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Deadly Seven

a new series! yay! Instead of doing kinktober because I'm not that comfy with writing smut yet and because I'm already doing fluff and angst, I made up a little alternative: for each of the seven deadly sins, I'll pick a few characters and write a little fic for each of them based on the cardinal sin (will be smut or at the very least spicy) (no i am not bashing any religions that follow this, i just thought it would be fun)

THE PLAN SO FAR (not in order)

gluttony - king john (oscar), javier pena

sloth - cecil dennis

pride - blue jones, nathan bateman

greed - oberyn martell, marc spector

envy - miguel o'hara, jake lockley

lust - poe dameron, steven grant

wrath - din djarin, santiago garcia

this is the plan I will add the links when they're done (ofc they'll be added to the main masterlist but this is also an option)

xox

(tw will be added on a fic-by-fic basis)

if you'd like to be tagged in this series, comment or dm me

current list

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @krakenkitty @bulletgoth

@ominoose @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @steven-grants-world

gluttony - king john (2010)

Gluttony (n): overindulgence in food....or in this case..

cw: oral (f), overstim, uhhh dirty talk kind of, john being a brat, that's it.

It was a tossup between greed and gluttony for him, but I picked gluttony bc oberyn snatched greed

it's pretty straightforward. John has a luxurious lifestyle, his diet has consisted of the most sought after delicacies and he can have as much of it as he wants. why can't this extend to other tastes?

He'd played a naughty trick.

Of course, nothing was ever simple with him, and you should have been suspicious from the start. Was it odd he'd requested supper in his chambers? Yes. Was the lack of staff and more importantly, food, slightly strange? Yes.

Was being spread-eagle on a velvet bedspread for the better part of an hour out of the ordinary?

Not really.

John had developed a terribly addictive habit since you'd married. Mind you, his appetite had been voracious before, but now that he had the legal ties of marriage and free roam of the castle, his hunger could not be satiated.

You were only glad he'd stuck to his quarters, instead of devouring you in more public settings. You never mentioned it, for fear he'd get a bad idea. There were enough peasants trysting in the courtyard as it was. You were a queen, for God's sake.

Though at the moment, you felt akin to a puddle of syrup, moaning and twitching as he had his way. John's grip was bruising on your hips, corded forearms flexing and squeezing around your thighs as he tried to fit as much of you in his mouth as he could.

Sweat and fluid trickled down your legs, staining rivers on his ruined shirt. Both of you were soaked, and there was not a clean scrap of clothing in sight.

His tongue was skilled and efficient, reducing you to tears in an instant. He'd been ravenous, kissing and biting and sucking until the initial craving had been sated. With the casualty of entering one's home, he'd settled between your thighs and made a meal of your cunt.

You mewled, quivering from the intensity. Fire, pleasurable as it was painful, burned a hot stripe through your core, releasing another wave of slick. John mumbled a thank you - perhaps the only time he used his manners - and licked harder, sucking the nectar straight out of you.

"S..sstop," you whispered hoarsely, "John, you're h-hurting-"

He flicked his sharp gaze to your disheveled face. A sheen of want had glazed over his face, lips slack and dripping. Displeasure flickered across his brow, before huffing and returning to the task. Your head dropped back to the pillow, a dejected moan tearing from your throat.

The licks were gentler now. He'd given your clit a blessed break, lapping gently at your outer folds. You still twitched and cried, but the tears fell slower and you took a deep breath for the first time. His hands shifted lower, lovingly stroking your tender flesh.

It's over, it's over, your delirious mind cried with relief, shakily returning to conscious thought. John smiled at you, drinking in your heated cheeks and coital glow.

"I'd have a painting of you like this," he murmured, tracing your shining pink core. You whined at the contact, attempting to cage his hand away. Tutting, he delivered a swift smack to your ass.

"Stay," he said sternly, settling back down.

His mop of curls were sweaty as he reclined against your inner thigh, absently sucking at your skin. Hot pleasure pulsed through your cunt, seeping wetness all over the sheets. A tremor rocked your core, contorting your body away from his scalding touch.

no more, no more, your skin moaned.

John tsked and clumsily wrangled your legs back in place, biting admonishingly on your ass. Finding a new dessert to please his tongue, he focused his lustful attention there, squeezing and fondling while you moaned into the pillows.

