#frenzys furnace
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An idea for a game: she is bound and placed within an enclosure, less than a metre in height. She just needs to get out of the enclosure to get to the unlocked door, and freedom. Easy enough to push herself against the enclosure walls and get up, but the catch is that touching the enclosure walls will set up debilitating shocks in the collar, so that even a brush will send her into a frenzy of agony. She can try to get her legs underneath her from a sitting position, but the armbinder behind her either messes up her centre of gravity, or forces her torso forward, blocking her own bound legs from getting beneath her body. She may, with great effort, push her bound limbs into a kneeling position, as above, but from there it is almost impossible to stand up. The door beyond the enclosure stands ajar: once out of the enclosure, she could literally push it to get out of the warehouse, whose metal roof makes it a furnace in the heat. Hours pass, and her tormentors have force-fed her bitter and rotten-tasting fluids to stop her from overheating several times before leaving her to her struggles once more, but she is no closer to freedom than before, though it stares her right in the face. At night they leash her to the corner and recharge her collar, and she sleeps as best she can while bound, and in the day the struggle begins anew, sometimes with a bunch of keys for her restraints, which hands trapped in an armbinder cannot possibly use, thrown in to tease her still further.
#hot and sweaty#rubber prison#sauna suit#tight bodysuit#mmmmph#teasing#taunting#tantalus torture#story
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Hey it’s the anon that had the nightmares. Headcanons about dealing with nightmares would be absolutely amazing if you’re up for it, thank you so much. You truly have no idea how much you’ve helped me 🥺
Of course dear!!! Here you go!!! (sorry this took so long sweetheart)
Edit: This ask has been sitting in my drafts for months and I am so sorry I didn't post it until now. Writers block and general insecurity does crazy things to me.
How the Bat Boys would help you with your nightmares!
Rhysand
Okay, the thing about Rhys is that I think he remains fully aware of your presence at all times, even in his sleep. He can feel you next to him, your body pressed against his, your heart beat thumping at his side, the weight of your head on his shoulder, he can feel it.
He also, is very in tune with your emotional state. Maybe it has to due with your mating bond, but tbh, I think his love for you has brought him a number of powers that allows for the deepest sort of connection to you. He can feel the emotions that you feel. It can go as far as Rhys feeling the roof of his mouth ache when you burn your mouth from drinking too hot tea, it can go as far as him feeling like someone has poked him hard when he is entirely alone in his office (when it is Cass who is poking at you, whining at you to share your summer imported mandarain oranges with him) and if Rhys really sits on it, he can also feel your mixed emotions of amusement and teasing towards Cass in that moment.
So I think that if you were having a nightmare, Rhysand would know. He would feel your heart racing from fear, it would make his own stutter. He would feel the panic pumping through your veins, and it would nearly send him into a frenzy.
Rhys would be awake, shushing your tired whines, and peppering the softest kisses all over your face to slowly ease your mind. The high lord of night would absolutely slip into your mind like butter, easing all the fired up neurons that have built up from your nightmare, slowly detangling the knots of emotion twisted inside your mind without waking you. He would pull you impossibly close, his heart beating against yours, his hands tangled in your hair, rubbing at your scalp, and naturally, you tuck your forehead into his neck, a quiet sigh leaving your once quivering lips.
Your nightmare would have dissolved without your knowledge, and you would be lulled into a dreamless sleep with your mate holding you close, his warm cheek resting on your head with one hand resting at the back of your neck and the other hand stroking up your spine, protecting you from anything and everything, even your own mind. You would wake up without any memories of the nightmare, and if I am being honest, Rhysand wouldn't want to remind you of it either, so he keeps this part of his duty towards you to himself.
Cassian
I am not gonna lie, this male is a heavy sleeper. He is dead to the world once his head hits the pillow. And he freaking snores too. Actually, he is famous for how loud he snores. Cassian can be heard snoring from across the house of wind. And initially, it was really hard for you to fall asleep to. In fact, you would force Cass to stay awake until you fell asleep because you just could not with his snoring.
And now?? Now this fucking male has you unable to fall asleep without his snoring. You need his heated, and I mean this male is a literal furnace, nearly naked body beneath you, with his burly arms wrapped tight around your waist, with your head pressed against his male tits, your legs tangled with his, in order to fall asleep. The snoring has become its own sort of white noise to you, and without it?? You will stay up the entire night and be extremely grumpy the next morning, often resulting in the back of Rhysand's head getting smacked for his taunting. (if Cass is out on a mission for longer than a day or two, Rhys actively avoids you for fear that you will end up choking him for sending his general away. Not that that has ever happened before.... nope... never................)
So. On good nights, you are usually snoozing it away with your hunk of a male, and you end up waking up to a lovely "surprise" poking at your tummy and a male who is too turned on by you to be ashamed in the slightest.
On bad nights though, on nights where you worry about Cassian, on nights where all of your fear of losing your loving mate culminates into nightmares, don't ever doubt that Cass wouldn't be there for you. Cassian is the general of the night court of a reason. He, like Rhys and Az, has been trained, for centuries, to be aware of his surroundings, even in his sleep. So while he might sleep heavy, his body are attuned to taking note of his environment, and that means, his body and his bond is focused on you throughout the night.
So he does wake up to you tensing, to your quickened breathing, to your restlessness, immediately too. His eyes would snap open, with his arm around your waist firm and tight, his other automatically reaching for the dagger he has hidden under his pillow, looking out for any signs of immediate danger to you. Not to himself. To you. His instinct does not edge towards self preservation. It hasn't since he met you. His instinct is to protect you at all costs.
Once he realizes that there isn't any physical threat that is causing your distress, his attention goes back to you, an ache burrowing itself in his chest as he notices your hand is clenching into a fist against him, as he notices your face is screwing up in fear, as he notices your body shaking. His mouth drys at the sight of you looking so scared, and he wouldn't be able to help himself.
Cass would murmur quiet reassurances, rubbing at the space between your shoulder blades and planting kisses onto your furrowed brows, "wake up sweetheart, s'jus a nightmare" and "shhh, I got you love, I'm here" and "s'okay baby, you're fine" and "c'mon, that's it, that's my girl, wake up f'me beauty"
When you wake with a start, he hushes your cries and pulls you in even closer. He would turn you both onto your sides, your front melding against his with his arm tucked under your head and around your hip with his leathery paper thin wings shield you both from the outside world. It's this warm cocoon that he forms around you where you spend the rest of the night and into the early morning.
At first, you would apologize for waking him up so early, knowing that he has training in the morning with Az and the others, but he dismisses that immediately, stressing to you that his only concern, at this time and forever, is you. He would stay awake with you, attentively listening to your ramblings about your nightmare, playing with the ends of your hair while you tell him all your secret fears. And he would kiss you and promise to protect you no matter what, and he would promise to keep you safe. Eventually, you would end up falling asleep, the closeness of your mate, his gentle breathing, and the warmth he brings relaxing you enough to a dreamless rest. And Cass, the ever diligent and loving male, would stay awake for the rest of the morning, skipping out on training to watch over the love of his life and make sure that you don't have any other nightmares.
In the morning, after you wake up feeling rested, Cass would finally let you go, a soft kiss to your lips and a wink in goodbye, only to come back within ten minutes, bringing you some warm, fresh chai that he made for you with some oatmeal that you both share in bed together. You spend the rest of the day cuddled up with your mate with slow and sweet love making, hushed oaths to each other to protect one another, and long naps in between.
Azriel
Azriel is a completely attuned to you. And so are his shadows. He has one that you have noticed that constantly follows you around, that learns every single thing about you to report back to its master. And then there are a couple that you haven't noticed. Ones that stay hidden in the darkness with full intent to take care of anything that puts you in harms way. And it stays that way always, regardless of the timing.
So at night, when your heart rate jumps, your blood pumping through your veins, your eyes furrowing shut too tightly, the slightest bit of sweat breaking out on your skin, they are the first to notice. And they are the quick to notify their master about it, hurridely slithering to his ears to wake Az so he can help you.
Azriel would initially try to soothe you in your sleep, his heart aching at the thought of you being afraid of something he can't control. A quick command to his shadows has the curtains to your balcony eased apart, the light from the moon and stars beaming in through the large glass doors. His scarred hands would stroke at your cheeks ever so gently, your mating bond humming at the barely there touch. Az wouldn't hesitate to place his lips in the space between your brows, moving from one soft edge of your face to the next with small pepperings of kisses.
He would thumb at your edge of your jaw, the calloused tip of his finger reminding you in your sleep that he is there. That he didn't leave sometime in the night. That he would never leave. That he would always be there to protect you. To care for you. To love you. He knows that you have your own traumas that you deal with, and he wants you to feel in control of your problems. Nightmares... they make you feel out of control. And he is there to give the power right back to you.
Most nights, Azriel's simple touch is enough to soothe you. I'm ngl, it does stroke his pride a little (a lot) that he is able to calm his mate with just the touch of his hands. With something that he used to keep hidden behind his back when he talked to others, something that he would cover up from the shame of his past, something that he feared would one day lead to a disgusted look on your face. And on those nights that his touch is enough, once you are settled, he pulls you closer to him, tucking his arm around your waist and wrapping one of his large wings around both of your figures, burying his face into your neck so he can fall back asleep to the feel of your pulse against his skin.
On the nights where the nightmares are just too much, where you are too deep in the dream that you can't feel anything but the fear, Azriel will wake you. He loathes the thought of disturbing your sleep, he hates that you will most likely not feel rested in the morning, but his heart shatters into the tinest pieces when he can feel the end of your mating bond crying out for him in your sleep. So he lays a firm hand on your forehead, his other hand rubbing at your shoulder, tenderly shaking you awake: "wake up my love, it's alright," and "you're fine my sweet girl, I'm here," and "I promise I'll always be here my dove, now be a good girl for me an wake up"
He would hush you as you startle awake, the jolt of your body causing him to wrap his arms tightly around you with mumbled, "that's it, there's my starshine" and "s'okay moon, it was just a bad dream" and after a good long while of him calming you down, he would whisper into your hair with a final kiss to the top of your head, "c'mon love, let's get you something to drink."
Azriel wouldn't let you lift a finger or a toe for that matter. Male would take your comforter and wrap you up like a burrito and then carry you all the way down to the kitchen where he settles you onto the counter, sending you the most beautiful, tired smile while he makes you some chamomile tea. He would be slow in each of his steps, the small smile on his pretty lips never leaving his face as he feels your gaze watching his every movement. He adores doing things like this for you. He craves doting on you. He thinks you are his treasure. A gift from the mother herself. And he plans to make sure you feel that way, all the time, forever, until you and him only exist as stars in the night sky.
A/N: 😫🫠🥲 Sorry this was a bit repetitive, but I hope you liked it ❤️❤️❤️
#rose rambles#rose answers#rhysand x reader#cassian x reader#azriel x reader#rhysand acotar#azriel acotar#cassian acotar#acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar headcanons#rhysand headcaons#cassian headcanons#azriel headcanons#acotar fluff
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After years and years of having a schedule that was more a halfhearted shrug than a neat itinerary, there was a certain peace to finally having a dinner time routine.
