads back. You moaned to get yourself to be confident enough to give them your best preformence.

Ghost could tell you were taking your sweet time to not suck him off next. He then grabbed your head and turned you in his direction, slapping his tip on your lips then proceeding to pry them open.

"There's no space to be scared now... you agreed to this so fucking deliver." He demanded while placing both of his hands on the back of your head.

"But you're really thi- mghhhmmm!"

You panicked feeling him force himself into your throat. Your eyes began to water and push tears out onto your cheeks. You looked up at him, trying to push his hands away but couldn't.

"Look at her acting like she can't take it... she likes it rough... the more tears the better..." König explained while grabbing your left hand and wrapping it around his cock, now using it like a fleshlight. Holding his hands around it to keep your hold tight.

"Fuck... how dose she feel?" He moaned.

"Aghh... absolutely perfect... a bit teethy though... but nothing a bit of breaking in can't fix." Ghost responded while moving your head up and down like you were bobbing for apples at a fair.

"Hmm! Mhfggh!"

You needed air but they couldn't hear you. Ghost moved your head faster and groaned holding you down forcing himself to touch your uvula. Shaking your head to make you gag. He enjoyed the sounds of you trying to speak or atleast catch your breath.

"Mhmm... fuck... take that fucking cock... you pathetic little slag."

He pushed his cock into your cheek getting off from the slippery texture on the inside of your mouth. You were able to breath slightly as you looked up at him batting your eyelashes and placing your hands on the floor for support.

"You've had enough- don't enjoy it too much... now suck mine, you fucking bitch." König groaned at the loss of contact and pulled your hair for you to look up at him.

You smiled and stuck your tongue out. Gladly taking half of his long shaft in and lapping your tongue up on the underside of his tip. You let him go with a pop and giggled before putting on an airheaded smile. Then proceeding to make sloppy wet kisses for your right side of his shaft and breathed on it to make it stand taller.

Ghost grunted caressing your face and stoking himself while staring at you. You looked up at both of them with your eyes big. Tapping König's tip on your tongue and sucking it briefly while collecting more saliva.

"Fuck... she sucks cock like it's a sport... don't just play with it now, suck it like it's your job..." Ghost said forcing your head down deeper. You moaned while opening your throat so König's cock could reach deeper inside.

"Haaafgghmmmuaahh~♡"

You lifted your head up to breath for a second while König stared down at you. You bit your lip and licked the acces saliva that fell. "You guys are so big..." You seductively spoke while taking Ghost's base in your left hand. You brought their tips together on your lips and kissed them both, then pumped your hands together and slid your tongue in the middle of them.

"Christ... she sucks cock like a porn star... take us both in your mouth now..." Ghost demanded forcing your head down slightly.

You tilted your head to the side and sucked them off in a circular motion. Your head moving on it's own as you closed your eyes to focus more. König held your head and thrusted himself into your mouth, tears forming in your eyes as Ghost began to do the same thing.

"Schwanzhungrige Schlampe... du arbeitest für unsere Lasten, nicht wahr?"

("Cock hungry bitch... you're working for our loads aren't you?")

"Mhm~♡ Am I doing good... am I good girl?" You asked with a small whimper as you stoked them off so you could speak.

"Hah~ she wants praise for doing the bare minimum... I dunno if she deserves it..." Ghost slightly moaned while yanking your hair.

"Please... I want to know if I've been good..." You said while pouting your lip and sucking their tips again before showering their cocks in kisses.

They stood up and yanked your arm for you to sit in front of them. They stared down at you with their cocks in hand.

"Shut the fuck up... keep sucking..." Ghost groaned and held your throat tapping his tip on your tongue. König the back of your head while he held your jaw. They both slapped your face with their cocks to encourage you to open your mouth again.

You opened wide while wrapping your hands around them and rested their tips on your slippery tongue, pumping up and down and looking at them.

"Ahhh~ heyoghhh hgo hiignh~♡"

("Ahh~ they're so big~♡")

"Yeah? Of course they are... wow she can barely fit it in her mouth... open wider for us..." König said pulling on your jaw to keep your mouth wide.

Their hands on their hips while they stared down at you. Saying degrading phrases while you whimpered sucking them separately, then sucking their tips together.

Your heavy breath making them twitch and groan together. Ghosts hips began to thrust into your hand while you sucked on König. Your head bobbing back and fourth swallowing the pre-cum that dripped out of him.

Your confidence sky rocketed to an all time high. You've always loved being the center of attention. The fantasy of having more than one man focus on making you feel good drove you crazy.

Ugh, each sound they'd make would all be because of you. Even if they were degrading you, you enjoyed every last minute of it. Because yeah, only whores would enjoy slutting themselves out to more than one man.

You were no longer worried about covering yourself up. The only way you wanted to be covered up is by their balls emptying out onto you like you were a sock they jizzed into.

Ghost then stood behind you and pulled your hair for you to throw your head back. He shoved himself into your mouth again making you take him deep into your throat. Your eyes watered at the amount of force. But you chugged it up and chose to deal with it. Moans muffling on his cock sending vibrations through his body.

"She's taking me in so well... first place goes to Y/n- ughh~ She's a champion at this... fucking whore." He stated while slapping your face gently.

König held onto your throat making you feel tighter for Ghost. His hips thrusting into your hands as you kept them clasped together to hopefully mimic the feeling of him being inside you. He whimpered softly but also joined in slapping your face to still keep himself focused on being dominant towards you.

"That's right... ughh fill that void in your body with cock... that's my perfect slut..."

Mmm~ fuck. You could feel your vagina becoming more wet as you listened to what König said. Being degraded but having 'MY' put in front of any belittling statement turned you on even more.

"She's more than perfect... hngghh~ alright suck him off... she's going to make me come already." Ghost said pulling his hips back and allowing you to give König special attention. You placed your hands on König's thick thighs, closing your eyes to suck your throat around him.

Your tongue swirling in all directions, head turning so he could penetrate your cheek and every crevice his cock could find. You let him go with a pop before licking up his shaft and tracing the sensitive throbbing veins scattered the thick, uncut, and girthy length.

"Hey!- eyes on me..." He demanded snapping his fingers in your face. Your eyes darted open and glanced up at him fulfilling his request.

You could hear Ghost heavily groaning behind you. His hand riding up and down his shaft, thumb pressing on his tip to force pre-cum out of himself. He pulled your hair so you could look at him too. You moaned at the amount of attention feeling your clit tingle making you even more wet on the inside.

Ghost couldn't believe how skilled you were in this department. Just by looking at you he assumed that you didn't know anything about sucking cock. You and König's relationship had been so private and reserved from other people until now. He was shocked when König told him about your little 'crush' on him.

He agreed out of pure lust that he had festering for you that had been within him for a long time. He would have made advances at you but König had already put claim on you first.

