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schwarzkatje · 2 months

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dark!orphan!ellie x nun!reader || part 3

disclaimer: alright, i'm just gonna say that this is filth in its original form aka contains SMUT that is immoral; offensive to religion if you believe and/or practice the religion implied here; it deals with power dynamics between an educational figure and a supposed pupil even though it has no age gap warning since they are basically the same age; it has violence in the form of slapping; it shows both ellie AND reader being dark characters with questionable morals. so if ANY of this triggers you, i prefer you skip for my but mostly your sake. also, not proofread srry

> for part 1 click here || for part 2 click here

"admit it, you act like a brat all the fucking time because you love it when you get punished," never in a million years would you have thought these words would have exited your mouth. nor would you have entertained the idea of breaking your vows because of something so futile like losing your temper.

except what was happening was proof of how delusional your beliefs and how fragile the rope you were walking on had both been. more specifically what was happening underneath you.

you were straddling ellie, the heels of her feet planted on the mattress and her thighs spread to accommodate your hand as it furiously flicked her pulsating clit and the outer zones of her pussy, drenched in white slick.

the other hand was feigning in her task to handcuff ellie's wrists, as it bore no real force nor did it occur to you that she could break free whenever she decided. you simply ignored it, too drunk off of nothing but a ravaging and ravenous hallucination of retribution. ellie had brought an earthquake inside you, causing casualties in the process, namely what you stood for, the light in your eyes and the faith towards god. in a regained moment of lucidity you could have recognised you were turning into the reflection of ellie's sufferings.

and god, wasn't she willing to dance this macabre tango with you and accept the pleasure that was making her delirious. her hips thrusted up, closer to your fingers, imagining they were your pussy humping her own, riding her in this exact same position that naive you had thought to be a cage for ellie.

"don't lie, you're too – fuck yeah – you're way too good at this. do you fuck the other sisters, when you are done tormenting me, mh?" the contorted expression was the perfect mask to hide the trail of jealousy implied in such an insisting enquiry and to distract from the fact that her eyes would have rolled back to her skull hadn't she been more lucid. "do you suck the pastor's cock when he comes to visit, too?"

"you wish. you wish i had so your fantasies about me get more realistic, don't you?" both your middle and ring finger were exploring the outer region of ellie's intoxicatingly warm hole, with such a slow pace that ellie feared you would stop at any time.

only one hour prior to this enactment of pure debauchery you were busing your mind with paperwork, locked in your room, locked away from ellie. you hadn't planned this.

the exact way you hadn't planned to abandon your dummy remnants of resolution as you let ellie enter your quarters. the exact way you hadn't planned to fight for the umpteenth time knowing it would have resulted in ulterior mortification for you. the exact way you hadn't planned to slap her. for the second time. completely throwing away the memory of ellie promising to make you pay for this the first time you had done it. except, ellie too had seemed to have forgotten all about this threat.

"do it again," ellie had been prompting you, daring you to do it, if not for the fact that she had trapped your wrist, actually impeding the fulfilment of what was acquiring the shape of a wish trough and through. her superior strength had proven a perfect feature to yank your entire body closer to her.

your other hand was holding the bible and you reckoned that once you had dropped it, it would have meant bending irremediably, to the point of breaking, in favour of the evil pulling that had been dancing around you throughout your entire life.

the deaf thud of the sacred text hitting the floor had rivalled with the same echoed sound of ellie's cheek getting slapped once again. the capillaries were fast breaking and the warm sensation over the beaten skin sat rather uncomfortable. not so much so as to hinder the devilish grin that ellie had no shame in sporting.

"at least now you're dropping the act of the prissy nun thinking she's better than everyone," her raspy voice had become lower, almost inaudible. but as subtle – and therefore armless – as it may have seemed, its ability to insinuate just as venom does, with blind cruelty, hadn't left space for mercy. "beating me like the other sisters when you faked compassion the moment they did it to me."

the whole context hadn't given you the chance to develop not even a semblance of pity towards ellie. no, it couldn't have found it in the midst of the scorching flames hell that was engulfing your guts. "you deserve every punishment they gave you. my only mistake was thinking you could gain god's forgiveness," you had inched closer to ellie, mimicking, without having full control over it, her tone and setting a twisted game with the loser's destruction as the prize.

"i'm yet to see how you discipline your bad kids," ellie had taken your free hand, the one responsible for the red heat spreading on half of her face, had brought it closer to her chipped lips, "since you're a sick pervert, i imagine you make them do sick shit as well. what is it? spanking? making them kneel down to eat your pussy?" the last bit of her degrading speech had been accompanied by the wet noise of her saliva coating your thumb and your thumb pressing as though it had had life of its own down ellie's tongue.

"want me to show it to you?" it must have been the devil himself that had smelt how deliciously sinfully your soul was accepting to delve into a grave without possibility to repent. everything had been lost.

"fuck– fucking slut knows hot to– oh man—," that was the agonised prize that your fingers entering ellie and pumping with no care in the world inside her pussy had won for you. there was a spot under ellie, a combination of her own cum and the saliva you had spat on your hand because depravity was the puppeteer moving and angling your strings, and you, brainless and unable to feel shame, followed along, being the only purpose of your tainted existence.

you were becoming obsessed with that sight, your pussy had long started to grind on ellie's stomach, lifting more and more of her black shirt, revealing the toned muscles that helped the friction you were ready to sell your soul to encounter.

fitting a third finger inside ellie, you moaned as though you were the one being penetrated. your teeth were munching your lower lip as a manner to deal with the inexplicable pleasure you were both giving and experiencing. like the previous things, you definitely hadn't planned not only to do this, but to enjoy it as much as an animal in heat would have.

ellie decided she had had enough and pulled her hands out of the pathetic cage that was your numb digits, reckoning they would be of more use gripping the soft flesh of your hips and helping you cover her navel with more your intoxicating precum.

"why can't you always be this obedient? why can't you be a good girl?" your now free hand found a new grip in your own hair, all while indulging in ellie's silent desire to hump harder above her. which meant automatically increasing the speed with which your fingers were claiming her fucked out hole.

ellie sobbed at your words, reading them as indirect praise, the affirmation that like a madwoman she had been searching her all life, the affirmation that frustrated her so much it made her into the shadow of herself.

"oh god please– please, forgive me... oh god, ellie– don't stop..." came out corrupted beyond salvation, tainted by your tears of pleasure and the chocked scream of the most mind numbing orgasm you have ever had, fearing your brain would never recover its sanity.

if you had been captured by the image of ellie, fucked out on the bed where you sleep, ellie too had endured a sight of her own that pushed its limit with you coming on her. it happened during the first second of your high, for this reason you understood that ellie had flipped both of you over, so that now she was between your legs, only when your clothed core met ellie's naked one.

she was humping you like you had been humping her, only with more domineering force due to the position you were in. ellie had her own release in mind and nothing else. there was only the heat stuck in her belly finally exploding with spikes making different parts of her body convulse in quick succession.

the ache of your pussy was no match to the fuelling sensation of having ellie take you like this, using you for her own pleasure after you doing the same to her, putting you in a subordinate position to have full control of what to do to you. "e-ellie come, please come," you begged and pathetically tried to confirm what you wanted by holding ellie's ass to deepen her movements.

she, on the other hand, couldn't resist any longer and with a last thrust she halted flush against you, mere centimetres away from your lips, your legs spread impossibly wide with the only intention of providing ellie with the best position to let go of her built up arousal.

her face had somewhat softened, not taking into account the frown on her forehead, her eyebrows knitted in a desperate expression, almost confused by the force with which her orgasm had deprived her of the characteristic vulgarity and witty behaviour.

she looked... vulnerable. and her lips looked so ready to be kissed and maybe even bitten or sucked. but the delirious feeling of the orgasm had wore off completely by then and anger for a further loss in dignity was covering the entirety of your thoughts. you weren't going to show any more of what you had already done.

you pushed her away, shivering in cold once her body left yours and as quickly as your trembling legs permitted you, you sat on the edge of your bed. facing away from ellie who was waiting for your next move.

"get the fuck out of my room," and with that, a deafening noise produced by the slamming of your wooden door was all was left for you to hear.

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie x you #the last of us smut #dark ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou

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qvrcll · 11 months

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Hii. I just saw your works and I really love the writing<3. Anyways i saw ur taking requests and i really have one in mind.

So like vendetta leon was some sort of a mission (like something similar to the movie) and he Heard the virus had broken out to the city and the only thing he can think is the reader (I'd really love for the reader (which is a retired agent, to be preggy😭). Then he like straightly went to their house (or apartment) and the zombies have already broken inside.

(no angst pls my heart is too poor to handle angst 😭)

cherry waves

summary: with your retirement from the source of his burden’s and the arrival of your pregnancy, leon almost swears that things will be alright. but worrying intel from hunnigan and the affliction of his worst fears make things worse. make things bloody and gashed with the ultimatum of death — and the one thing on his mind? you.

warning: written with vendetta ! leon in mind, violence, afab reader, use of gun, mention of vomit, intense imagery of death / zombie bites, mention of pregnancy, angst (but happy ending), implication of smut (nothing happens :P)

a/n: firstly, ty so much for ur interest for my works! it always makes me so happy ppl like what i write 🥹 secondly, WOW, i loved this plotline and couldn’t wait to get writing it! thank you so much for requesting this because i had a great time writing it (anything exploring leon’s worst fears is an immediate yes from me!) i hope i did your prompt justice and hope you enjoy :-)

It would start with a mission, something so insanely emblematic in its own course that it made Leon scoff sourly.

Of course they would do this — do this to him, to you, try to rope him back into a hell he had once wished to depart for entirely. You’d done it, excavating all wounds and ties to that little milky tinctured office corner and a chock-full of folders, of late night runs to diners and the semblance of sentience. Leon had admired you, held you in high regard and shunned any and all faces that had locked horns with your decision, dragging them through filth and dirt and nothing but the crud of his hate and the spew of his regrets.

And after you’d promised the two of you this peace, this little hole of your own created in the cataclysmic remnants of what once was, in a tiny apartment stocked away into the city curtained with the foolish promises of a forgotten past, Leon had sworn that it had worked. Had been cut from an entirely different cloth, and woven into something… away from this hell.

But it’s always something other than peace in the end.

And when he’s on his own, cornered against a wall with little to no care for anything lavish, just the bile wedged in his throat from the coalescing pools of worry in his stomach, he tries to think of you.

“Leon, your slippers…” you’d called out from the living room, in his memory, voice soaked with little to no empathy. He’d mumbled something incoherent back, something unintelligible, that had sufficed for a few minutes before you’d thrown a shirt over his head. An injunction, he was sure it was, to his constant habit of doing away with his clothes in the wrong places. Next thing he knows, he was being smothered by your weight as your voice rung clear, a ring of indolence grating your voice, “Leave your shirt on the floor and I swear to god, Leon S. Kennedy—“

“Okay, okay, I promise—“ he’d chuckled, collecting you and your squeals in his broad arms, entrapping you into the planate sheets of the bed he’d laid in since the morning began, “I’ll be mindful of where I keep my shirts. Kiss me?”

And your resistance, your throes of faux fury, the crooning semblance of your squeals and laughter had dissolved into a stimulant, a drug for him to swallow wearily whilst his back was met against some other unfamiliar surface.

He holds his breath. Strengthens his feet against the bounding hard-wood floors as an outburst of flitting groans, cold and doggone with the smell, a reminder of 1998, sound out from beyond the foyer of the abandoned building. And he’s accustomed to the feel of blood between his teeth — god, he’s done this in repeated intervals before, so why did it begin to feel too pervasive in this moment?

His heart clamours in his chest.

His skin bursts with a sheen of cold sweat.

His teeth clatter with a fear he’d known all too well, for a time too long.

So why?

So he rephrases, rewrites this fear in him into something of a catalyst — he thinks of you again.

He thinks of your smell and your smile, your tears and the strength you’d accumulated when you had grinned goodbye to this shit hole. He thinks of your nails digging lines of red against his back, the rows that escaped you when he’d had you pressed against the mattress. He thinks of the day you’d staggered up to him, eyes rimmed with a similar shade as the vermillion he’d worn to some masquerade themed drivel (in the name of work), calling for him like you’d been bitten by the dark, searched for his face in the light — “Leon… Leon, I think I’m pregnant,” and he’d kissed you raw, kissed you like he fought, kissed you through the burn and edge of his tears cracking into the press of your mouths as he had felt grounded for once in his pathetic, penurious life.

He uses that, the glint of that vision, that new beginning, the shade of hope that came as you, to shape an opening — he aims his revolver at a blindsided corpse. Fires a crisp blow at a groaning zombie. Kicks, buckles and flanks against two more and advances with the burn of your memory in his mind.

It’s nearly ten minutes since he’s been stationed into the rubble of the desiccated building and Leon’s throat itches with a certain worry.

How were you? Did you need anything whilst at home? Did you think of him? Did you crave something demonically new? Did your feet hurt, like it often did following your pregnancy? Did you rest enough? Were you up, staring at the crescents and spoons of white dotting the sky, like he was?

And Leon nearly trips, nearly kisses the ground from thinking of you — but he needs to. Needs to allow himself this grace to make sure he’d not shoot himself, surely. Needs the image of your face to bless every corner of his mind so he’d remember what it felt to love you thoroughly, fully, to the point of death and damnation. Needs to feel you, if even in his mind, if even for a second too faltering, if it meant he could mow down another zombie.

“Leon? Leon!”

He cringes, retreats to a gap in the wall as he presses his headset into his ear — Hunnigan.

“Hunnigan?” he whispers, throws his voice to a lower sonority than before, so that he can hear her better. So that the clatter, the dash of undead a few feet up ahead, cannot pick up on his bearings.

He hears a cut from the other end, before the agent’s familiar voice cracks through, “Leon, there’s been new intel.”

He frowns. This can’t be good, if she’s already using his first name instead of a roster of aliases. Still, he needed to figure it out. Keep a locale on his bearings.

“New intel? Go on…” he breathes softly. He picks up the press of footsteps up ahead and smothers further into the tight bite of the space, wincing when his muscles flout back at him with an ounce of pain.

“There’s been reports of a zombie intrusion in the city,” Hunnigan starts, and Leon stops, “and there have been increasing hoards against buildings and apartments.”

And he drops.

His feet move, on pure muscle. On pure fear. On the cut-throat and persistent emotion that is love, of you, of the memory of you, of the promise he’d made and of the shattering grip of his life, as he books it out of there. Hunnigan continues, gathers something about altitude and choppers. Of gunfire and backup. Of something more, but Leon can’t tell.

To Leon, his mouth is already bleeding and his body is already teeming with wounds, with the futility of scars and the loom of death, when he pictures those sick, dead bastards at your door.

Why did he accept this stupid job?

Why didn’t he follow in your footsteps?

Why didn’t he stay?

And as he beats the ground with louder noises, attracts a few undead with the heave of his groans as he breaks for home, for your apartment, he can lay a hand over his chest and feel his heart attempting to splinter into knots as he runs.

He thinks of you, again. He thinks of your smile and the smell of rot. He thinks of your smell and the curl of lips and the gash against your hip. He thinks of your odd habits, your huff, your laughter. He thinks of your body stapled to the floor, marked with messily biten flesh and an aspersion of blood on the counter. On the floor. On your face.

And you and you dead and you dying and you growling and you—

“Fuck!”

Leon chokes, his throat jammed with pathetic cries. His eyes glisten and shed, but he quickly finds himself recanted in front of that familiar apartment, front so idyllic, it was burnt straight from his memory. His skin melts with sweat, with pin pricks and with the threat of throwing up right there, but he soldiers through.

At first, it’s hard. It’s hard to breathe, hard to see past his tears. It’s hard to get a clear grip on his weapon and it’s hard to blur out the mess of their groans, their staggering enumeration. But he finds some messy middle ground, grounds his feet and staples his teeth and shoots against brassy flesh, against bone and blood, barely cares for the splatter of blood against his lip, his chin, his hair.

All he cares is for you to be standing there, as you as you could ever be. As safe, as teeming with hope and the glimmer of tomorrow as you ever were, welcoming him home.

But he’s half delirious, half fucked for thought, as he makes it up the staircase with difficulty. He wants to delude himself and wants to believe the lies he’s almost weaving in his head. But the truth is vibrant, unpleasant as the verdant decay of flesh that hordes your apartment floor.

And he nearly throws up.

Your door is open, three zombies freshly approaching the crack of it. Their heads jitter and steer in the limelight, and Leon nearly breaks, but holds the pieces of himself as he shoots through their corroding skulls.

He shouts your name first, then chokes with grief at the sight of blood — and the image of you dead and dying and —

And he’s trying, yes, he’s trying, as he stumbles through the threshold with his gun quivering in his hold. And yes he’s breathing, but only so little, as he eyes the count of flesh against the tile of your living room. And yes he’s standing, but nearly crumbles with the thought of a repeat. Of a sequence to his worst fears.

“Leon!”

The scream gushes from the bedroom and his heart teems with that familiar feeling, slow but sure, of hope. Of love. He silently cries as he makes a run for your shared bedroom — his calloused palm harshly swings apart the door and sees you cornered atop the bed, bashing the head of a zombie in. It’s managed to corner you far up the bed, but you’re sour with spit and curses as you try to throw it off — but the undead prove to be a challenge.

And yet, Leon is a worse piece of work.

With his shot gun aimed at its head, the zombie flattens to the floor with an animated thud.

And then there’s silence. There’s a heave from you, as you gather your surroundings and make use of something solid to determine Leon actually there — actually standing in the stretch of your bedroom as he looks back at you, face bristling with blood and carnage. With tears.

And with time, comes semblance.

You dart towards him, worry in your hands when you gather him in your palms like life itself — “Fuck—Fuck, I was so worried. Fuck, Leon, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, sweetheart, I’m okay—are you?” he inquires, rushes for thought as he presses a hand into your side, your face and your back. Tries and thrives with the effort of remembering your warmth through his fingers — collected here, in the bloody mess of your apartment.

And you’re breathing and you’re alive and you’re smiling and you’re holding love in your hands when you cry into his arms.