"Hush, little wife," he slurred, smacking his lips at your taste, " 'M not quite finished."

Fingers curling around the cotton of your nightgown, you hiccupped and wailed as another powerful wave crashed over you, bowing your back into the mattress. John moaned at the sight of your puffy pink folds shivering in the low candlelight, clit stiff and swollen from overstimulation.

Everything was hot and wet. You couldn't tell if it was his tongue or his fingers plundering your messy cunt, the thickness and speed too overwhelming to process. Tears blurred your vision, the wanton moans and sucking noises all you could feel from your husband.

You writhed under him, nightgown ripping down the front as he fought to continue his feast. John greedily grabbed hold of your soft stomach, pausing his action to kiss at your breasts. The new stimulus hadn't fixed the issue of your shredded nerves, merely shifted the focus.

In not nearly long enough of a reprieve, he'd returned to eating your cunt. The slick noises were loud against the stone chamber. John's shirt was plastered to his golden chest, linen soaked to transparency. His face was dripping and milky, pink lips shimmering.

You'd find him beautiful if you could see straight.

It was a gratuitous fight between more and too much, one that your fuck-drunk mind struggled figure out. A protest would come to mind, then another orgasm would wrench it away, leaving moans and gasps in its stead. Your voice howled for it to end, but your hips ground onto his face like your life depended on it.

John reveled in your desperation, grinning at every moan. Your lust fed his, empowering him to continue.

"Good, love," he cooed, watching your folds seize and leak another mouthful of ambrosia. He greedily lapped it up, taking time to drag his tongue through each crevice of your heaven. His tongue's repeated strokes and attention had softened your skin to velvet. It was a wonderful sensation on his tongue - like having the softest, sweetest pudding in the world.

Your heady musk surrounded him. John was drunk. His thoughts had long since been beaten to a pulp, animalistic want driving him now.

Taste, smell, sweet, rich, earthy, soft, warm wet all everywhere all over him, sticky and divine on his face and tongue. He pressed closer, willing his mouth to fuse with your skin and never separate. That was the only way he'd be satisfied: if he could never taste anything else.

The supple thighs caging his head squeezed tighter, making his eyes roll back. Your legs were strong from the stables, in a dizzyingly seductive display of strength. John bucked against the bed, his own need now abundantly clear.

Your sudden rake of your hands through his hair pulled a moan from his mouth, finally tearing his mouth from your core. Saliva strung a wet bridge from his lips, puffy and gasping. You huffed at the rush of cool air against your sensitive skin, wriggling until your legs closed.

John scowled, ready to pounce, until your leg dragged deliciously over his straining hardness. At once he was placid, rutting and moaning into your thighs, face crushed in your lap.

You hissed and began to move away, giving him room to get off. He whined a protest, using your strong hips for leverage.

"N-no," he gritted out, humping faster, "almost, almost, don't move-" Your hand snaked into his trousers and he came with a guttural cry, mouthing into your exposed breasts. His hips kept twitching into your firm grip, whimpering as he stuttered to a stop.

You didn't.

Confused, John tried to back away, length soft and achey. But your eyes had cleared and your hand tightened.

"My turn," you whispered, enveloping his sore cock in your mouth. He collapsed against the bedframe, chest heaving.

All sins came with a price, he supposed, face contorting in desire.

! first one is done! the more time I spent on this, I really should have gone with greed, but oh well. Oberyn's will still be good.

taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @justsomeonecalledemma @to-be-a-sunshine

comment to join!

series masterlist (ongoing)

lust - poe dameron

Lust - excessive desire for sexual pleasure

fem reader

cw: it's a sex pollen fic so dubcon, but there is an established relationship between poe and reader. overstim (m), lots of Bodily Fluid, masturbation, uhhh it's smut. a lot. (m) fingering, briefly at the end. subdrop? idk Poe gets really upset after. aftercare! yay

You'd begged him to go to the med bay. He'd come home exhausted, but the moment he wrapped you in a hug you knew something was up. His skin was flaming, sweat dripping even in the cold shower. Poe's bright eyes were dull and glassy.

you're sick, you pleaded, trying to push him out the door. But his hands were grabbing at you, mouth mumbling some excuse.

Kissing him, you promised to get some medicine and that you'd be back in a few.

You'd come back to this.

