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yandere-sins · 2 years

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Boss

Let’s be honest I am around booktok too much, but mmmmhm vampires, amirite?

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: Yandere!Vampire x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Innuendos, Violence (Biting Mention, Death Mention off-screen, Whipping Mention, Blood Mention), Slavery in terms of vampires being superior over humans, Mention of selling blood for services, “Blood Virgins/Blood Mates”, Reader gets brought up under cult-like circumstances, Reader is supposed to get auctioned off

Prompt: @sintember Taboo - Polite, civilised people don’t do these sorts of things. But some choose not to care.

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The sound of laughter and glasses clinking together reached you.

A bustle of noise, hushed voices, and polite questions echoed through the room. You were all the more receptive to it, with your eyes blindfolded and your senses sharpening. The air was heavy with cigar smoke and flowery perfumes, and despite not being able to see, you felt a strong light shine down on you as you kneeled on the floor, two burly men standing next to you and keeping you sitting upright.

Even though you knew what was going to happen, you gulped, feeling nervous.

You had waited for this day for the better part of your—still young—life. Your coming of age had been ritualized and celebrated, and you were washed, clothed, and prepared for the occasion. Many nights you had wished the day would never come. The other girls and boys you grew up with and lived with until your early adulthood, liked to tell horror stories about your future as much as they liked to romanticize all of it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, revered guests!" The booming voice coming close to you made you flinch, tearing you out of your memories. You had been waiting for this moment all your life, but it still surprised you, perhaps a given without being able to see. The voices around you slowly died down, a few last laughs being exchanged before the room got quiet, and you heard your heartbeat quicken, resulting in a constant thrumming in your head.

"We've come together today to decide the fate of our lovely blood virgin!"

Fingers brushed beneath your jaw, urging you to let your head fall back and show your neck. The touch of who you assumed must have been the auctioneer was almost reverently gentle, which made sense for ware as precious as you were. Truth be told, you never thought of yourself as especially pretty or incredibly clever. Still, the delightful moans going through the crowd as you presented your perfectly unscathed neck went straight to your ego, tingling your core and sending heat to your head which seemed to rouse the people's passion even more.

People might have been a stretch. In a world ruled by vampires, someone like you—a blood virgin, unbitten and kept locked away until you were ripe to be sold—was a delicacy. Usually, every remaining human had a bite or a dozen on them, selling their blood for loans and protection. Even your instructors had them, and you weren't shielded from the ugly truths about how much biting hurt and how humans were barely better than cattle to vampires. That was, frankly said, what scared you.

Someone like you, who was prepared from childhood to be property, had no rights and no means of saving yourself from what was to come. Sure, the other blood virgins liked to dream about being taken in as personal blood slaves to some wealthy, handsome vampires that would spoil them and treat them as well as a human could be expected to be treated. But you didn't believe in that. You only believed in the screams you heard as you walked to the room your big sister had been brought to after her auction. No one had stood guard, and you fearfully took a glimpse through the keyhole. Only to hear gurgles and see… blood. So much blood.

Your sister never came back.

Even when they tried to tell you she was merely taken to the vampire that bought her, you didn't believe it after what you saw. And you didn't believe there was any hope for you either. When the touch of the auctioneer slipped beneath the velvety blindfold, you wished you could have kept it on. You didn't want to see the faces of murderers enjoying their lives. You didn't want to see the vampire that would take you from your home. You had been trained for this occasion your whole life, but in the end, you weren't ready.

No matter how well they had whipped good behavior into your body, you couldn't do it. When the blindfold lifted from your face, appreciative murmurs going through the mass below the stage, your world seemed to slow down. For a few seconds, your anxiety made everything come to a halt as you breathed heavily. The spotlight shining down on you hurt your eyes, and you couldn't see anything really, in the darkness below the stage you were on. But in a moment of fear-induced clarity, you knew this was your only chance. The only moment they didn't expect you to act.

Before you could think it through, you bolted.

Slipped right out of the guards' grip and pushed aside the gentle auctioneer, not even having seen that man's face if he even was one. Your feet lost their footing as you couldn't see where the stage ended, dropping you off the edge into soft but smelly carpet floor. Your body was pounding blood through it, making it thrum in your ears and filling you with adrenaline. The sound of the crowd gasping in surprise barely reached you as your mind was filled with the symphony of your body and the desire to escape.

You got up before anyone could reach you in time, just running forward despite not seeing anything in the darkness yet. Vaguely, the humanoid shapes of the guests darted by you as you hoped to reach the end of the room to escape it. You'd not end up like your sister. That was your only thought as you hurled your body into a door, fumbling to find a door handle to push it open.

This wasn't normal. You shouldn't have to accept your fate as cattle for vampires, a blood bank for just one night. Even if all your life led up to this moment, no one should have the right to treat you as less than worthy of living. It was insane to just sit and wait for someone to buy you so they could drink your blood and kill you when they had no use for you anymore. You never even kissed someone, much less experienced the world outside of the walls of the monastery where you were kept!

Finally, you managed to push the door open, slipping out the smallest gap you managed to pry open while you felt dozens of hands reach for you from behind. Hungry, greedy hands wanting to pull you back and devour you with hair and skin. They didn't care if you got hurt or even if you were still alive when they got to you, but now that you broke the most important rule—absolute obedience—you were free game. Monsters. All of them!

But you did it! You escaped them! And as you threw the door back in its lock behind you, a smile of relief painted your lips, knowing you made it. Your body's ache returned as you blindly ran into solid matter, forcing you to stumble back against the door as the way forward was blocked off. Not even your hands could have saved you from the wall right where you slipped out, and your senses slowly returned, the adrenaline running dangerously low now that you felt accomplished. Behind you, growly, angry vampires crashed into the wood, shaking the door and slamming their fists into it, no one managing to actually open the exit in their frenzy. All while you stayed still as a mouse, listening to their curses and then a tongue clicking right before you.

"Well-behaved and trained blood slaves don't act this way, you know? Running and creating a fuss. For what? You think you can outrun them?"

You flinched as someone crashed into the wood at your back, the man talking to you taking a step forward, caging you between him and the door, keeping the exit barred with his strength. No, once again, this was no man. With a soothing, deep voice and an expensive scent coming from him, he couldn't be human. Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to look up from beneath your lashes, the spare lightning in the hallway barely enough to illuminate all of his body. Expensive metal accessories decorated him, throwing back the light at you, but the rest was coated in darkness with only the red of his eyes shining through.