And as he holds you like there’s so much of losing you, crumbles to the floor in the vacancy of your arms, he catches sight of your already swelling belly beneath his nimble fingers as you sigh out a laugh. Beckon his hand atop your stomach closer, say something about ‘knowing how to work a gun, even after all the bullshit I’d left behind.’

And Leon sighs with the thought of tomorrow.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon drabble #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #requests

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megamindsecretlair · 6 months

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Mr. Black, Part 2

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, sex toys, dumbass reader, degradation kink, orgasm control, possession kink, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: The next morning, Tre gives you a special present. It is impossible to focus on work after this.

Word Count: 4,051k

A/N: I have no excuses for myself except that this was so fuckin' hot and I need to go lay down, WHEW. Thank you so much for the support! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Tagging the usual lovelies, please tell me if you want to be removed: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj @pinkpantheris @my1onlysenpai @darqchilddaydreamz @badassdoll @playgurlxoxo @eggnox @abeautifulmindexposed @theyscreamsannii @melaninpov

You spent the next morning, on your knees in Tre’s office, sucking the length of him down as far as you could. Somehow, you were able to redo the report and take out all of the typos. Circling them in red genuinely helped.

This morning, he called you into his office with barely a greeting. He simply sat down at his desk, rolled away from it, and you watched as he unzipped his pants and freed his dick. The smooth glide of the zipper already had you transfixed but it was the way he revealed his thickening dick that had you licking your lips. Dropping to your knees.

You had placed your hands on his thighs and wrapped your lipstick stained lips around his dick and drooled instantly. He was so big. It was nearly impossible to fit him in your mouth. He stared as you as you gave him head, his thoughts indecipherable beyond that he liked what you were doing.

He coached you on how to take him. How fast to bob your head. You seeked the tip of his dick with your tongue and fresh cum leaked into your mouth. You swallowed it greedily. You licked the underside, catching on ropes of veins.

Tre jerked and laughed a bit as you teased him. “I’m gon’ get you back for that one,” he groaned.

He didn’t want to mess up your hairdo so he focused on caressing your neck instead. He brushed his fingers around your pretty neck, alternating squeezing it and letting it go. When you took him deeper, he closed his hand around your throat just so he could feel himself inside you.

The pressure from that made you moan. “Mhm, let me hear that pretty voice moan for me,” he said.

You kept up your moans. His hips jerked up while you did so, fucking your mouth now instead of you sucking him. He closed his eyes and you watched the light from the window play off of his glasses.

“Hmf, I’m ‘bout to bust,” he groaned.

A second later, his hot cum was filling your mouth. The hot pulses splashed down your throat and you sucked all of it down. He panted and slipped out of your mouth. You worked your jaw to get some of the kink out.

He smiled as he watched you lick the corners of your mouth for any remnant of him. “I got a present for you,” he said.

“For me?” Joy suffused you as you thought of him getting you a present. Though, knowing him, it was probably something generic as hell. Still, you’d treasure it.

He zipped himself into his pants and stood up. On the side of his desk, he lifted up his briefcase and then rummaged through it. You straightened up and dusted invisible lint from your knees.

You heard a package crumpling and then he held it out to you, unwrapped. You gasped as you saw it and looked at him.

“A vibrator?” You asked. It was the last thing you expected.

He moved beside you and leaned his hip on his desk. “A remote controlled vibrator. Slip them panties off for me,” he said.

“Now? Sir…” You smiled and looked around the enclosed office. People were starting to arrive. You heard faint murmuring on the other side of the wall. There was no way you could wear that thing and get work done.

“You’re going to wear it. You’re not going to cum. At lunch time, I want you back in here, panties off, and legs spread for my lunch. Understand?”

If you weren’t already soaked before, he might as well call you Niagara Falls. Your clit painfully throbbed as that mental image crossed your mind.

“Sir…” Your voice wobbled as you tried to calm your breathing.

“You seem to think I’m asking.” He tilted his head with a smug smirk on his face. Shit. Shit, shit.

Your shaking hands reached under your skirt for your panties. Another lacy pair since he seemed to enjoy the other one so much. He opened the package while keeping an eye on you slipping your panties down.

“Get in position.” His deep, dark voice may as well have been a physical caress.

You faced his desk, identical to the same position he had you in last night. Your heart thundered in your chest. You placed your hands on the desk and leaned over slightly.

He roughly pulled up your skirt. A faint buzzing began and he trailed it through your slick entrance. “Oooue fuck,” you wobbled. Your knees turned watery but you held upright.

The solid wall of him pushed into your back. He licked the shell of your ear and hummed with a chuckle. “I want you to remember that you are not allowed to cum. I’m gon’ be very disappointed if you do.”

“Y-Yes, Sir,” you said. Your bottom lip quaked as he teased you with the vibrator. It was on a low setting so it wasn’t enough to get you too excited. He swirled it around your clit and you dropped your head.

He continued to hum with that deep voice of his. It was like he was purring straight to your pussy. Mercifully, he finally pushed it inside your dripping entrance and you bit your lip to keep from crying out.

He kissed your neck, right below your ear. “And do remember that I control this shit,” he said.

Too lost for words, your head flopped as you nodded that you understood. All day, he was going to torture you with this thing. Not only were you going to have to concentrate on work, you were going to have to concentrate on not cumming.

Your legs trembled as he leaned down and pulled your panties up your legs. He kissed your legs on his way up and then fixed them properly. He lowered your skirt and turned you to face him.

You knew your eyes were already lidded. The constant buzz was playing all kinds of dirty tricks on your pussy.

He kissed your cheek with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He waved the remote in your face. “I’ll see you at lunch, right?” He asked.

You nodded weakly. “Yes, Sir,” you said.

“Good, now print the Turner contract for me, I have a meeting in an hour,” he said.

“Yes, Sir.” Asshole. You took a deep breath and walked from behind his desk. As you neared the door, the vibrator ramped up in intensity. “Oue,” you said and tumbled toward the door. You caught yourself, barely, as the bastard chuckled.

“Just checking,” he said and laughed. Laughed!

You mumbled under your breath while he turned the thing back to its lowest setting. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it briefly. Today was going to be a rough ass day.

For the rest of the morning, you did as you were told. You printed the contract and gave it to him. He seemed to sense you were approaching because the vibrator suddenly turned up and you had to fight tingles making your body shiver. You handed him the contract with a scowl on your face.

He barely glanced at you since he was on the phone and typing away at his computer. Blessed with a little free time, you turned back to the mistake you made. You worked at the problem, trying to figure out where you went wrong. All evidence to the contrary, you weren’t stupid. Something wasn’t adding up somewhere and it was driving you nuts. You knew you had to say something before it got bad, but you wanted to prove that you were capable.

By the middle of the morning, your eye ached from staring at these tiny ass numbers. The vibrator was more or less background noise at this point. He had been too busy to remember to turn it up. He had been in meetings all day down the hall, so he at least wasn’t in the immediate vicinity. You didn’t know the range on those damn things, but you figured that he couldn’t just whip it out and torture you. Taking the blessing as a sign, you made it to the break room across from one of the meeting rooms.

The bottom of the conference room windows were frosted blue so no one could really see inside. However, the top was clear and you could see Tre leaning against the table as he spoke. All that man does is fucking lean.

He knew his affect on the women in the office. Every time he strolled by, the women - and some men - stopped and just gawked.

“You okay?” You turned your head to look at Henry. Sweet Henry. He was a lanky Black man, dressed in khaki slacks and a blue shirt. His tie was festive today.

“That’s a pretty rude question, Henry,” you said and lifted your eyebrow.

He ducked his head and laughed. “I’m sorry. You just seemed a little distracted,” he said. He joined you in the breakroom while you poured yourself some water. Anything else and it would frazzle your nerves.

A sharp pain went through your abdomen. Ugh! If only you could cum. The pressure was unbearable. Your hands were clammy and your skin felt like it was on fire.

You smiled at Henry. “I’m just messing with you. I have a work problem that I can’t seem to figure out.” You drowned the entire cup of water. Then, you refilled it at the water station and drank that entire cup too.

Henry nodded and you looked him over. Why couldn’t you be attracted to sweet little Henry? You bet he gave the best hugs, would not shy away from a foot rub, and would cook you breakfast in the morning.

You tried to imagine Tre being so domestic. You couldn’t. You doubted you’d ever be able to imagine him in anything else but his suits, sitting and making deals from sunup to sundown. Realistically, you knew he had to sleep some time. But did he wear boxers to sleep? Sleep in the nude? Pajama set?

“When I have a problem, I usually start over from the beginning. Sometimes it’s the methodology instead of anything someone did,” Henry said, snapping you out of your racy thoughts.

“Do you have a minute to explain that?” You asked. You had an inkling that you knew what he meant, but you wanted to be sure. Henry’s eyes widened but he smiled.

“Sure, yeah! Um,” he said and licked his lips. He really was rather adorable.

You got comfortable sitting across from him at the small table in the breakroom. There were only 3 chairs so people hardly sat in it. Henry cleared his throat and launched into what he meant.

The vibrator kicked into overdrive. “Fu-” You closed your eyes briefly, before seeking out the bane of your existence.

Tre stood across the way, holding the conference room open. The remote was held in his hand and he looked at you like he was seeing red. You stared at him as your orgasm crested and the urge shook you violently.

“Are you okay?” Henry asked, calling your name. You took deep breaths and looked towards him with a pleasant smile.

“Yes, please continue,” you said, your voice strangled. How could you fight this shit off? Oh fuck, this was the hardest thing you ever had to do. You weren’t used to denying yourself and you hated Tre for putting you in this position.

You pointedly ignored Tre while he tortured you with the vibrator. At one point, you had to press your hand to your stomach as if to physically hold the orgasm at bay. The intensity finally lessened as Henry spoke. You got the gist of what he was saying.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I am feeling a little ill,” you said.

“Oh, okay,” Henry said. He smiled and waved. “I hope you feel better.”

You only hummed as you left the breakroom, heading straight for the women’s restroom. Inside, you checked under the two stalls for any sign of life. When there wasn’t any, you stomped your foot and shook your hands.

Your nerves were on fire. Burning hot lava sludged through your veins. The sudden intensity after all that edging was too much for you to bear. You turned on the water and ran the coolness over your hands. You brought those hands to your forehead to try and cool yourself off.

In your mind’s eye, you saw how Tre looked at you. As if he wanted to bend you over his knee right then and there. The image made your pussy flutter as you recalled how he had spanked you just last night.

You didn’t sit down at all after driving home in extreme discomfort. You couldn’t sit in a bath. Even that was too much. So you took a shower and spent the majority of the night laying across your bed on your tummy and redid the report.

You recalled how he had taken sweet possession of your body, playing with it like a fine tuned instrument. The naughty things he had said.

Oh shit. Your orgasm ripped through you. You bit your lip as sweet fuckin’ relief washed over you in pleasurable waves. You looked at yourself in the mirror as you did so. The way your eyes were at half mast, the slack jaw, the bit lip. You gasped and panted as it kept going, flooding your panties with arousal.

You leaned across the sink, calming down. The vibrator was still going. Shit. Your look in the mirror turned panicked. Okay, now he was really going to kill you. You raced to an empty stall and cleaned yourself up. Somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be enough. He’d be able to tell.

You sniffled but refused to cry. You were a goddamn adult. A kid trapped in an adult’s body, but still an adult.

You took deep breaths. You weren’t going to admit to shit anyway. Armed with new confidence, you washed your hands and left the restroom as if you didn’t have a care in the world.

Your eyes immediately found Tre from across the open floor space. He glanced at you and his eyes narrowed. Shit, how did he know? You gave him a goofy smile but he ran his hand down his face. Oh, you were in it now.

Dread slowed your steps, thinking of the incoming punishment as you walked towards your desk.

Former employees with boxes were being escorted out or walked with such hang dog expressions. You met their gazes, each and every one. You offered a smile. Some smiled with watery tears leaking down their faces. Others scowled at you. You understood. You had a job and they didn’t.

You made it to your desk and concentrated on the invoices. The temporary relief from the orgasm gave you enough energy to finally focus. Though, your mind kept drifting to the look on Tre’s face.

Okay, no more of that. Taking Henry’s advice, you started the invoice over and followed through all of the steps. You relaxed into a zone as you went line by line, number by number. Double checking and triple checking your work. A message dinged on your computer. Lunch time.

Your belly did somersaults as you paused your work. You stood up, smoothed down your skirt, and then walked into his office. You felt a little naughty being in here without him. He had intimidated you so badly when you first started working here. You knew from the first meeting that he was an asshole, but you had no clue just how mean he would be.

Being in his office without him felt like sneaking into the kitchen before dinner, trying to snag a cookie from a plate on the sink.

Instead, you followed his directions and pushed his chair out from his desk. You moaned a bit, free to do so, as the vibrator shifted inside of you. You lifted your skirt over your hips, wiggled out of your panties and then sat on his desk.

The sharp, freezing surface sent shivers down your spine. The vibrator was harder to ignore now that it was the only thing you had to focus on. Not a moment later, the vibrator turned to its highest setting. “Shit,” you moaned.

The door opened, Tre steamrolling into the room. He shut the door behind him and then crossed to his desk. There was a smirk on his face, but you got the sense that he was more angry than happy to see you following his directions.

“Didn’t I say you weren’t allowed to cum?” He asked. He pulled the chair so he could sit in it. He was at the perfect level to look at your dripping pussy.

“I didn’t…”

“Don’t lie to me. You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He asked.

“Sir…”

“What were you talking to Henry about?” He asked.

“Huh?” The vibrator was still going, soaking yourself once more. You couldn’t believe how turned on you were.

“Do you need your ears checked? What. Were. You. Talking. To. Henry. About.” The damn thing had a pulse option.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as the pulses sent you into a shivering fit. You cried as these violent jerks bowed your spine. Tre gripped your thighs and spread them open further so he could see your pathetic clenching around the vibrator.

“W-w-work,” you cried out.

“Go on and cum then since you like it so much,” he demanded. Blazing hot flames of obsidian stared you down as you relaxed into a powerful orgasm. His grip on your thighs was the only thing you briefly noticed as you twitched and jerked your way through it.

You tried to keep your moans and whimpers down. You tried. A drawer slid open and soon, Tre was stuffing something into your mouth. You looked down to see one of his black ties in your mouth. It smelled like him. Like crisp mountain air.

You were able to moan more freely now that you were gagged. Tre pulled the vibrator out and attached his lips to your clit. You screamed out, rearing back and trying to scoot back from the edge of the desk.

Was he insane? Your legs bounced at each swipe of his wide tongue against your sensitive nub. Your hand flew to the back of his head, pushing him deeper instead of away.

You whined more, unable to stand it and unable to push him away. He dragged another orgasm out of you. Your thighs clamped around his head. He used his thick hands to push your legs apart. He pushed until your thighs screamed in protest.

He lapped at your pussy like a starving man discovering nirvana for the first time. His tongue delved into your pussy, pushing in and out and mimicking how he fucked you yesterday.

“Hmf, Tre,” you tried to say, but you were still gagged. He slurped up every last drop of you and then kissed your thigh.

He stood up and placed a wet kiss to your forehead. You gave him puppy dog eyes. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

He grabbed your throat and yanked you towards him. “You watch how you speak to other mu’fuckas in this office.”

You worked your jaw until you spat out the tie. “I have to talk to people here, you know,” you said.

“Not when they’re in love with you,” he said.

“Please, Henry is not in love with me,” you said and rolled your eyes.

“You ain’t that dumb,” he said and squeezed harder. He picked up the tie from your chest, his eyes narrowed as he carefully pushed it back into your mouth. “You have a listening problem.” His face twisted in disgust as he looked at you.

You would have felt like a big under a microscope, except a quick glance down showed you how turned on he was. He looked at his watch and then frowned.

He deftly undid his belt and zipper with one hand as he revealed himself. Your pussy hungrily fluttered, needing all of that inside of you. You bit down on his tie, moving your hips forward.

“You lucky I’m in a hurry and the office is full,” he muttered as he slammed inside.

Your head fell back and you made a guttural groan. He filled you completely. He faced no resistance as your arousal let him slip inside with ease. He made a satisfied hum and began attacking your pussy in much the same fashion as before.

His other hand, around your throat, pulled you closer. “This my fuckin’ pussy, understand?” He asked. He titled his head and looked you in the eyes.

You barely had enough free space to nod. He lifted your left leg and it allowed him deeper access. Your eyes crossed as he finally hit your G-Spot.

“Mhm,” he said, satisfied that he found it. He attacked it with precision. Every stroke was deep and calculated. Your left hand steadied you against the desk as your right hand held onto his wrist around your throat.

“Go on and let it go. Your needy ass can’t follow clear directions,” he said.

You came with a vengeance. The orgasm burrowing into your body like a live wire. Your sweat soaked skin made your dress plaster itself to you. Your knees trembled. Your body hung loose as the orgasm took you completely. Jolting through your veins. Robbing you of breath or sense.

Your orgasm triggered his. He grunted long and deep in his throat as he painted your walls with his cum. You trembled from the force of it. From the feeling of it filling you.

He stroked two more times, like he couldn’t help it. There was a crack in his exterior as he finished. He dropped his head against your chest.

“Swear I turn into an animal when it comes to you,” he panted.

Your heart swelled. You had no idea that turning a man on like this would drive you crazy. That he would drive you crazy. Insane. An addict for this type of lust.

He removed the gag and massaged your jaw. He softened inside of you and then he slipped out. He grabbed tissues off of his desk and cleaned himself up. He zipped away his third leg and then focused on cleaning you up.

He grabbed the vibrator from the desk, cleaned it off, and then worked it back into you. “S-Sir, please,” you begged.

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there as he got the vibrator fully seated. “I’m giving you a second chance. Don’t disappoint me,” he whispered against your forehead.

He pulled up your panties and helped you stand up so he could finish. He smoothed down your skirt.

You stared at his lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. To have that wicked tongue to play with. You ran your tongue across your teeth. You knew what he tasted like already, but you were still needy. Still begging for more.