The door was struggling to open. You frowned, slamming your shoulder until the metal durasteel finally relented.

Shouting in surprise, you dropped the bag of supplies.

The bed had been torn to shreds, sheets bunched against the door and pillows strewn everywhere. Your closet had been ransacked, uniform and spare street clothes littering the floor. The shelves were in various stages of destroyed against the wall.

"Poe?" you breathed, stepping inside and letting the door thunk closed behind you. "Baby, wh-"

He was definitely...struggling. On the now bare mattress, he was furiously fisting himself, head crammed so far into a mass of pillows that you feared for his breathing. Muted moans and shouts were forced from his throat. Slick coated his hand and thighs - he'd already finished. Several times, you thought in awe at the amount of release smeared over the bed.

At your voice he writhed, hands leaving his red, aching length to tear at his hair.

"Help," he croaked, eyes shining with tears, "oh, Maker, help me it hurts-" another garbled moan rocked out of him, his hips bucking into the air. You shucked your jacket, worry creasing your brow.

He looked ill. His skin was flushed and clammy, lips cracked and dry. Fever burned along his flesh; you could feel the heat from here.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" You asked, trying to get him to stop moving to feel his forehead. He shook his head rapidly, clawing at your leg.

"need," he whispered hoarsely, rutting against the bed, curls plastered to his face with sweat. "Need it so bad, please." His voice was rough from screaming. You wanted to so badly, could feel your core heating up at the prospect.

But...

"Poe," you whispered gently, stroking his head. He looked at you with desperation, biting back a moan as another gush of cum leaked out of him. He was going to hurt himself.

"I need you to stand up and go take a shower," you said, keeping your voice soft, petting his cheek. "It'll help you feel better."

He cried out and moaned frustratedly, angry that you hadn't bowed to his request. His hand was back on his cock, tugging and squeezing over the ruddy tip. Frustration intensified the lust burning in his head, the sole objective to cum and never stop.

Stripping off your shirt, you slung your arms under his and pulled him off the bed. The previous time he'd spent enthralled in pleasure had weakened his legs considerably. Poe crumpled like a baby deer, groaning as he rubbed against your thigh. Swearing, you made sure he didn't hit his head, bringing his sweaty face to your shoulder.

He moaned with relief, the spiking pleasure singing as your soft skin contacted his hardness. Poe suckled at your neck, bruising and biting with his enthusiasm. He was so hot and everything was on fire with how much he needed you. Nothing but a need for pleasure consumed him, brain running on autopilot.

More more please his rabid mind demanded, scrabbling for purchase on the wall of pleasure in front of him. He thrusted harder against your leg, furiously climbing. close close he was really really almost almost oh-

You pulled away, hushing his angry cry as his climax drifted away. Angry pain rocketed through his spine, making him writhe onto the floor again. Somewhere, dimly, Poe felt the need to hide away, knowing this was wrong. But you were right there and he knew you wanted him, he could smell it but you weren't playing nice-

A cool sensation sent shivers across his sensitive skin. You'd come back with a wet rag, stroking over his face and shoulders. Poe swallowed thickly and reached for you, greedily grabbing at your soft tits. As you tried your best to clean up his mess, he fondled and sucked, eyes awash with lust.

You had to focus. Clean him up, at least, just get him cooler. His skin was so hot it felt like magma. As he moaned against your chest and rabidly humped against the floor, begging for any stimulation, you finally dropped the rag and pulled him against you.

"Careful, careful careful, Poe!" You hissed as he bit hard, thrusting up into you with one fell swoop. Your cunt greedily sucked him in, warm and soft and oh there we go there it is...his lust-drunk mind cooed in relief, slowing his pace for a moment to revel in the delicious fluttering of your walls.

You noticed the shift. His hips were steadier, rolling deep and measured rather than shallow and sloppy. Trying to maintain a semblance of control against the heady feeling of his cock dragging against your pussy, you struggled on top of him.

Poe moaned at the added weight, eyelashes fluttering. Tears were still bubbling in his eyes. His pupils were dark and all-consuming as he watched you bounce on his girth, small grunts of pleasure at every punch into your core. It had been agonizing to use his fist. His wrists were sore and aching, abdomen cramping from how hard he'd curled on himself, desperate to feel relief.