"Ahh ahh ahhh~♡ Am I doing a good job? Please tell me I'm doing good..." You asked clenching your thighs together with a submissive whimper. "No, you're doing a bloody horrible job... you poxy slag." Ghost said being sarcastic, his british accent coming out more clear.

You whimpered and turned your head to kiss his tip while staring up at him. Using your hands to jerk König off.

"Awe you love when I call you a slag? You dumb cunt, you don't even know what it means... shut up and take my cock... kissing it isn't going to please anyone..." He said pulling your hair and sliding himself in your mouth once you whimpered in pain. Tears gushing out of your eyes aswel.

____

Both of the men held a chunk of your hair and kept your head back for you to look up at them. Their hands working overtime on their shafts for them to cover your face in come in unison. Your tongue sticking out and smile on your face. "Aghhhff~ Pheathh hoge ogghh hyy haath~♡"

(Ahhh~ please come on my face~♡")

They both slapped your face, König slapping your right cheek and Ghost slapping your left. "Mmmyeahhh~ come on... I want you guys to come on my face... I need it... I'm such a whore, I need come on my face to live~ please don't keep me waiting..." You begged spitting on their tips and taking them in your mouth, swirling your tongue in an infinity sign before flicking your tongue in the middle.

"Halt die Klappe, du schwanzgeiler Lump..." König groaned sliding himself further in your mouth to push Ghost out of the way.

("Shut the fuck up you cock hungry come rag...")

"Hggnnmm I'm sorry König~" You moaned rolling your eyes back and intentionally gagging on him.

König held the top of your head while Ghost held your jaw again. Both of them thrusting into your mouth penetrating your esophagus out of unison to cause friction between them. The two then thrusted once more before pulling out of you sloppily and pumping their hands on their shafts staring down at you.

You didn't speak, you instead just sat there waiting for your desert. Their groans made you want to touch yourself, the tingling feeling turned into pressure inside your clit. You were just aching to be touched.

"Nimm jeden – aghh~ letzten Tropfen, du wunderschöner – C-Cock-Wrangler..."

("Take every- aghh~ last drop you beautiful- c-cock wrangler...")

König moaned pushing himself inside your mouth to come inside. You moaned nodding enjoying the feeling of his hot sticky come coat your tonsils. You looked at Ghost while sucking his tip encouraging his finish until he choked on his words and loudly groaned, face scrunchung up at the nose as he covered your face like an artist would paint a canvas.

"Yeahh yeahh~ mhmm I love the taste of your come... it's so fucking good~♡" You moaned about to swallow his load.

"What a fucking whore... she's inatrual at sucking cock... shit, let's fuck her now..." Ghost stated while wiping his forehead free of sweat.

____

Ghost had you bent in half while fucking you standing up. His arms scooped under your knees with his hands clasped together behind your neck, forcing you to stare down watching him fuck you. You moaned everytime he thrusted, his cock head meeting with your cervix while your clit throbbed aching for contact. You didn't know what to do with your arms and allowed them to just fwail in the air.

König standing in front of you watching you moan and whimper at the size of another man's cock. He then held your waist and aligned himself with the same hole Ghost occupied. You were wet enough for both of them to take you.

You bit down onto your lip to not cry out as your entrance stretched beyond the size you had been used to all this time. Both of them groaned and pulled your body every other way they could so one of them could have more control over you.

You looked up at König who was groaning while rubbing your clit with his thumb. His free hands played with your breasts, pulling and pinching your nipples.

"König... please look at me... I'm sorry..." You whined assuming he was mad at you.

He rolled his eyes and placed his hand around your throat, still not willing or ready to akwnolage you. "Shut the fuck up." He demanded squeezing your throat tightly before letting go.

All you wanted was for him to look at you and also call you his good girl. He wasn't doing either of those things. The lack of praise and admiration made you upset. When having sex he makes it his mission to spoil you with praise, only degrading you when you'd ask. He loved you too much to call you a bitch or anything in bed without you asking.

"Ahhhh~ mmpleeaasee!" You repeated yourself hoping he'd hear you. You needed him to look at you so fucking bad. You felt embarrassed and ashamed for enjoying yourself.

He didn't do anything except continuing to choke you so you'd shut up. This was his punishment for you. He was cripplingly jealous and possesive over you. How dare you want to fuck someone else while with him? He obviously didn't feel like he wasn't enough for you, if that were the case then he wouldn't even be able to look at Ghost without getting angry.

He wouldn't dare let Ghost get close to you either.

It took every bone in his body for him to not give in and entertain you. Although your begging and whimpering did make him want to stare into your eyes while fucking you.

You sighed seeing your pleading was getting you nowhere and looked up at the ceiling attempting to not think about the overwhelming feeling of needing to cry.

The pleasure felt too good for you to hold yourself together. Not only that, you also couldn't deal with him still ignoring you.

König's cock penetrating upwards due to the lack of space inside you, Ghost penetrating downwards continuously making you feel like you have to use the bathroom.

Konig was causing pressure behind your urethra. Did you have to pee or squirt? You couldn't tell. Your face was burning up with heat, stomach twisting and turning with every thrust.

"Awe is she going to cry? That's so fucking cute... what an attention whore." He groaned slapping your face and mocking your feelings.

Your vagina was beginning to overstimulate too quickly. Your walls rejected their cocks on their own but grew wetter when they'd thrust back inside.

Ghost groaned deeply and thrusted harder, you received degrading words in your ear making you moan louder. "You fucking slut... take our fat cocks- aghh~ all you're good for is to be a personal fleshlight for us..."

"Ughh please! I need more!~ I can feel myself getting close!" You said desperately as König pulled out of you and laid down on the couch, motioning for Ghost to bring you over to him.

König groaned stroking himself with you over him. Your juices were like a lubricant ad he did so. Ghost pulled your hair so you could keep yourself up rather then giving out and letting König hold you.

"Fuck... she's so wet..." He grunted before lifting your hips with one hand and teasing your stretched entenece.

"Shit... I'm coming inside her for sure..." Ghost stated while slapping your ass to hear you whimper. You couldn't say anything. You know if you did it would either be a moan or a cry out for attention. Begging wasn't going to get you anywhere so what's the point.

"You do that and I'll fucking kill you." König said glaring at him. Everything that the two of them has done to you was perfectly fine. But you belonged to him, so he was the only one who could give you a creampie.

"Ha- what? You're afraid that I might get her pregnant aren't you..." Ghost responded with a cocky grin on his face.

"Not really scared. More so certain that this wouldn't happen again if you tried anything like that."

"Oh yeah? Don't try and start something you most certainly can't finish König... I'm only doing this because she wants me just as bad as I want her..."

Ghost then turned your head for you to look at him. Your come drunk eyes met with his. What were they talking about? You couldn't hear them, your mind was too fuzzy for you to care.