Rice in the cooker, wild game cuts in the oven with whatever vegetables hadn't gone off since his last trip into town. The timer set for ten minutes longer than the meal ever actually needed. His stomach couldn't handle meat still pink with a memory of life anymore.
While it cooked he'd place a tarp before the back door. The blue plastic wrinkled along the lines by which he always found it folded.
Then he'd step out into the cool evening to where his freshest trophy would be hanging just beyond the edge of the creaky porch. It a was a deer today, it's back hooves tied to the rafter so it's blood could drain from the dainty gash across it's throat. This wasn't a necessity, it just lessened the mess he would eventually have to deal with.
He untied it, and carried it to rest it in the center of the tarp before pulling the corners up to encase it in crinkly darkness. The bright green climbing rope being used to bind the package closed while he made a note to himself to dig out the hank of rope again so he could cut a new, less gnawed on, piece for tomorrow's meal time.
He could hear the thing coming up the staircase from the basement. Stairs were difficult for it, always had to crawl up them on its hands and knees. Stopping every few steps to gather itself against vertigo.
"What's cooking?" it called in a chipper voice, its bruise darkened fingers scrabling at the lower edge of the door. Its cracked nails adding to the deep gouges in the old wood. "What's cooking?" it repeated like a scratched record. Its clawing growing more frenzied as it got more and more excited at the prospect of meal time.
"Deer." he responded, dragging the bundle to the locked door.
"Einer!" it said, its voice being stolen from a long gone day at the lake, "Home," it whined with defeat borrowed from a day it never saw, then a garbled growl as it's limited repertoire of echos ran up against a concept it didn't have the words to express.
"You know that's not how it works," Einer sighs with some glimmer of fondness. "Who am I?"
"Einer!" a perfect echo of what it had said before.
"Where are we?"
"Home."
"Who are you?"
The growl came on its cue, exactly as it had every miserable day since Einer managed to trap it and establish this little test of whether or not it might be able to be reasoned with today.
"Good, good. To your spot please."
It scrambled back down the stairs, heavy thunks sounding as its excited crawling turned into more of a controlled series of falls.
Then a loud metallic racket bounded forth from the vent slats in the floor as it slapped at the ancient pipe that connected the furnace to the rest of the cabin's mostly defunct air ducts. Their way of signaling when it was well and clear away from the stairs where it might damn them both by attacking its caretaker.
He undid the bolts on the door quickly yanking it open before kicking the plastic wrapped deer down the stairs and slamming the door shut again. The unspoken race between them commencing as he rushed to get the bolts and locks latched once more before it could get up the stairs in an opportunity fueled bout of blood frenzy.
Einer won today. He's won every day so far.
Its fingers appear under the edge of the door again, its breath ragged and sounding wet with too much spit as it uselessly dug into the steel toe of his boot.
"You know where your dinner is," he took a step and waited to see if he'd be granted one moment of clarity as it came down from it's frenzy.
It churred, a soft animal sound he didn't think something so human looking should be able to make. Its fingers stilled, then disappeared back into the darkness beyond the door before returning. Its hand palm side up this time.
He was quick to crouch, carefully curling his fingers against it's. Its skin porcelain, smooth and cold against the callouses he had earned in his time caring for it.
"Einer," it said, this echo being taken from a gentle memory of two lovers in their wedding bed, before its touch disappeared and it began its clumzy trek back down the stairs.
He always stayed knelt there a little too long, wondering if it knew he lingered there. If it cared. Before standing and checking to see if his meal was over done to his liking.
#animal death#einers husband came back wrong and he Adapted instead of being a whiner about it#Get you a man on his level
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I want a baby
<Tengen x Fem! Reader Drabble>
Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, creampie with the intent of getting reader pregnant. Reader is female and wants to have a baby so if that makes you uncomfy don’t read lol
A/N: unintentionally got carried away with this one ngl. Kinda funny tho cause I was initially struggling to figure out what I wanted the premise to be for this Drabble and now here we are.
Word Count: 2k
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Moonlight was filtering into the room through your open window, a cool breeze brushing your skin. The warmth of the man beside you created a stark contrast between the two sensations. Tengen himself was a walking furnace no matter the time of year. It was part of the reason you always slept with the window open. Well that and the fact that three other bodies were usually accompanying you. Tonight, however, was different.
Makio, Hina and Suma had gone away for a girls weekend. The only reason you didn’t go was because of a last minute mission you had been tasked with. They offered to wait for you, but you were adamant on them going as a trio. You had only convinced them by sharing your plans. This was the weekend you were finally going to tell Tengen of your wish. The very wish you and your co-wives had discussed quite frequently.
You wanted a baby.
“Ya know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” It helped that you couldn’t see his face at the moment, you were certain you’d crumble and become too nervous to bring up the idea. “That so? I’m all ears.” He teased softly, the mood of your conversation had been a lot of cheeky comments and playful banter. Dropping what you felt like was a bomb could potentially ruin the mood. Then again, it was nearly impossible to piss Tengen off.
“Well, Makio, Suma, Hina and I have been discussing this for a long while now…” you started, hand coming up to play with his large fingers. A clear sign to Tengen that you were nervous. “Okay, if it helps… I think I know where you’re going with this.” Tengen wasn’t dense when it came to you or your co-wives desires, he figured it was only a matter of time before one of you popped the question.“Well… if you think you know, I guess there is no reason for me to stall.”
You laughed softly, not able to ignore the pounding in your chest. “At least look at me before you tell me.” The tone in his voice was softer than you had ever heard it, making it just as hard to deny. So, you sat yourself up, moving to straddle your husband’s waist with a warm flush on your face. You balanced by placing your hands on his chest, smiling when his own came up to hold your waist. There was a relaxed smile on his handsome face, one that gave you the courage to say what you were holding in.
“Tengen… I want to have a baby.”
The smile on his face was nothing short of dazzling. “I thought you’d never ask.” You froze, for some reason you hadn’t expected him to agree so easily. Yet, at the same time you couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t. “Wait… really?” You blinked a couple times, the butterflies in your stomach turning into a frenzy. “Yes, really. I’ve been waiting for one of you to come to me with the question. Though I must say, I’m not surprised it was you.”
“Why’s that?” You adjusted your hips, a devious glint in your eyes. “Those three would do anything to get you to leave the corps.” And then it clicked, laughter bubbles in your chest as you fell forward to crush your lips to his. “Me too, for that matter. If I get you pregnant you need to promise me you’ll leave the corps.” This time, he kissed you, hands coming up to hold your face. “And not just while you’re pregnant and not until our baby is old enough to be without you. If I get you pregnant, you leave the corps for good.”
Your lips were centimetres apart as he spoke, your breath mingling. Part of you yearned to defy him, you wanted to stay in the corps and find a way to achieve the very reason you joined. Yet, the promise of a baby, the promise of a family… the promise of a normal life. It was outweighing your desire for revenge. “Deal. Get my pregnant and I promise you, I’ll leave the corps.” That same smile returned, Tengen took the initiative and flipped the two of you over. “Best way is missionary… though it’s a bit boring.”
“Oh—“ you felt warm and not just because of the hands pulling your clothes off of you. “Nothing is boring if it’s with you, Tengen.” You laughed as he threw the little clothes he had on, off the side of the bed. “Mmm that’s true, I do know how to make things flashy.” He was hovering just over your breasts as he spoke, finishing his statement with a long lick up your sternum. “You’ll look beautiful pregnant. Breasts swollen… everyone will know you’re mine… fuck never mind beautiful you’ll look ethereal.”
“You’re getting so far ahead of yourself.” Though, that statement fell on practically deaf ears. Tengen was too busy littering your chest and neck in bruises. Something Hinatsuru would certainly tease you about when they returned. For once in his life, the man couldn’t find the self restraint to take things slow. He wanted… no he needed to be inside of you. Now… if not sooner… hell at this point he was sure he should have been inside of you two minutes ago. “You’re so eager.”
It was breathless, not only was it rare for you and Tengen to have one on one time, it was rare for him to lose his composure in such a way. “Can’t help it…” was all he gave you, voice gruff as he moved himself lower, fingers reaching down to spread apart your folds. “You’re already so wet…” but he was also far too big to not prep you at least a little bit. “Can’t help it…” you mimicked him, a ghost of a smile on your face as you watched him observe your cunt.
“I-I can take it. Tengen if you’re that eager, trust me I can take it.” You knew him well enough to know he was going through an internal battle. Torn between going in with no prep and fingering you open just enough to get used to his girth. After nearly three years of marriage you think he’d know by now that you could handle him. “I don’t want to hurt you.” It was a soft murmur, even as he spoke he was collecting your arousal and gingerly pushing two fingers inside.
You gasped at the intrusion, hips jerking into his touch as he buried himself inside of you. “Y-you won’t hurt me.” It was meeker than you wanted it to be, mostly because he was curling his fingers exactly how you liked it. Gingerly he added a third, giving you a moment to adjust before repeating his previous menstruations. “Just give me a few moments, okay?” He continued pumping his fingers, watching as the crease in your brow melted away.
That’s when he knew the initial discomfort turned into pleasure. Tengen knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes, your body was like a never ending symphony that he had memorized every single note of. He could read you as easily as sheet music, never once making a mistake as he played it. “C’mon…Tengen please, that's enough.” Your walls were fluttering around his fingers. He must have trailed off while staring at you, his hand was slick with your arousal, your eyes filled with need.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep you waiting…” he chuckled softly, pulling his fingers out of you and using your own arousal as lubricant for himself. You wanted to touch him, but at this point you just may shatter if you prolonged this any further. Instead, you watched him spread your juices and his own precum over his entire length, a shaky sigh leaving him as some relief was bestowed on his aching cock. “Tell me how bad you want this.” There was a hoarseness to his tone, his own eyes mirroring the desire that must have been shining in your own.
“H-huh?” You blinked, slightly pulled from your daze. “Tell me how bad you want this… how bad do you want me to put a baby in you?” Suddenly it felt like your mouth was full of cotton. Your legs spread just a bit wider, coming up to hook around his waist. “So bad…Tengen I’ve been thinking about it for months. I want you to get me pregnant so badly.” You swallowed, body feeling hot all over as you confessed. “Yeah? That badly? You’ve been thinking about this for months? Every time we fuck, hmm?” You nodded, face burning up as your hips shimmied to try and reach him.
“Yes…months. So please stop teasing me…” it was hard to deny you when you put it like that. Tengen aligned himself easily, pushing in as slowly as he could manage. His hands trembled with anticipation, coming down to hold your thighs and pull you up against him. “Gimme the pillow.” He motioned to his own, watching your head tilt to the side and reach for it with equally as shaky hands. He took it from you, slotting it under your hips to give you better leverage and more comfort. “There we go, pretty girl.” He smiled, white hair framing his face.
“You…you’re so pretty, Tengen.” The compliment had him turning pink, eyes shutting as he laughed softly. He bottomed out a second later, willing his hips to stay still as you adjusted. “Move already…please.” Your fingers were digging into the sheets, walls clenching around him over and over. Tengen clicked his tongue, laughing again as he spoke. “So eager…” he was pulling out as he spoke, slamming his hips back once he got half way. He built a steady rhythm, angling your hips in such a way that he was brushing your cervix with each pass.