It might have been naive to think you could escape, but at least, you had nothing to lose now.

"Civilized and decent beings wouldn't auction off blood virgins into their death."

"Oh?" he hummed, amused by you speaking back. Even if your voice was barely more than a whisper and a shaky one at that, your words seemed to have reached him. Inwardly, however, you cringed. Talking back to a vampire was a big no-no, and this taboo had been burned into your very soul. Even though... you had to admit it felt kind of good to finally speak your mind. You felt his hand fall to your hair, letting the strands you had been forced to grow out, glide through his fingers, his touch running cold shudders down your spine. Without being able to see him properly and predict his movements, everything felt so much worse again, like you were back on the stage, blindfolded and devoted to your duty.

"But we don't kill our blood virgins, you know?" he tried to explain, but it only made you angrier. Of course, he'd say that.

"Liar!" you barked, surprising yourself at how strong the word left you. But you meant it, and seeing him recoil in surprise for a split second felt like a victory. If you could at least shock one of them before your inevitable death, you already achieved more than most blood virgins.

"I am not a liar," he hissed, leaning forward and pressing his body into yours. "I can't speak for everyone, but a blood virgin is a commitment forever. Once we drink the blood of one, it's the only blood we'll want, and they become our blood mates for the rest of their lives. Do you understand?"

Your mind was fighting against you to believe him, but somehow, his words sounded more genuine than you expected them to be. He spoke them with pride and conviction. Clearly, he could be lying, his honeyed voice trying to soothe you for the bite, but why would he say these things then?

"It's an obsession, pure delightful need that we want to constantly satisfy. You humans would call it… love? We want our blood mates to always be around us, and no one is allowed to touch or taste them except us. Much less kill them, little human."

"I…" you mumbled, trying to process the information you were given. But all of this didn't change your mind about the whole thing. "I don't want that… I would rather die than be someone's property like this."

"We'll see about that," he huffed, his hand gripping your arm as he pulled you back into his chest, finally allowing the door to open, bodies falling out of it that you assumed were the staff members. They groaned and slowly got up, but their sounds fell silent just as quickly, and a voice you recognized as the auctioneer perked up, hesitantly addressing the man that pressed you against his body.

"S-Sir! What a pleasure to see you! We had a small hiccup, but the auction will resume any second now!"

"No need," he waved him off, and you felt his cold hand grip the clothes you were wearing, giving off a possessive vibe. "I will take this one for myself. The auction is off; you can send everyone home."

"B-But, Boss…" the auctioneer stammered, and your eyes widened, body tensing as goosebumps erupted all over your skin hearing the auctioneer call this man his boss. Without much regard for the poor auctioneer left to handle all the angry guests grumbling behind him, you were dragged away by the auction boss, the one in charge of raising and selling the blood virgins. The most evil one of them all.

And as you stared into his face, occasionally lit by the lights in the hallway and too handsome for such a creature, no signs of aging or care about anything other than his selfish desires, his eyes found yours, a grin curling on his lips.

"We'll see if you'll still refuse to be mine when I give you pleasure beyond what you'll ever know. One you'll never get from anyone but me, Darling."

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sintember · 2 years

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Sintember 2022 Prompts

Here are the prompts for Sintember 2022! If the image is unreadable, I deeply apologize. Luckily, all of the prompts are listed (with little blurbs!) under the cut. All of the Free Day Friday prompts are designed to be much vaguer than the other prompts.

Obsession - Love? Hate? Lust? Fear? Worship? Whatever the case, it’s all they can think about.

Free Day Friday: Phobia - Pick your favourite (or perhaps even least favourite) fear and go wild with it.

Coercion - Subtle application of threat, the brute force of physicality, or could it be someone’s will itself working into their brain?

Intoxication - Drugs, alcohol, hormones running rampant and space sex pollen, the senses are not quite lost, but the will to struggle is gone.

“Well, the usual methods didn’t work, so...” - An escalation. What do those above want from the one below, and what will they do to get it?

Life must go on - If there is one thing to be said about life, it is that it comes at the expense of others’.

Power imbalance - So many ways for one to have advantages over the other.

The tables have turned - And so many ways for those advantages to slip from their grasp. Is it revenge or fear that motivates what comes next, or was it an act all along?

Free Day Friday: Blorbo - Is there a character (or more than one) you just need to do something to? Now’s the time to do it. This can be a character from anywhere, including your own head!

Eldritch Horrors - Twisting minds, twisting depths, slithery limbs that shift and grasp and pull you deeper into the madness.

Transformation - Becoming comes with pain, with loss. What skin do you shed, and what steps into new moonlight?

Captivity - How long has it been? Does the sound of your captor getting closer bring fear or hope. Has it been long enough to become joy?

Possession - To belong to someone, to have them wash over you, erasing you, becoming you. Did you ask for this? Does it matter?

Taboo - Polite, civilised people don’t do these sorts of things. But some choose not to care.

“You didn’t think I was going to touch you, did you...?” - Is that contempt you hear, pity? Or the threat of something else out of sight? Don’t they know how cruel it is to play with your emotions?

Free Day Friday: Philia - Got a kink or a paraphilia? Is there never enough content for it? You know what to do.

Lost and ‘Alone’ - You could die out here if you can’t find humans soon. Maybe that would be better.

Heaven and Hell - The rapture of being utterly known, utterly loved. The exquisite torture of the very same.

It was an accident! - You swear you didn’t mean to do it. Some might even believe you.

“That’ll teach you where to put your fucking fingers” - Consequences, a touch unwanted, a thief, a rebellion. Teach them better.

No one will believe you - There’s no one to help, no one to trust, do you even believe yourself?

Make a mess - There won’t be anything left pretty after this.

Free Day Friday: Creature - Monsters, beasts, cryptids galore. We can’t let those humans think they run the show.

Overwhelmed - There’s too much, too much. You can’t scream, you can’t think. you can’t breathe. When will it be over?

You got yourself into this mess - It is your fault, but did you deserve this? Could anyone?

Death - A simple thing, in the end.

Disgust - Things that slither and ooze, the constant decay of the earth beneath your feet. The things that make us sick, so we turn our heads and do our best to forget.

Why did nobody listen? - A threat ignored, the devastation wrought. Will you survive it alone, to remember their folly? Or will it consume you as well?

Healing, or so they say - Why did it hurt to be fixed. Did they make you perfect just to ruin you again?