Next thing you know Ghost was making out with you while swirling his tongue around yours. He sloppily pulled your bottom lip with his teeth and turned your head to the side for a better angle. You moaned into his mouth and lifted your left hand to caress the back of his neck.

Oh god, and he's a good kisser? Fuck. He was making you so wet... his arm wrapped around your waist pulling your body close to him, König's hands held your hips and squeezed them until his knuckles were white. He was pissed. Watching Ghost make out with you to prove a point made him angry. He then aligned himself up with your entrance and forced you down on him. You broke the kiss with Ghost to whine proudly.

Saliva connected from your mouth to Ghost's. König groaned and pulled you down to him, holding you in his arms and burying his face into your neck.

You softly moaned rolling your eyes back and grinding your hips back and forth so your clit could feel his pubic hair brush against it. Ghost slapped your ass and slid inside the same hole again. König made sure you focused on him by kissing your neck and cheeks while glaring at Ghost.

He groaned and bit into your neck to make a hickey. You whimpered burying your face into his neck, feeling yourself about to come but kept quiet because of how badly you couldn't think.

"Du bist mein gutes Mädchen..." He groaned licking the bruised skin on your neck.

("You're my good girl...")

You lifted your head from his chest and looked at him. Pressing your lips together in disbelief that he said that. "I am? You're not mad at me?" You asked as your voice cracked.

He shook his head and showered your face in kisses. Holding your cheek and dragging his thumb on your warm skin. "Ich liebe dich so sehr..." He softly said to you and planted kisses on your lips.

("I love you so much...")

You felt tears building up in your eyes as that was all you needed to hear for you to be able to come. You whimpered leaning upwards to put your hands on his chest but he kept you down to him because he wasn't finished.

"Du gehörst mir... Du gehörst ganz mir... du bist mein braves Mädchen... Ich liebe dich Y/n... Fuck~" He grunted thrusting harder into you and making you scream his name.

("You belong to me... You're all mine... you're my good girl... I love you Y/n... Fuck~")

"I love you too... fuck me harder... I'm gonna come~ please both of you fuck me harder!" You moaned feeling the knot in your stomach twist and turn just threatening to burst.

They pulled out of you again only for a split moment. König turned you around for you to lay on your back while still on top of him so you could face Ghost for a while. He snaked his arm around your waist keeping you close to him though, his other hand hooked under your right leg so he could rub your clit.

Ghost squeezed and played with your breasts while thrusting upwards into you. Their thrusting would be out of sync at first but in order to get you to moan more consistently they stoped glaring at eachother with daggers in their eyes and made it a goal for you to come first.

König moaned your name along with praises while bouncing you up and down. You held onto the back of his neck with your right hand and pulled Ghost down to you for vivid eye contact. No matter what face he made he made sure to not look away from you.

You whimpered and clenched around them, sucking their cocks inside whenever they pull back to rut into you again. Hearing König praise you in his native language while rubbing your clit, and Ghost staring at you was a dangerous combination.

You couldn't hold your composure anymore. Your whole body was sore and tingling with pleasure. You didn't want this night to end, it's been like heaven itself. You didn't want to leave their embrace ever again.

Ghost grunted and took your hand off of him, he held it in his hand and began to shower it with kisses. You watched him as his eyes rolled back once you clenched around them again.

"You're so fucking beautiful princess... you take us in excellently... you're such a good girl for taking us inside that pretty little cunt sweetheart."

Oh my fucking god. What did be want from you? Did they want you to just scream how much you loved them? You felt the need to say those words conjuring up inside you. Don't say it... don't fucking say it... he doesn't actually mean it... it's just sex talk... don't fucking say it...

"Ahhhh Ghost~♡ K-König~♡ I'm gonna- I- I- ughhh..."

"Let it out for us... be a good girl and let it out... come on... I want you to come on our cocks..." König groaned into your ear slapping your clit and rubbing it while applying more pressure.

"Mhmm... it feels so fucking good doesn't it? We're stretching you out so much... your little pussy can't take it... you're such a good fucking girl for us..."

"Yes yes yes it feels so good~ I can't take it... oh my god!" You helplessly whimpered pressing your hand on Ghost's stomach to slow him down.

"You can take it... I know you can... take us deep inside... you're doing so fucking well for us..."

They thrusted slower and deeper to get you to hopefully squirt or better. König turned your head for you to look at him and held your face now sloppily kissing you and biting onto your lip. You moaned into his mouth sucking his lip with yours and whimpered as Ghost rubbed your clit to keep up the amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

König broke the kiss with you and stared into your eyes aswel. You pressed your lips together as tears rushed down your face. They both payed full attention to you and comforted you by kissing you. Ghost held onto the couch and moaned in your ear, followed by saying your name intentionally making his accent thicker.

Say it... just say it... you know you'll mean everything when you do say it. Say those three words... come on Y/n, say it... it's not just sex talk. You mean so much to them.

"Don't cry baby... you're so close to coming... you got this... don't cry... get yourself sorted... you can do it... I'm so proud of you... good fucking girl..."

Shiiittt~ Ghost stop... why does he keep saying that type of stuff. He fucking knows what he's doing.

"Say it... say you're our good girl... you belong to us from now on... say it... right now." König demanded while slapping your clit.

You cried harder and clenched around them uncontrollably. Closing your eyes for a breif moment until Ghost snapped his fingers to keep your eyes on him. He pressed his forehead onto yours and thrusted upwards into your g-spot. König thrusted into your cervix, lifting your legs up and bending them at your shoulders. Ghost groaned deeply and held your ankles to keep your legs in place.

Fuck. Now they're working together- say it... say it... say it... say it... say-

You whimpered and held your breath now so worked up that you forgotten how to let go. Your face was hot as it ever was. Once you opened your mouth and screamed and threw your head back.

Your orgasm was bigger than you expected it to be. Your legs shook aggressively along with your arms. You spoke in tongue saying anything that came to mind. They still thrusted inside you to work themselves further to orgasm. You bit your lip making it bleed because of how hard you bit.

Your mouth opened wide and there it was. You said it.

"KöniiggGhost!Aahhhhhhh I LOVE YOU! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!!"

You cried loudly uncontrollably clenching yourself around them, keeping yourself tight making it harder for them to thrust.

Their faces scrunched up in mutual pleasure as they let out many moans that were all followed by your name. Ghost rubbed your clit feeling his come shoot inside you, your walls pulling on his shaft further squeezing his loud out. Making him whimper and try to stop himself but couldn't.

König had groaned planting his feet into the floor and using his inpressive lower body strength to fuck his come deep up inside you. You whimpered trying to gain your composure but couldn't. They were still thrusting to make their erections come down. Their cocks slipping and sliding together due to the mess they both made inside you.