An achingly beautiful symphony left your lips, edging him on as he whispered never ending praise. Things like how beautiful you were, how you’d look so cute pregnant, how you’d make an amazing mother. If anything, it was edging alone as well, cock pulsating with the need to fill you up until there was no possible way you wouldn’t get pregnant by the time he was done. “Tengen…fuck…” you said his name over and over, mixed between various profanities. Your clit was throbbing with need, desperately wanting attention as you felt the familiar tension in your gut.
Tengen, ever in tune with your body, reaches down to begin rubbing quick circles with his thumb. “C’mon, pretty. Cum for me…milk me dry.” Sweat was shining along his forehead, years of endurance training allowed him the ability to move the way he was. “Gonna cum… gonna….” The words died on your lips as your orgasm crashed down around you, warmth spreading through your whole body as Tengen worked you through it. “Good girl…” he groaned, body tensing as his own release threatened to pulse through him. “Hang in there for me…”
You could barely process his request, all you knew is he was pulling your hips up with him, moving to hover over you rather than kneel. He was forcing your body to contort into something reminiscent of a mating press, hips thrusting into you with new vigour as his release finally hit him. A whine of your name followed by breathy moans, the combination dizzying as he pressed himself as far into you as your bodies would allow. Moments of silence passed, Tengen still buried inside of you as he held your hips up. Nothing but the cool wind and your laboured breathing.
“Think we… need to do that a few more times” you finally choked out, laughing softly as his sweaty forehead met yours. “Oh definitely… I think two or three rounds may be necessary… you up for that?” Maroon eyes met your own, the closeness forcing a soft laugh from you. “Oh absolutely… maybe even more.” He merely hummed, eyes closing again to relish in the closeness between the two of you. He was more than determined to put a baby in you, no matter how many times it took.
#kny#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer imagines#demon slayer fanfic#demon slayer headcanons#demon slayer smut#hashira#xxsabitoxx’s work!#tengen x y/n#tengen#tengen imagines#tengen drabble#uzui tengen x reader#tengen x you#tengen x reader#tengen smut#uzui tengen smut#uzui x reader#uzui headcanons#uzui x you#kny tengen
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Ghost and you having a lil' one night stand in the club
You weaved your wanting fingers into the longer part of his fade, sliding the mask further up.
He stilled your wrists.
"Hey. Hey", he whispered cautiously into the bridge of your nose. "Don't even think about it."
"So...the mask stays on?... Like, all the way?" You inquired breathlessly between nipping at his mouth.
"Yes."
You looked this peculiar man in the eyes, now gleaming with fun, but dark and puzzling nonetheless. What was he hiding? Scars? Being a plain ol' butterface? Facial deformity of some kind?
You examined this thought thoroughly and found out that you don't care.
"All right", you said. "But tell me one thing. Are you Deadpool?"
He snorted softly. "I'm just Ghost."
"Ghost?.."
"Yeah?"
"Kiss me."
And kiss you he did.
Holy fuck, he was so good at this. Even when he let himself loose, abandoning all fuckboy moves in favour of feral lust.
And maybe especially then.
Your tongues entwined in a blind dance, devoid of any rhythm. It was as un-romantic as humanly possible and you liked it that way. That frenzied, rushed approach of his told you that the man was truly starving, losing himself already in this newly acquired flavour, in your feminine warmth. His desperation set your blood ablaze.
Because you were hungry too.
Ghost finally broke contact, but before leaning away he glided his tongue over your half-opened mouth. It was as if he just couldn't part with the taste.
"Hold on...fuck, you're something else." He sighed and put both of your hands around his wide neck.
"Hold tight, love", he cautioned as if you two were boarding a ride.
When you did as told, he grabbed at your ass.
You yelped when his hands pressed into the soft flesh under the thin velvet of your dress. He effortlessly pulled you off the ground and lifted you up.
"Wrap your legs around me", he asked.
You were not a dainty lady. When other guys attempted such stunts, you usually started to fear for their backs. But not for Ghost. This guy was born for heavy-duty activities. You recently watched him sweep the floor with a grown man.
He could take you.
You suspected that he'd carry you out of a battlefield as well.
You wrapped your thighs around his thick waist, crossing your booted legs over the small of his back. You felt his firm core underneath you, covered with a healthy layer of soft flesh. That width of his didn't come just from muscles, and the discovery excited you. You liked your men strong, but not starving.
"That's right..." Ghost slid his large hands under your thighs, tearing another yelp out of you, followed by a stifled moan as he pressed your ass against the nearest wall.
"What are you doing?" you breathed, holding on for dear life.
"Keepin' a promise." That low gritty voice reverberated in your bones.
Right, he had said this earlier. I could pin you to a wall if you ask nicely.
The next moment all thoughts - the very ability to think - drifted away from you, for he glided his tongue across that space behind your ear. You moaned, your head falling back as if electricity had just pierced you. He chuckled into your collarbone and was already going lower, kissing, licking and sucking the sensitive skin of your throat. His tongue felt like a flame.
"Jesus Christ...", you breathed. "You're gonna fuck me like this?"
"If that's what you want".
"I dunno. It's kinda – aah! - uncomfortable..."
You tried really hard to rein your thoughts, but they fell apart while this impossible man held you against a wall.
It felt like being sandwiched between cold wood and a living furnace.
As if trying to make the thought process even harder, Ghost dug his fingers deeper into your buttcheeks, bunching up the fabric. It slid up your thighs, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from you.
"This fuckin' skirt is in the way", he murmured. After some more finagling, he got away with the velvet and stroked at the sheer pantyhose underneath. His long fingers nudged the lacy elastic keeping your stay-ups in place.
"Stockings?" He asked, as if unable to believe his luck.
"Yep", you grinned at him.
" Fuckin' hell."
That came out low and guttural. You felt a sharp tingle within as if someone tugged at a string attached to your core.
That narrow strip of lace awakened something in him. He stepped away from the wall and threw you onto the nearest futon. You landed on your back with legs splayed out, but you didn't have time to collect yourself because he was already on top of you, pressing you to the ground with that huge torso, obscuring the dim light, filling up your whole world. He put his arms over your head and pressed them against the soft surface.
Then he leaned over you and dragged his mouth across your cleavage, biting on the skin on your throat, eliciting another moan, and then he let go. You moaned again, protesting this abandonment.
"I know, love", he murmured into your mouth. "But we need to get rid of your knickers."
This is an excerpt from my ongoing Ghost x reader fic which you shall find HERE :3
#simon ghost riley#modern warfare#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost simon riley#simon riley#simon riley cod#simon ghost x reader#ghost smut#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod simon riley#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x female reader#simon x reader#ghost modern warfare smut#simon riley smut#ghost cod smut#simon ghost riley x reader
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Dick or Treat
Just a little Miguel Halloween smuttish/fluff to brighten your April 1st! Shoutout to @mrsoharaa for the idea! (18+)
You couldn't be sure how you'd managed it, but you'd convinced Miguel to attend the spider societies annual Halloween party.
The hard part was trying to convince him to wear a costume.
"Come on, Migs, humor me." You'd whined, tugging on his arm, pouting. Unphased, he looked up at you from his gizmo with a raised brow. "Ugh!" You flopped back on the couch dramatically and flung a hand over your eyes. Miguel smirked and shook his head, returning back to his screen.
Not to be put off, you peeled your hand off your eyes and looked at him. Never let it be said that you don't have balls though, as you knew your next words might end in your untimely end.
"You know, Miguel, with that stick shoved so far up your ass, I'm surprised you can still shit."
Miguel hadn't appreciated that little quip.
You knew he was really angry when he ignored your calls for the next week. Of course you felt terrible for hurting his feelings, but you hated to see him so uptight all the time. It would be good for him to loosen up a little. Or so you'd tried to get through his thick skull.
Regardless, you weren't going to let Mr. Grumpy pants spoil your fun. You'd already ordered your costume, and the chance to party in a haunted house?! You'd kiss and make up with Miguel later.
(humor me, this is our Halloween costume)
The party was a bust. Oh, you loved everybody there, but without Miguel at your side, there was a heaviness to the evening.
The evening just went from subpar to down right shitty when a spider you didn't recognize decided he didn't want to take no for an answer. You really tried to be nice, but that was until he touched you. Just as you opened your mouth to threaten to break his hand,
"She said, no." You started at Miguel's sudden presence at your back. You didn't have to turn around to see the death glare he was leveling at the perv in front of you. In a flash, his hand was gone and he scurried away, not wanting a confrontation with your massive boyfriend.
Sighing, you slumped into Miguel's solid form. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, and he rubbed them gently.
"You okay?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear. Nodding, you turned your face to meet his.
"You came." You murmured, easily falling back into his warm eyes after a week apart. The corners of his eyes creased and he hummed.
"It's a good thing I did." His voice rumbled low, sending a thrill down your spine. His pupils dilated as he took in your flimsy costume. "Mmm, I like this." He purred, running a finger under the strap, teasing thr skin of your shoulder.
Your eyes fluttered shut, and you bit back a groan. He knew what that tone did to you, the arrogant shit.
"Miggy..." The whimper that left your lips, sent Miguel into a frenzy. Before he entirely lost his senses, he had the forethought to shepard you into one of the darkened corridors of the drafty old haunted house.
Emphasis on drafty. And your costume did little to offer warmth.
"Pobre cosita." Miguel purred, pulling you back into his arms until your back met the furnace that was his warm chest. "You're shivering." He murmured, dipping his head to nuzzle at your ear. "Let me warm you up." You shivered at his honeyed tone, as he wrapped an arm around your middle, firmly anchoring you against him.
"Miguel, please." Your voice came out in a breathy whisper as his free hand slither down to toy with your waist band.
"What do you need, amor?" His nose brushed your ear before he pressed a soft kiss to the tender spot under your ear. You rested your head against his chest and whined.
"You, Migs, please..."
"Shh, you don't need to beg baby, I got you." His fingers delved past the fabric of your gauzy pants and he cursed under his breath at the damp spot on your panties.
"Ever been fucked in a haunted house?" He whispered mischievously, sliding his fingers inside your underwear to tease your clit with feather like strokes. A sarcastic remark died on your tongue at the sensation of his forefinger teasing your wet entrance, and you shook your head dumbly.
"Hmm... well there's a first time for everything."
Two orgasms on his fingers later, as he was notching the tip of his cock at your sensitive entrance, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nipped at his ear, chuckling.
"Hey, Migs?"
"Ngh, hm?" He grunted, hoisting you higher up.
"Dick or treat."
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x you#atsv miguel#atsv#miguel o’hara smut#halloween#smut#fluff#i'm feral
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eyeless jack dating headcanons pls :)
𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬*ೃ༄
: ̗̀➛Back to source
He broke into your apartment with the intentions of harvesting your organs.
When he held the scalpel to your hip, and you began to stir awake. Mf froze.
Oh shit.
“What the fuck?”
Now bro only kills to eat, and when he does, he make sure it’s as painless for the victim as possible (unless he’s in a frenzy).
And That so called victim being awake? That just makes it 100x harder to get the task done.
And when you wake up to see a 6’6 man with an oddly terrifying blue mask holding a scalpel to your hip?
You (rightfully) freak tf out.
He’s not a sadist like some ppl… (cough Jeff Cough) So he probably awkwardly retreated back out to your window.