Free Day Friday: True Freedom - Write anything you want! Anything.

#sintember #sintember 2022 #sintember prompts #sintember prompts 2022

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eddysocs · 2 years

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The Object Of Desire - Chapter One (A Fresh Face)

Summary: Someone new arrives at St. Mathilde's just as things calm down after the enigmatic Fiamma's departure. (AU where Fiamma returns to Spain before Miss G can take things too far.)

Word Count: 1,130

Warnings: Obsession, hints of future minor/adult relationship

A/N: Miss G will be referred to as Camille, as she was never addressed by a first name in the film.

Following Fiamma, Camille did not think she’d ever feel desire again. No one and nothing could ignite her passion as the strangely exotic girl once had. It broke something within her when Fiamma left. She’d never even gotten close to the girl, though no matter if she had, nothing would have been close enough for Camille's liking.

She performed her duties as she must, but lacking any of her usual luster and flair. She taught her girls their lessons and supervised her once treasured diving team, but her day to day always felt hollowed out; empty. She was positively devoid of feeling, and some days she wished only to scream. At least the rawness of her throat afterwards would be a feeling of some sort. Yet she resisted the urge.

It was torturous for Camille to not have something, or rather someone, to focus her thoughts. Someone to impress, charm, woo, that’s what she needed. She could regale the girls with tale after tale, both real and made up, but she never wanted attention from the masses. No, Camille wants singular devotion, one person to be sucked in by her as she is by her desire for them. And that was what was missing.

One morning, after suffering a particularly dull and dreary week prior, Camille woke up to a shift in the air. She wasn’t renewed with hope, but more of a cautious optimism. And it turns out she had a right to be optimistic. A new arrival was to brighten her day exponentially. It was at mealtime when she first crossed paths with the newest student at St. Mathilde's.

Aerla Grae came from Ireland. A recent incident that was not entirely divulged to Camille, had resulted in fifteen-year-old Aerla's transfer to the school. Camille was advised to keep a close eye on her. Following her colleague's gaze, Camille's own eyes first landed on Aerla, and she decided in that moment alone, that keeping watch of her was not going to be a problem.

Aerla sat alone at the end of one of the tables, keeping her distance from the other girls. Camille watched as she tucked her mass of red curls behind her ear in order to eat. Camille drew a deep, silent breath as she became transfixed by Aerla's every small movement.

It was apparent to her that she was nothing like Fiamma, not in looks, nor, Camille suspected, in personality, as Fiamma had been such a social creature, where it appeared Aerla had a much more individual nature. Aerla had also arrived here from another country, but that's where her similarity to Fiamma ended. Yet, all the same, Camille was utterly enchanted.

Spotting an open seat across the table from Aerla, Camille left her colleagues in favor of making the acquaintance of the newest member of their little school. As she slid into the vacancy, she caught the girl's attention. Aerla paused, fork halfway to her mouth, as the soft breeze from this stranger's arrival ghosted over her face. She sat down the bite of food and tilted her head, regarding the woman with curiosity.

"Miss Gribben," Camille introduced, offering her hand to Aerla from across the table. She briefly considered giving the girl her first name, but thought it best to stick to a more formal approach for now. Camille's heart leaped to her throat when Aerla took her hand to give it an awkward shake.

"Name's Aerla Grae, Miss," Aerla replied politely, though there was an edge to her voice that seemed to Camille as if the girl would rather have not been disturbed. At that, Camille should have left, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead, she stayed, remaining quiet so as not to disturb her further. Some of the other girls at the table cast suspicious glances down their way, but one glare from Camille and they went about their own business once more.

They were isolated at their end of the table, just as Camille wanted it to be. There was a danger in numbers. It had been that way with Fiamma. She vowed then that it would be different with Aerla. She wouldn’t let anyone come between them. Despite her efforts not to stare, Camille's eyes wandered back to Aerla time after time. She wanted to ask questions, get to know her, but the girl's standoffish tone gave her pause. She couldn’t push, or she’d resist, just as Fiamma had.

Camille attempted to push the thoughts of Fiamma out of her head. That was the past. She only need think of her in order to not repeat her past mistakes. It would only serve to depress and anger her to think of the wretched girl now. Now she had Aerla to think of. Aerla deserved her at her best, not sullen and moody. And she would prove herself in time. She just had to figure Aerla out and be what she needed her to be.

A thought nagged at the back of Camille's mind. In spite of herself, she voiced it. "Tell me, what exactly was it that brought you to St. Mathilde’s?"

Aerla seemed surprised by the question, as she froze, eyes widened. After she swallowed her bite of food, she answered with another question. "What have you been told?" She sounded accusatory, as if Camille already knew the truth of her situation and still wanted to hear the confession from her own lips.

"Only that there was an incident that resulted in you leaving your previous school for this one," Camille informed gently. Aerla seemed quick to anger, and that was the last thing Camille wanted to leave as a first impression.

"It was harmless," Aerla began in defense of herself, leaning in so as her story would reach Camille's ears only. "I kissed one of the girls at my last school." Camille's heart pounded in her chest at Aerla's admission. It began thudding so loudly in her ears that she feared she wouldn’t be able to hear the rest of Aerla's story. "We got caught in the stairway and the stupid girl blamed me. Said I'd taken advantage of her, when she wanted me to do it, but was too ashamed to admit to it. So I was expelled and sent here. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you. They had no problem telling everyone else as if I’m some sort of monster."

"You're not a monster," Camille was quick to reply. "You followed your heart, your desire, and that is the most important thing in life." This elicited a smile from Aerla, as Camille suspected she may have been the first one to stand up for her and take her side in this matter. Perhaps this would be her way into Aerla's heart.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-> Chapter Two

Aerla Tag: @borg-queer, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

#oc: aerla grae #fc: francesca capaldi #fd: cracks #miss g #miss g x oc #miss gribben #miss gribben x oc #cracks #cracks 2009 #aerla x camille #sintember #sintember 2022

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sasusc · 2 years

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Decided to write a little quick something for Sintember 2022.

Title: Mine

Author: Sasusc

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene

Rating: M

Summary: Written for Sintember 2022, Prompt Day 13 "Possession". Pure smut, PWP. Beth Greene belongs to Daryl and everyone will know it now.