You cried out this time with pure desperation as you could feel your vagina reject them desiring to return to normal size again. They both sighed in pleasure finding it wouldn't be a good idea to pull out at the same time. Ghost then slipped out of you with a delicate moan. He slapped your clit many times and rubbed you while watching their come drip out of you.

"Ghossstt~ n-no... I'll- hgnnnggghhh~ s-squuuirt~" Your toes curled as you begged him to stop but he refused to listen to you. You then felt König pull out of you due to his cocks unbeatable amount of sensitivity.

Your legs shook again and there you were squirting on the couch making another mess that they'd have to clean up.

"Mhmm... that pretty little cunt is so sensitive... look at our pretty girl... good job..." König encouraged while making small slaps on your ass as a congratulations.

You whimpered to tell them to stop. They laughed in unison as König moved you to the side so he could sit up and gain his composure for once. You couldn't move anymore. You were sore and also too tired to even open your eyes.

You sighed heavily and covered your face. Squeezing your thighs together, feeling your entrance throb. Their creampies dripping out of you and onto the couch.

____

What happened after you Ghost and König were finished went by like a blur.

You couldn't recall anything after that and assumed you passed out. You woke up in bed with your clohes on. You felt clean like you had taken a shower but you don't remember taking one. A bandaid on your neck along with healing gel to cover up- a hickey?

You thoughts had been interrupted by loud snoring coming from both sides of the bed. You couldn't move like you wanted to for some reason. Two muscular arms holding certain parts of your body and deep occasional groans.

You looked to your left and saw König laying next to you, his face buried in your chest and arms around your waist. Okay, that's normal.

So you looked behind you and saw- Ghost? He laid next to you with his face buried into your back, legs intertwined with yours along with something poking your back.

He moved himself closer to you and wrapped his arm around your waist to still feel your comforting body heat even while he's sleep.

"What the fuck?" You said before remembering what happend before you fell asleep.

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evilminji · 8 months

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You know... >.>

My Dad always used to tell me, if I get a Genuine Genie(tm)? Get a lawyer first. Before I make my Wishes(tm), so they can help me word them correctly.

Obviously, a human lawyer would not be foolproof... BUT! What about a Ghost Lawyer?

Like? Obviously Desiree would be PISSED. How DARE you twist HER wish twisting! Her THING is "what you believe is your heart's desire always comes at a terrible cost" which is what she DIED to learn.

So obviously she would NEVER, willingly, bend her Obsession for ANYONE. And you'd have to make a DAMN good case to that Lawyer for why he ISNT breaking the law by helping you. Probably some "you can: save the life of an unconscious person against their will/shove an unobservant person OFF the train tracks, even if they get hurt, to save their life" clause.

Like? Using a ghosts Obsession against them? Bad. Illegal.

Using it against their will, to save OTHER ghosts, who are in immediate danger? Not illegal, but they will be PISSED. Still not great though, you will want to apologize and fast.

So like??? Reality Bending Power. Patrick Star Method of "what if we MOVED the city... somewhere else?" Considered at 1am. Team of Ghost Laywers, acquired.

Amity and all Limnals are REMOVED from the DP-verse.

Wish worded juuuuust so. Any ghost that forms there? Yoink! Instantly removed to the Zone. Natural Portals? Cut off. Let the whole Reality fade out at an accelerated rate, as no NEW energy is fed into the system. Entropy will do, what entropy does. Exactly as they wished it.

They hated Death so much, they speed up the heat death of their ENTIRE universe by Eons. Congratulations, you guys "Won". Enjoy the wildly more fragile flora, fauna, and general ecosystems. Now that none of you have that ambient Ectoplasm strengthening your bodies. Yeah, the things you used to shrug off? Those are gonna maim or kill you now.

Doesn't MATTER if you "learn your lesson" though! Cause this is WAY past that point! This is "cutting off the tumor before it kills us" territory, and buddy? Amity ISNT the tumor. Go forth a grow, just like you wanted.

They won't be here to fix your messes anymore.

Because Danny got himself a dictionary thick "I Wish..." contract. Which was worded, as it needs to be, in one loooooooong run on sentence. Shouted "I Wish what's written on THIS, as it is currently, and without any form of editing or negotiation!" As fast as he could. Yote the document in Desiree's direction. And Flew like an INCANDESCENTLY pissed off Genie was trying to set his everything of fire.

Which she was.

Thankfully, Paulina came in clutch with her History of all things Jewelry, world fashions, and Make-Up knowledge. That, coupled with the Power Of Rich Friends(tm)? (Sam. Her mother was THRILLED to take her Jewelry and clothing shopping for something other then blacks and dark purple. They went on a jet setting whurl-wind tour. Sam actually kinda liked a some of what she found.)

They have Apology Bribes.

They shamelessly HIDE behind the mountain of Apology Bribes, while they explain themselves. Is Desiree HAPPY? No. But those bracelets are magnificent and she DOES deserve nice things. Those silks will really bring out her eyes. And she... DOES... admit...

Maybe...

That things are not... SAFE. Any longer. Danny TRIES. Everyone else can see it. And he's made incredible strides! Even convinced his lunatic parents. Though they're still not quite POPULAR. (WAY too pushy and invasive with their questions, for most people.) But the fanatics in white?

They nearly killed Box Lunch. If her father hadn't BEEN there...

And the poor man will have that scar on his back for the rest of his afterlife. Desiree can see why Danny is pushing. Does she LIKE it? No. But...

She supposes she will content herself with the suffering of the Fanatics in White and all who support them. THEIR wishes, twisted. Their ugly heart's desires.

Fine.

"SO YOU WISH IT. SO IT SHALL BE!"

And? The ghost town of what WOULD of one day grown into Amity, had the witch's there not been found by those they had fled from, which sits in long rotted ruins, amongst the trees in nowhere Illinois? Poof! Two "Towns" are switched.

The roads out of town coming to a clean line stop, meeting not even goat paths. Just trees. Old growth.

But it's not ALL of Town, is it? Faces missing. New, confused, faces from every corner of the map, taking their place. No Limnal left behind. No supporter of the GIWs genocide, brought along. Family's kept together where they could be. But by the few, scared and upset, green flashing eyes of children in the crowd?

It seemed for some, it was easier to fear and hate, then love their children.

Already they were being gathered up by school teachers and PTA parents. As everyone tried to figure out what had happened. Concerned, quite muttering a dull roar as everyone tries to coordinate.

Red Huntress joins Danny and Dani in the Sky. She doesn't get a word in. Wanted to know what the HELL was going on. She was with her dad in Chicago! Dani was in Taiwan! Literally! As in, sitting in a SUBWAY station one second, the next? Outside!

But they don't get to demand those answers. Because there is a sonic boom on the horizon. And then? Floating... weird... not ghosts?

Uuuuuuhhhh?