Anywayssss.
To the actual dating headcanons now.
You guys probably had a longgggggg ass slow burn. (not the only thing that’s long…)
The two of you definitely acted like a couple, before you were ACTUALLY a couple iykwim.
You find it so cool that your bfs a demon. He doesn’t really understand your excitement about it, since it’s literally a curse for him.
This boy is a walking furnace, he’s so cozy. So lots of winter cuddle sessions. Also perfect for when you on your period.
He purrs in his sleep. You can’t change my mind. You guys be cuddling on the couch all cute n’ shit and then there’s this soft buzzing sound… You crack open your eyes to look at him. His head on your lap as he naps.
“Babe… Are you purring?”
You asked with the biggest grin ever.
“…No.”
He likes when you read to him, he struggles to see (ik ik, he’s eyeless n shit, but I like to think he can still see, it’s js rlly rlly blurry or he has that heat vision where he can see body temps.) So when you can’t read to him, he just listens to audio books.
He’s a gentle giant towards you, y’all literally so cute. AND A GENTLEMAN🤭 he’s the whole damn package (minus the whole… cannibal eating ppl thing.)
He has animalistic like senses. So he can hear, and smell very well. So he can smell when you change your perfume or shampoo.
Imagine him leaning down to hug you (since you’re prob shorter than this tall ahh mf, nah seriously use the Hikaku sitatter site) and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. He’ll say shit like-
“Did you change you’re perfume to Miss Dior Eau De Parfum 30ml?”
“Wha-“
When he started getting comfortable taking his mask off around you, everytime he does you call him ‘Pretty boy’ 🤭.
HE WILL FOLD. Partially bcs he likes getting praised. Partially bcs he’s not a fan of the whole demon look.
His morning voice is literally so sexy help. Frothing at the mouth, on my knees barking.
Yk when you have like a sore head, and then you ask Google what’s up and Google’s all like ‘lol bitch you’re gonna die.’ You ask him about it obviously freaked out and he had to reassure your fine.
Walks in the rain at like 4am.
Every time he sees you, he’ll give you a quick forehead kiss.
Pls pls pls pls pls pls pls, I’m begging you. On my knees and begging for you to not look inside his mini fridge he has sitting in your storage room. Thank u.
He’s got some pretty gnarly things in there. Just be thankful he has the decency to not cross contaminate that shit with your food.
You guys slow dance in the kitchen to Mitski. He spins you around and all that cute shit.
He’s overprotective of you, and when you do get him to come out in public with you, he will growl at anyone that gets a little too close for his likings.
Wearing his hoodie<3. It just makes his dead heart happy.
SASSY MAN APOCALYPSE‼️💯💥
He may seem all quiet and sweet. But he’s sassy af. This. Dude. Has. Attitude.
When you’re telling him to do something in a tone, he’ll mouth you’re words with his hands.
When you guys are cuddling in your bed at night, he’ll randomly nibble on your neck to shoulder. He has sharp ass teeth so it’s a bit nippy, but he makes sure to be extra careful to not draw blood.
He smothers you when you’re under the weather. He’s literally so sweet omfg.
When you guys argue which is like 10% of the time, it takes awhile for him to get agitated. But even when he does he will NEVER raise his hands to you. Other than that he keeps calm.
He will though, get a bit mean, he probably doesn’t mean what he says it’s just a defence mechanism.
He makes it up to you with a cute little gift basket (he stole it.)
Y’all have probably kissed, and he still had the taste of blood in his mouth from eating someone’s kidneys<3
He can’t steal your organs but he can deffo rearrange them ;)
✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•
#creepypasta x reader#eyeless jack#eyeless jack x reader#eyeless jack x y/n#eyeless Jack headcanon#creepypasta reader#creepypasta headcanon#creepy pasta x reader hc#creepypasta#creepypasta hcs#creepypasta x female reader#creepypasta x you#eyeless jack headcanon
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𝟎𝟐𝟐. 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞
“Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us, but we can't strike them all by ourselves.” ― Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate
KINKTOBER 23' | 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓* | AO3
*this fic is in media res
wc— 6.3k
pairing— yandere!dom!gn!reader x defected!sub!getou
cws/tags— dead dove: do not eat, yandere/darling dynamic, erotomania, dubcon, mind break, restraints (ropes — shibari), death threats, bodily harm threats, gaslighting/manipulation, heavy sadism/masochism, knife play, manhandling, pain play (scratching + hair pulling), humiliation, dacryphilia + drool, spit as lube, handjob, edging, suguru fantasises about fucking you, frottage, cumming untouched, praise, pet names: “(my) darling” + “good boy”, dialogue-heavy
You stalked over to Suguru, taking the knife out of the back of your shoe, the embodiment of jealous fervour. Your fingers tightened around the knot of ropes at the centre of his shoulder blades, tugging him upright. He heaved and gasped, his face contorting in a mix of fear and confusion when he spotted the gleaming blade in your hand.
"What?! W-What are you doing?!" Panic laced his voice, evident in the wide-eyed terror that flickered across his expression.
Who would protect his loved ones? His body tensed, arms and legs twitching, desperate to escape the impending threat. What would happen to them if he couldn't endure whatever ordeal awaited him? Imminent danger materialised with the knife in your hand. Some type of torture? Did that mean you were going to kill him? The room closed in. He had people to save, damn it!
"Where the fuck is it, Suguru?"
“I don’t understand,” he muttered, shaking his head.
Your initial chuckle morphed into a peal of chilling laughter, your head swaying on your shoulders. Your lip trembled as you screeched, "Where the hell is it, my one and only?!"
Your chest heaved and your blood coursed hotly through your veins like lit gasoline, fueling your temper. The air, hot and suffocating, rushed in and out of your lungs, each exhale a smouldering release.
Where could it be? The words, the tattoo, the declaration? Was the man before you truly your one and only? Was he the illustrious figure you had adored from the shadows all these years? The questions echoed in the caverns of your mind, each reverberation stoking the flames of your incendiary anger.
Inhale. The air, thick and acrid, seared your throat as it surged through you. Your chest expanded with the intensity of a furnace.
No, there had to be a reasonable explanation. Suguru would never willingly choose this. He loved you; he had always loved you. Conviction burned in your thoughts, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself in the belief. The man bound before you was your cherished one. He had to be.
Exhale. A low growl escaped your lips, flames licking at the edges of your composure. Beads formed on your brow and palms, glistening like molten droplets.
It was probably that damned cult of his, wasn’t it? They were jealous, coveting him for themselves. They had stolen him from you, tearing him away from the love and devotion he owed you.
Yet, like fire, jealousy can both illuminate and destroy.
Your fingers trembled uncontrollably as they clutched the knife, the cold steel vibrating. The hilt felt slick in your grasp. The cool reality of the blade danced with the reflected light of the candles in the room, an undulating promise of searing pain.
Kneeling directly in front of Suguru, your armed hand reached around him, the knife a menacing punctuation madness. Your gaze bore into his eyes with a ferocious intensity, a frenzied stare.
His face contorted. Wide eyes were saucers of panic, pupils dilated to the brink as if attempting to swallow the horror of it all. Sweat adorned his furrowed forehead, shining like dew. His complexion drained of colour, leaving behind a pallor that starkly contrasted with the usual warmth of his skin. The lines of his face, once familiar and composed, now distorted into a twisted mask.
His mouth hung agape, a silent scream frozen on his lips. Tremors shook his body, his jaw clenched, muscles poised to flee—though you both knew he couldn’t. Every nerve was on edge, a single touch could shatter the fragile equilibrium that barely held him together.
As you held the knife, its cold blade a chilling presence, you gently dragged the back of it along his left forearm, tracing a path of distress up to his elbow. The metallic edge left a faint trail against his skin.
"I can't let anyone else have you, Suguru," you murmured.
It sent a chill down Suguru's spine, the sensation racing through his veins, setting his pulse ablaze. The soft touch, though hauntingly gentle, was enough to provoke his Adam’s apple to bob nervously. A cold sweat broke out down his back, beads of anxiety clinging to his skin, as your blade traced a perilous path, a few inches away from the delicate network of his veins.
"Don't..." he managed to whisper, his voice trembling, a plea that hung in the air like a fragile thread. Tears brimmed at the edges, and an involuntary stillness overcame his legs.
His mind raced, an anxious torrent of thoughts attempting to strategise, to find a way to escape the impending threat. The ropes, however, proved an insurmountable obstacle, binding him in cruel proximity.
“I love you.”
"Please..." he begged softly, his voice a desperate entreaty. His eyes remained fixed on the glinting blade.
The flat of the blade dragged along Suguru's bicep, a chilling sensation that sent shivers through his entire being. As you continued, the cool metal skimmed his collarbones, leaving a trail of cold dread in its wake.
"Ah, ah, hah..." he bit down on his lip at the acute discomfort of the blade.
Goosebumps erupted across his flesh. With each touch, his body reacted as if the very air around him had turned icy. His trembling and shivering became more pronounced under the merciless blade. Suguru's instincts begged him to scream, to resist, but his body, held captive by the ropes and paralysed by fear, fought against the primal urge. His eyes met yours with an expression of utter helplessness. He felt a desperate yearning for release, a desire to break free from the nightmarish reality that enveloped him.
"You're mine, okay? Maybe I'll make you match with me right... here," you murmured—a haunting promise.
The blade traced a perilous path, inching towards the area where his heart rested beneath his left pec. His heaving chest forced itself to still, a desperate attempt to avoid any accidental harm as the blade hovered over the epicentre of his being—his heart.
A helpless horror painted his features as he stared at your hand, left frozen in shock, a captive audience to the cruel drama. His body remained unnaturally still. He couldn't move. He couldn't say a word. He couldn't do a damn thing. Any motion, even the slightest twitch, threatened to turn this nightmarish ordeal into a self-inflicted tragedy.
"Or maybe..."
As you moved the blade with deliberate intent, dragging it inches from his skin and his pounding heart, Suguru's body betrayed him. The tip traced a sinister path along Suguru's abdomen, the cold steel scratching his skin but not breaking it. Shiny with sweat, his abdominal muscles twitched involuntarily in response to the metal.
A gasp of distress escaped his lips as the blade brushed against his skin, tickling every nerve ending and sending a sharp pang shooting up to his stomach. The heat emanating from the spot where the blade had touched created an acute awareness of the vulnerability of his soft, pale skin. A thin red line marked the path of the shallow scratch, not even enough to bleed. If he bled, would you be satisfied?
Down his hip bone you pressed the entirety of the flat, cold steel against the plushness of his thigh.
"Maybe here."
His body, already fraught with tension, tensed further at the sensation. The flat against his thigh felt like an icy brand. Suguru's hands shook uncontrollably, his entire being trembling in response to the cruel caress. Eyes, fearful and pleading, darted between your face and the blade. He waited for the anticipated moment of pain that never came.
"You... Please..." he whispered, on the precipice of breaking.
You, however, continued to stroke the inside of his thigh with the blade, a cruel tease. "It would look good carved right here.”
A sharp gasp escaped him as he felt the tingle of the blade running across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. The sensation, a mix of fear and an unexpected wave of arousal, caught him off guard. He pressed his lips together, attempting to stifle any involuntary sounds that might betray the tumult within; but a soft moan escaped Suguru.