#sintember 2022 #bethyl #beth and daryl #daryl dixon #bethyl fanfic #beth greene #team delusional #beth lives #shameless smut

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leetolgoblin · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Locked Tomb Series | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Augustine the First/Alfred Quinque Characters: Augustine the First (Locked Tomb Series), Alfred Quinque Additional Tags: there is a dismal lack of augustine content, so here is my terrible attempt at fixing that, i think about augustine and alfred far more than any sane person should, luckily i am not one of those, god they loved each other, i insist upon this

@sintember okay this is the second one i’ve managed, i took the prompt quite loosely, and also it’s 350 words lmao. but hey! i did it! i hope someone wants this content as much as i do

#sintember 2022 #day 13 #possession

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knot-ilus · 2 years

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Maternal Obsession

The first piece of fiction I've sat down to write and finish in years, and my first written piece for @sintember 's month of delightfully sinful prompts ^^ !

Day 1: Obsession - Love? Hate? Lust? Fear? Worship? Whatever the case, it’s all they can think about.

Featuring: original characters, a mother/underaged son pairing. Word count: 1k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, incest, (extremely) underage, medical neglect, rape, infantalization, fantasizing about cannibalism, descriptions of being pregnant and complications while giving birth.

This work isn't for everyone and contains material that may be upsetting, so please be careful if you decide to read it and let me know if there's any other warnings I need to add. Thank you! –🪢

———

These days, nothing ever seems to be enough for her.

It isn't enough to hold him close, the peak of her breast held in his mouth while his prick prods against her hip. It isn't enough to feel joined at the place he came from, either, to know that at least part of him had returned to her– she wants more. She wants him to climb back into her warmth, to be a part of her again... It's cruel that the two of them had ever been seperated in the first place, she thinks with a forlorn sigh.

"Mama?" Her baby's voice stirs her from her thoughts and she smiles, cupping his cheek as she meets his sleepy gaze. He gives her a small, concerned frown as he continues, "you looked sad just now."

"I was just thinking about something silly," she dismisses, kissing his forehead and letting her hand drift down to stroke along his spine. She's a firm believer that skin-on-skin contact is just as important six years into a child's life as it was on day one. And she takes every precaution she can to make sure no one has the opportunity to tell her otherwise. "...do you remember the story of how you were born, baby?"

"Uh-huh," he says with a little grin, having heard it a million times but seeming to enjoy retelling it as much she does. "I grew really big in your belly, because you didn't want me to leave, and I didn't, either."

"They had to take you out of me by force," she continues the story, her eyes misting a bit as she hugs him closer. It didn't matter how many times they went over the story together, the memory would never fail to make her emotional. "That's how much we loved being together. That's how close we still are, baby..."

He hugs her back, and her heart aches at the size and strength of his arms. He's always growing bigger, always soaring past milestones that make him less dependant on her– the quacks at the pediatrician clinic had said that he was actually behind his peers in terms of development, but she stopped taking him there. She's going to cling to every last bit of the baby in her baby boy, thank you very much. She'll never let go, never–

"Mama," he whispers, soft but still enough to ground her again. Her precious little anchor, her everything... He pecks her lips, holding her face in his chubby fingers. "Do you want me to go back in?"

She wants to cry at his thoughtfulness, at how he always seems to know just what she wants. Right on cue, he kisses her mouth again, holding still for her to kiss back and sob a bit into it.

"Yes, baby," she manages, smiling as she nuzzles his cheek and rearranges them so that his hips are slotted between her thighs. He purses his lips into that cute little pout he always makes when he's focusing, and already she feels the feeling of desperate need begin to ebb. The tension in her muscles melts further as the tip of his cock nudges against her opening, and she coos, "Right where you belong..."

She spreads her lips, guiding him forward by his buttocks to slip right inside of her, and he whimpers at the sensation of being engulfed by her warmth. She wraps her legs and arms around him, wriggling her hips to feel him press against her inner walls. A tiny squeak leaves his lips at the movement, and she relishes in the way he presses even closer, closer still...

She misses how he used to press against her from the inside, his tiny feet playfully exploring the walls of her womb. She misses being able to hold one hand to her ever-extending tummy, the other on her clit, while imagining he could feel all the pleasure that she could. She wasn't exaggerating when she said the hospital staff had forced him out of her– they'd graciously kept it off of her files, chalking it up to the delirious urges of a single mother giving birth alone, but nobody in the roomed missed it when she reached down and tried to keep her baby from crowning.

What wouldn't she do to keep him as close as possible? Every year he's bound to grow more independent, more eager to leave her side... She unconsciously digs her fingers into his soft, perfect skin as she contemplates making sure he can never leave. She could eat him bit by bit until his body becomes part of hers once more... She'd swallow him whole if she could, if only to feel her stomach bulge outward at the size of him again, the two of them becoming as inseperable as the day he first formed within her womb--

Her baby cums with his prick buried as deeply inside of her warmth as it can reach, his cry of pleasure muffled against her skin. The intimacy of the act tips her over the edge she'd already been narrowly balanced on, having become excited by her ever-spiraling fantasies. She groans softly in satisfaction, kissing the side of his head and ear over and over again until he squirms from overstimulation, releasing him with a chuckle.

"Mama, it's all wet, now," he gasps with a giggle, caught between wanting to pull his cock away from the intense stimulation of her cunt and wanting to hide it away from the cooler air of their bedroom.

"I'll keep it warm while I get the bath ready, okay?" She promises, gently cupping his crotch as she lifts him up and into her arms-- her perfect baby is still small enough to carry, she notes with glee. "After that, it's time for breakfast and then we'll continue your lessons."

"Okay!" He lets her carry him as always, taking a moment to affectionately press his cheek against her collarbone, and her heart melts.

The world might do everything in its power to seperate them, hell– time itself seems to be an enemy of what they have together. But for now her sweet baby is just as eager to be close to her as she is to him, and she'll cherish every second of it.

#sintember 2022 #first prompt done ^^ !!#wr🪢ting #Cw within post

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ocmerunaway · 2 years

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@sintember Day 30. Meru and Erissa run away and find true freedom.

#sintember 2022 #Star Trek: Deep Space Nine #erissa dukat #Kira Meru

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insertmeaningfulusername · 1 year

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Cassian's always running away and getting himself into trouble. This time isn't much different, except that the trouble in question might just cost him more than a few scrapes and bruises. Lucky for Cassian, Brasso always knows where to look for him.

My submission for day 20 of @sintember with the prompt “That’ll teach you where to put your fucking fingers” - Consequences, a touch unwanted, a thief, a rebellion. Teach them better. Thank you for keeping the challenge open till July 💙 Warnings in the tags.