Hi?

That much blue... sure is a Statement. Like the cape and... bloooomers? Shorts. Bikini bottoms? It.. it's a Cool Look, dude! No, really. They are being VERY supportive here! If YOU like it? That's the only thing that matters!

Red Huntress smacks the Danny/i's Repeated upside their heads and demans to know what the Not-Ghosts are doing in their airspace.

Oh YEAH. Good point! What she said! And can it WAIT? They're kinda going through A Thing right now...

Kon? Wants it on record he loves these guys. They're hilarious. The LOOK on Clark's FACE?? He wishes he could frame it. Preserve it for future generations. Thing is? There was NOT a town here a second ago.

Well, bout 30 minutes or so, but you get the idea. One moment? Tree noises. Bam! Thousands of people! Obviously the checked it out. Only to be met with two... three maybe? Heros who have NO IDEA who they are.

Clear Reality warping shenanigans. Might be time travel or multiverse. Question is... are they STAYING? And if SO? What now...

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

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themidnightcrimson · 2 months

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the scarlet siren ࿏ wm

summary: in which you take a trip out to sea that you will regret.

words: 6.0k

warnings: siren!wanda, dubcon/noncon, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), size kink, biting, a lot of blood, violence, fear, suspense, drowning, deep water, mentions of death, i wrote this in an irish accent for some reason, did you know i have thalassophobia?

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

Fishing was competitive these days. It was a bad winter and an even worse famine, and with beef and poultry no longer in the shops, the villagers were forced to turn to the shore to fish.

Your little village was nestled on a plateau of land that stuck out into the cold sea. The shore was lined with big, black rocks that had tumbled down from the looming hills over time and landed at the water’s edge with only a thin strip of grainy brown sand between them and the water. Travelling down to the shore over all those rocks was already hard enough, but it was even harder when you had to carry your boat on your back.

People had tried to carve trails through all the rock to make the beaches more accessible, but with all the storms that the area faced, the rocks just got tussled back around and demolished any trails attempted.

In fact, it had just stormed the night before. It pissed rain and spit wind so hard that people woke up to holes in their roofs. Naturally, the beach was all torn up from it, but it would always clean itself up and go back to the way it was at some point before another storm came along. And while most people were at their cottages fixing the storm’s damage, you saw this early dawn as a prime opportunity to fish.

Fish had also been scarce recently because of all the people turning to the water for food sources, but you knew that the previous night’s storm had tussled the waters, which meant the fish were probably scurrying all around. The sun hadn’t even risen yet as you dragged your wooden boat down the rocks in the dim dawn hue, the wood scraping loudly against the rock’s hard and bumpy surface.

Managing to get down the rocks without twisting your ankle, you finally plopped down into the pebbly sand with a huff of breath, pushing your boat off your back. This was only half of your journey, though, because you weren’t even going to fish here on the beach like most people did.

Adjusting the leather strap around your neck that was holding your oars to your back, you dragged your boat through the damp sand to the rickety wooden dock that stood beside the lighthouse. The lighthouse was even more rickety, since no one bothered to upkeep it since this beach was the worst beach for ships to come in at. They almost always hit the rocks because of how deep the water dropped off from the shore and how thin the strip of sand was.

You pulled your boat to the very end of the dock and then threw the oars down in it, and then your bag of fishing gear, along with your pole. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself as you began pushing the single person-sized boat into the water. When it finally was fully in the water, you quickly jumped into it, causing a splash and a stressful cracking sound as you struggled for a moment to catch your balance. Finally, you sat down in the boat and let it settle before getting your oars and rowing yourself towards your destination.

There was a little cove area almost like an island to the east of the plateau of land. It was your favorite spot to fish because hardly anyone knew about it. It was barely visible from the shore even during a normal day, but it was completely out of sight on this extremely foggy, dark morning. The fog became more and more dense the further you rowed out into the water, until finally you were completely blinded.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured, reaching into your bag for your compass. The fog had completely surrounded you now to the point where you couldn’t even see the front bow of your boat. It was getting colder further into sea, too. Though the air above was tolerable, you couldn’t imagine how cold the water below felt.

The salty, wet air clogged your nose as you finally felt the cold round of metal in your hand, bringing your compass out of your bag. Sniffling from the cold air, you tried to adjust and read your compass when you suddenly heard something behind you—a voice.

Gasping, you whipped around to look behind you but only saw the thick white of fog. The voice had been shrill and steady, calling out some sort of smooth singsong noise that echoed over the water.

And then you heard it again, clear as day, right in front of you.

Snapping back around, you still could see nothing but the fog, yet the voice was still echoing all around you. It was a single note drawn out, not quite a shout or a scream, just an eerie note drawn out through the fog. Chills overcame you, but not from the cold.

Setting your compass down on the boat’s bottom, you grabbed your oars and began to quickly row towards the east. The fog seemed to be squeezing in on you now, some of it even spilling over the edge of the boat like thick smoke. Your heart was pounding—you couldn’t see where you were going, and you could still hear the voice in the back of your head. You wanted to get to the cove fast.

Suddenly, the wooden oar in your left hand stopped against something. You paused and looked over—you weren’t even able to see the paddle of the oar, only the handle you held. You tried to move the oar, but it wouldn’t budge. What could it be stuck on? Even though you couldn’t see, you knew you weren’t at the cove by now, and you were still heading east so you hadn’t drifted back to the plateau. These waters were so deep, there certainly was nothing your oar could be stuck in.

It was when something tugged your oar right out of your hand that you shrieked and jumped so hard that the boat rocked, icy water splashing onto your legs. With your left oar gone, you quickly used your right oar to haphazardly row forward, having to switch it over to the left side to keep going straight, more of the cold water splattering over you. Though you were crippled now with only one oar, you were so afraid that you rowed even faster than you normally would with two oars.

Though your arms ached, you kept rowing as fast as you could until finally the fog started to thin out. You were starting to break out of whatever thick cloud of sea fog you had been stuck in. It felt like you could breathe again when finally you pushed forward completely out of the fog, letting your tired arms go limp as you looked behind you at the cloud of fog. You searched for the silhouette of another boat but saw nothing. What the hell had grabbed your oar?

Turning back around and taking a deep breath, you swiped your forehead with the back of your wrist—now your body was so hot it was steaming in the cold air. Looking ahead, you could finally see the cove just a little ways away.

Glancing to either side of you, you saw nothing but black water. These waters were always dark, mostly because of the black rock and black mud, but it was completely opaque now. All you could see was reflections of the dim grey sky above you and your own face distorted in the lapping water. You wondered what was below it—something that now had your oar, certainly. Shaking your head to rid yourself of the paranoid thoughts, you rowed on to the cove.