Fuck, you were so sore from when he stretched you out. You’ve had time to recover from the ass spanking and you hoped that he wouldn’t try that again tonight.

“Grab us some lunch and I’ll see you back in here at six.” He dismissed you.

Your chest deflated as you skirted around him and headed to your desk. You opened the door without a look back, closing it behind you.

You walked with wobbly knees and sat down at your desk. You sat there for five minutes while you contemplated your life choices. There was something wrong with you. It was the only reason why you were still letting him fuck you into oblivion instead of having a nice, normal, healthy relationship with someone that gave you kisses after sex. Cuddled.

Even thinking that, you wouldn’t be satisfied with someone so sweet. Someone walking by your desk pulled you out of your immediate flashbacks to what just happened.

Tre kicked the vibrator up to the medium setting. You cleared your throat as you went back to work, trying to pretend like nothing was amiss.

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stvharrngton · 1 year

Note

Are you still writing for your 1k celebration? If so can you do Steve with a breeding kink pls

here ya go babe! thanks for requesting i hope you enjoy this filth i wrote <3

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, fingering, breeding kink, ideations of pregnancy

taglist: @sweetiestevie @dukesmebby @sw34terw34ther @sweetbabygirlsworld

1k celebration

Steve wasn’t sure where it came from, the carnal need to breed your pussy, to stuff you full of his cum and fuck it back in with his fingers. But fuck, did it make him go a little crazy, the thought of you being pregnant with his baby.

The first time you asked him to cum inside you, Steve thought he was living in some sort of dream, that he’d pinch himself and wake up any minute. But it was very much real and he’d forever thank God for that.

Now every time you two got tangled beneath the sheets, his mind would race with images of his cum leaking from your spent hole, dripping down towards your ass and the sheets. His fingers immediately shoot out to scoop up the remnants, before plunging his digits back inside you.

“Don’t want to waste any now, baby.” He’d always say.

And you’d always slap his hand away with a roll of your eyes.

But the longer you were together, as the days, weeks, months, years went by the more that fantasy became an actual possibility. His brood of Harringtons within touching distance, the idea of you and Steve starting your very own family wound it’s way into your head daily.

And this morning went the same way that many mornings did.

Wrapped up in Steve’s arms, he’d woken you up with soft kisses to your neck, his nose skirting up and down your jaw. You eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep as you hummed happily at the feeling of his lips on you.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, legs stretching out as you felt Steve’s hand creep up under your sleep shirt, thumb rubbing over the soft skin of your breasts.

Steve sighed into your neck, a little content noise that tickled against your skin. He pinched your nipple now, rolling the bud between his thumb and finger, the sensation making you press back into him.

You felt him against your ass beneath his boxers as he began to rut against you ever so slightly. The light brush of his cock against the swell of your ass sent a shiver down your spine, Steve’s fingers wandering south down your body.

They stopped at your panties, fiddling with the cute little bow that sat in the middle of the waistband, “Morning, beautiful.” He whispered, a silent question on the tip of his tongue.

Giving him his answer, you pushed on his hand, sending his fingers beneath your underwear to run through your folds. A shaky breath left your lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You’re already so wet, huh?” Steve teased, his pointer finger teased your hole until his was knuckle deep.

“Because you drive me crazy, Harrington.” You said with a huff, keening at his touch.

“Oh, come on, honey, don’t ‘last name’ me.” Lips forming a pout, the pace of his finger slow as he pressed his thumb into your clit.

Steve dared to add a second finger, your pussy sucking him right in. Slick coating his digits, your arousal seeping through the cotton of your underwear. It was all so soft, so slow. Steve’s lips moving over your skin in barely there kisses as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

“Steve, please,” you whined, back arching from his chest, your ass pushing into his stiff cock.

His thumb brushed over your clit so softly, lazy circles rubbing into the bundle. It made your head dizzy, the gentleness of it all, Steve’s motions were delicate and tender against you but it just made you crave more.

You maneuvered onto your back a little more so you could reach for Steve, your fingers carding through his locks as you tugged on the soft ends.

“Steve,” you whined again, “need you, please, baby.”

It was a little desperate, a little needy. But you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel all of Steve, to be completely wrapped up in him, pretty cock sat deep in your walls as he stuffed you full.

Steve smiled that pretty smile at you, the one that was reserved only for you. The kind that reached his eyes, the kind that said I love you without any words leaving his mouth. His fingers left your pussy now, the wet pads trailing your jaw as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against yours softly.

“All y’ had to do was ask, love,” voice still raspy with sleep, his hair wild as he tugged your underwear down your legs, ditching his boxers soon after.

Steve lined himself up with your entrance, one hand resting on your thigh as you watched him through hooded eyes. You both groaned out at the stretch he created, a hot sweet sting as he pushed in inch by inch.

“Oh, fu-uck,” Steve moaned, a quiet breathy sound from his throat. He began to move slowly, hips rolling against your own at an agonising pace.

You felt Steve’s palm brush against your cheek, his hand cupping the soft skin there, thumb soothing over the apple of your cheek. He hooked his other under your knee, hitching your leg up around his waist.

His forehead came to rest against your own as he built up his pace, his cock sitting deep as his tip brushed your spot with every stroke of his hips. You mewled below him, pushing your chest into his bare one as you clutched at Steve’s biceps, fingernails digging into his freckled skin.

It was all a little too much, the way Steve was towering over you. Your leg hiked up around his waist so he could fuck you nice and deep, a contrast to how he held your face, how his warm honey eyes bore into your own. You’d give yourself to Steve over and over if it meant you could make this moment last.

You choked a sob out, lower lashes wet, as Steve’s pelvis was flush against your skin, his thick cock buried in you to the hilt. It made your pussy flutter and clench around him, pulling the sweetest moan from his throat, his eyelashes fluttering closed.

“Shit, not gonna last much longer if you keep squeezing me like that, baby.” Resolving to burying his face in the crook of your neck, his cheeks flushed pink.

It wasn’t long before Steve was snaking his hand between your bodies, thumb rubbing at your swollen clit, voice shaky and asking where he could cum. You whined at the stimulation, your fingers running riot in Steve’s bed hair.

“Inside, Steve, please,” you whimpered, the coil in your stomach twisting eagerly, “want you to cum inside me.”

“Yeah? Fuck—“ it was almost like a switch had flipped inside Steve’s brain, mind overcome with the images of his cum leaking from your cunt again, thoughts of you becoming pregnant taking over.

“Want it so bad, Steve,” you wailed, eyes glassy and dazed, “can you fill me up? Please, baby?”

“Oh fucking hell, Christ,” he moaned, his thumb against your clit taking on the same speed of his thrusts now, “fill you up, huh? S’that what you want?”

“Yeah, yes, want you to fuck me full.” The beginnings of your orgasm soon washed over your body, your stomach and thighs clenching.

“I can do that, baby, fuck,” his lips crashed to yours, swallowing your moans like they were his favourite meal, “shit, that’s it, baby, good girl. Good fucking girl.”

You cried out into Steve’s kiss as your body shook with pleasure, vision starry as you came undone below him. Legs wrecked as Steve held your thigh to your stomach, his thrusts unrelenting as his cock fucked into you at speed.

“You gonna take my cum, honey? Every last drop, yeah?” He cooed, nose brushing against the slope of your own, only a whimper in reply, “Shit, gonna fill you up nice and good, g-gonna fuck a baby in you, fuck, ‘m gonna make you a Mom, baby, you’ll be so sweet.”

Steve’s pussydrunk ramblings made you keen, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your cunt sucked him right in, the boy’s motor mouth in full affect.

“You’d look so hot, fuck baby, tits so pretty and heavy,” he whined, hips beginning to stutter, thrusts growing sloppy, “belly swollen and you’d, shit, you’d be glowing, baby, I fuckin’ know it.”

His fingers dug into your thigh so tightly, fingertips a bruising grip as he squeezed you. He was close, you knew he was, just needing that little extra push to get him there.

“Stevie,” you whined, “please, I want it so bad. Want your cum.”

His orgasm hit him like a wave, pleasure and relief hitting his body all at once. His hips stuttered as he came, ropes of hot cum painting your walls as his stomach and thighs clenched. Pretty little moans and whines escaped his lips, his brows pinched together as his mouth hung open.

Steve’s chest heaved as he slumped on top of you, sweat matted chest hair sticking to your t-shirt, his face buried in the crook of your neck once more. He hissed as he pulled his softening cock from you, his cum leaking down to the sheets.

Like clockwork his fingers delved back inside, fucking his seed back into your pussy as you whimpered at the sensation, your hands wrapping around his forearm. A soft chuckle emanated from beside you as he held his lips at your shoulder.

“Steve?” You asked softly, voice quiet and timid, “What— what if we tried for real next time? Like, for a baby.”

He shot up from beside you like a meerkat, large palms cradling your face as he kissed you all over. Big wet sloppy pecks making you giggle.

You swear you’d never seen him so happy.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #k.fic #request #stvharrngton1k #i sorta ended up hating this but idk

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Forget-Me-Not 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You toss another can in the bin. The kitchen is littered with your mother’s addiction. Vodka bottles line the counter and beer cans sit in piles on the tile. In some, you find the putrid remnants of forgotten mouthfuls. You rinse them over the sink and fling them over your shoulder, listening to them land in the tall container.

The house rankles with neglect. The walls are layered in filth, the floor is unswept, and the couch is dingy. You shake your head and mutter.

You’re reminded of the teen girl who trod through her mother’s mess every day on her way to the front door, her room her fortress; the only space she could claim as her own. That sacred stronghold she kept spotless in a measly grasp for an ounce of control.

You drop another can in the sink and back away. You shake the stale dregs from your fingers and flee without a second thought. You stumble out onto the shady porch and gulp in air. Fresh, fertile, and free.

You sit on the highest step and hang your head. Your eyes flick over to the basket of flowers. Your foot twitches, wanting to kick it into the dirt. You sigh and tilt your chin up.

You’re sad but not for your mother. You know you should be. No one else will mourn her. They’ll all whisper about how she wallowed in her filth, how she died lonely and abandoned. But they won’t care. They won’t grieve her.

Neither will you. What they don’t say behind their hands is that she was rotten with the liquor. Bitter to the core. The bottle was her shield and her weapon. Her excuse to be what she was. Vile and venomous.

You don’t miss her, you pity her. You stand and face the house, your eyes tinge as you glare at the screen door. Splinters fill the dents in the frame and rust recedes from the hinges. The birds chirp louder and louder and all at once, the world is quiet.

Paralysed, you watch yourself run up the stairs and stop before the door. Twenty years younger but just as broken. Your shadow listens with her ear tilted. A man’s voice rumbles from inside and your mother croaks in return.

“She’ll be home soon,” she says before she sucks on the neck of the bottle, a loud glug bubbling from its depths. “Plain but quiet.”

Your lip trembles and you falter as if you’ve been struck. The teen girl turns to face you, she’s about to run but the door opens and she’s caught.

“There you are,” your mother’s voice chafes in her throat, “we got company–”

You lunge forward to grab the girl before she’s dragged inside. It’s too late. Your knee hits the step and you shudder. How cruel were those village gossips, to warble about the girl but they never said a cross word about their own husbands.

Your stomach fills with bile as you push yourself to your feet. You won’t go inside. Not this time. You turn away and heave, swiping the tears from your eyes. You swear you can hear the girl screaming and sobbing as you walk away. Just like all the others who ignored her.

Your feet carry you without a destination. Water trickles noisily and lures you in. You sit on the overturned tree and watch the ripples lap over pointed rocks.

You should burn the place down. A pile of ash is worth more than those stained walls. You look down at your hands and shake them out, as if you can shed the memories like snake skin.

Only one person heard that girl. Just the one but he turned out just the same. It was never empathy, only a trick.

Forget him. Forget all of it. You sat in that room, across from that doctor, and you did just that. You’re not going to let it back in.

A twig snaps and you sit straight, breath hitching as you search the shadows between the trees. The sunlight flickers through the leaves and the water reflects the world in warped lines. You stand and go to the river’s edge, looking down at yourself. Not a girl anymore, just a tarnished woman.

“Somehow,” the slither jars you but doesn’t surprise you, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You don’t answer him. You know that’s what he wants. For you to shake, to shriek, to do what you did then. To grovel for him to stop, to go away. Just there, on the riverbed, pebbles jabbing into your stomach, your face soaked with the cold water.

“Offer still stands.”

“I don’t want your money,” you say to his rippled reflection.

“Mm, but we both know you need it.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you sneer, “you never did.”

He snorts, “I know a lot about you. I know how you feel, I know how you whine and beg and–”

“Are you so pathetic? You cling to the past like some desperate old man. This isn’t high school–”

“No, it isn’t,” he agrees, “yet here we are and hardly a thing has changed,” Loki struts along the river to its narrowest breadth and steps across, “you are still nothing, and I am still me.”

“A big fish in a tiny, dried up pond,” you spit as you sidle away from him.

“I am the same shark–”

You bend and grab a sharp rock. It’s big and thick and just holding it cuts into your hand. You spin and whip it in his direction. It just misses his shoulder as he sidesteps, plunging a foot into the riverbed. He snarls and kicks his shoe up, shaking it like a wet cat.

“Why would you do that?” He hisses.

“I’ll do it again,” you bend to take another stone, “I will bash your fucking face in.”

“Whooo,” he whistles and snickers as he crosses his arms nonchalantly, “she’s found her voice.”

“Fuck you,” you grip the stone and rear back your arm, “I won’t miss again.”

He tilts his head and his nostrils flare. His snakish eyes narrow and he clucks, “neither will I.”

You stand, locked in stalemate, waiting for the other to crack. He drops his arms, hands on his hips as he raises his chin defiantly.

“I waited twenty years,” he snarls, “what’s a little longer?”

He twists on his heel and hops over the river. You squeeze the rock as you watch him stride away. Arrogant and assured. You fling the rock and it bounces on the ground after his heels. He doesn’t look back as he disappears into the forest.

The beast might hide to lick his wounds, but he always comes back.

#loki x reader #loki #dark loki #dark!loki #thor #avengers #mcu #marvel #au #backwoods au #drabble #series #forget-me-not

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lantianlong · 2 months

Text

Mò Xī

Commission by HA_ZHE_ on X

Permission to repost by commissioner—moi

https://x.com/alxthgr8356bce/status/1773889707501380011?s=46&t=XD_8pl6QESVcXKSw4QlkCQ

#danmei #chinese novel #mo xi #yuwu #yuwu 2 #yuwu 3 #remnants of filth #remnants of filth 2 #remnants of filth 3 #remnants of filth 4 #gu mang #meatbun doesn't eat meat #余污 #墨熄

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takami-takami · 8 months

Text

Mean To Me.

kinktober day 3: exhibitionism

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut.

warnings— afab!reader. fem titles and clothing. subby hawks. brat taming. mistress title. edging. bullying, so mean to him. masturbation. masochism. light dacryphilia.

Hawks is a slut for doms, you heard it here first!

Even through his misbehavior, there is a written pattern in his actions that you’ve come to observe: Keigo is quite well-trained.

One word of your command, and he'll reduce himself to groping his own chest for your entertainment. He'll throw his head back at the pinpricks of pleasure that plague every inch, scorching his skin with an unbearable ache as he pinches and prods under your dutiful eye.

Some questions remain unanswered, however. For instance, it would be impossible to answer whether the whine in his voice comes from the way he's teasing the sensitive, reddened peaks, or from how his blood boils at the thought of being watched by you.

Perpetual surveillance makes for a well-behaved boy; and every move of his is monitored by you across the room, scantily clad in his favorite black lingerie set and lounging across the loveseat parallel to his bed.

"I need it," Keigo rasps, squirming against the sheets. Thick, lubed digits squelch with each movement as the poor thing attempts to fingerfuck himself with even a fraction of the prowess of your poisonous touch.

To your delight, the recreation is quite sad, actually. It makes for a delicious little struggle.

"Please. Need it so fucking bad—"

"Language," you correct, letting one leg sway lazily over an armrest.

"That's not even a rule," he wails, throwing his head back with the beginnings of a tantrum.

"It is now," you say, sauntering over just to twirl a strand of hair in spirals around your fingertip. It's almost pathetic how easily he arches into your touch when you look down on him like this, admiring up close his fucked-out pout and hazy eyes.

"And lose the attitude." You fist the roots, yanking it straight back to force him to look you in the eye.

"Sorry," he squeaks.

"You do like it when I bully you, don't you," you ask. Though you both know it hardly counts as a question, such humiliating inquiries reinforce a power dynamic, a reversal of the roles evident with every ounce of filth that pours from your lips to trickle down his spine.

"You're so mean to me," Keigo whines, a hitched whimper swallowed before the sound can mingle with the tension that crackles thick in the air.

It's a compliment as much as it is a complaint.

That same hand that played with his chest releases it suddenly, darting down between those trembling thighs to grip the heat between. It would be a crime to listen to that merciless lilt in your prosody— all venom, matriarchy, and lust— without touching himself to the sound of it.

It's simply an indulgence of his voice kink, nothing more.

Keigo squeezes himself, speeding up his grip on his dick every uptick while he holds your gaze, mouth agape. With his neck still strained, those puppydog eyes remain trained reservedly on yours.

He can't help but touch himself when you look down on him like this. It's not his fault, he thinks, that his hand begs to crawl down every time you speak; because all he can visualize with his last remnants of a thought is you, hissing those same words as you bounce atop his lap.

Him, bound and perhaps gagged to be used like a toy. You, entirely free to do whatever the fuck you want to him.

"But I do. I love it. It's so hot," he says over the slick sounds between his thighs. "Fuck, baby. It's so hot."

"Of course you like it. Fuckin' masochist," you spit, and Keigo swears his blood sings.

Satisfied with his predictable decision to trade dignity for obedience yet again, you release your grip on his roots and allow his head to fall forward with a whimper once more. A jingle rings in your ears, the clicked collar around his neck clinking with the movement.

Head hanging, chest heaving, and cock swollen; tip swelling a blushing, scarlet red with pre leaking from the slit at each agonizing edge he endures— this is the man Keigo has begged to be reduced to.