#brasso #cassian andor #brassian #brasso x cassian #cassian x brasso #andor #star wars #my writing #sintember 2022

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primed-and-prompt · 2 years

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A submission for @sintember Day #2! Focusing on my favorite little sharpshooter, Prompto! It's a bit tame, but I had fun writing this little fic.

#fanfic #ao3 #ffxv fanfic #ffxv #ffxv prompto #sintember 2022 #prompt fill #final fantasy xv #prompto argentum #ficlet

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theojcinna · 2 years

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Day 1

Obsession

- CW: Obsession, References of the Christian God, Sacrilege(?), Heartbreak, Metaphorical use of Icarus, Allusions to inevitable death(i think), Idealisation, Devaluation, (let me know if there's any i need to add)

nothing sexy in this one i know, but feelings like these are looked down upon. based on my own cluster b experience with some added flair that i usually get when writing poetry or having a psychotic episode. please enjoy!

I’d never seen someone so beautiful. It wasn’t always like this.

When I first met him, he was like anyone else. I found him somewhat strange, and a bit annoying.

A strange person, the likes of which I had only seen in videos. He was a curiosity to me, and then he became my friend.

I hated his family.

Every fibre of my body was set alight in a blaze of anger with every word that came out of his mother’s mouth. How dare she. How dare she do this to him. He was my darling. My best friend. The one who held my world. Everyone had been so cruel to me, and the friends I’d carried with me seemed to drift so far away, but here he was, right in front of me; staying. A gift from God. When I woke up in the morning, he was there, and when the moon was the brightest thing in the sky, he was by my side. I’d never had so much fun. He made me happy. He was the light. He was God. His grace was divine, and his tears; sacred. He was my sun. His light kept me alive. Everything about him was perfect. He was perfect. So perfect, in fact, that it took me too long to realise his perfection was my ruin. Much too long, and it was far too late.

I had become Icarus, my lover the sun, had melted my wax wings and I was plummeting back to the earth to be taken by the dark sea, thrust from my kin. A wise poet had said, to take caution with love, but a lovesick fool listens not to wise words, but the beating of his heart. I listened to my heartbeat, as my tears were swept away by the upwind, the cold air incomparable to the freezing claws dragging across my chest, pulling the life from my lungs. I was crying. I was crying because I could no longer reach him, though it was his burning desire that has rid me of my wings, I knew him. I knew him, but I never suspected that the wax of my wings would melt. I thought our love was stronger than his flames. I’m a fool. I am a fool. I cursed as I fell. I cursed him for the love I felt. I cursed that he did not fall with me. I cursed him for my fall. I cursed him, for I cursed myself. What wretched luck I would’ve said, but I knew it was not luck, but fate. It was inevitable that I would fall, and my wings would give in. Heaven was not made for me, but I too, wanted to become one of the angels.

#sintember 2022

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yandere-sins · 2 years

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Who’s in charge now?

A comeback of an oldie! I do recommend reading this part here first before diving into this new one, but please enjoy the smutty side-effect of being haunted!

Fandom: Original Work Pairings: Yandere!Ghost x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con, Cunnilingus, Lots of tongue but also touching and teeth mention, Biting and scratching mention, Fluids, Penetrative Sex, Orgasms, Overstimulation, Public indecency, Doing it in front of someone while that person is unaware), Manipulation, Gaslighting, Degradation, Possessiveness, Mention of Exorcism

Prompt: @sintember No one will believe you - There’s no one to help, no one to trust, do you even believe yourself?

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Forcing your legs to close, you were met with the invisible mass between them pushing back, resisting your attempts, and instead sending out his long tongue to drag between your thighs. The newly put-on underwear was instantly soaked in its drool, and it let out a husky laugh as you mewled under your breath, your whole body shaking against the table.

"Are you alright?" Eli asked, barely looking up from their phone. The only reason they were alarmed by what was going on out of their sight was that their cereal bowl was shaking almost as much as you. Gripping the table, you tried to control yourself before looking up at them, their gaze lazily falling from you to their phone again as they shrugged it off as a nervous tick you were emitting. It was way too early to be fully awake and alert to their surroundings, so Eli wasn't truly concerned about all the fluids leaking down your chair and dripping to the ground.

"They don't believe youuu~" the ghost lolling his tongue over your sex purred. By the missing reaction from Eli, you had no choice but to believe they really didn't see or hear the ghost like you did, much less feel its presence right in front of them. Clenching your fists, you took deep breaths, your sensitive flesh so receptive to every blow of air the ghost breathed and the torturous pleasure that had been haunting you all night long.

He hadn't been wrong when he said he could pleasure you better than anyone else, no matter how unwanted his attention was. He robbed you of a restful night of sleep, and despite passing out somewhere between orgasm seven and nine, you quickly woke up again as he plowed into you for the next round. It was a wonder you even made it for so long, but eventually, you just gave in, letting him fuck you around your room with his cock buried deep inside you. He hadn't let go of you since, fucking you against your door before you could finally slide off his cock and into the hallway, drenched in more fluids than you could produce on your own.

You ran to the shower the moment you were free, and luckily, he didn't follow you in. But eventually, you had to go back to get fresh clothes, and he was waiting there, very upset that you left him in the middle of shoving his dick in and out of you. He latched on to you as you got dressed, explaining half-heartedly how he had gathered so much strength through fucking, he'd not let you get away so easily again. You had no choice but to pretend he wasn't there as you met Eli in the hallway, who was still drowsy and half-asleep, you two deciding to have breakfast together before going to a shop and get some incense and anything that could help with your 'situation'.

In a way, it was your own mistake for not insisting on having breakfast in the city rather than your apartment.

The ghost kissed your sex almost reverently as he pulled you closer to the edge of the chair, burying his face between your legs. You could squeeze your thighs all you wanted, but it only seemed to excite him more, taking it as you participating while he traced the outline of your sex with his ghost tongue. Another shiver went through you, your body now incredibly sensitive and irritated after a night like that. Perhaps his horny ghost tendencies had rubbed off on you; otherwise, you couldn't explain your prompt reaction, your pussy clenching and seemingly anticipating his teasing. He didn't care that you had to tightly clench your jaw to not let out a mewl, grinning as he felt your thighs quiver in his grip.