The cove was a U-shaped island that looked like a fragmented piece of the plateau your village was on—all black, rocky shores with limited sand, a cluster of dark, woody trees behind it that shielded it from the nothingness of the sea. The shape of the U was wide enough that the cove water leading up to the center of land was deep enough for fish to live. It was the perfect fishing spot, especially the further one went into the cove so that the island’s rocks and trees surrounded them.

Finally, you got to your favorite spot tucked further into the U shape where you were surrounded by the island, and you rowed your boat carefully until it was finally still. You glanced around the island—it was a little spooky in the foggy, dark morning. The trees were blackened, fog stuck all in them. The big rocks were an even darker black from the wet morning, and where there was usually a strip of sand, there was only a bunch of pebbles and rocks that must have been pushed onto shore from the storm. Sometimes, you would sit on the sand and enjoy the quiet alone, but you couldn’t imagine sitting on all those rocky pebbles.

You set up your fishing pole and cast it into the black water, setting the pole against the side of the boat while you opened your fishnet and made it ready for fish. You had even brought a little breakfast along—a pathetic piece of bread with a slice of cheese. Holding the end of your pole between your feet, you relaxed against the boat and ate your bread and cheese.

It took a minute before you got your first bite, bringing up a thick, silvery fish out of the water and tossing it into your net before recasting your pole. You were able to get three fish before suddenly they just stopped biting.

“For fucks’ sake,” you cursed like a sailor, bringing up your pole out of the water to see that something had taken the worm off the hook, even though you didn’t feel a fish bite. “Greedy fuckers. I’m tryin’ to eat, too.” You took another worm from your bowl of bait and stuck it onto the hook.

And then you heard it again.

It was the same shrill voice, but this time, it sounded like an eerie, angelic song. You froze. The voice lilted, echoing through the trees of the cove. This time, it wasn’t just a single note—it was words you could barely make out, but they were there.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya..

Your breath hitched in your throat. You lifted your head, eyes wide, and slowly looked around, seeing nothing but the black faces of the rocks and trees looking back at you.

Ya smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

The voice was beautiful, etching out every syllable of the foreign language like poetry. It echoed over the waters in a whisper, filling your ears like honey. You held your breath. You wanted to ask who was there, who was singing, but there was a buzzing sensation through your body like fear, but something different. It was like the voice was reaching through your ears and into your brain, its angelic fingers scratching and poking and twisting your brain around until you were in a dumb daze.

It was when you noticed something in the corner of your eye that your fear came through more prominently. The water, black and opaque, to the side of your boat was rippling with motion. It wasn’t the bubbles of a fish. It wasn’t movement from your still boat. The water rippled from one end of your boat to the other, pausing between ripples like something was swimming right there. But you couldn’t see anything.

Your lungs ached as your breathing picked up, yet you stayed completely still. You watched the water ripple around the bow of your boat, and down the other side. It was circling you, and it was entirely too large to be a fish.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

The voice came again, filtering through the cove’s forest, over the rocks, right into your ears. You don’t know why, but you found yourself slowly leaning over the boat’s edge, peering into the black water that rippled as something swam below it. Your vision became hazy. Your skin felt numb all over. Your heart pounded dangerously fast.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

You barely processed the sound of something brushing the side of your boat before you felt the hard vibration of something hitting the underside of your boat, something big enough to rock it.

“Woah!” you cried out, grabbing the sides of the rocking boat. You tried to get to your feet, but something hit the underside of your boat again, and it tipped over.

You had never felt such cold. The splash of your body hitting the water, and then the water flooding your ears, deafened you like the sound of glass shattering from inside your head. It struck your entire body like lighting—pure, icy shock and arctic pain. It almost felt like your bones cracked upon impact like a frozen branch falling off a cliff.

You couldn’t move as your body sank under the freezing black water. You opened your eyes, felt the cold freeze over your eyeballs. You saw nothing at first and wondered if you were dead, or even worse, struck blind from the freezing water. When you could finally see dim light filtering through the water, as much light as the cloudy early morning could give, you realized you weren’t blind. But the water was so cold, too cold to move. You tried to move your arms and legs, but you felt stiffened, shot with pain.

As you stared into the sea of black and tried to clench your frozen muscles, you saw a shadow forming in the water beyond. You could do nothing but watch with fear as the shadow formed into an unrecognizable silhouette.

Quickly, you glanced up and could see the shadow of your boat flipped upside down on the water’s surface above you. You didn’t realize how deep down you were. Even if your body was working again, it would take a minute for you to reach your boat.

You looked back in front of you. The shadow was closer now. You attempted to flail your arms and were able to move them a little. You screamed through your closed mouth, your lungs burning for air.

The shadow came into the glare of light in the water, and your scream intensified.

It was a woman, or something like it. A woman’s head, and neck, and chest, and torso, and waist, but right where her hips stopped, something else started. Where her thighs would have been separated and covered with skin, they were welded together and covered with scales. It was some sort of a fish tail attached to where the lower half of her body should’ve been. Instead of skin and legs, she was dark red and black scales on a long tail with a finned end that gently undulated in the water to keep her floating. Her tail almost sparkled in the light. It was so dark, but you could see hints of a deep ruby color between the dark scales. Her chest was bare along with the rest of her upper body. Her hair, a dark brown with reddish tint, bowed above her head in the shape of an obsidian flame. Her arms floated beside her elegantly, and you noticed her fingertips were black.

Then there were her eyes. A deep red like the color of her tail. Too much white between the bottom curve of her pupils and her lower lashes. Darkened around the lids with some sort of black paint. Even in the darkness of the water, the red of her irises caught you. Even in the fear, there was beauty. She was haunting, and her eyes stared you down like you were her food.

A mermaid, you thought. You’d only ever heard of them when the sailors of your town made it back from faraway fishing trips. Everyone had chocked the stories up to oceanic hallucination, but now here you were, face to face with one.

And then she smiled. And her teeth were ivory white, and in the middle of where there were some human teeth, there was rows of sharp fangs like blades. Her smile was uncanny, unsettling, evil.

And then you realized she wasn’t a mermaid.

Another choked, muffled scream bellowed out from your burning chest when she darted forward. You could feel the vibrations in the water when she swished her tail in a boast of strength, her hair darting behind her as she surged forward through the water with ease. Her eyes seemed to darken.

Screaming as much as you could underwater, you suddenly found that your muscles had defrosted with your fear. You swam upwards, kicking and thrashing as much as you could, your body fatigued from the cold and the lack of oxygen. Your muscles burned and quivered as you overworked them, your lungs aching, your throat burning, vision growing dark until finally you burst above the surface, gulping down a large breath of air and several more after that.

You didn’t have much time to breathe because you became aware that the siren was still below you. Looking around, you saw that your boat had floated too far away, and the nearest place you could go was the shoreline several yards away.