Through the strands of hair that dust over his eyes, one golden eye peeks open and watches your heels clack leisurely against the floor on your way back to your seat.

"Aww you want it that bad? You're not above begging for my strap, are you?"

You plop down once more against your throne, crossing your legs and beginning to tap a single nail against the armrest.

It's a contemplative action and it sends trembling waves of fearful arousal through each singing nerve in Keigo's body, down his twitching cock and heaving core. It taps unbearably loud over his open, agonized sobs of agreement; like he genuinely believes he'll get a little bit of pussy if he acts pathetic enough.

How ironic. That only makes him more pathetic in your eyes.

"Mm… Yeah, baby. 'M not. Please give it to me." He blinks back the tears, looking up at you with the most pitiful eyes as he can manage. Mercy is a treat earned, after all, and his hopes all happily rise to his throat in the form of a trill when he sees your pleased squint of approval.

Shifting, he squirms in anticipation. The next chapter of this little game is imminent, and he must mentally prepare for the sweet release he is certain will be awarded to him.

In his mind's eye, Keigo sees himself clearly, caged beneath your thighs. He feels the phantom squeeze around his cock, milking and wringing the flesh of it with each stroke as you take him. Letting his eyes flutter closed, he can taste the heat of your insides, can feel the licks of desire like whips along his body as he waits patiently to empty his balls. They'll be painfully swollen from the strokes against his prostate you will treat him to beforehand— inevitably, just like you always do.

Keigo lets loose a sigh of contentment, shifting his hips as he waits for his reward.

You can hardly hold back a laugh when the idea occurs to you.

"Ruin it for me."

"What?" His voice cracks.

"You heard me. I know you're not that dumb, sweets," you deadpan, ignoring the adorably perplexed furrow that begins to line his brow.

His lips are parted, opening and shutting in disbelief. You almost want to gag them open wider.

The reality of your words hasn't settled in quite yet, hasn't demolished the poor thing's hopes and dreams thoroughly enough for your liking.

"Even a fucked out little mind like yours can comprehend, oh," you count on your fingers for effect, his blown pupils following each movement. "Four measly little words. I'll say it again though, because it's fun to watch the way you cry about it: ruin it for me."

"B-Baby, wait," he panics, blood draining from his face and surging downstream. When speaking with his hands to display any last shreds of authority, Keigo only succeeds in showcasing the way they tremble to your gleeful eyes.

"Wait, w-wait," he begins to bargain. "We can talk about this, you don't gotta—"

"Nope," you refuse. One glance at the twitching cock that oozes pre from the slit with every mean word, one look at the way his eyes go hazy with powerlessness, and you can ascertain two facts: the safeword is nowhere near his lips, and he loves this.

"You'll ruin it for me, won't you? Stop right as you go over the edge. Make it up to me for being bad."

Keigo huffs a pout. It’s a fit he pitches.

Cute.

"You're f—" he catches himself. "You're cruel when you get like this."

Your eyebrows raise in mock surprise, uncrossing your legs and leaning your weight forward. You roll your eyes at Keigo's predictable gulp that follows, as he makes no effort to conceal his stare between those thighs that he'd much rather have like muffs around his ears. The thought creeps up and plagues his mind, a malady of memories of the times he spent hours lapping his fill with a blur of motion against his own neglected cock.

The swallow that results is audible.

"I thought you liked me being mean to you?"

A hand makes its way to conceal his mouth when he looks away, neck scorching with heat.

There is an agonizing dichotomy in the pleasure and fear he feels when he begins to touch himself again. Those watery eyes quickly roll back into his head.

Beating his dick to the tune of his anticipatory sobs of denial, he knows it feels incredible. He can feel it building, crackling pleasure against his cock as he rubs it with each loud, wet stroke. Chest heaving with each twist of his wrist, up and down, wings flapping madly like a dog's wagging tail— it all feels too fucking good; but Keigo knows, logically, that this would-be orgasm is going to fizzle into the most dissapointing faux release he's ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

He can pretend it doesn't hurt, he tells himself. Judging by the sparks of pleasure wracking his body now, the orgasm he's about to give up would have been one of the strongest he's ever had.

Pity.

When he "cums," it's to the backdrop of his tortured sobs.

All he gets is a phantom throb and a river of cum that leaks pathetically when he tears his hands away at the last second.

Frantic with denial and tormented by a painful ruin, Keigo's hands reach out and grip the air before those claws sink angrily into the sheets and clench. Breaths escape his bitten lips in hot puffs, eyes bleary with water when they stare in utter helplessness at his equally weeping cock.

All he can do, all he's permitted to do is twitch like the poor, untouched cock that empties itself against his stomach with each pleasureless pulse.

"Tell me," you interrupt. "Do boys like you deserve to cum?"

He furiously shakes his head from side to side, hitching high-pitched hiccups from the back of his throat. It's with a sob and a bitten lip that he sinks further in his slouch, nearly stomping his foot like a tantrum. Another jingle of his collar rings out with the motion.

"You're lucky you're even getting this," you goad, just to rub some salt in it. "Do you deserve it, baby?"

"Yes, mistress," Keigo mumbles the response automatically, fuzzy until your expectant glare pops his budding bubble of bliss. "I-I mean, no, I don't— thank you, mistress."

You hum. "Felt good, huh?"

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Keigo hiccups when he nods.

It's only half a lie.

Physically, it was excruciating; but mentally, he'll be replaying this memory with a bottle of lubricant and his fist tight for weeks to come, desperate to keep the image fresh in his mind.

"What an adorable little ruin. Much too good for my sweet, sweet boy," you purse your lips when you tease, tapping Keigo's cock with the tip of your heeled boots and watching him flinch.

"You know what, Kei'? I think I'll have you give me another."

#hes so cute #🖋 writing #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #smut #x reader #mha thirst #bnha thirst

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janaispunk · 5 months

Note

Jana

🌾 - #7 : look at me

These prompts got me having some thots 🥵😂. Ilysm congrats again bb.

look at me

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~0.3k

summary: “you’re gonna be good and clean up after yourself, hm?”

warnings/tags: explicit smut (18+ only!), dom!Dave, sub!reader, able-bodied reader, spit kink, degradation kink, dirty talk, how much filth can i put into 300 words or less really

a/n: thank you for this prompt pam, ily! <3 the thots were strong with this one, what can i say. i’d love to turn this into a longer fic eventually, but the brain said, not today 😌

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs if you want to be notified for fic updates 🫶🏻

“Look at me.”

Dave crouches down in front of you, his eyes boring into yours as you lift your head, tears staining your vision.

“Made a mess, did you?” he murmurs, his fingers grazing your face affectionately, but the dark glint in his gaze doesn’t escape you. He tilts your head down to look at the puddle of spit that had dribbled out of your mouth.

“Dirty girl.”

He pulls his hand back and slaps your cheek, the sting making you whine.

“You’re gonna be good and clean up after yourself, hm?”

You feel yourself nodding before your brain has even caught up to his words, your thoughts hazy and consumed by the need to please him, to make him proud.

“Go on then,” he tells you, his voice almost gentle as he pats your cheek once more.

Heat of humiliation burns on your face, but you can’t deny the new wave of arousal that burns through you as well as you slowly bend down, stealing another glance up at his carefully composed face and his dark eyes before you lick at the floor gingerly, trying to collect the cooled down fluid with your tongue and another whine climbs up your throat.

He pulls you back abruptly, making you bend your neck until you look up at him again.

“I said, clean up,” he snarls. “Maybe you need more motivation.”

He spits down onto the ground, adding to the remnants of your saliva, then shoves your head back down. You flatten your tongue against the ground, trying to lick up as much as possible, and hear him chuckle above you.

“Good girl, that’s better. So desperate for everything I give you, you’d even lick it off the floor. Fucking filthy.”

thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment, it means the world to me and really keeps me going <3

#janas fics #dave york #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #smut #degradation kink #dom/sub #spit kink

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madbuns · 7 months

Text

10 fandoms/10 characters/10 tags

Tagged by @justsomeoneunordinary ehehe <3

Naruto— Uchiha Madara

One Piece— Portgas D. Ace

Obey me! Shall we date? — Lucifer Morningstar

Dungeon Meshi— Senshi

Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun— Seo Yuzuki

Yuwu/Remnants of filth — Gu Mang

The Magnus Archives — Gerard Keay

Trigun Maximum— Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Assassination Classroom— Akabane Karma

Monster — Johan

Tagging: @fennign @illogicals-blog @fiyasgideon @mikariin @professionaltrashsstuff @doeinstinct @taiyoooh @pachu09 @tbrma and whoever else akfjskdk

#fell asleep midway doing this-

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changbunnies · 1 year

Text

Outlaw (18+)

♡ Pairing: Cowboy/Outlaw!Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: wild west au, cowboy/outlaw au, dubcon, strangers to... something? basically just filth with a little plot thrown in

♡ Word Count: 4.9k

♡ Summary: Y/N, after being displaced from her home due to outlaws, returns a year later in the hopes to reclaim some lost belongings. But the outlaw Changbin, who has claimed her old home for himself, won't let her take her things without getting something in return.

Update! this now has a part 2 you can read here! <3

♡ Warnings: strong language, changbin is mean in a way that he disguises as 'nice' ??? very insincere and condescending :'), minor mention of someone being dead, changbin also remains nameless for a bulk of the fic because he is a stranger. that's about it for general warnings since this is mostly smut lmao but let me know if i missed something that should be here!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): dubcon!! (please read responsibily and with your own discretion for what you can handle!), petnames (sugar, darlin, sweetheart, good girl, he uses "little lady" exactly once, he also calls reader dumb once), manhandling, nipple play, biting/marking, unprotected piv, some slapping and choking, a lil dacryphilia. lmk if i missed anything!

♡ Notes: i originally wasn't going to post something again this soon but i was possesed to write this after repeatedly seeing cowboy concepts from my faves :') as usual, if you're interested you can check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Get in, grab the stuff you need, and get out before the sun starts to set- that’s all you have to do. You are in the remnants of your childhood home, nestled within the ghost town that is the place you grew up in. Abandoned over a year ago, when a band of cowboys came stirring trouble and driving out the locals with their exuberant drinking and penchant for violence.

Your parents, the owners of what was once the town’s largest and most successful saloon, had unfortunate run-ins with the vile men on a daily basis, having to turn away regulars for their own safety and clean up the abundant mess left behind from the nightly roughhousing.

It was with a heavy heart that your family left everything behind, with the hopes they could rebuild somewhere safer, out of the radius of all the outlaws and their gun fights. Your family hasn’t had the easiest go of things since then, having expended nearly all of their tucked away savings in the process of relocating and building a new home and business.

And now here you are, searching your hold home for anything that could help. You’d heard news of dust settling in the area as the infighting between local gangs were dying down, and thought now would be your best chance to return for things that had to be left behind. You knew there was no physical money to be found, but if you were lucky there could still be trinkets left behind that would fetch a good price. Something that maybe the cowboys wouldn’t recognize as overtly valuable, but would be to a trained eye.

"Ya lost, sugar?" a gruff voice says from behind, making you nearly jump out of your skin. Shit- how did you not hear him approach? You quickly stand and turn around, the image of a burly man in the doorway, with dark curly hair and equally dark eyes. There was no way this man approached silently- you must have just been too absorbed in your task to pay attention to outward noise.

"Not lost," you say, voice firm now that you are past the initial surprise of being discovered. You are not nearly as alarmed as one might expect you to be; you were born and raised in the saloon, helped your parents keep it running smoothly as a barmaid once you were old enough. You handled your fair share of unruly drunks and trigger happy outlaws, learning from an early age how to get men to abide by your rules. So surely you could handle this man too.

"Sure 'bout that? This ain't the kinda place a little lady like yourself goes wanderin',” the man says, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe. Despite the relaxed way he does it, it's clear he doesn't intend on letting you past him. If anything, he almost challenges you to- with a look that says you can certainly try to get past me, but you won’t.

"This is my house. At least it was, until people like you drove us out," you spit out against your better judgment. You normally know better than to instigate a fight with a lawless man, usually using a disgustingly sweet tone and batting your lashes to get them to listen to you. You should know to bite down the resentment that runs through you, even if the feeling is justified. But the way that he’s treating your home as his property makes your blood boil. "Just let me get my things, and then I'll never see you again.”

The man hums, as if considering your words, before the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. "I don't much care about that darlin'. It belongs to me now." The minute townsfolk like you left, this town was up for grabs for anyone who wanted it, and he and his gang gladly claimed it. Whatever you left behind, every little thing no matter how small, it’s all his now- it’s as simple as that. And you can’t take from him without paying a price.

You glare at him, eyes full of scorn. What pisses you off the most about him is that he knows it’s his fault you lost everything you held dear, and he doesn’t care- he holds it over your head, using your belongings like a bargaining chip. As if you’re a dog waiting to be fed a treat or a fish on his hook, completely at his mercy, unable to get what you want or need unless he’s kind enough to grant it to you. And you hate that it makes his eyes light up with a twisted delight, the upturned smirk making you want to slap it off his face (though he’d probably just find that amusing too.)

‘Fucking asshole,’ you think to yourself. What do you do now? Grovel? Does he want you to get on your hands and knees, beg him with a desperate voice and teary eyes? ‘Oh please, mister cowboy sir, please give me my things back!’ As fucking if- you would never do that. The man lets out a laugh, as if he can read your mind and knows exactly what you think of him.

But the thing is, he does know what you’re thinking, knows that you absolutely hate him right now. He's seen that expression on countless faces before- a fire burning in the eyes, red hot rage burning through your blood. But if there's anything he's good at, one thing he loves doing more than anything else, it's extinguishing the flames of pretty young things like you who think they can talk back to him.

"If it makes you this upset, you can always take it up with the leader of my gang. He’s the one who ‘forced’ you out, not me," he says, a devilish smirk plastered on his face before he continues, "Oh, but he's 6 feet under now. Guess you're outta luck, huh? You're stuck with me darlin'. So let's figure this out together, hmm?"

He steps out of the doorway, letting the previously open door slam closed behind him. You want to stand your ground, but unconsciously you take a step back, and then another, and another, until he has you cornered. Back pressed against the wall, his palm planted firmly on the wall next to your head, effectively caging you in.

His other hand reaches for the bag hanging off your shoulder, full of your old personal effects. Valuable trinkets buried under old journals, black and white family photos and letters penned from distant relatives; all items that scream of sentimentality. How sweet. It's too bad he's not a nicer person; maybe then he'd let you walk away with all this useless junk that he has no need for. But what would be the fun in that?

"I can't let you just take what's mine, we both know that wouldn't be right," he says while gripping your bag tightly in his fist, as if he gives a single fuck about what's right or wrong. All this stuff belonged to you before he and his stupid outlaw buddies effectively stole it anyways! He’s blatantly playing with you, stirring up your emotions just to revel in the reaction it grants him. "Ya gotta pay for it, sweetheart. I know you’re a good girl who knows better than that," he continues, feigning sweetness and care with his tone.

"I don't have any money to give you," you glare, though the aggression in your eyes doesn’t match the timid way you speak. And that's the crux of why you're here- sure, you've been picking up sentimental items as you move through your old home, but you desperately need money and you came back in the hopes there'd still be something of use to you that hasn't been pilfered yet.

"Oh, don’t you worry 'bout that. I'm not interested in money darlin'," he says as he tosses your bag to the side, no care at all for any breakables inside. His face moves an inch closer, hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He watches with amused delight as the cogs turn in your head, a realization that makes your eyes widen and face flush.

"Y-You- I-" You hate yourself for stumbling over your words, and giving more entertainment to the man in front of you. You can tell he likes the way you begin to crumble, breaking down your resolve to be resolute bit by bit. His words are accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eye that you would acquaint with playfulness if you weren’t currently being trapped against a wall by an incredibly strong, intimidating man.

"Don't worry, sugar, I'm not a monster. I won't force you," he smiles, knowing very well what he's doing. He frames it as if it's your choice- as if he can be free of blame if you give in, as if he isn't taking advantage of your desperation to get your things back. He takes a step back, freeing you from your caged position against the wall, giving you the opportunity to flee right this second if you so choose.

But he knows you won’t. Because you’re brave, or maybe just foolishly stubborn, and you refuse to leave without what you came for. The illusion of choice he’s giving you- it’s almost sickening in its cruelty. And that stupid fucking smirk on his face should make you feel disgusted, resentful, furious, but you feel none of those things- you feel… butterflies?

Fuck. Are you attracted to him? How fucking stupid can you get? To be attracted to a man who has such little regard for other people, who looks at you like a plaything he can discard the moment he’s bored. His words might be framed sweetly, but the message underneath is clear- you are going to give him what he wants. "Well, what do ya say, sweetheart? Wanna have some fun with me?"

You swallow, looking at him with shaky fists and red cheeks. Are you really going to do this? Give yourself up to a stranger for things that rightfully belong to you in the first place? It goes against everything you stand for, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to just leave. What would your family say if they found out how far you degraded yourself for something so objectively small?

But fuck it. Against your better judgment, you agree to ‘have some fun’ with the frustratingly attractive outlaw in front of you. The man smirks once more before he grabs your face under the chin with a rough hand, directing your head up towards his, kissing you with a roughness you've never experienced before.

There’s a noise of surprise that leaves you, the moment happening so fast it makes your head spin. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing your mouth to open for him, his tongue wasting no time on entering. Unconsciously you reach out for him, desperately grasping for something to hold. You're impossibly dizzy from the feeling of his tongue making circles around yours, and you need to ground yourself, doing so by tightly clutching his shirt in your hands.

His teeth snatch your bottom lip, tugging harshly before soothing the bite with a lick, and repeating. A whimper escapes you, though you can't tell if it's from the sting in his bites or excitement welling in your gut. You've always been treated delicately by men before now- like you were made from porcelain, like even the smallest of bends could result in a break. And that's what you always thought you liked, so why..? Why is his treatment making your entire body shiver in delight?