"Look, we can go here. They even have stuff to exorcize demons with," Eli suggested, sliding you their phone and spooning some cereals into their mouth while you took it with a shaking hand. Leaning over the table, the ghosts had long taken over pleasing you with his tongue, creating long, intense strokes on your sex. Helpless, you buried one hand in his ghostly hair, trying to pry him from you but only causing him to breathe where his tongue didn't touch, making your toes curl.

"L-Looks good!" you stuttered, handing back the phone after a brief glance. The website did mention something about exorcism kits, and at this point, you would have bought every scam in the world just in case one of them worked. The ghost chuckled against your flesh as he heard your voice crack, and you had to admit that amongst the wetness and heat, it wouldn't be long until you came pitifully, and hopefully for the last time in a while.

Eli continued scrolling through their social media, humming every now and then while your brain turned into mush with all the pleasure you received, breathless sighs escaping you across from your roommate. There were no words for you to describe the frustration of having to endure this torture all by yourself while Eli cluelessly browsed on their phone. They didn't know what was going on and probably still didn't believe you despite there being a ghost tongue lodged all the way inside of you. Using his big hands, the ghost massaged your thighs, ever so often sending a stinging shock through you that made you jolt and clench around him. He must have left his marks on you, either as scratches or bites. Otherwise, you could not explain the burning pain that was only soothed by his tongue pleasing you in rapidly growing movements.

You were hunched over and panting on the table when Eli said, "Okay, gonna go ready now," standing up and trotting over to the kitchen to put their bowl into the sink. Finally, with their back towards you, nothing could stop your body from quivering pitifully, the orgasm hitting you as hard as the first one did. You bit your finger to keep the voices from escaping, but the ghost was merrily slurping on your juices leaking from down there.

With your toes curling and drool leaking from your own mouth, Eli walked off to their room, and a small, voiceless part of you wished they would have stayed and saved you from this torture at the ghost's hands. But instead, you had to bear with him smiling widely, dragging his barely existing teeth over your sex and causing even more mayhem to your sensitivity after what his tongue did. The pleasure just wouldn't stop, and you began to doubt there was anything you could do to ever stop it. Because what if there wasn't a solution that could fix this? Would you have to continue being a sex doll for this ghost if you couldn't find a working repellent? You were so out of it, bumping your forehead against the table top, as you tried to imagine living with this ghost for another day, your body growing rigid at the thought. And yet, already trained after that night, your pussy walls clenched, expecting more than you were given. Was it really this hopeless? Or were you just beyond help at this point?

Finally, you were released from his grip, the ghost creeping out from under the table and hovering behind you, his presence weighing hard on your body from behind even though you were still hunched over. "Try exorcizing this," he sneered. Now even he was joining in to your thoughts, mocking you as you questioned your own sanity. You felt the wetness of his tongue mixed with your own fluids drag along your neck and cheek, all the way to your ear as he licked you there too. "I wanna see you try while you'll sit on my cock with your friend in the room."

"Just… fuck off," you hissed at him, and his bellowing laugh roared through the living room, carefree as he was. It made you lose hope even more hearing him confirm his invincibility to anything you will try. How could you trust in what you were going to do when he kept tearing down your confidence that you could beat him?

"You know you can't get rid of me. Not even your friend believes you are in your right mind. So what are you going to do to stop me?"

Nothing. The answer was that aside from trying everything you could possibly buy to get rid of him, there was nothing you could do other than break the lease and disappear from the apartment. But even then, would that solve the problem? You felt like you were going crazy trying to come up with a solution to this invisible problem. The same problem that was now picking you up from your chair and carrying you over to the kitchen counter like a mere rag doll. Blinking a few times in confusion, you stared into the empty hallway between your room and Eli's, hearing them scuffle inside theirs as they were getting ready.

"I'll be so free while you think," your ghost problem hummed cheerfully, and you gasped as he ripped your underwear off you, positioning the tip of his appendage to your hole again. "Not again–!" you tried to complain, but he was inside before you could wiggle out of his grasp, rendering you speechless. He was using you, even though you had yet to learn what he was gaining from constantly assaulting you. Choking on your words, he wrapped his hand around your neck, forcing you to arch your back as he rammed himself deep inside you, forcing out a gurgle from your throat. "Mhm, nice grip," the ghost complimented you, the nasty grin on his lips audible in his voice.

"Keep it that way unless you want your roommate to find out. My, what would they think about their perverted roomie getting it on the kitchen counter?"

His teasing only caused you to cringe more, your body clenching around his cock instinctively, and he purred blissfully in response, picking up the pace that suited him. It was fucking unfair that you had to deal with one hell of a horny, arrogant ghost that thought himself to be invincible. But he just had to wait. You'd find a way to cut him from this world and especially you. At least… if you could survive until then without your mind breaking from the rough and intense pleasure he undoubtedly would continue to give you for as long as he could.

"And every time you try some shit on me," he chuckled as if he read your mind. "I'll remind you who's in charge of your pretty little cunt now."

#Ghost #yandere ghost #yandere!ghost #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #Sintember 2022 #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #OW #Lemon

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sintember · 2 years

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A sinful writing challenge

Hello, welcome to Sintember, a 30 day writing challenge that focuses on the dark, the problematic and the sinful, because the world could always use a little more filth. All fiction is welcome here, the darker the better.

Whether you want to participate in the challenge or simply follow along and indulge, come check out the blog. The challenge starts September 1st, and will hopefully be an annual event.

If you’re curious, come check out our guidelines and this years prompts.

If you want to help the challenge get some publicity (more writers means more terrible things to read, after all), you can reblog this post and/or tell your friends~

#pro ship #pro fiction #pro fic #pro para #pro kink #sintember #sintember 2022

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highonmarvel · 8 months

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The Other Side

Searching for your Stephen, you find another, and he won’t let you go this time.

An entry for Day 4 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Prompt: The Other Side, ft Sinister Dr Strange of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Dr Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022).

Warnings: DUB-CON!, possessive behaviour, developing Stockholm Syndrome. 18+! [And I haven’t watched Dr Strange in so long, please pretend I know what I’m doing.]

You had lost Stephen and America, and you were now left in a crumbling world, a universe broken, with no way to get home. Based on the wrecked state of the world, you thought there wasn’t a Dr Strange here, that he had been defeated and his opponent left ruin. Though he wasn’t your Stephen, the thought still deeply upset you, that Stephen could be defeated, and maybe yours would be.

You push open the door of the Sanctum, you want to call out to him but you know there’s no point. The heavy door falls shut behind you. All the antiques and strange paintings and ornaments that once decorated the foyer have been shattered, some are deteriorating, and a dark mist floats through the cold temple, enveloping you, nearly strangling you, you feel.