"Easy," you breathed, "easy, don't hurt yourself." He sniffled and hiccupped as your gummy folds squeezed around him, triggering another painfully fast orgasm from his wrecked body. Warmth flooded your cunt and dripped onto the floor, mixing with your own climax.

Poe caught you against his chest, still rocking into your warm center. His breaths were labored, struggling against the mounting need. He couldn't breathe. Need was all that his heart ached for, needing more of you, more more

"More," he mewled, devouring your tongue in a searing kiss, "more please."

You couldn't find it in you to sit up again, so you rocked and rolled against each other, laying on the blissfully cool floor. The punching thrusts of his hips were too much for your already sore clit. You pushed away from him, desperate for a breath of fresh air and a break from his hot skin.

"Hang on, hang on no," he growled, grabbing you close and thrusting upwards. "Just-just wait a sec hnggh..." He came again, scrabbling at the floor to keep from flinging you into the wall. A loud whine tore from his throat, sobbing around the earth-shattering climax. Your sloppiness had leaked everywhere, the rich musk driving him crazy.

He needed it so badly, but any more attention to his overstimulated cock would drive him to insanity. You hushed and soothed, rubbing his back and kissing his blubbering face. Poe cried into your shoulder, unable to stop rucking against the floor. You slid off him, still murmuring comfort into his ear.

It had been hours. You didn't know what to do. It seemed like he was slowing down at least. His balls had been milked dry, nothing but moans spilling as he came. The room was humid and musky, everything thoroughly soiled.

You'd put him in the shower, turning on the cold water in hopes of clearing his mind. It had helped a bit, but he was still pressed against the cold tile, stiff cock throbbing from neglect.

"Help," he hiccupped, brown eyes weeping, "B-baby I don't know what to do ah!" A groove caught on his length and triggered another spasm. You bit your lip, running a hand through his damp hair. He squeezed your soft thighs, muffling his moans against your tummy.

"It'll be gone soon," you whispered, hoping it was true. You couldn't bear to watch this. Poe looked at you wetly, pouting in desperation.

"One more," he pleaded quietly, legs trembling. "Just- ah just a little bit m-more-"

You relented, gently stroking his balls and kissing his forehead. He heaved a sigh of relief, wrapping his legs around your torso. You struggled to stay upright, concentrating on squeezing his last climax out of him.

Accidentally, your forefinger brushed too far underneath. Poe jolted, whimpering into your chest. Curiously, you did it again. He stopped thrusting, muscles locked in anticipation.

"Hhhng," he groaned as you carefully slipped a finger in. Huffing hard, his wild, crazed eyes begged at you to finish. please please please please he screamed mentally, begging your finger to stroke a little to the side please god

The loudest whine you'd ever heard tore out of his mouth as you rubbed along that little button inside, splintering pleasure along his bones until he couldn't see. Colors and sounds and everything blurred into a slurring mess as he writhed in your hold. He gasped for air, teeth shredding against your collarbone.

Hissing, you pried his jaw off of you, slipping a thumb in his mouth instead. Poe accepted it greedily, sucking and moaning as he slowly succumbed to your touch. He thrashed weakly, rocking himself on your heavenly fingers.

You rubbed harder, pressing firmly onto his prostate. With a last cry, Poe thrusted into the wet tiles and came hard. The mess shot onto the ground, trickling white and thick down the fresher drain. Immediately you saw the switch, his eyes clearing and lips going slack.

"Shit," you swore, slipping your fingers from his holes and gathering him against your chest. The hours of overstimulation had finally caught up to him. He writhed away from you, needing reprieve from touch. Everything throbbed with unsurmountable pain, contorting his face in a pitiful mix of pain and desperation.

Stumbling to your feet, you rifled through the remains of the closet until a clean, soft towel appeared. You returned and wrapped it around his shoulders, rubbing the terrycloth over his shaking frame to ground him.

"it's over," you assured him, "all done, no more, you made it. oh, honey," your voice broke as he shuddered away, eyes wild and detached. Incoherent babbling dripped from his slack lips as he fought for clarity against the wall of anxiety now staunch in his head.

You retrieved a glass of water, urging him to sip. He did so slowly, pausing to hiccup and whimper.

"Do you need some space?" You asked quietly, petting his hair away from his eyes. Poe nodded mutely, shaking hands pulling the towel tighter. You nodded, kissing him on the forehead.