He grins when he pulls away, satisfied with the dazed look in your eyes, the swollen red of your lips, the way your breathing has substantially quickened. He wants to ruin you even more- make you delirious with need for him.

He reaches for the top of your dress now, pulling it down just enough to expose your chest to him. "Pretty," he says with a grin so attractive that it makes your stomach twist. What the fuck is this guy doing to you? You should be ashamed of yourself for finding any semblance of enjoyment from this.

Rough, calloused hands waste no time groping the newly exposed skin. You suck in a breath, trying desperately not to let out any sounds that would grant him satisfaction. He tuts in disapproval, though he actually loves seeing you try so hard to keep the tough act going- it’s the fight to remain in control that makes it so fun, after all.

He tweaks your nipples without remorse, pinching and pulling between his fingers, causing a yelp to escape you before you could even hope to stop it. His face lowers, and for a moment you think he’s going to resume the messy, wet kisses, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips meet your neck, teeth grazing the skin before he decides on a spot to bite down on.

Over and over, his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your neck, creating a constellation of bruises in their wake. It’s a reminder, you realize- a reminder of what you chose to do with the nameless outlaw, evidence of what you allowed him to do to your body, an imprint of shame and desire that will follow you for the days to come.

The noises that leave you are his absolute favorite- pretty sounds of pleasure mixed with pain. Your hands have moved from gripping his shirt to his arms, nails breaking the surface of his skin and a pleasant sting accompanying it. He pulls away once satisfied with his work, another pleased, devious grin on his face as he admires what he’s done to your previously unmarred skin.

He snakes his hand under your dress next, chuckling when he feels the wetness drenching your panties. "I knew I liked you," he says, tone low but smirk ever-present. Pulling away from you, he walks to the nearby sofa and sits comfortably, raising an eyebrow when you just stare instead of following him over. "C’mon over, sugar. Don’t make me wait."

You step over slowly, doing your best to swallow down your nerves as you reapproach him. He pulls you to his lap when you’re in his reach, not wasting any time in getting you where he wants you. He lifts the bottom of your dress, bunching it up around your hips, exposing you to his view. He takes a moment to admire the way your panties cling to your skin before he swiftly pulls them to the side.

There’s a gasp from you that follows, not just because of the sudden exposure, but the distinct sound of tearing that fills the space. Did he seriously just rip your underwear? “Oops,” he says with absolutely no sincerity in his voice, “what a shame. They were so pretty, too.” He laughs when you mutter ‘asshole’ under your breath and glare at him, endlessly amused by the way you react to him. There’s part of him that even considers making it up to you later- once he’s done with his own fun, of course.

He moves his hand to his pants next, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with ease, pulling his (notably large) cock out so nonchalantly that it nearly leaves you stunned. He watches you, reveling in the way your expression changes, the annoyance you held just moments ago melting into a timid desire.

You stare at him, shy and apprehensive, but still wanting, craving him. He makes a show out of spreading the accumulated pre-cum along his length, indulging in the way your eyes follow every move his hand makes, as if completely and utterly enraptured by him. And in a way, you are; you’ve never been so captivated by a stranger in your entire life the way you are now, intoxicated by the view of the man pumping his cock in front of you.

"Ride it,” he says when he finishes preparing himself for you, “Show me how desperate you are." His light, almost playful tone frames it as a request, but you can tell it isn’t- he’s telling you to do it. And if there’s anything you’ve learned so far, it’s that you can’t resist him, even if you wanted to; you’re under his charismatic spell, with no hope of escaping.

You take a breath, steadying yourself for what's to come before you travel further up his lap. He brings a hand to the nape of your neck, in a gesture that doesn’t at all help with your nerves. How does his hand on you suddenly feel so heavy? A trembling hand reaches for his cock, lining him up with your entrance, but you pause before you lower yourself on it, looking at him with clear apprehension in your eyes.

He raises his brow when you initially pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to scold you for making him wait, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, expression softening ever so slightly. “You can do it, darlin’. I know you can make it fit,” he leans closer to you as he speaks, his breath fanning your ear as he draws you in by the neck to meet him halfway, “because you’re a good girl who does everything she’s told, aren’t ya?”

Fuck. If you weren’t positively dripping before, you definitely are now. How does he keep managing to say things that make your stomach twist and a shiver run down your spine? He leans back when you finally begin to sink down on him, hands resting behind his head as he takes in the sight of your scrunched brows and flushed cheeks.

He's so fucking thick, easily the biggest you've ever taken, but the sting is the most delicious thing you’ve ever felt. Your breathing is ragged by the time you are fully sat on him, your thighs completely flush with his. He allows you a moment of respite, letting you adjust to the feeling of being so full of him, though you aren’t entirely sure you can get used to it. You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch- so much so, that it makes your entire body tremble.

And if the outlaw underneath you is being honest, he’s just as equally affected. You’re squeezing him so tight, and if this were any other time he would completely forgo watching you ride him and instead pound straight up into you. But he wants to see how much more obedient you can be, how well you’ll take his orders, how well you’ll listen to him. He wants to see you lose yourself for him, become brainless in the pursuit of pleasure.

You’re moving again before he even has to tell you to do it, whimpers and moans freely leaving your lips now, much too far gone to care anymore about keeping them held back. The man’s cool exterior cracks for just a moment, head falling back as a low groan escapes his throat. He won’t say it aloud, but you’re driving him crazy- the push and pull he had with you being the most fun he’s had in ages.

"Open your mouth," he commands when he lifts his head back up and you oblige easily, much to the stranger's satisfaction and amusement. Look at you, so full of fight when he first laid eyes on you, now reduced to a cock hungry mess. Listening to him without an ounce of hesitation, completely at his mercy- he loves it.

He rests two of his fingers on your tongue, letting them linger there for just a moment before he pushes them down your throat. You sputter and gag around them, eyes immediately watering from the intrusion. "You can take it," he tells you when he notices the tears welling in your eyes threatening to fall, "C'mon sweetheart, take what I give you."

Saliva drips down your chin from the corners of your mouth as he effectively chokes you on his fingers, slapping you on the thigh with his other hand when you show any sign of slowing down. You just barely register his voice praising you in your ears, tears openly falling down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, forced to keep up the pace he set for you without faltering.

He can’t help but let out a groan when he admires the view- you’re so fucking pretty when you’re crying, so breathless and ruined, all for him. He’ll give you a gift, he decides; reward you for playing your part for him so perfectly. He pulls his fingers out from your mouth, but there’s no time for you to catch your breath because he immediately brings them to your swollen clit.

His touch is both harsh and fast, sparing you no time to allow oxygen into your lungs. A loud moan leaves you, your head falling forward and onto his chest from the combined feeling of his wet fingers on your clit and his cock reaching the deepest parts of you. "F-Fuck, please, please-" You're so close, your entire body tingling with pleasure as the knot in your stomach grows incredibly taut.

"Aww, poor thing," he coos mockingly, another slap landing on your thigh when your pace stutters, "need to cum so bad, don't you? Dumb little thing needs my help?" You nod frantically, watery eyes pleading with him. You don’t know when you became so desperate, but it’s all you can think about now. You want it, need it, more than you’ve ever needed anything.

"Mm, beg for it," he says, the wicked grin returns in full effect and drives you completely crazy. "If you do a good job, I might help." You whine, pace once again faltering as you’re driven to the brink of release, but not quite reaching it on your own. Your thighs burn from the exertion, knees aching and body impossibly tired.

And so, you do the one thing you said you would never do- beg for him. “P-Please, please help me, wanna cum so bad,” your voice quivers, and he grins, evidently pleased by the display of desperation. He won’t give it to you that easily, though. Because who would he be if he wasn’t at least a little mean?

"Oh, you can do better than that, I know ya can. Try again, darlin', show me you mean it," he says, hands grabbing your hips and forcing you still now, unable to do a single thing until you tell him what he wants to hear. He smirks when you let out a frustrated cry, your hips being held firmly in place and unable to seek any sort of stimulation. “Go on, sugar. Tell me how bad you need me.”

“Please, I’ve been so good, gave you everything you wanted, so please, please, need you so bad, please-” you’re babbling now, words leaving you shamelessly, eyes once again watering as the desperation builds overwhelmingly high. You’re clearly no longer in your right mind, because if you were you would never do this.

The satisfaction he feels from reducing you to this is indescribable, and he’ll be sure to reward you for indulging him so sweetly. He pulls you off his lap with ease, tossing you to the side of the sofa as if you're nothing but a doll. He grabs your arm after he stands, pulling you up and subsequently bending you over the arm of the sofa as he stands behind you.

He sinks back inside you easily, hand reaching under you and fingers playing with your clit as he pounds into you from behind. Fuck, fuck, fuck- You're vision blurs, eyes rolling back as white hot pleasure courses through your veins. His other hand holds your hip roughly, his nails digging into your skin, not slowing his pace even as you cum around him.

Your hands claw in vain at the sofa cushions, finding no purchase. Your legs quiver, eyes squeezed shut as your left with no choice to accept the overwhelming pleasure that takes over senses. Reaching his hand to your neck now, he pulls you up to him by the throat, your back now flush against his chest. Your breath hitches when he squeezes, the pressure on your neck alarmingly good.

"Tell me your name, sugar. Who is being so good for me, hmm? Need to know," his words tickle the shell of your ear, making your brain feel impossibly muddled. It takes you a few tries to get your name out given his unrelentingly fast pace, but you manage to stammer it out for him to hear.

Your body shudders when he repeats it in your ear, the sound of your name falling from his lips making you clench around him. “Oh, you like that, hmm?” he teases you with a short laugh, though you are too far gone to be embarrassed by it.

“Y-Yours, want to know yours too,” you manage to say, though it’s practically a beg. For better or worse, you want to put a name to the face of the person that made a mess of you. He hums in response, and you’re not entirely sure he’ll even tell you, but he does.

Changbin. It sounds vaguely familiar, but your brain doesn’t have the capacity to dwell on it at the moment- not with the way his cock is currently drilling into you. And in the same way that your name leaving him had an affect on you, the opposite does the same for him.

It makes him almost feral- an overwhelming desire to make you forget everything but his name, for nothing to remain in your mind but him. He loses his composure for the first time all evening, driven purely by his need to cum, with you being the sole reason for it.

He releases his hold on your neck, letting you fall forward against the sofa. Noises no longer leave you, a pleasure so intense that all that escapes you are sharp, quick breaths. “So good, fuck, you’re so good, ‘m gonna cum-” you hear him pant out from behind you, his pace faltering for the first time as he chases his orgasm, his hold on your hips so intense it’s sure to bruise.

You reach your high first, voice coming out in short, broken moans as your toes curl and body convulses under his hold. He pulls out at the last possible second, his cum spilling between your thighs and dripping between your legs. Your legs collapse when he lets you go, the armrest of the sofa being the only thing keeping you off the floor. You close your eyes, chest heaving as you try to regain control of your harsh breathing.

Changbin picks you up after tucking his softening length back in his pants, adjusting your position so you are now laying on the sofa properly, back comfortably nestled against the cushions. He lets your legs rest on his lap when he sits down, a subtle grin plastered on his face while he waits for you to finally open your eyes.

“How ya feelin’, sugar? Did ya have fun?” he asks, a smirk growing on his face to match the cocky tone in his voice. Asshole. He knows what the answer is, and he just wants to hear you admit it. “I’m not answering that,” you scoff, and he laughs, the amused glint returning to his eyes. Back to the cat and mouse, huh? That’s perfectly fine with him; he’ll play this game with you for as long as you let him.

Changbin stands now, grabbing the bag he tossed aside earlier from off the floor and returning it to you. If you’re being honest, you’re surprised he’s keeping his word- you hoped he would, of course, but there was no guarantee. “What’s that look for, darlin’? I told you, I’m not a monster,” he says and you roll your eyes. He may not be a monster, as he puts it, but he’s definitely still an arrogant asshole.

“I’m headin’ up for a bath, but you’re welcome to join me if ya like,” Changbin says, and once again going against your better judgment, you find yourself genuinely considering it. You should definitely leave- get your belongings back to your family, ride far away from him and never look back, and yet..

“I want in first,” you say as you stand, leaving your bag behind on the sofa as you walk towards where you know the bathroom to be. “Whatever ya say, darlin’,” he grins as you once again take control back in your own hands; you won’t have it for long, but if he wants the game to be fun, he needs to let the ball be in your court sometimes.

The game of cat and mouse can’t exist without a little give and take, so for right now, he’ll give; so that when he takes, and takes, and takes, it’ll be that much more enjoyable. Watching as you strip yourself naked to enter the tub, smiling when you fight him on whether or not he should help you wash up and find you new clothes to wear, laughing when you grumble about deciding to stay for the night. Oh, he’s really looking forward to the fun he’ll have with you from now on.

if you see this then thank you for reading til the end !! <3 while i've read a lot of fics containing it, this is my first time actually writing a dubcon fic so i was a lil nervous about releasing this but i hope that wasn't too obvious and you enjoyed it fsgsfg thanks again !!

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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whitedarkmoonflower · 8 months

Text

Prisoner

Part 4

Part 1,* Part 2, Part 3, Part 4*

Authors note: I wrote the first part of this when I was feeling really down and the rest when I finally got the good news that my health issues have resolved and I don't have to fear anything. I wanted to rewrite everything, but then I thought it's a part of me, a part of my inner turmoil and I left it as it was.

Summary: Sihtric promised to find the cunning thief that saved his life in Bebbanburg, and kept that promise. What he didn't expect was to find her broken. Will his overwhelming love for her, allow him to heal all the wounds?

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: imprisonment, implied rape in the past, SMUT 18+

Word Count: 5,2 K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

The thick and heavy air made your lungs burn in slow agony with each shallow breath you took. The disgusting smell of filth and rot that hit your nose with the force of a hurricane and made you almost choke on your own breath when you first entered the dungeon didn’t bother you anymore. You had long got used to it, as well as you had got used to the putrid broth and murky water brought to you and the other prisoners by the nuns. The very first time you had refused it, smashing the dirty bowls on the floor with an impudent laugh on your face.

You had been so sure not to stay here for long, so confident in the imminent rescue and so appalled, when the time passed and it didn’t come. You had long lost count of the time, as there was nothing in the dungeon that would hint the movement of the sun, the dim torch light being the only illumination.

You had spun back the last events before your capture hundreds and thousands of times, remembering the tiniest details of your last encounter with Constantin – your lord and protector, whom you had served all those years. There were no more doubts as to the reasons why you had landed in this filthy place. You were betrayed and used as a conciliation gift.

The constant moans and cries, echoing through the walls and corridors, the rustle of rats, hopelessly searching for some remnants of food, and the chirp of the burning torches would have probably driven you mad if not for the burning anger, flaring-up in your chest and filling your veins with fiery determination to take revenge.

But as the time passed even this apocryphal source of energy started to lose its power, leaving room first to despair and then to indifference. Indifference to everything.

The last sensation you remembered was the overwhelming, maddening hunger, your stomach clenching in spasms as you wiggled on the floor, arms wrapped around your waist; your mind was blurred and head spun as rough, bruising hands tore you from your dark oblivion and pulled you up to your feet. Your legs refused to obey and you were literally dragged out of the cell and through the empty, echoing corridors to the stairway and further up into the light, hitting you like a thunderbolt, your eyes unlearned to deal with it.

—---------------------------------------------

Sihtric turned to face the approaching guards dragging a dirty, gaunt, barefooted figure with bound hands, clad in filthy rags that carried a far resemblance to something that must have been a tunic some long time ago.

Even if Sihtric’s memories held a completely different picture of the beautiful widow, turned out to be a cunning spy and thief, but more importantly the unexpected saviour of his life in the fortress of Bebbanburg, he instantly recognised you.

“Is it her? Are you sure?” Uhtred’s voice, like a distant echo, intruded in Sihtric’s bewildered consciousness.

“Yes, it’s her,” Sihtric nodded, trying to preserve a nonchalant expression, only his eyes betraying the real emotions brewing inside him, filling with anxiousness and darkening with growing anger, his gaze fixed on the bony creature, that yelped in pain as it was thrown to the ground before him.

“We have the direct order from the king to bring her before the Bishop’s court in Lundene,” Uhtred addressed the stern-faced man, sitting on a draped chair not far away from a table loaded with paper rolls, almost hiding the young scribe placed behind.

“You can have her,” the man shrugged with shoulders, his face emotionless. “One mouth less to feed, although I don’t think she would have lasted long anyway,” he nodded to the scribe, who hastily scribbled something on the paper roll, and rose from the chair. “Some guards might miss her company though,” he added with a dirty smirk on his lips.

Uhtred’s brows furrowed, repulse evident on his face, as he casted a worried glance to Sihtric, whose face had turned ashen, his eyes clouded with confusion and a burgeoning fury, abruptly turning into cold, hard stones as he watched the guards by your side, muscles in his jaw tightening, lips pressing into a thin line. Sensing the tightening of his friend’s muscles, preparing for a leap, as his hand slid down to the shaft of his axe, Uhtred placed a deterring hand on Sihtric’s shoulders, squeezing it warningly and turned back to the man. “Are you ready? We want to leave as soon as possible to reach Lundene within the next few days.”

Your eyes, slowly adjusting to the daylight, hidden behind loose strands of your dirty, tousled hair, cautiously scanned the hall and the men around you. What was happening here? Who were they? There was something undeniably familiar in the voice of one of them, something that stirred memories you had tried to entomb in the deepest corner of your mind. You carefully raised your gaze, instantly lovering it again, unable to believe what you had seen.

“I will find you regardless,” the familiar voice echoed in your mind, bringing back the bittersweet memories of the last time you saw Sihtric, as he turned and passed through the small sea gate of Bebbanburg castle, disappearing into the shadows behind it.

You had never expected this to happen, for him to really look for you and even less to find you, but there he was, his gaze locked on you, full of worry and compassion, the look you remembered so well, being the first and only man ever to look at you in such a way. Men looked at you with lust and longing, with fury and anger, pleading and threatening, sometimes demanding, but only Sihtric’s gaze had held this fleeting, indescribable hint of affection, sympathy and … yes, love.