Upstairs. You know you have to head to the Window of the Worlds.

You walk to the window, engraved with the Seal of Vishanti. It’s cracked, black lines not belong to the symbol run in all directions across the glass, that has a purple tint, nearly a faint violet glow. You want to touch it, when you hear your name whispered.

You spin, and there stands Stephen. Not your Stephen. This Stephen is… different: he looks older, streaks of grey paint his dark hair, with sunken eyes.

“Stephen!” you call, taking a step forward, “Or, Dr Strange, I need your help, please.”

“You’re here,” he murmurs, slowly walking towards you.

“I- I am,” you sputter, a little confused and off put by his trance-like demeanour, as his curious eyes never leave you, “I lost Stephen—my Stephen—and I need to get back.”

“I am your Stephen.” his voice is so low, so low you wouldn’t have heard it were you even a notch below the level of hyper-awareness he’s activated in you.

He steps into the light, and you gasp and take a step back. Visually, he’s not much different to the average person, but his eyes are dark, a familiar blue you once knew sealed up in an endless black; you can’t read them as he continues to walk towards you. You still.

He stops in front of you, and raises shaky hands to cup your face, his lips parted slightly as his foreign dark gaze analyses every inch of your face. His fingers are cold, ice cold, so cold they burn, like dry ice; you wince at the contact but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“No,” you whisper, “No, I’m not yours, and you’re not my…”

You raise your hands to gently grasp his wrists, and freeze when you see it. His fingertips are darkened, stained with a black so profound, so dangerous in sheer aura that you know what it’s from.

“Stephen?”

He’s been tampering with the Dark Hold, the book of sins so evil you barely know of it, just the name elicits chills; Stephen, your Stephen, barely discussed it, he never did until he found out about the Scarlet Witch’s use, and even still he said very little; you got the feeling that though his knowledge seemed limitless, he knew little here, and very deliberately he kept himself in the dark, because if he knew, he’d indulge.

And indulge he has, this sinister Stephen holding your face gently in his hands, as if these hands haven’t caused unfathomable destruction. You should have known—you knew—that Dr Strange could not be defeated. He wasn’t conquered, never could he be: he conquered.

“That’s me,” he smiles and reassures you. Though his eyes and fingers are stained, that boyish smile you know to be yours is the same as ever.

“What did you do?” is all you can muster in a shaky breath, a tear slipping down your cheek, he watches it fall.

“I did what was necessary, and you…” he strains his voice to prevent himself from choking on his words and he smooths a calloused finger over your skin, wiping away the single tear that had spilt, “You were gone.”

His eyes soften, and, despite the cold of his hands, they’re warm, his eyes, his body too, you notice, noting he’s much closer to you than you realised, and definitely too close for comfort. You don’t even know if you can call him insane, mad with power, and furthermore, you can’t tell what he meant by…

A cold hand snakes over your shoulder and his fingers grasps the back of your neck, pulling you towards him. When he kisses you, you stiffen, but, really, for barely a second, because his lips, they feel so familiar. This man is like your Stephen, you can feel it, but you see a different image; he’s like your Stephen if he had no self control, or even just a little less than he has now.

The thought hits you: you could never deny Stephen. Even if you could, say, by the grace of some higher power, even if you could walk away, Stephen always gets what he wants. There isn’t even a higher power you can turn to: there is no power higher than Stephen.

“You’ve come back to me.”

What can you even say? You’re sure he isn’t delusional, you’re sure he knows you’re not his, and you’re sure he doesn’t care. You nearly resign to your fate, but the thought burns you so hot you hurriedly blurt out,

“What happened to her?”

To you. Did he…?

He doesn’t answer, he stays gazing into your eyes, a sombre-looking but relieved smile on his face, like he’s reconciling the fact that he was wrong; he’s never wrong, but he never thought he would see you again. He simply repeats, “You’ve come back to me.”

“Stephen, no,” you state, firmly, yanking his hands off your face and holding his wrists down between you two. He seems mildly shocked, you’re sure he would have been able to overpower you if he you didn’t catch him slightly off guard. But no, you should know you could never be apart from him, whether you want to or not.

Magic ropes wrap around your wrists, tying a knot and pulling them close together, so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if they sliced your hands off. Stephen’s magic is golden, pure, this man—you don’t even want to call him Stephen—his magic is corrupt; purple, with black shadows swirling the violet pulses emitting from the shapes he draws.

You panic, forcing your head down to look at your bound wrists and then snapping your head back up to him. You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a shrill little squeal as you’re lifted a few centimetres off the ground. The same purple and black vines wrap around your ankles, forcing them together.

You notice this is the first time you’ve been above him, floating just high enough for him to have to raise his chin to study you. You always thought this would give you some kind of dominance (fleeting and artificial as it may be), to be over him, but no, you never stood a fucking chance.

You barely struggle, afraid that if you shift around too much you’ll drop to the ground, so all you can do is be still as he circles you, examining you. Another thing; he doesn’t seem to just look at you, he studies you, like looking for flaws in a sculpture. What happens if he finds them?

“You know,” he finally speaks after several minutes of inspecting you, “All this…” he turns you towards the window. There’s a rift in the sky, with seemingly everything in it, everything in existence, it’s overwhelming, “I did for you, honey.”

He’s lying, he must be; though you can imagine yourself getting a little carried away now and then, in no universe could you ever see a version of yourself prepared to bring about mass destruction, the ends of literally infinite lives, no; you may be imperfect, but the collapse of an entire universe? He’s either lying or being intentionally ambiguous. Maybe he’s not lying, just misleading.

“You didn’t; you did it for her,” you half-lie; while it’s true he could only have done this for a different version of you, you doubt she would have authorised that, but you use her as sort of a scapegoat anyway.

He flicks his fingers and you spin to face him. He lowers you just enough so you’re at eye level, and despite your best efforts, you genuinely can not read his gaze; you can’t find any hint of what he may be feeling, it’s just a void, but it’s not, it’s not a void; you know there’s something there, something you’re missing.

You’re sure he’s going to say something, maybe continue his little game of pretending you’re his, but just as you anticipate the opening of his mouth, you violently spin again, this time towards the door, with a shriek. He walks in front you, and you follow behind, like you’re being pulled by a rope, like a dog on a leash who’s trying to play with something when the owner is fed up and wants to go home.