"Please…” he begged again, a fragile thread holding on to the remnants of composure, of pride.
You licked your lips, your gaze fixed on the spot where the blade of the knife pressed against his inner thigh, a visual of the precarious balance between torment and perverse desire.
"You want me to be yours... permanently, right? You want me to be your soulmate, your forever—right?" he began, his voice a delicate balance of persuasion and vulnerability. His mind raced with the urgency of finding a way out of this hell.
He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, his gaze anxious as it fixated on the weapon pressed against his thigh.
"What if you can have me in a—in a different way? What if we can have something no other sorcere—no other couple can have?" he whispered, the desperation palpable in his voice. The air seemed charged with the weight of his plea as he attempted to navigate a fragile path between surrender and a desperate attempt at negotiation.
"And that is?" you inquired, a sudden brightness in your eyes catching Suguru off guard. He gave you a wobbly smile, his heart racing in his chest.
"I'll let you have me. In every way possible.”
"Have you?" a shiver ran down his spine, his eyes on yours, searching for any sign of mercy or understanding. "I wanted to take my time with you, Suguru..." you sighed, your gaze dropping to the knife.
"Please... I-I want you to have me," Suguru said, an unsettling desire that clouded his thoughts. "Please."
His body, restrained by ropes and paralyzed by fear, yearned to move, to escape the impending danger, but it remained frozen in place. A darker desire rendered him powerless.
"Please! I'll be good for you. I'll be good for you, I swear..." Suguru's desperate entreaty hung in the air.
You hummed contemplatively, your gaze appraising Suguru as he desperately sought a way out of the impending torment. "How?"
A flicker of realisation brightened Suguru's eyes, a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. "There's a way you can keep me without having to—that," he began, his voice shaking but now laced with a newfound confidence. "You can mark me as your own. You can mark me as yours and keep me by your side..." he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his plea echoing in the room.
“How?”
He remained silent for a moment, pride warring with desperation. Suguru bit down on his lip, his mind a chaotic whirlwind of words he yearned to say but hesitated to voice. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, an unrelenting pressure pushing him toward disclosure.
"Touch me.”
For a moment, Suguru was left breathless, his admission hanging in the air like a cloud of uncertainty. He had said anything to make you drop the knife, to replace the impending pain with a different kind of surrender.
"Isn't it too soon? You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for the moment to make you… I wanted it to be perfect.”
In response, Suguru laughed—a genuine sound that echoed in the room, a laughter he hadn't experienced in a long time. A laughter that betrayed the nervous undercurrent beneath the surface, a way to mask uncertainty. The thought of it being a nervous laughter didn't cross your mind, the genuine tone seemingly validating the moment.
That laughter quickly transformed into a smile, the genuine expression playing on his features. Your eyebrows raised inquisitively, observing the way he spoke convincingly about being ready for you.
"Not at all," he whispered, his voice carrying a confidence that contradicted the vulnerability in his eyes. A millionaire smile adorned his face, a façade—the world was, indeed, perfect in that moment.
The handle of the knife in your grip felt unyielding, your knuckles pale from the force with which you held it. Slowly, you leaned your face toward Suguru, your gaze fixated on his lips. A slight tremor ran through you.
Suguru's eyes widened as he observed your approach, the blade pressed against him momentarily slipping from his consciousness. You were so close now, the minimal space between you diminishing further. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as his breath caught in his throat.
"Kiss me," he whispered.
The kiss was hesitant and nervous on your end, the palpable tension between you vibrating with adrenaline and a barely suppressed need. As you went to pull away, Suguru deepened the kiss. A quiet moan escaped you into his mouth, and in that moment, the knife slipped from your grip, clattering with relief to the floor. Pleasure swept through him, and any fear he had of the blade was momentarily forgotten. Seizing the opportunity, he took advantage of your distraction, deepening the kiss again with an eager moan.
Your lips met his, tongues finding their place together as the two of you kissed with abandon. Pleasure surged through Suguru as your arms went around his neck, holding him close in a passionate embrace. You cradled his cheeks in your hands instead, even as he stayed tied up. You pushed your tongue greedily into his mouth, and one of your hands laced into his hair, tugging it by the roots gently.
When your tongue entered his mouth, his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure. His body tensed and flexed against the ropes, instinctively rebelling to try and reach you. He moaned softly into your mouth, his hands shaking against the ropes that keep him restrained.
The kiss left both of you panting and trembling, desire and anticipation thick in the air. You broke the kiss, pressing your forehead against Suguru's, locking eyes with him. His gaze, hungry with longing, met yours.
"You..." you started, and Suguru swallowed thickly.
"You look so... Beautiful..." he murmured, his voice breathless and sincere, even if the sincerity was part of the act.
You chuckled airily. Open-mouthed kisses peppered his skin, and he responded with a breathy groan. Starting near his chin and making your way to the base where his ear met his neck, you bit down lightly, running your tongue over the sensitive skin. Suguru gasped, his head angled by the tug of his hair, your other hand gripping the ropes on his chest.
Straining against the ropes, his back arched like a taut bowstring, the bindings leaving indents that promised to bloom into bruises with the back-and-forth torment. With his hair pulled at a different angle, his gaze turned upward to meet yours, the height difference accentuated in this vulnerable state. Hungry eyes watched your every move, his mouth half-open, each inhale catching in his throat.
Your kisses and marks trailed along his neck, the tugs on his hair and the scratches of your nails against his scalp sending shivers down his spine. The hand on his chest ventured down his abdomen, tracing circles against one of his Adonis lines, a teasing touch that further heightened his arousal.
The familiar ache between his thighs pulsed with intensity, a relentless reminder of the desire that simmered. A yearning plea lingered in the air as he pressed himself closer to you, the heat of his breath mingling with the anticipation of your every exhale. He took a deep breath, his racing thoughts hidden behind closed eyes. A silent prayer echoed in the quiet recesses of his mind, a fervent hope that you would attend to the ever-hardening cock that strained to feel you.
Shivers ran through his body as your nails scratched against his skin, a hint of pain mingling with the pleasure to keep him hooked. The ropes dug deeper into his skin, leaving red, painful marks across his back, chest, and shoulder blades. He squirmed, his skin begging for more.
"Ah…!" Suguru let out a half-moan, half-gasp. "T-That... That feels good..."
"You're mine," you mumbled against Suguru's throat before lightly biting it.
A whimper escaped him, his body writhing against the bindings that held him captive. His arms were securely tied, leaving him unable to touch himself or you, but the sensation of your teeth against his skin, against his neck, was enough to elicit a response.
"Fuck... I'm yours..." Suguru mumbled, his eyes closed. There was no room for any other response; he was yours, willingly or not.
"You're safe with me," you reassured, kissing along his collarbones.
His eyes flickered open briefly, only to close again as he noticed the tight grip of your hand in his hair. The pain, a sharp contrast to the pleasure, mingled in a way that seemed to deepen his surrender. The hand massaging his thighs made him squirm, his back arching to intensify the sensation of the ropes against his skin.
"W-Woah, easy on the hair," he muttered out of breath, a plea laced with both discomfort and a desperate need for your touch.
You pulled back, narrowing your eyes and arching a brow. "What was that?"
Suguru whimpered softly, the fear rushing back as your fingers remained entwined in his hair, the tightness starting to border on pain. Swallowing thickly, his eyes opened slowly, his heart pounding with the resurgence of apprehension.
"N-Nothing... Nothing at all," he stammered, nervously avoiding your gaze. "I like it when you pull my hair... I like it really—really hard," he added.
A smirk played on your lips as you tugged his hair, bringing his face closer. "Good boy. I know you can take it, because you're strong, aren't you?" you cooed.
"Y-Yes... I'm strong..." Suguru whispered, gritting his teeth, attempting to hide the pain behind those words. He tried to muster a confident smile. Swallowing thickly, he nodded, lying. "I can take it," he whispered, his expression a mosaic of hurt, arousal, fear. "Yeah... I'm a good boy..." he continued, the words laced with a plea for reassurance. "I can take it... I-I can..."
You smiled approvingly and leaned in, kissing Suguru so softly that a moan escaped him, his eyes closing in bliss. The kisses were sweet and tender, carrying an addictive quality that seemed to erase the pain in his hair, replacing it with pure, unbridled pleasure.
In contrast to the softness of your kisses, your hand in his hair maintained its tight grip, a silent assertion of control. The other hand on his thigh sank its nails into the plush flesh, a sensation that brought a sharp intake of breath. The pain, though evident, seemed to intertwine seamlessly with the pleasure of your kisses. Suguru hesitated to voice any discomfort, reluctant to ask you to stop when the pleasure seemed to outweigh the pain.
Suguru was acutely aware of the pre-cum, a testament to the relentless ache that pulsed through his throbbing dick. The warm, wet stickiness coated him, and his fingers twitched to wrap around it just for some relief. His mind painted vivid fantasies where it wasn't his own skin but yours, where the pre-cum painted your skin with the rawness of his desire. The yearning for a deeper physicality clawed at him—your skin flushed against his.
A need that pulsed through him, a need that he found challenging to express: he needed you—needed you desperately, damn it.
A whimper escaped him as your touch lingered on his thigh, the pressure from your fingernails digging deeper. "Oh, God..." he whispered softly, his lips trembling slightly but still yearning for more of your touch.
You pulled back, allowing your hand to fall from Suguru's hair, and instead, you tucked some of his long, silky black strands behind his ears, your hand lingering around the rope on his shoulder. Both of you were breathing heavily, and as you sat back a little, you admired the sight before you.
"You're gorgeous like this, darling,” you remarked, your voice laced with a mix of satisfaction and admiration.
A shiver rolled down Suguru's spine when you pulled away, his eyes slowly opening. He stared back at you with admiration, his gaze flickering down to your hand around the rope as you tucked your hair behind his ears. His breathing stilled, chest slowly rising and falling as he absorbed the sight of you appreciating him. The moment, however, took a sharp turn when your hand pulled away, and his expression shifted from admiration to fear as you drew close to the rope.
"P-Please!"
"Please?" you teased, a smile playing on your lips. Your nails dug into his thigh again, and you pulled, leaving deep, raw scratches.
He yelped and whimpered at the sharp sting, his whole body shivering at the feeling of your fingernails digging into his thigh and pulling. He whined and squirmed in his constraints, the ropes biting into his wrists, torso, and legs. Despite the discomfort, he had no choice but to endure.
"Please, I'll do anything!" he begged, his eyes wide and breath catching in his throat.
You raised your eyebrows, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, I'm sure you will. Because you love me, don't you?"
Your hand on his thigh gently stroked the fresh scratches, a soothing touch that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. Suguru's breath hitched, and his mind, clouded by desire, struggled to discern whether he wanted to run away.
"Yeah..." he whispered, closing his eyes once more. "I do... I do."
A part of him still yearned to break free, but the fear and anxiety of losing your touch overrode that desire. It was less about escaping and more about staying by your side, ensnared.