You pulled your bare feet beneath you, while your hands instinctively tugged at your rags, trying to cover your thighs. Boring a hole in the floor beneath you with your gaze, cheeks blushing in embarrassment, unnoticeably under the layer of dirt, covering your face, you silently wished death had finally claimed you last night, when the spasms were shaking your body. You didn’t want him to see you like this.

Next moment you felt two strong, rough hands pulling you to your feet by the ropes binding your hands, grabbing you at your waist, pushing you up and throwing over one's shoulder. You gasped from the pain of your stomach hitting against the bones of the broad shoulder, breath hitching as you were carried out of the hall and in the same unceremonious way thrown over the saddle, the man mounting behind you.

“Sihtric, we are leaving,” a commanding voice shouted above your head, spurring the horse to movement, as you saw Sihtric rushing out of the hall, mounting the other horse and pressing his heels into its sides.

The ride was not long, as soon as the silhouette of the city faded in the background, the rider turned off the road into the woods and halted. Carefully and gently as if you were about to break he lifted you from the horse and lowered onto the smooth moss on the ground. You heard the other rider approaching and jumping to the ground. You let your eyes closed, you thought it a dream and opening your eyes could mean it’ll be gone. The ropes binding your hands were cut and you let them freely fall down on both sides of your body.

“How is she? Did you really have to be so rough with her?” you could hear a hint of rebuke in Sihtric’s voice.

“We had to play it to the end. Did anybody follow us?” the other man spoke.

“No, no scouts, no pursuers. I checked thoroughly,” you heard Sihtric approaching

“Good, then we have successfully stolen your thief. But we shouldn't waste time. The road back to Coccham is still far enough,” the man rose, making space for Sihtric to kneel beside you.

“Hey, pretty widow. I told you I’ll find you, didn’t I? You are safe now. I’m taking you to Lord Uhtred’s estate,” rough fingers stroked your cheeks, pushing aside the strains of your disheveled hair and you finally braved to open your eyes to look at the man kneeling beside you. It was really him, it was Sihtric; his worried glance lightening with a shy smile.

—-----------------------------------------

The smell of something mouthwatering delicious tickled your nose as you slowly opened your eyelids and scanned the surroundings, letting your body register the softness of the mattress you were lying onto, the long forgotten, almost unnatural feeling of your head resting on a pillow, and the gentle touch of the blanket covering your body.

“Good morning!” a soft whisper greeted you, sending a shiver down your spine, prompting you to sit up and turn to meet the familiar gaze of two mismatched eyes.

Sihtric watched you, settled in the chair by the window, his face bathed in the warm, golden rays of a rising sun, casting strange shadows over his handsome features. Your gazes locked and a long-drawn moment of silence spread between you, not an odd or eerie one – a warm and soothing silence not requiring any words, letting your eyes speak for themselves.

You felt words forming in your mind, but they didn’t reach the lips, stiffened by the strange sensation of warm liquid dampening your cheeks and blurring your vision. In surprise you touched your face and marvelled at your wet fingers, the mattress caving in from additional weight settling beside you, two strong arms wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you close in a tight embrace, intended to offer you solace and comfort.

Instead, feeling two big rough palms on your bare skin, you jolted as if bitten by a poisonous snake and instinctively crawled back, crouching in the head of the bed, your eyes flaring with repulse, disgust and anger.

Sihtric instantly froze, lifting his hands as if in surrender and hastily removing himself from the bed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t …” he mumbled, unsure of what to say or what to do, but not letting his gaze off you, as you continued to look back at him. It was the same beautiful eyes he remembered, just dim and empty, surrounded by black circles, the mischievous spark stolen from them and replaced with the dark abyss of despair.

Sihtric continued to stare at you, taking in your sunken cheeks, bulging collarbones and thin arms, wrapped around your legs until a realisation struck him and he stormed out of the room, returning a few moments later with a steaming bowl in his hands, spreading the familiar scent that had risen you from your sleep just minutes before. You almost tore the bowl from his hands, the hot liquid burning your mouth and tongue as you gulped it down greedily, almost without chewing on the pieces of meat and vegetables in it.

“I have asked to prepare a bath for you, if you wish” Sihtric offered, watching you devour your meal.

You looked down at your dirty arms and legs, your hands nervously tugging at the dirty laces that somehow still held the rags around your shoulders, and a blush covered your cheeks as you hastily nodded your agreement to Sihtric.

—----------------------------------

Back in the room again, you grappled with the dress that was left there for you. You'd always loathed dresses, with their confining laces and superfluous layers that hindered movement. But this particular dress seemed designed to vex you. Its laces were at the back, making it impossible to secure without assistance.

The door behind you creaked, causing you to startle. Sihtric entered just as you were in the midst of your predicament. As you turned, you caught him averting his eyes, and he made to exit swiftly.

"Wait, please, could you help me?" It was actually the first time you'd spoken since he had rescued you and hearing your voice Sihtric's face lightened up with a sincere smile.

“I can help you, if you'd allow," Sihtric responded gently, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

You turned your back to Sihtric and collected up your damp hair, a simple invitation for Sihtric to help you with the laces. He approached with caution, the recent memory of your startled reaction just before to his well intended touch still fresh in his mind. He was gentle, taking utmost care not to let his fingers brush against your skin more than necessary, his uneven breath tickling your neck.

The air around you seemed to pulsate with tension. You craved his touch, his firm embrace, telling you that everything will be alright, that you are safe, and you dreaded it simultaneously. Once he was done, you felt him retreat and only then did you turn to face him.

“Can you… can you just hold me?” you pleaded, placing your palms on his broad chest, making a step closer to him. Sihtric’s eyes filled with a silent question searched yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked and, encouraged by your nod, carefully wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you in a gentle embrace. You shivered from the sensation of his body pressed against yours, from the gentleness of the touch of his hands, rubbing your back, letting the warmth of Sihtric’s embrace seep into your very bones. Sihtric’s fingers gently brushed your hair, his touch as light as a feather. Enchanted by the serenity of the moment you finally braved to lean into his embrace, allowing your tears flow freely, releasing your pain, letting it find an outlet with the force a damned river seeks its way to the sea.

"Husch," he murmured into your hair, rocking you gently, "I’ve finally found you. I’m here with you, and I’m never letting you go again."

You buried your nose into the crook of Sihtric’s neck, breathing in his scent. After all this time you still remembered it, although it seemed like memories from another life. You remembered his strong arms wrapped around your waist, his infectious laugh, the genuine care in his eyes, his sweet kisses alternating between sweet and gentle, rough and passionate, leaving you yearning for more, his confident touch on your skin and … you shrugged … disgust and shame washing over you as you remembered other rugged hands pinning your wrists with rough force to the cold stone floor of the dungeon …

The movement with which you pushed Sihtric back was instinctive, but so fierce that he staggered and almost fell, bewilderment and pain plainly written on his face.

“I’m sorry…” you stammered, “Gods, Sihtric! I’m so sorry. I can’t…,” you hid your eyes with your palms and stormed out of the doors.

—---------------------------------------------------

The fresh evening wind seemed to mock Sihtric, carrying sounds of people chattering, silent footsteps and other noises from the houses surrounding the inn they had been staying in, but not a sound from you. Every corner he turned, every small pathway he glanced down, he hoped he'd find you. But as the minutes turned into hours, despair began to grip him. You had seemingly vanished.

As the completely clear summer sky turned dawn blue, Sihtric was finally ascending the steps to his room. There seemed to be no point to continue looking for you, he had profoundly searched all the possible places within this small town they had chosen for a halt. Just found, he had lost you again and the feeling of complete failure gnawed at him. He pushed the door and entered the dark, unlit room, just to discover your silhouette shrunken in the chair by the window, your knees up, held by your thin, bony arms, your head resting on them.

You didn’t move as he entered the room, your eyes wandering somewhere out of the window, but it was not possible that you hadn't heard him. Sihtric approached carefully as if closing in to a shy prey, afraid to startle it and to prompt another swift escape. With a gentle grace, Sihtric knelt beside the chair, the desire to touch you, to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer pulsing through every cell of his body, but he managed to restrain himself, remembering the reaction his touch had caused.

“I love you, my pretty thief,” he whispered, his eyes scanning your features, waiting for a reaction. “I don’t expect or want anything from you. I just want to be near you, to care for you and to protect you,” he continued as there was no response from your side.

“I’ll not pretend that I could ever understand or feel what you have gone through these past months. It would be a shameless lie. I can’t. But that doesn’t make me less willing to share your pain,” Sihtric shifted, slowly sinking completely to the ground in front of you and seating himself with his back leaned against the wall.

“I’m not the same person you met on your way to Bebbanburg anymore,” your words came slowly, your eyes wandering down to find him, “I was a fool, an arrogant, presumptuous fool, thinking my loyalty to Constantin was worth more than your love. I’m broken beyond repair, Sihtric. Broken and tarnished. I don’t deserve your love.”

Sihtric pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “Believe me one thing - I know what pain and humiliation means. In a different way perhaps, but it haunts me my whole life. I don’t think any less of you now than I thought of you then. Just the opposite. I admire your strength and resilience even more than before. And if only you’d let me, I’ll do everything to make sure you never have to endure the pain again.”

You both remained like that for a long while - you crouched in the chair by the window and Sihtric on the floor by your feet. The rising sun filled the room with a golden light, shimmering and playing on your skin; none of you moved immersed in your own thoughts and fears until the firm knock on the door and Uhtred’s voice brought you back to reality. You had to travel further, as Uhtred feared that his deception being on king's orders might be discovered, leading to a pursuit he wanted to evade.

After a full day of exhaustive riding, sitting in front of Sihtric on his horse, you finally reached another small town and settled in for the night. You were not sure what had exhausted you more - the ride or the closeness of Sihtric’s body pressed against yours, his hands wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly on the horseback.

Luckily the room you got had two beds, so you didn’t have to worry about Sihtric sleeping in the armchair or on the floor as he wouldn’t agree to you sleeping alone. You both settled in and Sihtric, exhausted by the sleepless night before, slipped quickly under the blanket and closed his eyes, without even taking off his leather armour.

“Hey, don’t be stupid. You can’t sleep in your armour. I’ll go fetch some water, so you can take it off, while I’m gone,” you casted a thankful look at Sihtric before closing the door behind you, understanding he had done it out of his concern for you, not willing you to feel pressed or uncomfortable.

When you returned, you noticed his armour neatly folded on the chair by the table and Sihtric hidden underneath the blanket, eyes closed, although his uneven breath betrayed he was not sleeping.

You turned your back to him, took off your dress and slid under the blanket. You were so tired, that sleep overtook you before your head hit the pillow.

It was still early in the night, judging by the moon, when you shot up in your bed, breath coming in ragged gasps and forehead covered with sweat, taunted by a nightmare. The room was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination coming from the silver beams of the moon filtering through the gap in the curtains.

You quickly cast a hidden glance over at Sihtric, peacefully breathing in his sleep, his chest rhythmically heaving under the blanket.

The moonlight played upon his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw. The light caught in the soft curls of his hair, lending him an ethereal glow. His eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks, fluttering slightly in his sleep, his lips slightly parted.

There was an undeniable serenity to his expression. The worries and lines that marred his face during the day were absent, replaced by a calmness and in this moonlit moment, he looked younger and more innocent.

You placed your legs down over the edge of the bed and stood up. You knew there was no way you could fall asleep again, not after the taunting pictures that visited you in your dreams. All your ride, pressed against Sihtric’s chest, his arms steadying you to prevent you from slipping down from the horse, you had been thinking over what he had said to you last night. You had been stupid enough to reject his love once, but he hadn’t given up. He had searched for you, found you and liberated you.

You approached Sihtric’s bed and leaned over, tracing your fingers lightly over his brow, pushing back a stray lock of hair. The touch grounded you, pulling you away from the remnants of your nightmare and bringing you back to the present. His warmth, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft sounds of his sleep, so peaceful and comforting, strangely conveyed a feeling of safety.

You remained for a moment seated on the edge of the bed, just marvelling at the sight of the sleeping man before you, before lifting the blanket and slipping beneath it, wrapping your arm around his waist and laying your head on his chest. You closed your eyes and froze listening to Sihtric’s steady, lullabying heartbeat, the comforting rhythm anchoring you, letting your fingers slowly walk in gentle small steps over his stomach.

Sihtric opened his eyes, turning to you, and stared in bewilderment. You saw the unspoken question in his gaze and smiled in return, nestling yourself closer to him.

“I want to forget,” a whisper departed your lips, “Will you help me?”

Sihtric’s arms instinctively wrapped around your naked body and embraced you with such a force that you almost forgot how to breathe for a moment.

You liberated your hand and let your fingers tangle in his long curly hair for a moment, sliding your index finger over his forehead to his nose and down to his lips, your faces just centimeters apart.

“Please, make me forget!” you pleaded, leaning in and pressing your lips to Sihtrics. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, a mere brush of lips. Sihtric responded to it, hesitantly, barely touching yours, as if afraid of scaring you off again, but as seconds stretched on and you hadn’t pushed him away yet, he braved to allow it to deepen, becoming more passionate and filled with yearning, his large, warm hand cupping your face.

When you finally broke apart, Sihtric looked utterly taken aback, surprise evident in his wide eyes. But that surprise was quickly overshadowed by a different emotion, one that set his gaze aflame. He pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair, and captured your lips once again. This time, there was an urgency, a desperation in his kiss, as if making up for lost time. Your tongues danced against each other, twisting and whirling around one another, lips brushed swollen and red from the intensity of the passionate touch.

You knew they were going to come, the flashing memories of pain mixed with flares of anger, helplessness and shame, the burst of torn pictures your mind couldn’t stop conjuring, piercing through your consciousness like a glowing metal rod, but this time you were ready for them. You melted into Sihtric’s kiss, letting yourself fly, immersing in the soft touch of his hands, caressing your back and your hair, absorbing the tenderness of his movements and storing all this in your mind, wrapping it around you as a protective layer. And when the dark memories came, instead of pushing Sihtric away you clung even harder to him, digging your nails in his bare flesh and pulling him closer.

You pulled apart, gasping for breath, hearts pounding. Sihtric’s fingers gently trailed the contours of your face, his thumb lightly pecking your lips, as he lifted up your chin.

“Are you …” Sihtric wanted to speak, but you interrupted him by placing your finger on his lips.

“Sssch, yes, I’m sure,” you whispered, revelling in the soft and caring look in his eyes.

“You don’t…” Sihtric tried to object, but you silenced him with your lips.

Sihtric’s big, rough hand stroked your back, trailing down to your bottom and up again. Carefully and smoothly he rolled you on your back with the tender pressure of his whole body, supporting him on his elbow. His eyes drunk in the sight of you, your hair strayed over his pillow, eyes half closed, lips parted and smiling.

“You are so beautiful, so breathtakingly beautiful,” Sihtric’s words came with a heavy sight as he leaned in touching your jaw with his lips, fingers trailing over your skin down to your breasts.

“I don’t want to rush you. I can wait for you as long as it takes,” his lips brushed against your ear, breathing in his words.

In response your hand went down to his hips, teasingly trailing over his already fully hard cock, wrapping your fingers around it and stroking it slowly. A heavy moan escaped Sihtric’s parted lips as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck.

“I know,” you finally answered, your hand still wrapped around his length, stroking him, your fingers teasingly caressing the tip, enjoying Sihtric’s breath on your neck getting more ragged with each movement, his hushed moans echoing in your ears. “That’s exactly why I want this… No, I need it… I need to feel that it is my decision and my choice. I want you, Sihtric.”

“I’m all yours, use me,” he breathed in your mouth, capturing your lips with his. You moaned into his kiss, feeling his hand carefully touching your breast, massaging it and slightly squeezing your nipple between his thumb and index finger. His lips found their way down to your other nipple, closing carefully around it, suckling and teasing it with his tongue and teeth.

Sihtric was so gentle, as if you were made of glass. His hands and lips were everywhere, stroking, caressing, fondling, no – worshiping every inch of your body, kissing his way down to your inner thigh. You let yourself dissipate in his hesitant touch, as he pushed your legs apart to grant him better access to your core, his eyes searching yours in a silent plea for a permission, before his tongue swiped through your folds, making you gasp loudly. It was not you surrendering to him, but him begging you to allow to devour you. And you melted under his touch, eager to submit, to please, to beg for him in return.

Your moans were getting louder as you felt yourself falling apart with each lap of Sihtric’s tongue against your perl, moving ever firmer and faster, your hands gripping the bed sheets with full force and aching your back against the mattress. And as you felt yourself falling into oblivion, ecstasy washing over you, your hips frantically bucking against his tongue, the muffled groan of satisfaction rolling over Sihtric’s lips, made you scream his name in pleasure, forgetting everything.

The satisfied grin on Sihtric’s face as he kissed his way back to your lips made you giggle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed, but now you did. Sihtric looked at you amazed, a hint of bewilderment even resentment in his gaze. Were you making fun of him?

“I love you!” you tittered, but then your face grew serious. “I’ve always loved you! Even when I told you to leave without me in Bebbanburg, I did love you. I hope you know that.”

“I hoped you did,” Sihtric smiled at you, sitting back between your legs, “Why else would you risk your life saving me?”

His eyes scanned your body, as if enchanted by the tantalising sight before him. “Will you have me?” he asked, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. You shrugged, sensing fear building up somewhere in the back of your mind. But you knew you could say no, and this knowledge, settling slowly in your mind, along with the genuine care, even worry mixed with sweet longing in Sihtric’s eyes allowed you to overcome all your doubts. You reached out for him, your hands trailing down his muscular chest and stomach, taking hold of his hard cock, dragging the tip of him through your folds and placing it at your entrance.

“It’s my choice and I choose you,” you breathed in anticipation.

Sihtric pushed forward, slowly, hesitantly, his eyes not leaving yours, watching carefully. You gasped, feeling his length stretching and filling you, expecting for more, but instead Sihtric stopped, his gaze scanning you.

“Don’t,” you moaned, your walls clenching. “Don’t stop!” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist, digging your nails in his hips and pulling him closer.