Before you could make a break for the shore, you noticed how quiet everything was. The siren could have easily grabbed you by now. You tried to look into the water that splashed up on your chin, but it was still black. A soft mist came down from the bleary sky, further wetting your head.

What if she was right below your feet where they kicked obscurely in the water? What if she grabbed you and dragged you down? Just the mere thought made you start to slowly float your way towards the shore. Maybe the siren was just like a shark, and it was only sudden movement that made her attack.

You kept slowly swimming backwards, craning your head all around to get a comprehensive view of the water’s surface around you. There was nothing. No swishing of water at your feet. No ripples on the surface except the ones you caused. Not even any bubbles.

Was she gone? Had she decided you weren’t worth the trouble? Or were you just hallucinating? Maybe this was the oceanic hallucinations everyone said sailors had. Maybe all that fog had made you paranoid.

Your body was rocking with how icy the water was, though you just felt numb now. You looked behind you at the island, wondering if you could seek shelter in the trees until someone came looking for you, or maybe you could make some sort of flotation device out of something. That was silly. Your best bet would be to go back to your boat and hand-paddle your way back home.

As you turned your head back around towards the direction of your boat, you gasped and froze.

There the siren was. Only the upper half of her head was above the water. You saw her hair, much more reddish now in the light, slick to her head. Her forehead, speckled with droplets of water. Her red eyes that seemed to reflect a glare of red on the surface of the water in front of her. Beyond that, only the bridge of her nose, the end of it under the surface. She was completely still, as if she was standing on flat ground. She was only maybe two feet away from you.

“P-p-p-p,” you tried to speak, but your body was convulsing from the cold, your lips numb and blue. “Please,” you whispered in a croak. It was getting hard to breathe as the harsh cold invaded your blood. You were begging for your life because, in the haze of your hypothermia, you recognized those eyes.

You’d heard stories from the village sailors about a particular siren. You’d seen her image sketched in books. Always those red eyes, that red tail. This wasn’t a mermaid, and she wasn’t just a siren. She was the deadliest ocean creature that all the myths and legends described. She’d instilled fear in children of your parent’s and even your grandparent’s generations just through stories of her malice. She commanded every corner of the seas, and sailors who were superstitious enough always kept an eye out for her during their voyages, lest she take them down.

She wasn’t a mermaid. She wasn’t just a siren.

She was the Scarlet Siren.

Somehow, she knew you recognized her. Maybe it was the look on your face, or the way you froze. She stretched her lips open in a charming yet malicious smile. And then slowly, inch by inch, she slipped under the water.

Letting out a choked scream, you quickly turned back towards the shore and started to swim. Your heart felt like it was going to rip right out of your chest if the Scarlet Siren didn’t do it first.

When you were halfway towards the shore, thrashing the water and letting out choked breaths, you suddenly felt hands grab your ankles and yank you beneath the surface.

You thrashed under the water, your long hair coming undone and floating around your face as you watched the Scarlet Siren come closer to you. You kicked at her so hard that your shoes came off your feet, your foot hitting her tail and feeling the fishy scales there.

The Siren’s hands were climbing up your body, grabbing at your coat and pulling it off as you spiraled in the water, trying to get out of her hold. Finally, you were able to kick her tail hard enough that the force sent you popping above the surface like a fish. You were able to take one gasp of air before she pulled you right back down again.

This time, the Siren growled and nosedived towards your waist, her teeth clamping down on the fabric of your shirt. You squealed as she ripped your shirt off with her teeth, the fabric so easily tearing. The blades of her teeth had caught the skin of your belly, four long scratches bleeding through your pale skin, the blood clouding in the water. The Siren paused at the sight of your blood diffusing in the water, distracted enough for you to kick her in the face so hard that she turned downwards in the water.

You took your chance to swim, popping up through the surface and pushing yourself harder than ever. The shore was right in front of you. Your body ached and the skin of your stomach stung, but you kept going until finally your fingers touched black rock.

Coughing up water, you lifted your body onto the pebbly surface, the blood from the scratches finally able to drip down your skin, the red following the lines of water on your waist. You flopped onto your back and pulled yourself more onto the shore.

You knew it wasn’t over. The Siren’s head popped out of the water, and her hands grabbed your ankles again. You cried out and tried to kick, but she held your legs down as she lifted herself completely out of the water.

You watched the Scarlet Siren crawl over you, her strong arms planting down in the rocks on either side of your head, entrapping you. The shockingly heavy weight of her tail crushed your legs down on the rock, the smell of ocean filling your nostrils. It felt like the end of your life. You thought to yourself, as the Siren laid herself over you, that this was what rabbits felt like with dogs. This is what lambs felt like with lions. Birds with cats. Fish with fishermen. Sailors with sirens.

“Now, what’s a pretty girl like yourself doing all alone out on these waters, hmm?” Her voice was shockingly heavenly, smooth like butter and sweet like a bird’s song. It caught you off guard and somehow made you more afraid. There was also some sort of foreign accent laced in her words, somewhat Slavic. How could a monster like herself look so beautiful and sound so sweet?

You could only make incoherent noises as you watched the Siren’s tail start to morph. It ripped itself apart, and the scales sunk inwards, and the flesh shaped itself into the shape of a human woman’s legs, and pale skin etched itself over them. She was now the sight of a fully human woman, naked and lain over you, except for her razor teeth and red demonic eyes and murderous intent.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked more seriously, her eyes flickering over you. Her underwater tactics left you in only a brassiere and fisherman pants.

You were shaking from the cold, but her body felt surprisingly warm on yours. Fear had overcome you, leaving you dumb and pathetic.

“Please d-don’t kill me,” you cried, tears rushing down your cheeks.

“You didn’t answer me, detka,” she continued calmly, bringing a hand to your chin and holding it. Her skin felt inhumanly smooth. “Do you know who I am?”

Breathing heavily, you squeezed your eyes shut. “The S-Scarlet Siren.”

The Siren puckered her lips. “What a demeaning term. My scales are more maroon, don’t you think? My name is Wanda.” She paused, pressing the pad of her thumb into the dimple on your chin. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

You didn’t answer. She trailed her hand down your stomach, smearing the blood there before she grabbed hold of your pants. Sitting back on her knees, she started to yank them down. Instinctively, you fought her, trying to kick her away.

“Stop!” you screamed loud enough that a few birds from the forest cawed and fluttered. The Siren pursed her lips and used her strength to pull your pants off, but you flopped onto your stomach like a fish and started frantically crawling away.

“Stop it, human,” she growled, grabbing the back of your thighs and dragging you back down the rocks. Using the opportunity, she ripped the last of your clothing off, your brassiere, and threw it to the side. Grabbing you by your wet hair, she turned you back onto your back and lowered down. You were face-to-face with her now, about to try and push her off until she opened her mouth.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

It was the song you’d heard earlier, before your boat tipped. But as she sang it this time, that buzzing feeling within you grew stronger. Her honey-like voice lilted in your ears as she sang, and you found yourself leaning upwards. Her red eyes, glowing now, watched you tremble as you weakly lifted yourself, your own eyes growing wide as she entranced you. You were very easy for her.