You lifted your hand off his thigh, wetting your lips before spitting into your palm. The sudden shock of your spit-slicked hand wrapping around his needy dick made Suguru's body stiffen. Despite the initial shock, the sensation felt undeniably good, and the movement of your fingers made him squirm in both fear and pleasure. His eyes darted between your face and your hand, his breath catching in his throat. Each stroke and pull like a drug, addictive and consuming. Biting his lips furiously, Suguru's face flushed crimson. His face twitched with anxiety, yet his entire body trembled with pleasure.
As the pace of your hand quickened, he keened and whimpered, unable to articulate a coherent response. "Is that how you like it, darling?"
Suguru attempted to form words, but all that escaped were high-pitched whines. His teeth seemed practically glued together as another whimper slipped from his throat, his bound hands pulling on the ropes in a desperate attempt to get closer to you.
"Does that feel good? Yeah?" you teased, chuckling and watching his expressions in awe. “Aw, cute… I can feel it twitching.”
"It's so... M’so… Hah, fuck…"
His words failed him. He couldn't even form a sentence. The touch of your hand between his thigh was pure pleasure, and he was unable to keep himself composed. His hands were still pulling on the ropes against his arms, wanting more—so much more. His hips, driven by his muscles flexing and tensing in fervent and rhythmic thirst, pressed against you insistently. Suguru's breath, once controlled, now grew increasingly irregular, as he whined between gasps.
"Please... S-so good," he groaned in frustration. "Oh, please, fuck, I need to… Need to–"
“Yeah? What is it, darling?”
He nodded frantically, his ability to articulate lost in the whirlwind of moans and whines escaping his lips. The sensations between his thighs, guided expertly by your hand, were undeniably addictive. His hips rocked in response, a desperate rhythm that mirrored the instinctive urgency of his body, pushing into your touch with fervent desire.
As your lips met his, Suguru melted into the kiss, every nerve in his body ablaze by the sensation. The rhythmic movements of his hips intensified, a testament to the depth of his longing. Each kiss drew out desperate whimpers, his body writhing in pleasure. Yet, beneath the surface, a palpable tension hinted at the intense need he harboured.
He could envision it—the way he would fill every inch of you, the intoxicating stretch that would make your body slick with sweat. The sounds—the hitch in your breath, the loud moans escaping your lips as pleasure surged through both of you. Your legs would wrap around his waist, craving him closer, more deeply. He would moan, his cock twitching inside you, a testament to the exquisite torture of the denial. Yet even in fantasy, you would smile at him wickedly, using him all for yourself.
You felt the rhythm of his movements, the desperation evident in how roughly he fucked your hand, and you knew the depth of his arousal. Breaking the kiss, you murmured, "You close?" into his mouth.
A wave of pleasure swept through Suguru's body as your whispered words hung in the air. His attempts to speak were stifled by the overwhelming sensations, reduced to a series of groans and gasps. His eyes remained tightly shut, lips trembling, and his chest heaved with each shallow breath.
His hips, driven by instinctive urgency, pushed into the air, need pulsing through him. His cock stood flushed, dripping, and achingly hard, the anticipation etched into every twitch.
Your actions, guided by a blend of desire and control, only deepened his yearning. The precum drooled from his slit, messy and exactly how you liked it. Your saliva-slicked hand teased and pumped him, each movement accompanied by an embarrassingly loud wet sound that resonated with his whimpers.
Just before he could cum, you withdrew your hand, and his body quivered in response, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The abrupt absence of your touch left him gasping for breath, words caught in the throes of long-gone ecstasy. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away, panic contorting his face.
"No, no, please…! Please don't..." he whispered, his plea hanging in the air as he longed for the return of the sensation that had brought him so close to release.
As you pressed your lips against his, a surge of warmth radiated through the touch, your fingers coiled around the taut rope of his shoulder, the lit fuses of lust. The conflict made him beautiful—a part of him, a mere whisper amid the cacophony, yearned to resist, to reclaim control. Yet, that struggle was seared away by the overwhelming touch, by the overwhelming you, making resistance a distant and feeble notion. The texture of the rough fibres kept him tethered to the intensity of the kiss, a dance of lips and tongues that became him.
Your teeth sank into his bottom lip; his response was visceral—a loud, involuntary moan—the sound of surrender. His lower lip quivered beneath the sharp pressure, a tangible sign of the white-hot desire surging through his veins. His surrender, the white flag, was taken into your heated hands and scorched to black, to lust. With closed eyes, his world narrowed to the victor, to you.
Breaking the kiss, a glistening strand of saliva lingered, connecting your parted mouths. With a mischievous smile, your hand rose, and your thumb found its place in his parted lips. The wet heat enveloped your digit, his tongue swirling sensuously around it. His eyes, heavy-lidded with arousal, met yours. A groan hung in the air, caught in the rawness of his throat as he eagerly sucked on your offered digit, his tongue curling around it.
"I wanna… Mmmf…! I wanna..." His voice, laced with restrained desire, faltered as he bit down on your thumb, the words teetering on the edge of a plea. "More, more..."
You leaned in, your face tantalisingly close to his, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "More, huh?"
Withdrawing your thumb from his heated mouth, you directed your attention lower, teasingly inching it between his legs once again. The soft pad of your thumb, a gentle torment, caressed the sensitive contours of his length, drawing circles on the leaking head, smearing pre from the slit along the prominent vein of his shaft. He let out a strangled moan, his hips involuntarily frotting into your hand as he gasped for air, unable to respond beyond the primal sounds escaping him. His body shook and his hips bucked desperately.
The hand wrapped around the ropes tugged him nearer, and you rested your forehead against his, the candlelight flickering in the inky black depths of his eyes like a torch in the night.
"You're beautiful," you whispered, “You’re mine.”
Blushing under the weight of your words, his eyes widened. Your breath, a sweet and intoxicating scent, mingled with his. He shuddered, a soft whimper escaping him. Desperate to contain the rising chorus of pleasure, he bit down on his lower lip, the delicate dance of pleasure and restraint evident in the way his hips instinctively rocked. His body trembled under the tender torment of your touch.
"Please," he begged, soft and needy.
"Tell me that I'm the only one for you, the only one to make you feel this way," you murmured, a sly smile playing on your lips.
His brow furrowed with the exertion of pleasure. Your words, a catalyst of praise and affection, wielded a power that rendered resistance incapable. His attempt to deny, to resist your influence, was a futile battle:
"You're... You're the only one," he whispered, surrendering to the truth.
His eyes fluttered shut, teeth gritted, and his hips moved with an urgency that betrayed the depth of his craving. Each thrust forward sought the contact that momentarily eluded him, and a plaintive whine escaped when your touch lingered just out of reach.
“Tell me you want me."
"I... Oh, God, I want you. I want you so much right now. Need you so fucking badly right now."
His admission trembled through the charged air, a declaration of desire that hung heavy between you. His body quivered, and he clamped down on his lips, a valiant effort to withhold further vulnerability. Yet, the pull of your tease and touch unfurled the neediest corners of his soul, a rekindled lust that had nearly withered in the grip of isolation.
"Please…! Please touch me... Please, please touch me again..."
Your question hung in the air, a subtle challenge:
"You feel this?"
The room echoed with a ravenous moan as your hand reached down, cupping Suguru's balls. If the intensity wasn't overwhelming enough, you chose that precise moment to massage his ballsack between your fingers—swollen and heavy with cum, aching to be released. The sudden, deliberate contact jolted him into a realm of heightened sensations, his eyes snapping open to reveal the surrender etched across his face under the spell of your grip.
No words found refuge on his tongue, eclipsed by a primal symphony of moans and the hungry, needy whispers that escaped his parted lips in response to your touch.
"Please..." A quiet whimper, a plea, an admission of craving.
"This is mine now, alright?" you declared, asserting yourself with a subtle squeeze.
Wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat, he found himself ensnared in a web of possession. Your grip, both firm and tight, elicited a soft whimper, his hips instinctively pushing into the touch, yearning for more. The declaration wrapped around him,the reply spilt from him, a desperate cascade of surrender and longing—a willing captive to the depths of your lust:
"Y-Yeah... Y-Yours, fuck…! Oh, God, yours. Your touch is mine, yours... Just yours... Only yours, I want you, need you..."
Your words, a melodic coo, dripped with a seductive assurance. "So obedient, you're learning.”
As your touch found a firm rhythm, a seismic shift surged through him. His body, a canvas for the symphony of pleasure, responded with unrestrained fervour. Fingers curled tightly around the ropes, a desperate attempt to anchor himself amidst the rising tide of need. A guttural moan escaped him, his tongue lolling out involuntarily as breath hitched in his throat.
Rocking forward, every movement strained against the constricting bonds, ropes carving into his skin, a painful reminder of desire, control, captivity. Pleasure, a white-hot current, coiled in the pit of his stomach, setting his nerves ablaze with an intensity that bordered on exquisite agony. But your words, a cascade of praise and affection, were the one craving of his you satiated. He needed you now. He needed you.
You.
A cry, raw and hoarse, reverberated through the room. Tears, involuntary witnesses to the overwhelming ecstasy, streamed from his eyes. His legs tensed, a quiver coursing through them, and his whimpers escalated into squeals. But as you withdrew your touch, a pang of longing seized him, a hurt he hadn't anticipated. Fervent pleas spilt from him, his body squirming in your grip.
"Please…! Oh, fuck… No, no, please…! Please touch me again..." His words, infused with desperation, hung in the air, a plea for the return of the exquisite torment you provided.
"You wanna feel more? Do it yourself," you drawled, a burst of mocking laughter accompanying your words.
Suguru's sob, a raw expression of frustration, mirrored the internal turmoil. Tears blurred his vision, but the silhouette of your smug grin etched itself in his mind. A blend of desire and frustration mingled in his plea, "Please-please-please-please... Please touch me..." The imploring gaze sought your hands for solace.
"Please, darling. For me,” you taunted.
Eyes pleaded, and his body trembled once more as he reluctantly began to move, the tight grip of the ropes emphasising the solitary nature of the act. Sweet, pearlescent tears gathered on his lashes, welling up in those gorgeous eyes, and rolled down his flushed cheeks. They shimmered, streaking his face, as baby hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead. Brows knitted together, frustration etched across his features—what a sight he was for you.
Each thrust into the air was met with a loud whine, but despite the physical effort, it could never replicate you. You were incomparable. Another cascade of tears leaked from his eyes, tracing damp trails down his cheeks. A hot ache coursed through him—that familiar aching bliss.
"It doesn't, ah, feel like you... Like you..." The room hung heavy with the echoes of Suguru's whines.
"Oh, my darling. C'mon, keep going. You're so close now, aren't you?"
His eyes opened, a flush of embarrassment painting his face as he met your gaze. Head shaking in protest, he struggled with the solitary act, his voice trembling, and breaths shallow. The effort, while valiant, felt insufficient, a stark reminder of the absence of your touch.
"I'm... I'm fucking trying…!" he whispered. More whimpers escaped him, the absence of your touch haunting the moment of indulgence.
A groan emerged, lips parting in surrender to pleasure. Your encouragement became his guiding force, pushing him closer. Moans echoed, his eyes rolled back, and his back arched in response to the steady grip of the ropes on his shoulders. Pleasure consumed him, his body wracked with its intoxicating embrace, yet the struggle to contain the sounds persisted.