His bedroom door slams shut behind you and you’re lowered onto bed with a gentleness the human touch could never give, his magic softly laying you like you’re the most precious thing, and based on the look he’s giving you, you damn well might be.

Your soft rest hazes your mind for a moment, but you’re snapped back to the cold of the Sanctum when you feel him hover over you.

“I’ve missed you…” he whispers.

You don’t know when your pants came off, but you feel him run a practiced finger over your clothed slit. Oh, God, he feels exactly like your Stephen; the foreignness of his eyes and slight change in demeanour don’t seem to mean anything when he still feels exactly the same, it’s fucking with your mind.

You love your Stephen, more than anything, and you know this isn’t him. You try to push him off but when he slips a finger inside of you, you can’t help the shudder that vibrates through you.

Can I get Stockholm Syndrome so easy? you wonder to yourself, more berate yourself, as you try desperately to ignore the feeling of his fingers inside of you, moving in and out just the way you like, he knows what you like, he knows your body just the way Stephen does.

Because he is Stephen.

#sintember 2023 #sinister strange x reader #dark! dr strange x reader #dark!dr strange x reader #dark!doctor strange #dark stephen strange #dark!stephen strange #dr strange smut

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eddysocs · 2 years

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Performance Review (Jeri Hogarth x OC)

Summary: At the end of the workday, Jeri isn’t quite ready to be done with Quinn, and decides to play a little game with her.

Word Count: 1,002

Warnings: Power imbalance, role play, cunnilingus, orgasm delay, office sex

"Quinn, my office." Jeri's voice broke over the intercom just as Quinn was packing up to go home for the night.

Quinn pressed the button to reply and bent down so Jeri could hear her clearly. "But I was just about to—"

"Now," came the stern interruption, and Quinn set down her things Everyone else may have been leaving, but Jeri was not someone she wanted to argue with if she could avoid it. With a sigh, she braced herself at Jeri's door and turned the knob.

"I’d like to talk about your future here," Jeri began.

"Okay," Quinn replied, drawing out the word while trying to figure out what Jeri meant. She tried to keep her confusion from becoming apparent on her face, in case this was something that Jeri had mentioned to her that she’d somehow forgotten.

"I know you haven’t been here long, but it is the time of year for employee performance reviews."

"Performance reviews," Quinn questioned, searching Jeri's face to make some sort of sense out of this. Jeri waited her out. The spark of realization ignited in Quinn's eyes and Jeri smiled. "Right," Quinn starts to play along, smiling politely. "I must have forgotten those were today."

"Well then," Jeri started, getting up from her chair and circling around to the front of her desk until she was standing in front of Quinn, "perform. I may have taken you in out of the goodness of my heart, but you have to earn the right to remain my assistant."

Goodness of her heart? Ooh, she really was playing. But Quinn didn’t mind playing her part. It’s not like it was difficult. It was Jeri after all, and Quinn had always had it bad for her, since the moment Jessica Jones had introduced the two of them. And if Jeri wanted to spice things up by initiating a little roleplay in the office, then so be it. She was game.

Quinn dropped to her knees in front of Jeri, her hands already beginning to push Jeri's black skirt up her thighs. She only paused when Jeri reached down and put a finger under her chin, tilting Quinn's head up so she could meet her eyes. "Just so we're clear," Jeri purred, "if I were you, I’d do my best, or I will fire you for real. And you know you won’t win in the court case if you sue for sexual harassment."

While Quinn couldn’t be certain if this was part of Jeri's game or not, she dare not question it. Instead, she nodded, a look of pure innocence painting her features, as if her only aim was to please her, and really, that wasn’t far off from the truth. Jeri leaned back against her desk as Quinn brought her black silk panties down her legs, where Jeri helped to kick them off, sending them sliding across the office floor.

When it was her time to shine, Quinn didn’t hold back. She had a good sense of what Jeri liked by now, and how she liked it, so Quinn pulled out all her little tricks to assure Jeri would be putty in her hands, or rather, on her tongue, as the case may be.

Jeri gripped the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles went white as she used all her strength to stay upright. Quinn had certainly never been bad in bed, but she’d never been quite this good, either. Had she been holding out on her all this time? Jeri wasn’t able to think on it long, as her mind quickly clouded over with an overwhelming feeling of lust. What Quinn was doing to her body surpassed any logical or rational thought she may have been having at the time.

Jeri bit back a moan, not wanting to concede to Quinn just yet. But Jeri was already so close that it was becoming harder and harder not to just give over and let herself come. She hadn’t designed this little game as a competition, but now that she was losing, that’s how she was treating it. And if there was one thing Jeri hated, it was losing.

Quinn could hear Jeri's ragged breaths as Jeri fought to control her own orgasm. She may be able to win any legal case thrown her way, but like hell if Quinn was going to let her win this. Leave it to Jeri to make even sex a competition.

Quinn never relented. When she figured out Jeri was holding back, she doubled her efforts. Surprised, Jeri let a whimper escape her lips. A whimper of all things. Jeri cursed under her breath at the sign of weakness. That’s when Quinn knew she had her. Now, Quinn did the one thing that never failed to make Jeri come, and she felt Jeri's legs begin to shake.

"Fuck," Jeri cursed, angry at having lost her own game. But she allowed herself to lose, grabbing Quinn by the hair and holding her head in place as she rode out her orgasm. If she had to lose at something, this was the best possible outcome.

As her body calmed, Jeri's grip on her desk lessened, her fingers stiff from the force of her hold on it. She released Quinn's hair as well, a few stray blonde strands floating to the ground from being tugged on just a bit too hard.

Quinn stood up, maintaining her place between Jeri's legs. She wore a self satisfied grin on her face, and if Jeri's head hadn’t still been so muddled with the after effects of her orgasm, she would have wanted to slap that look right off of her. Quinn moved to wipe her face with the back of her hand, but Jeri caught her arm before she could. Pulling her in, Jeri kissed Quinn passionately, feverishly, reveling in the taste of herself on Quinn's lips and tongue.

"Have I earned my place," Quinn asked teasingly.

"I think you’ve more than proved your worth," Jeri replied.

Quinn Anderson: @adrianas-ocs-and-such, @borg-queer, @sintember

#oc: quinn anderson #fc: ester exposito #fd: marvel #quinn x jeri #jeri hogarth #jeryn hogarth #jeri hogarth x oc #jessica jones #marvel #sintember #sintember 2022

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