Sihtric moaned heavily as he finally sheathed fully inside of you, remaining still for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your walls taking him in and clenching around him. Too long. You wanted more.

“Sihtric, I need you! All of you!” you whispered, trying to take the control away from him as you bucked your hips against his.

Sihtric pulled out slowly, before pushing forward again and then again, his movements so slow and gentle, driven by the only desire - to please you, to satisfy you and make you forget everything apart from his unending love for you. He kept watching your face carefully, but seeing your delightful expression, your eyes half lid, your head snapped back and hearing the mewls of pleasure departing your lips, it was harder and harder for him to control himself.

“Gods, you can’t even imagine what you are doing to me,” Sihtric groaned, “I’ve been dreaming of this every night since the very moment I left through that damned Sea gate. I love you, pretty widow… I love you, my cunning thief… I still don’t know your name, but I love you, like I’ve never loved anyone before,” Sihtric breathed heavily in your ear. His lips found your neck, kissing, sucking and bruising your soft skin with his teeth, his breath panting and his moans growing stronger and heavier with each thrust.

You moaned and whined, digging your nails in his back with the full force of your thin arms, savouring each and every snap of his hips, pushing deeper and deeper into you, drawing you closer to the edge. His movements got faster, his breath itchy, driving you mad with each thrust, as you ached for more.

“Don’t … don’t hold back,” you hissed, rocking your hips against his and gasping in pleasure as Sihtric finally let go of his self imposed control and started to fuck you frantically, rutting his hips against yours faster and faster.

And then you were falling, falling into complete oblivion with your heart racing and your eyes darkening, tears rolling down your cheeks. There was nothing else, just you and him, and the overwhelming sensation of happiness, running through your veins. No dark memories, no fear, nothing. Just pure bliss. Your walls were clenching around Sihtric’s cock, your body shaking in the waves of pleasure, his name on your lips like a prayer.

Sihtric continued to fuck you through your orgasm, savouring your pleasure and each and every spasm of your walls around him. And only feeling your body relaxing, the last shivers fading away slowly, he finally allowed himself to follow you, spilling deep inside you with a loud groan.

You were both panting, sweaty and out of breath, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close, burying your face into the crook of his neck, the weight of his body making it hard to breathe. But you didn’t want to let go, you wanted to stay like this forever, feeling him inside you and all over you, breathing him in, dizzy from the overpowering feeling of being alive and loved.

Sihtric carefully shifted to the side, pulling out of you with a heavy sigh.

“Are you OK? Wasn’t it too much for you… I didn’t want to be rough…” his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his embrace, “I love you so much, that it almost hurts. I don’t want to ever let go of you,” he whispered. “Please, tell me that you will never leave me again. Tell me that you are finally mine.“

“I’m yours and I’m staying in this life and beyond. You have no escape from me now,” you smiled and hugged him tightly, nestling against his strong chest and hearing his heartbeat just under your ear.

Part 1,* Part 2, Part 3, Part 4*

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fanfic #sihtric fic #sihtric smut

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laurfilijames · 7 months

Text

Fallout

Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Jay Mills x female reader

Words: 7.6k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+ ONLY. Swearing. Anger issues. Nudity. Masturbation (male). Dry(?) humping. Dom/sub dynamics. Unprotected intercourse. Anal play. Anal sex. Spit as lube. Degradation. Watersports/golden shower.

Summary: Jay continues to battle his feelings as your stay drags out, doing everything in his power to prove to you and himself that there is nothing between you, only to have his methods intensify everything.

A/N: Right. This one is full of delicious filth and I'm taking advantage of the fact that this story doesn't get many eyes to write some fairly kinky stuff, but it also includes a lot of development between the two of them so I think it's a well-balanced chapter! I really had a great time writing this part and continue to be so excited and in love with this story, so please enjoy and let me know what you think!

There is also no moodboard for this chapter because all it consists of is smut so...yeah. But there's a treat below the cut 😉

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Adrenaline pulsed through Jay's veins furiously, similar to how it did when he was about to step into the ring, and in the short distance it took to get to his room that felt like an eternity, a play-by-play of what you two had just done in the kitchen flashed through his mind; the vivid imagery causing his hands to shake and the sweat he had worked up to drip down his back. He knew calm wouldn't come easily to him after that, and after slamming the door behind him, he leaned against it and breathed out as slow an exhale as he could and ran his good hand over his hair, half of him tempted to go do it all again while the other half urged him to try to sleep.

He was exhausted - both mentally and physically - and with the morning quickly approaching and his mind and body buzzing, he knew it would be impossible to let any of it go enough for him to fall asleep. He was an early-riser anyway, used to waking up before the sun to go for his five mile run before he trained, and even in the absence of any legitimate daylight due to the storm, his body was so regimented that it couldn't be tricked into believing otherwise.

With a sigh, Jay sat on the edge of his bed and looked out the window, seeing the snow continue to accumulate heavily, letting him know he wouldn't be getting you out of here any time soon. He swung his legs onto the mattress and laid down, staring up at the ceiling before closing his eyes, only to open them again after a minute and sit back up, his restlessness increasing with each passing second.

Getting down on the floor, Jay supported himself on his toes and right hand with his injured one secured behind his lower back and began repetition after repetition of push-ups in a desperation to move his body enough to quiet his mind. He should've known better than to think it would work, only imagining your body wedged between his and the carpet as he continued to lower himself down and back up again, and he finally stopped when his right arm gave out and forced him to sit back on his knees with a frustrated growl.

"Fuck!"

He wiped the beads of sweat that hung on his nose and chin with his hand, able to smell your scent clinging to his skin as he did which only made him feel more unhinged and anxious to have more of you.

Bringing himself quickly to his feet, he shoved his right hand down his pants to roughly adjust himself in hopes his rejuvenated erection would go away, but even the brief contact of his own hand on it brought back the memory of your touch, and he knew it wouldn't go left ignored.

With another curse under his breath, he tore his track pants down to his knees and took hold of his hard cock as he stepped out of the legs that were pooled around his ankles, gripping himself hard enough to begin to satisfy some of his needs.

Remnants of you remained on his shaft and in his pubes, the sight of it making him throb even more and forcing him to work harder, his teeth clenching together furiously as he gave in to every thought of you. He hated how much he wanted you, how much you had gotten under his skin and broke him down enough to succumb to what he had tried to prevent and knew he would go after again, and the way you seemed to enjoy his vile treatment of you wasn't helping either.

Remembering the looks that crossed your face and the way your lips curled into a smile when he called you names and held your throat had him reeling all over again, and he wondered if you were thinking about him again, too.

Accepting that he was far past the point of stopping what he had started and without wasting time in fussing over the best way to get the job done, Jay brought his palm up to his mouth and spit into it twice, providing enough lubrication to do what he needed to.

He felt desperate, needing to relieve this want that seemed to keep growing, hoping that as he emptied his load he would also be getting rid of these unnecessary feelings toward you along with it. He massaged his wet palm over his head and down his shaft, coating himself thoroughly, praying that the next person's spit all over him would be yours. The thought of kissing your parted lips that spilled moans of pleasure provided by him was getting him close, and now the imagery of them sealed in an 'o' around his cock had him bucking into his hand wildly, his thumb rubbing over his leaking head just like yours had not long ago.

His hand moved faster as his thoughts continued to encourage him, the sound of his name falling off your tongue something he knew he wanted to hear again, the feel of your body accepting his so well something he wanted to push the limits on; the possibility of fucking you slowly and lovingly a prohibited act he had instated himself that he so badly wanted to break the rules of.

He opened his hand and spit into it again, needing a little more lubrication to keep up with his movements, and tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle his groans, he jerked himself with a steady force, imagining your hot mouth wrapped around his dick, bobbing up and down on his length and looking up at him innocently as you gagged on him.

Having already seen you enjoy his taste from the sample he had given you made him want to make you swallow all of it, pumping his cum down your throat regardless if you could manage it all, the vision of you taking every last drop of him as he spurted into your mouth with drool leaking from your lips and tears running down your cheeks sending him over the edge, a slew of broken curses tearing past his gritted teeth as he finished in his hand.

You would be fooling yourself if you thought sleep was likely to grace you now after all that had happened, every fibre of you super-charged and making you feel as if you had just run a marathon, the effects of Jay and his wonderfully brutal treatment of you lingering on your skin like electricity.

Needing to busy yourself to distract from all the persistent thoughts running through your mind, you rummaged through the cupboards and fridge to scrounge up what could be made into a half-decent breakfast, settling on made-from-scratch blueberry pancakes and bacon.

It was difficult to tell if you were even hungry, the feeling in your stomach one that mimicked it, but you knew was likely caused by an enduring sort of anxiousness and a very different type of hunger, and your lack of sleep made you want to sate it even more. Assuming Jay would be hungry when he reappeared from sleeping or whatever else he was doing in his room, you kept on with your task, idly flipping each pancake in the frying pan like you were on autopilot.

Without even having to look, you knew Jay had entered the kitchen, your body responding to his presence with the hair on the back of your neck standing on end and an ache increasing between your legs, and you glimpsed over your shoulder at him, a smile tugging at your lips.

He walked up behind you, making a point to cage your body in as he reached around you for a piece of bacon, his eye contact holding you in place while holding evidence of so much going through his mind. He was still half-naked, his track pants hanging loosely on his hips as he walked over to the island, showcasing his body that was sculpted like a work of art. Having to tear your eyes away from his torso, you swallowed thickly and tried to set your focus back on making breakfast, smiling to yourself that you weren't one to judge given you were still only clad in his hoodie, shimmying your bare legs together to provide enough friction between them to remind you of the slight soreness caused by him earlier.

The day crept on into the afternoon without missing a beat in the slightly awkward tension that hung in the air between you, both of you remaining quiet until you couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"This storm isn't letting up, is it?" It was less a question, and more an ice-breaker, hoping to gain some conversation if only on account of the weather, but all you got in response was a raise of his eyebrows and a slow nod, and you bit the nail on your thumb out of frustration and unease. His standoffish approach toward you had you wondering if he actually held ill-will for you or if it was a game to work you up, like the more he kept you at an arms-length, the more you wanted to throw yourself at him, and he fucking knew it.

You raked your fingers along your scalp, feeling ready to tear the strands out of your head, and being more than exhausted with the situation and simply beyond tired, you stood and paced the room before heading into the kitchen.

It didn't feel like you - opening cupboards and shutting them with more force than you ever would normally - your impatience getting the better of you, your ironic and frantic search for the box of tea bags you had seen earlier that you needed to drink to help calm you sending you into a craze.

"What the fuck are you looking for?"

His voice barely registered through the ringing in your ears, and it wasn't until he was behind you repeating himself in a louder, more demanding tone that you turned to face him.

You went to move past him, wanting to open the cupboard door behind him in the last effort of your search, only to have your wrist grabbed to stop you before you even had the chance to reach for the handle.

"Stop," he ordered, calmly, the switch in demeanor between you fuelling your anger more.

You tried to tear your wrist from him, realizing it was his bad hand that was gripping you, making you stop your resistance before you caused anymore damage to him.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he asked, his brows knitting together as he searched your face with more concern than you expected.

"You're my fucking problem," you hissed, shoving his bare chest with your hand after he released it, watching how the shape of it reddened his pale chest ever so slightly. The way he made you feel was infuriating, and when he dared to smirk at your reasoning behind your behaviour, it only fueled it.

You heard him chuckle slightly as you finally made your way around him, focused on your goal of locating the tea, your heart hammering in your chest when he muttered, "You're unbelievable."

"I am?" you spat, finding a bravery you didn't know you had. "You're the one who's unbelievable, acting like a broody asshole who refuses help because he's been burned by shitty people."

Jay closed the distance between you, his plump lips turning into a snarl, and you held your breath in your lungs as you waited for his reaction.

"You've got me all figured out, eh?" He shifted on his feet, hovering over you enough to make you cast your eyes downward, only to land on the prominent bulge in his sweatpants. "Little miss nurse coming in to fix me, to play therapist as well as the healer," he held your chin in his fingers using his injured hand, and the smell of the ointment you had applied earlier was like a slap in the face.

He leaned closer to you, his breath hot on your cheek, "Don't fucking forget why you're here, or the reason you're still here, because you would've been gone a long time ago."

Releasing your face, he rubbed his good hand over his hair back and forth roughly, trying to regain composure after he let his own anger build, and with a long inhale that made his chest rise fully, he stared at you with a look that made your knees go weak.

Holding his eye contact for a moment, you swallowed and blinked, turning away from the game-like challenge you silently agreed to play with him and returned to your mission of making tea, your hand shaking as you reached for the box and pulled it off the shelf, praying he wasn't watching you closely enough to notice.

Pouring boiling water into the teapot, your mind filed through all the different emotions Jay had made you feel in the short span of knowing him, and as you watched the clear water turn muddy as the teabags became saturated in it, you thought how he did the exact same to your mind. No one had ever had such an affect on you, making you want to act on such primal needs, your composure and usual well-thought out way of going about things destroyed with something as simple as a look. Having been given a taste of him made you crave more, and you felt crazed in chasing the high of seeing what else you could get, and in turn you wanted to give him everything.

The hours ticked on into the night, the storm having settled enough that only a few flakes were falling from the sky at a time, but so much had accumulated that you knew the roads wouldn't be cleared for days still. A silence that was loaded with lingering looks continued on as the normal atmosphere, growing your frustration as well as Jay's.

You had fixed dinner while he showered, and as you sat eating, you silently assessed the condition of his wound as he rested his hand on the table beside his plate.

"How's it feeling?" you asked quietly.

Following your gaze, he turned his hand over and sighed, "Okay, I guess."

Placing your fork down on your plate, you stood and took a step over to where he sat on his stool, sliding his plate out of the way in order to bring his left hand close to you.

You found it funny how he never watched whatever you did to his hand, his eyes only ever glued to your face or somewhere on your body, making you swell with a poised confidence, his silent attention and appreciation of your beauty somehow louder than words.

Daring to push the boundaries, you slowly moved your right leg so it straddled his, holding your breath as you watched him do the same before his broad chest finally let it go and his throat moved as he swallowed thickly.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone somewhat unimpressed to match his expression, his eyebrows raising on his forehead.

"Dressing your hand…" you spoke as innocently as possible, leaning over to grab the disinfectant solution and tube of ointment sitting on the opposite side of the island.

He shook his head but didn't pull his hand away from you, sighing as you began carefully cleaning his slowly healing injury.

"It's looking a bit better," you whispered, scarcely focusing on your task and not how close your bare sex was to touching his thigh.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You looked up at him through your lashes, seeing a mix of smugness and unbearable lust on his face, and you wondered if whatever he was thinking was what you were too. It felt like he was almost daring you to act on the intense hunger he brought out in you, watching you with a cockiness you knew was partially a disguise in the name of self-preservation, and even if it resulted in something loveless and brutal like earlier, you wanted to find out.

As if it was the most natural thing to do, you sat yourself onto his thigh and continued to work, doing your best to ignore the hiss and heavy exhale that escaped his lips, feeling the muscles of his leg tense and flex against you.

Closing your eyes briefly, you adjusted yourself enough to make friction, moaning quietly at the contact before forcing your fingers to move again.

After a few seconds, Jay glided his free hand up your naked thigh, reaching underneath his hoodie to hold onto your hip and press you down on him even more.

You let your fingers linger on his hand even though you had finished applying the ointment, your eyelids falling closed as you allowed him to move your body in back in forth motions, controlling the pace and pressure, relishing in the sound of his breathing and how it felt to be grinding on him like this.

"That feels good, doesn't it?" he muttered, his voice so deep it made his words almost sound like a growl.

You nodded and breathed a 'yes', continuing to rock yourself on his thigh, knowing you were smearing your slick and staining his gray pants with it but not caring.

"That's because you're nothing but a whore," he said slowly, like he enjoyed saying every word.

Basking in his degradation, you arched forward, angling yourself so your clit received more stimulation, and boldly, you trailed your hand up his arm, dancing your fingertips over his Mohawk tattoo and then onto his chest, feeling his pec tremor to your touch.

"You're looking to get fucked again, aren't you?"

A shiver ran down your spine in the hopes he would take you roughly and with heartless care again, and you pulled your lip between your teeth to stop your smile from spreading as you humped his leg with more enthusiasm.

"I asked you a fucking question," he spat, ceasing your movements with his hand while his bad one reached up to grip your chin.

You let your smile creep across your face when you opened your eyes to look at him, seeing a liveliness in his blue ones as he stared at you vehemently. They dropped down to your lips, and like he was in a brief trance of feeling something softer and more caring toward you, his thumb grazed over your bottom one, smoothing across and pulling on it enough to part it.

"What was it you said about it only happening once, Jay?" you asked, the humour clear in your voice that you knew would snap him out of whatever he was experiencing.

His face contorted, making your stomach flip with nerves, the lines around his eyes deepening while the ones around his mouth set taught as he clenched his teeth together hard.

"Shut the fuck up!" he barked. You jumped slightly even though you had been expecting that reaction, and you bit your lip again to disguise another smile rather than recoiling, shifting on his leg slightly to show him you liked everything he was doing.

In an attempt to bottle his growing rage, Jay stood abruptly, pushing you off of him carelessly, and paced the space between the kitchen island where you stood watching him and the sofa.

He was hard as a rock, his erection furiously straining against his track pants, the sight of him in such a state making your mouth water and causing even more arousal to rush between your legs.

"You're allowed to just fuck me, Jay," you began, your voice shaking slightly from the overwhelming lust and excitement coursing through you. "I'm not going anywhere any time soon and-"

He cut you off by stepping toward you, bracing his arms on either side of you to pin you against the countertop as you leaned back against it. The automatic act of breathing stopped altogether for you as he hovered in front of your face, his eyes searching all over your features for a decision as to what his next move was going to be, and for a second you could have sworn he was going to kiss you.

You knew he wouldn't though, so instead you ployed in order to get some of what you wanted, even if it couldn't be his lips on yours.