You seized his jaw, holding his mouth open, a witness to his contorted face—shame, pleasure, fear—those uninvited guests. His body writhed, torn between the desire to escape the situation and the undeniable arousal that tethered him to your command. Feeble protests echoed in the room, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your influence..
As his hips accelerated in their erratic movement, a violent shudder seized his entire body. Streams of thanks spilt from his bitten lips, a testament to the overwhelming release that surged through him. Suguru's orgasm, a crescendo of heat and pleasure, shook him violently, the length of his cock now coated in warm, sticky evidence of his climax, thrusting into the air with feverish need.
"There you go, my darling. Good boy, you've done so well," you said affectionately, creating a momentary reprieve, a gentle acknowledgement of his surrender.
The room held the lingering echoes of Suguru's release, his body still trembling as he kneeled there, caught in the aftermath of the fireworks that had set every nerve ablaze. A pyre to pleasure, his chest heaving with each laboured breath—a testament to intensity.
Blissful heat.
As his eyes stayed closed, fingers wrapping around the ropes that bound him, he grappled with the profound impact of the experience. A spectrum of feelings—humiliation, frustration, repulsion—warred within him. Yet, an undeniable satisfaction lingered, a product of the attention you had lavished upon him.
“How many people will do anything for the one they love?”
The weariness clung to Suguru's teary eyes as he fought against the heaviness, attempting to blink away the exhaustion. The world blurred with each slow blink, his eyelids closing reluctantly, weighed down by the fatigue that permeated his entire being. Your hands released the ropes, the final tethers of his consciousness, and he teetered.
"Honestly, Suguru, you’re lucky to have me," you chirped.
The metallic scrape of the knife being lifted off the floor, a sound that would have sparked alertness in any other circumstance, barely registered in his fading awareness.
"If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have been so lenient."
Eyelashes, once vibrant, seemed burdened by the weight of exhaustion. Each blink, a futile attempt to stave off sleep, betrayed the struggle.
"Then again, you’re my one and only, and I’ll do anything for you, ‘cause I love you. Anything."
Lines deepened on his forehead as the battle against fatigue intensified. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, meeting your smiling face.
"Even when you don't know what's best for yourself. Don't scream, okay?" you murmured gently.
He felt the cold press of the knife.
a/n: well. there we are, then. lol. this was a really fun thing to write icl... i should do more yandere stuff in the future :3
this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.
#꒰ ✎ ꒱ — tongues in trees#꒰ ✑ ꒱ — they kiss consume#꒰ ☠︎︎ ꒱ — the serpent under't#꒰ 🝮 ꒱ — kt 23#sub!character#dom reader#dom!reader#sub character#sub!jjk#sub jjk#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#sub geto suguru#sub suguru geto x reader#sub getou suguru x reader#sub getou suguru#sub suguru geto#jjk x reader#sub jujutsu kaisen#jujustu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#gn!reader#gn reader#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x y/n#geto x reader#suguru geto x reader#geto x you#geto x y/n
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✨Tear You Apart: Engulf Me In Flames✨
Series Masterlist
A/N: Here’s a little drabble of my favorite duo because I can’t stop writing about them and their little angsty love story 🥹 This drabble was heavily influenced by the song “Together” by The XX and I love this little piece so much! I hope you enjoy 🩵
Word Count: 894
Pairing: Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader
Chapter Summary: It was all a game until it wasn’t anymore. Bodies burning for each other, fire pulling one another to dance in the flames together.
Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)
Tags: Sexual tension, dancing/circling each other, outbreak au, dark! Joel vibes, no explicit smut, symbolism of Joel being the big bad wolf, so much pining, switching POVs
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
You circle each other, hands brushing against one another as your eyes lock in heated flames. His calloused fingertips graze against yours with every turn his body makes in the covered barn that’s lit dimly with hanging lanterns. His eyes look like fire. Hot, intense, glazed over with dark desire that drives your instincts to continue on.
You dance slowly, intimately with heated stares burning into the other like a flaming sphere. His brown eyes slide down your body and end staring right into the pits of your eyes. Hungry. He’s starving for you, for just a taste. A taste he wants so badly but can’t seem to let himself have.
He’s been watching you for weeks, always staring when you walk into a room, ever since that first night he had you tied to a chair and decided to cut you free. He knows he shouldn’t tempt the flames, yet here he is enticing you to slip into the furnace with him once again. And so you turn in slow motion, arms grazing tanned skin, fingertips skimming the other’s again and again and again with no end in sight. It’s like clockwork, a ticking time bomb that’s about to erupt, simmer into nothing but pleasure, desire, fate. So you continue circling along until one of you breaks. A tainted dance that’ll surely end in nothing but chaos filled with beauty that slips against your bones, turning you to nothing but dust as soon as he takes full control of you.
Your breath is heavy, eyes wide as he narrows his own, slipping down your body as it tells you exactly what you need to know. He wants you, now. His brows furrow, jaw clenches as he flexes his fingertips into a tight fist at the side of his large body. He wants it, wants you, needs you. But he won’t break because that’d make him weak. But he is weak. Weak for you.
He just needs a taste, a lick of your skin, so he brushes the back of his hand over yours once more which ignites sparks low in your belly. Your eyes darken, desire tearing at the seams as you swallow and continue circling, carefully brushing your palm against the side of his button-up flannel that clings to strong arms. His breath catches, but he continues to keep his composure, repeating the cycle all over as you tease each other with just your eyes, your hands, your fingertips.
You watch the way the lines on his forehead move each time he narrows his honey glazed eyes, watch the way strands of greying hair fall into his eyes, watch the faded scar above his right eyes that burns into your vision, watch the way his chest rises and falls in waves every time he circles you. Slow, composed. A repeated cycle that continues until someone breaks and ends up pinning the other to the ground in a frenzy of desire.
It’s a vicious cycle, a dance of wolves that slowly spirals into turmoil. One that can only end with the other covered in nothing but the other person, tumbling against one another as the night takes you away into hot pulses of desire.
Seconds go by, minutes, maybe hours. You lose track as you get lost in the haze of it all. But then he reaches out slowly and grazes your jawline, calloused fingers brushing against your glistening skin as you suck in a deep breath and breathe air filled with whiskey, charcoal, and mahogany scents swirling all around you. His touch is distant, careful, cautious as he slips slowly down your skin. His eyes grow dark chocolate, eyes that want to devour you whole as he slides his other hand around your waist and carefully crushes you against his broad chest.
“What do you say, little lamb? Wanna dance? Get a taste of the flames and danger with the big bad wolf?”he smirks, voice deep and gravelly as he grazes calloused fingers against the side of your neck. All you can do is nod, entranced with the way he moves, his massive form towering over you as he comes in for the kill.
He cups your chin, thick fingers digging into your skin as he slowly, slowly leans down and brushes his lips against your red tinted mouth. He swallows you, igniting flames through your entire body as he licks into your mouth, tongue dancing circles along yours as his hands explore your body ravenously. He thinks you taste so good, thinks you’re exactly the thing he needs to break away from his curse of darkness. So he’ll keep you, devour you till you see nothing but him in the shadows of the night, claw your skin till your veins bleed streaks of him. He’ll take you, night after night, teeth against skin, bodies entwined so tight that you can never escape. You’re his now, his to keep, his to take. He’ll have you until your blood runs dry, until your bodies combine into shades of scarlet red. Claimed. He claimed you.
So you’ll dance, continue the motions as the night fades to black. And you’ll burn. Let him pull you under the flames as you continue dancing with the lonely wolf.
And just like that you belong to the flames. And with him you burn.
Tags: @amyispxnk @littlevenicebitch69 @mountainsandmayhem @survivingandenduring @msjarvis @vivian-pascal @jasminedragoon @lotusbxtch @pedrostories @untamedheart81 @bbyanarchist @sawymredfox @milla-frenchy @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog
If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging and leaving comments or asks 🥰
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel x female reader#joel miller smut#tlou fanfiction#joel tlou#joel miller pedro pascal#outbreak!joel#post outbreak joel#jackson!joel#dark!joel x reader#dark!joel miller#joel miller au#joel fanfic#little red riding hood au#joel the last of us
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to kiss a Thunder Warrior
A/N: I trackdrifted from Aphrodite’s Cell into this. Please do not bang the Thunder Warriors, this is definitely heresy and I totally do not condone it! Small drabble.
P.S. I know no other Thunder Warrior. I am sorry.
Relations: Ushotan/gn!reader
“So if you're looking, you will find me standing next to him
Kissing underneath the palm trees, feigning for his sin
I don't care if it's not righteous, I don't give a damn”
What does it feel like to kiss a Thunder Warrior?
Rough, unrestrained, a trace of whiskey and the acrid taste of combat-stimns. The undercurrent of blood boiling just beneath it all. Bones and muscle and all rough edges, occasionally tinged with a laugh as ragged as barbarian armor as Ushotan pulls back a chuckle still trailing from his strained voice. Hands, trailing around his thick neck, fingering the scars that were inlaid there, ignoring the way he shivers and groans as fingernails tease over the rim of his neural interfaces, the tubing old and harshly integrated in a Thunder Warrior’s frame but still functional. Barely. His scars, so close, the primarch himself purring in a ragged growl, like the hiffing of the run down engine, but still snarling against its own demise, still powerful underneath all that rot. The way his storm-grey eyes briefly slip closed as he tolerates hands tugging against his cropped hair and the occasional mischievous drag on his tabard. The Thunder Warrior still surprisingly playful as he lets himself be tugged, how he follows his darling lazily, without a care in the world, his grin somehow both brash and with that cynical jesting he was know for. The clanking of his armor. The soft hiss of the servos as he helps detach the seals, unarmoring him in silence now, without even another sharp joke from him except for his ragged voice.
He’s almost hot to the touch. Thunder Warrior metabolism. Embracing was like hugging a furnace, meant to burn bright and short and then burn itself out. Only one heart, originally meant to be claimed - literally - at the hand of the captain-general.
You saved him from that fate.
(It’s a good distraction, at least. A good distraction to forget what Valdor did to him. The way he held him. The way his gauntlets had felt, so cold against his neck, warmed by the fresh blood. The nightmares, the snarls, the screams. The silence of the utter violation, the treachery, the bones upon the first. The death from which no soul could recover. The snow will never spare him as long as he lives.)
There is no hint of that trauma. No hint of that sorrow, that guilt, the hollowness beneath that false bravado he wears, only the liveliness as he eagerly returns. As restrained as he was, he was still a Thunder Warrior. He couldn’t help but be rough, possessive, almost too greedy as he nips and unkindly manuveers his beloved close enough to nip surprisingly sharp bites, lips curled into a grin even when he was nearly rough enough to draw blood.
(Of course, no Thunder Warrior could call themselves sane. They lost their sanity when they were strapped upon that dissection slab so long ago.)
Almost playfully, he sometimes growls during the kisses. He’s frisky, this one. You can feel his heart rate speeding up, rising from its usual lumbering pace to a pace akin to the battle frenzies his brethren had. The way he playfully traces and teases, smug and arrogant and somehow still a glorious bastard even through all he had suffered. Rough and ragged and flamboyant, without the same frost the Astartes had. He was, after all, a man. A man that was made to die a demigod, and entombed in golden armor.