While he tried to come back to himself, you began to clean the main room. His bunk was ruined; the sheets were better off in the garbage. Quickly as you could, you stripped them off and disposed of them, as well as any of the pillows and his strewn clothes.

You flipped the mattress to the not-soiled side. Using the linens from your bunk, you redressed his bed and made sure it was comfortable.

Poe was shivering from the cold shower floor. His legs were splayed apart, trying to remove as much stimulation as possible. He reached for you when you returned, boxers and his sleep shorts in hand.

"You need to clean up," you said, coaxing him to stand. He leaned heavily against the wall. Aftershocks tore through his legs. You propped him up against the door, quickly drying any water and cum from his skin. He winced when you reached his cock and you murmured an apology.

The boxers proved to be too tight so he settled for the soft shorts, still moaning into your shoulder while you helped him dress.

"All better now," you said kindly, rubbing his back in circles. Poe stumbled to the bed, mumbling quietly.

He shuddered relief as he lay on the soft blankets; clean, cool sheets like heaven against his skin. You put distance between you with a few pillows, reaching out to play fondly with his hair.

"It's okay," you said, noticing his stricken expression as he took in the bruises and bites littering your skin. "It's okay. Trust me, it's not a big deal. They'll heal."

Tears welled in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, and you reached over to hug him.

"No, baby, don't cry..."

He sniffled, wiping his cheeks. The dissonance between his aching body and ruined mind was closing with each soothing remark.

"Pollen...or something, I dunno," he explained weakly. You nodded in understanding, still wiping his tears.

"We'll chat tomorrow. Sleep, love."

Poe mumbled weakly and snuggled closer, curls rubbing softly into your hand.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @krakenkitty @bulletgoth @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs

comment to join tags!

(guys i think writing this much smut is altering my brain chemistry are the effects long term guys help)

series list

wrath - santiago garcia

i am cooking on these holyy. lowkey proud of myself. I think i'll do an aftercare series next because not every fic has that and sometimes it's nice to have some fluff.

cw: hate (?) sex, darkish santi but dw everything is okay, enemies to enemies who fuck, banter, badassery gone wrong, riding, biting, degradation, mentions of injury and violence (pg description), kinda pwp

songs to listen to: caroline by artemas, you've been a bad girl by artemas...anything by artemas....

OKAY HOT TAKE I THINK SANTI WAS OSCAR'S HOTTEST ROLE. highkey a snack.

okay okay on with the show xox

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Fish and Will, the other two on your team, had been wise enough to take a separate Jeep, seeing the venomous look in Santi's eye.

A quiet rattling from the undercarriage over the rocky terrain was the only sound between you.

You held an ice pack to your chest, trying to soothe the burning ache. A rubber mallet to the sternum was a hard hit to take, and you'd only recently regained the ability to breathe. Trying to swallow air as quietly as you could, you shifted towards the window, determined not to look at your partner.

Santi hadn't said a word, jaw clenched sharp enough to cut diamond. The anger rolling off of him clouded the air; a mix of sweat, heat and loamy soil. An irony twinge made your skin crawl. Blood was still caked under your fingernails and flecked on his cheek.

The stakeout hadn't gone well. In fact, Murphy's law seemed to be the only rule in action out in the backwoods, because nothing had gone to plan. The bodyguards for your target had switched shifts, the numbers were wrong, the target came home early...in short, it was a bloodbath.

Fish and Will took the supply van, trundling along in front of the armored Jeep Pope was currently driving.

Guilt and anger roiled in your gut. Yes, you'd been reckless. yes, Santi had reason to be angry. Did you get out alive and with the cash? Also yes, so at this point you weren't sure why it was still an issue.

"There's more ice in the back," Santi's low rumble broke the silence. His gaze was still locked forward, tone giving no room for further conversation.

You nodded thanks, grabbing a new pack and throwing the melted one into the garbage bag. The cold bite made you hiss. Santi flicked his eyes to yours in the mirror, then back on the road.

"Grab the map."

Sighing through your nose, you complied, shoving the messily folded sheet at him. His hand stalled as he grabbed the paper, clenching hard enough to tear.

"Interesting," he growled, "you can listen."

You glared daggers. This was not the conversation you wanted to have right now. Don't engage, just leave him alone.

"About time you decided to act right."

okay, fuck you.