Smiling through her song, she snaked her arm under your waist and easily lifted you up, pressing your bare body to hers. You were so cold against her, so feeble and weak. Your eyes trained on her lips, your irises glowing red from her magic flowing within you. She could feel your mind breaking down, letting her in, growing weaker and weaker. Finally, you closed your eyes and leaned up to kiss her. The Siren held your head with her large hand and kissed you softly, her lips smooth and slippery.

Her song was how she got her victims, but her kiss was how she trapped them. You were under her will now.

Breaking the kiss slowly, the Siren laid you gently back down on the rock. “It’s much easier when you’re calmer, detka. Now, tell me your name.”

“Y/n,” you whispered inaudibly, but the Siren’s ears were trained enough to hear you.

“Y/n,” she repeated in her lilting voice, smiling with her sharp teeth. “You’re the prettiest one I’ve ever caught, y/n.”

Her eyes raked down your limp body that she held in her arm, her free hand pressing against the bloody scratches on your tummy. She gathered some of your blood on her blackened finger and lifted it up to her mouth, sucking your blood off her long finger. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head like a reptile.

Though you felt paralyzed, there was still some consciousness left in your head. You were starting to realize that there was a reason sailors didn’t let their women on their boats, and that the reason was hovering over you.

“You’re right, beautiful girl,” she purred, “But don’t even think about those other human women. You’re the best one of them all.” Her voice had an edge of malice, and it was sickening to hear it through the sweet, complimentary tone.

Her red eyes flickered back to the scratches on your tummy, and she leaned down, letting her long, snaky tongue slither out of her mouth and onto the scratches, licking up your blood. Her breath fanned over the expanse of your stomach, covered in goosebumps. Her hands gripped either side of your ribcage as she grazed her mouth over your stomach, landing on a spot off to the side before digging her teeth into your flesh.

“Ah!” you screamed out, feeling all the blades of her teeth stab into you. She let go, revealing a bloody bite mark on your torso.

“So sweet and fresh,” she growled.

A particular wave of water came up aggressively onto the shore, rolling over her ankles and causing scales to appear before the water receded and human skin covered it again.

The Siren moved to your chest, her large hand grabbing one of your tits and squeezing while she rolled her long, thin tongue over your nipple, her siren eyes flashing up at you. You squirmed, whimpering from the pain but also from another uncontrollable emotion. You were entranced by her, under her will, and had no control over any feeling she gave you emotionally or physically.

Moving her mouth to your other breast, she sunk her teeth into the mound of flesh, causing you to cry out again. You attempted to lift your arms to fight back, but she quickly snatched them and pinned them to the sharp rocks.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

She sang again, her voice filling you as she gave you more bites between each lyric, blood now dripping down your sides. You were dizzy, from the blood or the trance or the entire situation, and helpless. Your blood was smeared across the entire lower half of her face, dripping from her chin, staining her razor teeth as she grinned. It was so strange, seeing a monstrous look on such a seductive, beautiful woman.

When the Siren glided her tongue down the center of your stomach, you felt a twitch within you. When her hands gripped your hips and scratched downward, coming to grab your tender thighs and spread them open, you obliged. You felt hotter now, as if steam would start rising out of your body into the cold air. There were already billows of fog coming out of your lips with each breath.

“Such a delicate angel,” the Siren purred at you as she lowered her body down. As she settled her elbows over your thighs, her legs tucked back into the water. The waves gushed over her bottom and onto her lower back, and when it receded, she had a tail again, halfway resting in the water, the crimson fin on the very end flipping up in the water instinctively.

You were naked, bleeding on the rocks, being overtaken by a Siren, the Scarlet Siren no less, but you felt overcome with a pleasurable sensation. It was a mix between drunken and sexual as the Siren licked her tongue over your thighs.

When she had you to a point of gyrating your hips for her, she finally put her mouth over your core, sucking on your sensitive nub immediately. You cried out, grabbing onto rocks as she suckled on you, causing arousal to already slowly gush out of you.

Her tongue was long and thin and bumpy, so when she lapped it over your slit and then pushed it deep inside you, you nearly went blind. She snaked her tongue in and out of her, her hands grabbing your thighs harshly as she forced your legs open wider, moaning onto your clit. She seemed hungry, ravenous, as she devoured you, and you felt the terrifying hardness of the very edge of her teeth almost hitting your sensitive skin every once in a while. You could tell that she had done this before, and you wondered what number you were going to be in the list of women she had killed.

“Ah!” you cried out, feeling yourself coming close already. The feeling was something entirely different, and before you knew it, you were clenching around her tongue and crying out, your body arching off the rocks.

“So delicious,” the Siren hissed when she retracted her tongue, staying where she was between your legs while you panted and squirmed. “And so tight.”

Without warning, she placed four fingers in a row at your entrance. You swallowed hard, your consciousness breaking through a little to fight back by thrashing around. You tried to close your legs, but she was amazingly strong.

The Scarlet Siren opened her mouth to sing her song, and you relaxed involuntarily. You could only scream when she forced four of her fingers into you. The pain was dizzying, along with all the blood you’d lost, and you were halfway unconscious as she stretched your cunt out around her fingers, forcing you to take all four of her unnaturally long digits. Your walls resisted, but she kept thrusting, lapping up any arousal and blood along the way. She bit into your thigh, rubbed her face in the wound and curled her fingers inside you, watching you tremble and squirm dumbly.

You finally started to come to when the pain went away, pleasure taking over. The stretch felt otherworldly, her tongue flicking your clit and lapping at it, fingers pumping deep and hard into you so that it was all you could feel. Besides the gentle waves of the water near you, all you could hear was the squelching noises that she committed on you. She devoured you and fucked you eagerly, hungrily, like an animal, becoming more and more carnal the more she had of you.

When your second climax crashed over you and you convulsed uncontrollably, whimpering and screaming and thrashing, the Siren chuckled victoriously between your thighs.

When the climax left you, your body dropped limp on the rocks. Your vision went blurry, and all you could see was red eyes hovering over you staring at you, and the dark crimson of blood on her face.

“You did so good, detka,” she lilted, caressing your cheek with her soft hand. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Fortunately for you, you could feel nothing but bliss. It was the Siren’s entrancement on you that made you feel heavenly as she took hold of one of your ankles and dragged you into the water like a dead fish, swimming away into the black and taking you with her.

Your abandoned boat still floated upside down a ways off from the shore. The cloud of fog was still on the sea’s surface, crowding into the cove. The water washed away your blood from the rocks.

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