The way he laughs as his lover pushes him down, his broad frame crashing against the bed. Thunder Warriors played, they had their games, they wrestled, tackled and grappled. Ushotan was no exception. The same rough playfulness shines through as he grasps the darling that had dragged him from the snow and the frost and easily rolls over to pin them down beneath his greater bulk, smugly stretching overhead.
(That bastard.)
(That playful bastard.)
(It’s a wonder how he never learnt the meaning of punishment for insubordination).
The way he sounds both like the growling roll of a mountainslide, and somehow playful like the purr of an ancient cat. How large hands cup around his lover’s neck, the Thunder Warrior not resisting as they reverse his position, chuckling slightly as he was the one pinned down this time, although his storm-blue eyes still showed a hint of smug humor.
“Hmph. Surprise me a little less next time, will you?"
#warhammer 40k#wh40k#constantin valdor#sculptor of crimson#warhammer#wh40k writing prompts#adeptus custodes#thunder warriors#emperor of mankind#ushotan#ushotan x oc#ushotan x reader#thunder warriors x reader
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The James Webb Telescope has captured a mind-blowing image of I Zwicky 18
In a new image released on March 26, 2024, The James Webb Telescope has captured a mind-blowing image of I Zwicky 18, a dwarf irregular galaxy like those in the early universe! This galactic furnace is churning out stars at a furious pace, with dusty bubbles sculpted by young stellar winds. A neighbor galaxy might even be playing a role in this starburst frenzy! Webb is diving deep into I Zw 18's dust and stars to unlock its history and the secrets of galaxy formation. ✨ Previously thought to be a late bloomer, new evidence suggests I Zw 18 started forming stars billions of years ago. Webb also hints that the starburst regions fired up at different times! This discovery is a game-changer, offering a glimpse into the workings of galaxies in the early cosmos. Stay tuned as Webb continues to unravel the mysteries of I Zwicky 18 and beyond! #JWSTdiscovers #galaxyevolution #spaceexploration
#nasa#james webb space telescope#jwst#webb telescope#webb discoveries#esa#spaceexploration#james webb discoveries#jameswebbtelescope
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Assorted Skwistok headcanons
Toki is unable to be angry at Skwisgaar for too long because he gets cute aggression. He's in the middle of a rant before interrupting himself and smooching Skwisgaar's nose or something and fawning over how cute Skwisgaar is. Think of a cat owner that can't help but adore his cat at every waking moment. That's Toki.
Skwisgaar is actually more prone to jealousy than Toki. Like, Toki has accepted the attention Skwisgaar gets from women and doesn't feel threatened by them, but Skwisgaar goes into a jealous frenzy if he thinks anyone but him is occupying Toki's mind. He frantically tries to confirm that Toki is still head over heels for him and bursts into tears if he doesn't feel like the answer sounds that genuine.
Skwisgaar is more than used to the cold weather, but he actually loves to be warm. Thus, he sneaks into Toki's bedroom quite often for some of that extra warmth. He especially loves sleeping on top of Toki and Toki is not allowed to wake him up under any circumstance. (Extra hc: Toki is a living furnace while Skwisgaar is essentially as cold as a corpse so they balance each other very well)
Skwisgaar and Toki love to whisper sweet nothings to each other in their respective native languages in front of the rest of Dethklok. It feels more intimate that way, like they're in their own world even when other people are present. Also when Murderface glares at them then they start shit talking him and laughing only to get him angrier.
He would never admit it out loud, but Skwisgaar is quite a romantic at heart and believes in fate, stars aligning and all that shit. He genuinely has considered Toki to be his actual soulmate for a long time and can't really imagine it being anybody else but him. Back then, it was only musically but when they got together it was like something clicked in his head. Like everything finally made sense now.
Skwisgaar has a pretty bad sense of humor, often doing terrible puns and unfunny jokes yet Toki explodes everytime which only encourages Skwisgaar to keep coming up with them. Not because he thinks he has comedian skills or whatever but because he loves to make Toki laugh.
When they watch movies together, Toki loves to suggest extremely gorey ones because he loves horror and nothing fazes him. On the other hand, Skwisgaar is not a fan but he doesn't want to be a baby so he accepts, only to be freaked out the entire time and cling to Toki while yelling. It only makes the movies better for Toki~
Toki loves photography, and especially taking pictures of Skwisgaar. It's his own way of preserving the special moments between them so he can later look back on them fondly. He has a photo album where he keeps them and adds notes about the context of the pictures, as well as little drawings.
#metalocalypse#toki wartooth#skwisgaar skwigelf#skwistok#pretty fluffy stuff but anyway#basu post#headcanons#some of these might appear in my future fics who knows
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Nevermore characters based from Edgar Allan Poe’s works
Lenore (from the poem “The Raven”)
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly, I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
Annabel Lee (from the poem “Annabel Lee”)
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
Morella (from the gothic horror short story “Morella”)
With a feeling of deep yet most singular affection I regarded my friend Morella. Thrown by accident into her society many years ago, my soul, from our first meeting, burned with fires it had never known. But the fires were not of Eros—and bitter and tormenting to my eager spirit was the gradual conviction that I could in no manner define their unusual meaning, or regulate their vague intensity. Yet we met, and Fate bound us together at the altar, and I never spoke of love, or dreamed of passion. She, however, shunned society and attaching herself to me alone rendered me happy. It is a happiness to wonder. It is a happiness to think.
Duke (from the humorous short story “The Duc de L’Omelette”)
A golden cage bore the luxurious little wanderer, enamoured, melting, indolent, to the Chaussee D’Antin, from its home in far Peru. From its queenly possessor La Bellissima, to the Duc de L’Omelette, six peers of the empire conveyed the happy bird. It was ‘All for Love.’
Ada (from the poem “Tamerlane”)
One noon of a bright summer’s day
I pass’d from out the matted bow’r
Where in a deep, still slumber lay
My Ada. In that peaceful hour,
A silent gaze was my farewell.
I had no other solace—then
T’awake her, and a falsehood tell
Of a feign’d journey, were again
To trust the weakness of my heart
To her soft thrilling voice: To part
Thus, haply, while in sleep she dream’d
Of long delight, nor yet had deem’d
Awake, that I had held a thought
Of parting, were with madness fraught;
I knew not woman’s heart, alas!
Tho’ lov’d, and loving—let it pass.—
Prospero (from the short story “The Masque of the Red Death”)
The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had been ever so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avator and its seal — the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleedings at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest-ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease were the incidents of half an hour.
But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless, and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince’s own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair from without or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballêt-dancers, there were musicians, there were cards, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the “Red Death.”
Pluto (from the short story “The Black Cat”)
Pluto—this was the cat’s name—was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It was even in difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets.
#nevermore#nevermore webtoon#lenore#annabel lee#morella#duke#ada#prospero#pluto#lenore nevermore#annabel lee nevermore#morella nevermore#duke nevermore#ada nevermore#prospero nevermore#pluto nevermore#nevermore lenore#nevermore annabel lee#nevermore morella#nevermore duke#nevermore ada#nevermore prospero#nevermore pluto#webtoon
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At least to me, the skins we've seen so far this year have mostly looked pretty boring (except you, Forseen Yasuo) so I'm just gonna yell into the void about skin ideas I wanna see and if Riot ever makes one of these I can use them for plagiarism jk lmao
INKSHADOW HWEI cmon we all know the effects would look so cool, just let it happen
CAFE CUTIES SION but the furnace in his stomach is an easy-bake oven
HIGH NOON RELL or just any Rell skin pls it's been so long she's starving
BEE GNAR where the little form is in a bee onesie like the other Yordles but the mega form is a giant swarm of bees in the shape of a monster, think something like the pokemon Wishiwashi
STAR GUARDIAN KAYN AND STAR NEMESIS RHAAST how the fuck has the anime-ripoff champion not been in the anime-ripoff skinline yet?
SPACE GROOVE ZILEAN just turn Groovy Zilean into a Space Groove skin when he gets his asu in the next 40 years, it'd also be a cool way to finally officially reference the dancing Zilean meme!
ODYSSEY YONE AND JARVAN IV cmon Riot they're right there and they would finally be Odyssey skins that connect back to the original batch that everyone got attached to pls just DO IT
FAERIE COURT UDYR where his stances represent the 4 seasons like he's the avatar of this universe, and put this manly man in some pretty pinks for goodness sake!
STREET DEMONS EVELYNN who uses her tendrils as brushes but just paints lewd art on the sides of buildings
SUGAR RUSH BRIAR (or maybe Cafe Cuties) where her pillory is half a donut and when she's frenzied she gets jelly all over the place
THIS ASTRONAUT ILLAOI CONCEPT RIOT MADE specifically speaks to me and all the old sci-fi b movies I watched growing up, would love to see a whole skinline take this cheesy cosmic horror aesthetic
#league of legends#lol#leagueoflegends#riot games#lukai hwei#hwei#sion#rell#gnar#shieda kayn#kayn#rhaast#zilean#yone#jarvan iv#udyr#evelynn#briar#illaoi
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Juniper: For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for after the smoke clears.
She cycles through each camera as she sees the Grimm abominations trying desperately to escape the metal furnace.
All futile.
She keeps cycling until the camera falls onto the body of her old friend turned murderer. Salem. They were staring catatonically at the camera.
Juniper: Although for one of you...the darkest pit of hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend.
That was enough to send the figure into a frenzy as they began banging and screaming against the door just as the fires consumed them.
Juniper cycled the camera one more time, landing on the still sitting form of a knight in decrepit armor.
Juniper: Jaune, my son, if you can hear me... I knew you would return as well...it's in your nature to protect the innocent.
In the room, the Rusted Knight weakly lifted its head as fading blue lights looked up at the loud speaker.
Juniper looked at a photo of a blonde haired kid surrounded by other children, tears fell from her eyes.
Juniper: I'm sorry that on that day... the day you were shut out and left to die... no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours.
Juniper: And then? What became of you? I shouldn't have known you wouldn't be content to dissappear. Not my son.
She was proud, damn proud of her baby boy.
Juniper: I couldn't save you then...so let me save you now...it's time to rest for you and those you have carried in your arms...this ends for all of us.
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okay so uh
idk if sthis is silly, but if your cassettes were to eat human food (which i think yall've mentioned being possible in your fan continuity), what would be their favorite and least favorite foods?
They can and do eat human food in my fan continuity! Yes! A few of them have some compatibility issues with certain foods but all of them can eat at least some!
Rumble likes anything and everything. His roaring furnace allows him to eat and process it all. His favorites are chicken tikka masala with naan, burgers, and calzones!
Frenzy has trouble with foods that are a bit too solid, so they're a big soup fan! Udon noodle soup and pho are favorites of theirs! Gummy candy they adore too, but they can't have too much at once.
Enemy loves MEAT. Anything she can really rip his teeth into that's savory. Meaty mushrooms, steak, chicken, pork, fish. He's also a sushi and other seafoods fan.
Flipsides doesn't really like human food as much as the others and can't process much more than liquids. It loves a good sweet beverage from time to time though, and it's a fan of citrus-y ones especially orange juice and lemonade!
#ask#transformers#maccadam#rumble and frenzy#rumble#frenzy#enemy#flipsides#cassetticons#decepticons#transformers fan continuity
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