Shoving forwards to the passenger seat, you stuck your face as close as possible to Pope's fuming profile.

"I got out," you spat, "and I got out alive, and I got out with an extra 50k. I was gonna offer it to you, but-"

Santi revved the engine and swerved off the road, swearing in heated Spanish. You screamed, thrown against the door from the force of the vehicle. Shrubs and branches crunched under the heavy wheels, and you tumbled onto the dash, chest searing with pain.

Hands hooked under your arms and dragged you into the humid fog. You thrashed and wailed, choking on breath. A familiar tan palm slapped over your mouth, and you felt Pope's grip tighten around your bicep.

While you struggled to comprehend what the fuck just happened, Santiago brought your ear up to his mouth and seethed.

"Listen very closely," he said quietly. "I have put up with you for five weeks. Five. Cinco. I am going to give you five minutes to run as fast as you possibly fucking can until I drive off without you. Otherwise, I'll put a round through your skull. Comprende?"

You shivered and coughed, mind doing pirouettes. Where did this come from? No, you didn't like Pope, but he'd never...

"Wh-why?" you croaked around his hand. With an umph you were shoved to the mossy floor, scrabbling away from him. Santi stalked forwards, dark gaze heavy and strong.

"You don't listen. You don't shoot. you fight good, but you risked all of us for what, a moment of glory? Puta," he hissed, grabbing your jaw again.

His arms rippled under a sheen of sweat and dewy raindrops. You struggled to suck in a breath, the injury on your chest throbbing with every inhale.

"P-please don't," you stuttered, trying to stand. He shoved you down, broad palm strong against your chest. A defeated whimper slipped between your lips. Santi clicked his tongue. Mocking.

"Cry later, you've got some ground to cover."

With a shove, you were stumbling forwards into a loping run. The jungle terrain was unfamiliar but you plowed forwards. Sharp leaves whipped your cheeks, wet bark and sticky sap clinging to your already drenched clothes.

Pitter pat pitter pat pitter pat. You had five minutes. 180 steps a minute, that meant you had 900 steps before-

A loud crashing came behind you. He cheated. It had not been five minutes, and Santi was a lot faster. You sprinted hard, trying not to slip on the slick leaves.

With a huge leap, you crossed a small creek and crawled up the bank. A few seconds later you heard Santi splash through.

You weren't going to outrun him. Hide. You could hide. you were good at that; being quiet and still. There was enough mud and foliage caked on you to blend in with the shrubbery.

Trying to quell your shivering limbs, you crept beneath a rotting log, rutting out a small ditch to cower in.

The forest was quiet. Every sound you made sounded amplified. Your ears strained to pick up Santi's careful footsteps.

Trying to track a Marine, huh? Good fucking luck.

You settled lower and sniffled. Better just to accept it.

"You can come out now."

It stunned you to silence. You weren't expecting him to catch up so soon. Biting your lip, you shakily crawled out of your hiding spot, hands timidly raised to your ears.

Santi stood a few feet away, posture relaxed and wide. His powerful legs were strong and steady, arms folded over his chest. Fish. God, you should have called Fish.

Fear choking your throat, your shook as he walked closer, stopping nose to nose. Raw anger radiated off of him, almost in visible rays. You met his gaze bravely, but the tears bubbling gave away your terror.

Santi's hand moved to his waistband and you flinched reflexively. His hand came up to smack you and you barreled forwards, tackling him to the soggy jungle floor. Desperately, you clawed at his chest, trying to stave him off and get back to the car. He grabbed your ankle, yanking you back into his chest.

A splitting scream tore from your throat before he stuck a thumb in your mouth, efficiently gagging you.

"Stop it, st- shut it-" he growled, pinning your arms at your sides. You grunted furiously, kicking at his ankle. Santi swore again and hitched up so your feet flailed in the air.

"I'm not gonna shoot you," he spat, wrestling you against a tree, "would you fucking stay still chrissakes, stop hitting me." Your brain took a moment to catch up, after which you fell limp.

Relief coursed through your veins.

Santi breathed heavily. "Can you...jesus can you stop moving? I need to-"

"Drop your gun," you said as soon as he removed his hand.

"Wh...I don't have a gun." His eyes were genuinely perplexed.

You kneed up to his waist, connecting with the hardness there. "yes, you do."

He buckled, groaning. Bewildered, you watched him swallow a curse before it clicked.