“Do what you want with me, Jay,” you whispered, your voice so heavy with lust that the sound of it instantly increased your arousal. It was bold to even continue saying his name, testing your luck and seeing how many times he would let you get away with it after his initial warning, your defiance making you feel powerful.

“Get this fucking thing off,” he ordered, grabbing at the edge of his hoodie that covered your upper half. Eagerly, you assisted him, whisking it over your head until you stood exposed before him, waiting for him to do as he pleased.

The emotion brewing in his eyes told you he wanted to kiss every single inch of you, that he wanted to taste and learn each part of you until he made you sing from every kind of pleasure he could provide, but you watched as he buried that once again and replaced it with a beautiful sort of rage you continued to seek.

Pressing his hand to your lower back, he pushed you forward in the direction of the sofa, his forceful guidance making your breathing quicken.

Your palms met the back of the couch harder than you thought, the power he had over you so definite and indisputable that you let out an involuntary gasp as you gripped the edge of the supple leather.

You glanced behind you to see Jay peeling his pants down his legs, his hard cock springing free, his jaw set tight as he stared you down while his intense breathing wracked through his chest in sharp waves.

Hinging at your hips and spreading your legs invitingly, you felt your slick string across where your slit parted, and you hoped Jay could see it glistening in the glowing light of the room.

"Fuck…" he muttered to himself, clearly noticing how ready you were for him, his subtle praising making you swell with satisfaction.

Jay lined up behind you, his groin resting flush to your ass, and you watched as he took hold of his cock and guided it inside you, his face contorting with pleasure that he kept trying to hate.

You wanted to watch him fuck you, but the sensation of having him seated deeply inside you already had your eyelids fluttering shut, and when he dragged himself back out and pushed inside you fully again, you faced forward as his first couple of blows made you hit the back of the couch.

"Oh my god!" you cried, trying your best to stick your ass out more to meet his hips each time they plowed forward, the simple task proving difficult as your body simply wanted to be still and obediently accept everything he gave you.

It was all too much, every brutal thrust tipping you closer to the edge, the head of his cock slamming perfectly into that sweet spot that made broken whines and incoherent accolades strung together with curses fall from your mouth.

Jay tried so hard to focus on carelessly fucking you, hoping that if he managed to wreck you one more time, it would maybe satisfy you enough until you could leave, but the more he drove his cock in and out of you and watched your creamy slick spill out and coat it, the more he knew he wouldn't have had enough either.

It took everything in him not to smooth his hands over the gentle curves of your hips and up the dip of your back, choosing to grip tighter on your ass and spread your cheeks apart roughly instead, his eyes closing so he wouldn't be tempted to slow his pace and prolong this selfish indulgence.

He should've known better than for that to work, your sultry voice repeating his name as he built you up to near your climax forcing his eyes open again to torture him with the sight of your beautiful body rocking in front of him, and he clenched his teeth together tightly in order to not lean down and press his lips on your back and neck.

"Jay…" you mewled, "I'm so close."

Nearly losing it there over the way you looked over your shoulder at him, he proceeded to hammer into you, feeling you tighten around his girth, your eyes clouded with lust that made you look even more beautiful and innocent as you took him so well.

Determined to ruin you, he kept up his tempo, administering back blows so hard the couch began to move despite usually being secure on the plush carpet beneath it, and he became even more mesmerized by you.

Your eyes closed, gently squeezing so the corners of them wrinkled, your mouth parted and smearing across the leather in a swaying motion due to his thrusts, your body taking his harsh movements and converting them to ones that were flowing, calm and languid, and his heart clenched in his chest as the sound of you whimpering and pleading for him to give you more echoed in his ears.

"You better...fucking come…you fucking slut!" he growled, his false impatience covering up his pure enjoyment as he became desperate to feel you fall apart around him.

His cruel words encouraged you and made you flourish, and when he saw you let your arm fall between your legs to rub your clit, Jay spit onto your ass and spread it around your puckered hole with his thumb, lubricating it enough to press it inside right as you let go.

Your whole body tensed and shuddered, pausing your own movements as you let his carry you through such a blinding high, soaking him and squeezing him and nearly making him come undone at the same time.

As soon as your loud cries had quieted, he pulled out of you and pressed the tip of his cock into your ass, only achieving a couple of inches before he exploded, and removing himself from you again, he watched his hot, milky spend leak out of you while the rest shot out onto your cheeks and wet cunt.

Jay's breaths wracked his entire body, working hard to calm himself from the fury of emotions that battled in him, feeling a cold trail of sweat run down his back while he admired your dewy skin and how good it looked being covered in his cum again.

Your head hung between your arms that still held onto the back of the couch, your forehead leaning against it, until eventually you stood upright, turning to look at him while you took a deep breath and tried to get a read on him.

He wasn't giving anything up, though, having given away too much already, and he turned and stepped away, bracing his arms against the island with his jaw set tensely again.

Not entirely sure what to do or say now, you at least knew you needed to shower, and slowly, keeping your eyes on him until you no longer could, you tread on light feet to the bathroom.

You could feel his stare as soon as you had stopped looking at him, and pausing a moment in the doorway, you glanced behind you to meet his gaze before walking inside and flicking on the light, leaving the door open in what you prayed he knew was an invitation.

You turned on the taps and adjusted them before leaving the water to heat up, checking out the mess Jay had made of you in the mirror as you waited, the evidence left behind making the after effects of it all seem blissfully more intense.

Testing the water with your hand, you stepped in under the stream, holding your breath as you let it rain down on your face for as long as you could before exhaling slowly.

It was only a couple of minutes before Jay joined you, his large frame making the already cramped shower feel even smaller, and wanting him to be near you as much as he could be, you stayed close to the stream so he would need to stand up against you to get under it.

He said nothing, just stared at you as he dipped his head beneath the falling water to soak his hair, his eyes closing and letting you admire how much longer his eyelashes seemed when they were wet as they laid against his cheeks.

It seemed so normal, showering together, both of you lathering and rinsing shampoo out of your hair in turn, enjoying the comfortable silence and how relaxing it was.

You had finished washing the soap off of you but lingered as long as you could, not wanting to end this subtly intimate moment with Jay while accidentally brushing up against him whenever you moved, your slippery skin grazing and gliding along his implicitly.

Jay could feel it building up again inside of him, the strong desire to feel himself encased by you becoming terrifyingly undeniable, and the way you kept dangling yourself in front of him like bait was testing him like few things had before. As much as he tried, he couldn't stop himself from letting his hands skim your body with any opportunity that presented itself, the warmth and softness of this whole act contrasting heavily with the silent rage growing within him.

It made him angry to see himself slipping away so easily, like his heart didn't care to let itself fall into your hands without fear, his body acting on its own to get as much of you as it could whether or not his mind agreed. He knew he was being an asshole, but in feeling it was his last defense in protecting himself from getting hurt, he pressed on with it.

You were about to step out, your body scrubbed clean of him, but he grabbed your arm to stop you, pulling you in so you stood with your back against the wall.

"Come back here," he demanded gently, his tone disguising the more intense emotions brewing beneath the surface.

The amusement he felt at seeing the confused look on your face briefly took over everything else he was feeling, and before he let any affection he held toward you stop him, he braced his arms on either side of your face and moved his close enough he could have kissed you.

He watched as your eyes flickered from his eyes down to his lips and you held the breath you had sucked in, waiting, only he wasn't going to give you what you wanted no matter how heavenly you looked.

Jay smirked and chuckled darkly, his next move one he had decided on from the moment he saw you rinsing any remaining evidence of him down the drain, and a fresh wave of needing to keep and claim you stirred in him at the thought of it.

It felt cruel and animalistic, but the desire to have you as his was too overwhelming to deny, and still on the path of repressing all the tender ways he thought about you, he carried out his barbaric display of affection.

Closing his eyes briefly, he sighed as he began to release, pissing freely on you, opening them again to see his stream coat your legs and waist in a defiling and reckless act of devotion.

Watching it was almost half as satisfying as watching the expression on your face change, your naivety in thinking he was going to be caring twisting into shock as you registered that something warmer than the water started to trickle down your body and onto your feet.

He moaned and exhaled while your mouth hung open and you glanced down to confirm what was clear you couldn't believe was happening actually was, and although you seemed disgusted and angry, pushing on his chest to move him away from you, Jay could see a glimmer in your eyes that told him you were turned on by it.

Not budging from your poor attempt at making him, Jay watched as you accepted what had happened, remaining in place and not trying to get away from him again, your chest heaving as you let out a deep breath.

Feeling high off the adrenaline this sparked in him, he smirked at you and then spit at your feet before backing away enough to admire how your body responded by your nipples hardening and your breathing quickening, your pulse noticeably thrumming in the side of your neck.

“What are you doing, marking your territory?” you asked in a challenging tone, although your voice shook slightly.

"It's what you deserve…stupid bitch that you are."

You swallowed thickly, goosebumps erupting on your wet, pissed-on skin, his foul and shaming words making your pussy clench and ache for him again.

Somehow in your shock and stupor, you found your voice, "Do you really think that about me? Or are you just-"

"Don't fucking tell me what I think!" he roared, the noise echoing off the shower walls.

You shimmied your legs slightly, your body instinctively reacting to his harshness by pushing your arousal to the forefront, and you swallowed the lump in your throat while you blinked, the eye contact he was holding making you want to falter.

You cursed all the ways your body gave you away, letting him know that everything he was doing was making you fall deeper into something he refused to give you, his next words a spiteful way to keep you holding on by a thread.

"And don't pretend like you don't love being treated like a fucking whore."

Closing your eyes slowly, you basked in his false hate, melting to the way this degradation added to the control he was claiming over you.

It was hard to recognize yourself with how submissive you found you wanted to be, the desire to obey him until he revealed the loving side you knew was there making you willing to take anything from him, but mustering clarity to briefly ignore the drug-like effect he had on you, you took a deep breath and spoke with as much surety as possible.

"And what if I do? Would you do the opposite and show me some kind of care and affection? Kiss me, even?"

He scowled. "Don't play games."

"I’m not."

You looked at him as honestly as you could, hoping your sincerity would shine through and he would believe that as much as you were admittingly throwing yourself at him, you wouldn't toy with his heart or burn him like he had been before.

His cheeks flinched as he clenched his teeth together tightly, clearly trying to figure out how he felt, but he remained in place and even returned his hands to rest on the shower tiles on either side of you, leaning slightly closer.

You could feel your chest tighten and your heart skip a beat when he rested his forehead against yours, your eyes closing when you felt his fingertips trail down your arm slowly until he reached your hand, lacing them together.

"I'll be yours, Jay," you whispered, giving him the confirmation needed to relax and trust, his breath fanning over your lips as he sighed out.

His forehead rubbed against yours as he shook his head slightly while he breathed deeply again, a low grumble resounding through him as he started to grind his hips against yours, his hand squeezing yours tightly in the grip of his fingers.

You moaned whenever the head of his cock nudged your over-sensitive clit, your body jolting in response but welcoming it all the same, adjusting your legs so he rested in your folds where you slid along his length in a languid tempo.

His nose grazed over the tip of yours and over to your cheek, the contact feeling as meaningful as a kiss would, sharing the same breath as you slowly began to work each other up.

While still holding your hand, Jay took his injured one and slid it under your thigh, lifting your leg to hook it around his waist, giving him access to probe inside you just enough to tease you.

Your available hand smoothed up his back, feeling his muscles contract with each movement, your nails digging into the thick flesh on his shoulders each time he threatened to enter you fully.

Peeling his face away from yours, he held you in place with a sobering gaze, his eye contact weighted with so much emotion, and slowly drove inside you inch by inch.

Resting his nose on your cheek, he began to thrust, his pace purposeful and sensual, each drag out and back in carefully calculated to slowly pick you apart.

As good as it felt, you still cursed him for torturing you, his mouth continuously hovering close to yours but never landing on you, making you pray to a god you didn't believe in that he finally would. You held your breath any time his lips ghosted over your skin, his nose grazing on your cheek and neck like he was hovering over all the places he wanted to impress his kiss on, close enough you swear you could feel it.

Slow, rolling motions continued to carry you through to your nearing high, building you up gradually and seemingly lovingly, his intensity equalling that of the other times he had fucked you, only this time more fervid and compassionate.

Water ran off his full lips and onto yours as his mouth hung open in front of you, his breaths growing more laboured as he expelled his energy into the arduous pace, knowing that fighting the temptation to kiss you was adding to his efforts.

Your offer to be his repeated in his mind the whole time, seeming to ground him rather than make him run from it, and he fucked you like you already were, every caress on your body and drag inside your tight walls another claim over you.

The way your fingers ran along the nape of his neck and raked up through his hair had him basking in your silent praise, feeling you clench and squeeze him with every deep push in an act of worship and appreciation of him.

He built you up slowly, bringing you to the brink and letting you linger there, coaxing you closer to the edge but only giving you enough to make you seek your release by moving with him harder.

"Jay, please…" you whined, gripping onto him in a plea for mercy, your head falling back to be supported by the wall, allowing him a view of your face as pleasure took over your features.

He intensified his thrusts, plowing into you even slower, but with more force, feeling you tense as your orgasm began to tear through you, and he angled himself so the coarse hairs on his groin rubbed against your clit to help prolong it.

He would've come with you if he wasn't so enthralled in watching you, constantly amazed by how stunning you were when being torn apart by him, the way your entire body responded to him making him quickly become addicted to it.

Releasing your hand, he brought his up to your face, his thumb gently smoothing over your bottom lip as he began to lean in toward you while continuing the slow grinding of his hips on yours, the pull he felt to kiss you becoming too much to deny any longer.

As if the universe was torturing him, the water began to feel cold, the hot water having run out in the extended amount of time you had been in there, waking him up slightly from the haze he seemed to be under.

You fluttered around him, the aftershocks of your climax rippling out in waves, prompting him to increase his pace to a far more aggressive one, the escalation of your cries spurring him on.

"You…are…fucking…mine!" he hissed through gritted teeth, the sound of your wet bodies slapping together mixing in with his panting breaths and your desperate whimpering.

He rammed into you furiously, and you held onto him frantically as you let him use you to finish, his usual unpredictable actions leaving you unsure how he was planning to, every nerve in you feeling alive and electrified from his possessive words.

His mouth fell against your shoulder, his spit smearing on your skin as he pounded you relentlessly, and feeling him surge inside of you as he began to cum, another orgasm of your own ripped through you violently.

Before you even had the chance to come down from your high, Jay was pulling out of you, the sensation of him slipping from your tingling walls with his thick, hot cum spilling from you making you whine, the unsurprising act of him abandoning you stinging more than it previously had.

Without looking at you, he ran his hand over his face and exited the shower, letting the door slam shut behind him to make you jump, leaving you standing wet and cold as you watched him grab a towel and storm out of the bathroom.

Jay couldn't hate himself more if he tried.

Leaving pools of water in his path as he stalked down the hallway to his bedroom, he urged himself to turn around and go back, the guilt he felt at leaving you like that when he knew he cared so much about you making him realize how cowardly and pathetic he was.

He slammed the door so hard it shook the walls and cursed loudly, pacing while he tried to calm his breathing, the temptation he felt to punch the wall or tear apart the room increasing with each passing second.

He didn't realize he had been clenching his fists so tightly until the sharp pain in his left one seemed to register in his brain, looking down to see a deep red beginning to spill from the gash even through the darkness of his room. Exhaling a shaky breath, Jay sat on his bed and pressed the towel still wrapped around his waist onto the cut, trying to stop his racing thoughts and ache in his heart as much as the bleeding.

Jay knew if you left that he would be able to clear his head and move on, focusing on healing and resuming his training so he could fight again, but at the same time he prayed for the sky to open up again to prevent you from leaving.

He was stupid for treating you how he had, the point he was trying to make by acting this way completely useless, comparing what he felt for you to that bullshit with Liza like comparing night and day.

Before he could manage to fuck up anything else, Jay stood and crossed the space between his bed and the door in a fury, rushing into the hallway with only one thing on his mind.

You shut off the taps, blinking furiously to rid the tears mixing with drops of water that ran down your face, the most defeated and helpless feeling coursing through you.

It was clear that Jay would never accept that you had feelings for him or learn to trust you, his hurt too powerful that it blocked out anything good that he felt he didn't deserve.

Grabbing a towel from the stack of them on a rack beside the shower, you wrapped it around yourself in search of some sort of comfort and took a deep breath, needing to get control of your emotions and this situation.

It was temporary, you reminded yourself. The storm that was the reason for you being stuck here was settling, and the wound on Jay's hand that brought you here in the first place was healing, so you would be going home as soon as the roads reopened.

The thought of returning to work was welcoming, looking forward to the distraction it would provide as you let time fade everything you were feeling, and you knew after being closed because of the storm that the clinic would be busier than ever. Maybe you would even reach out to Deb tomorrow to see if she would be willing to come pick you up from here, not wanting to ask Jay for more than he's already given you and wanting to spare you both from the awkward and most likely silent ride back to where your car was left stranded.

You walked out of the bathroom and tread quietly down the hallway, pausing when you passed Jay's room. You had heard the door slam, so it didn't come as a surprise to see it still closed, but part of you had hoped it was open again, acting as a symbol of amendment or olive branch. Hesitating for only a moment while you debated knocking, you thought better of it and forced yourself away, going to the room you were staying in and shutting the door behind you. A sad smile crept on your lips as the significance of closing the door was like closing the door on whatever this was, and you prayed for strength to carry you through the rest of your time here.

Even with convincing yourself of the finality of it, you couldn't seem to drown the persistent swell of your heart whenever you thought of him, and as much as you told yourself that you were okay with this being nothing more than sex, you knew there was so much more to it.

"Fuck…" you muttered, not thinking twice before turning the doorknob and pulling open the door, your heart leaping into your throat the moment you looked out down the hallway.

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @ourlonelymountain @itspdameronthings @theesirenteller

I went ahead and tagged everyone I have written down for my Charlie/Will Miller taglist so my apologies if you're not interested in being tagged in this and I will happily add or remove anyone as they wish!

#jay mills #deadfall #jay mills smut #jay mills x female reader #deadfall 2012 #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #jay mills x reader #deadfall (2012)

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