"...Are you-"

"Shut up," he growled, before devouring your mouth.

Oxygen deprivation was getting to you. You went slack when his tongue pushed into your mouth, harsh and greedy. Santi's grip was bruising on your arms as he kept them pinned to your sides.

"Why," he panted between sucks, "do you have to be so fucking difficult-" a groan cut him off and he returned to your neck, biting and licking for dear life.

You huffed and whimpered, overwhelmed by his attention. He kissed you angrily, teeth gnashing and clicking. A tang of iron when you bit his lip made him moan, grinding up against you.

The sharp grain of the tree you were pressed against dug into your shoulder. Lust burning, you ground back against him, urging him to kiss lower. He complied, still growling obscenities as he migrated to your collarbones.

"You hah have got to s-stop," he groaned again, flexing his hips, "f-ffucking around."

Your hands, free from his punishing grip, fumbled with his zipper. Pope shoved up against the tree harder, shucking his jeans in one go. You yelped before his hand jammed down your pants, finding the wet patch on your panties. A muffled whine was cut off by his lips while he dug his thumb into your soft, waiting heat.

A guttural purr rumbled out of his still-bloody lips, pressed against your temple. You buried your face shamefully in his neck as he thrust his fingers roughly into you, tearing blinding heat through your spine. You wailed and bucked, trying to urge him to slow down.

His thick digits were dragging against your puffy walls, spreading slick over his hand. Santi felt his eyes cross with the feeling of your wonderfully tight folds fluttering. He gritted his teeth and curled harder, wanting to see the tears threating to fall.

You gave him his wish, shuddering back against the branches as a sudden wave crashed into you, wetness gushing as your cunt sucked desperately at his fingers. He stopped moving and you screamed, wanting to ride it out with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't be greedy," he growled, ripping his soaking fingers from your hole. You whined and wriggled in his tight grip. Santi scowled and nipped your jaw, shoving down his boxers.

The cool evening air tickled, sending gooseflesh down his legs. He stammered a sigh, yanking your hips down over him. You choked at the intrusion, his girth tearing at your walls.

"S-slow down," you pleaded, pushing against his firm chest, "hurts-"

Santi cooed menacingly, thrusting up as hard as he could go. Tears cascaded down your flushed cheeks as he began a punishing pace, the scrape of your tender flesh against the rough floor was music to his ears.

"Hush," he whispered in your ear, groping at your chest, "just hush." You mewled and hiccupped, hips rolling against your will. Burning pleasure twirled up your core as he humped against your spongy center, stroking just there oh-

As he felt your walls pulse and tighten, Pope pulled away, stifling a moan at the loss. Your wet warmth was addicting - but watching you struggle was so much more satisfying. His eyes were heavy-lidded and drunk on the power, seeing your gaze shift from defiant to submissive.

"There we go," he breathed, reaching down to massage at your clit. You whined and leaned forwards, sucking his jaw into your mouth. "Feels better now that you listen, huh? See, see, you don't have to fight m-me ah ohffuck," he whined high and sharp when you yanked his hips forward into yours, crushing his cock between you.

Santi stumbled as you rutted hard, grinding against his weeping length. Stammering and swearing, he grappled for the upper hand, but you pressed him down firmly. Your shirt was rucked high, rosy nipples bouncing with every stroke. You refused to take him inside, face set as you chased a high.

He breathed hard, trying to stave off the rollicking pleasure singing through his veins.

"Stop," he growled, "S-stop, be gahhh," he howled when you reached down and squeezed his balls, making his thighs twitch and seize violently.

"Doesn't feel good, does it," you spat, eyes hazy and chest heaving. You looked desperately beautiful atop him, and Santi felt a strong surge coming through his length.

Your wet heat slid quickly against him, slick dripping onto his stomach. The smell of musk wafted up, adding to the tantalizing taste of you on his lips. Twigs and brambles dug into his back. Pope had stopped fighting, submitting entirely to your strong pace.

Short, stuttering whines lilted from your slack pout as you got closer. He grabbed your hips, grinding you hard on his needy tip. You sighed with pleasure and began rubbing your clit furiously, the rosy, stiff bud shining like a pearl in your velvety folds.

He was in heaven. You shuddered and moaned, folds fluttering and gushing hard over him. Santi bucked at the feeling of your climax, finishing quickly over his abs. You kept thrusting, pleasure overriding your mind.

"More," you breathed, digging your heels into the soft soil, "oh Santi please."

He couldn't deny that, though every nerve was screaming in overstimulation. You continued to wreck him on the jungle floor, simmering in lustful heat.

Later he crawled back to the Jeep, a half-conscious you slung over his shoulders. Fish and Will were waiting, but made no comment at your kiss-bitten neck and Santi's lust-blown eyes.

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pride - nathan bateman

seven sins series

so this is a little different...I thought of pride like control? like d/s stuff. there is subdrop in this but it is dealt with positively and there is aftercare. just letting you know xox

Nathan had mastered this. It was his favorite study he'd conducted - the frailty of the human mind. To see just how far he could push until it fell apart. He'd delighted in coaxing your mind away from your body, keeping it stable in some distant, floaty headspace.

Currently, he was watching you intently, searching your face for tells. He'd chosen today to troubleshoot something, but he needed you submissive.

It starts with tone. His voice would smooth over, dark and deep like a polished river stone. Nathan would touch you subtly while he spoke; a hand on your elbow or a gentle caress of your shoulder. Once you had relaxed, knowing he was calm, he'd slip in a pet name.

Get me a pen, will you, doll?

Thank you, honey.

It took about an hour of constantly repeating the steps for you to begin the descent. Nathan could tell when your eyes would soften and you had a light smile hung over your cheeks. Then he'd start casual intimacy; pulling you into his lap, kissing your cheek, petting your hair. Once your cheeks were rosy and warm he knew you were steadily slipping.

Currently, you were knelt between his legs, head draped on his strong thigh. Nathan was reading something, hand absently stroking your head. A desk fan was whirring quietly in the background, the ambient noise punctuated by the shffing of the pages flipping.

Though Nathan seemed distracted, he was carefully analyzing your reactions. You were slack-jawed and happy, hungry for whatever he'd give you. It made his ego glow proudly.

Nathan let his hand wander to your cheek, stroking circles while scratching beneath your ear. It sent shivers down your back and you purred, nosing into his sweatpants. The soft cotton smelled of him - clean and warm, with a bite of something earthy. It soothed you further into the clouds, melting your mind into a pool of nothing.

He kept up the firm, even strokes until you'd sunk to his liking. Carefully setting the book down, he tapped his leg.

"Warm me, honey?"

You blinked slowly, lashes fluttering, before sliding forward and pulling down his waistband. He'd foregone underwear and you drooled, leaning forward to press a kiss at his semi-hard length. Nathan grunted, shifting to let you fit between his thighs.

Feeling a blanket of comfort fall over you, you began to suckle at him, tongue teasing his slit and the thickness. His cock rested heavy and grounding in your mouth. You were comforted by the feeling. A pleasant ache throbbed in your throat as you took him all the way, breathing in his salty musk.

Nathan tapped his thigh again and you stopped sucking, letting the warm heat of your mouth do the rest. You fluttered your lashes again, gazing up at him in adoration. He kept his breaths measured with difficulty, groaning at the sight of you so ready for him.

The tightness of your throat was heavenly. Your cheeks pulsed with the blush spreading across your face, the hot wetness thrumming like a vibrator around his length.

Nathan felt the blood rushing and he twitched, hardening. You whined and shifted, opening wider to accommodate. He sighed low and gravelly, reaching down to thumb your cheek.

"There's a good girl, fuckin' beautiful," he breathed, sitting further forward. Like a good pet you didn't move back, instead leaned forward, nuzzling into his hip.

Nathan wasn't gonna last. With a long hiss he pulled you off of him, saliva glistening on his throbbing red tip. You licked your lips, pouting with need. He cooed, pulling you up and to his lap.

"I have something for you," he whispered in your ear, massaging your backside. You rolled your hips at the feeling, eyes bright with intrigue.

"Something?"

He nodded, kissing your neck gently. He had to breach this very carefully, so not to break the fragile cage he had your mind in. Usually he was rougher by now, taking what he wanted with unfaltering determination. You were unused to his gentleness, but accepted it willingly.

"Go upstairs," he murmured, hand slipping to cup your breasts, "and lay on the bed. Take these off." He tugged at the elastic of your panties, punctuating the request with a sudden squeeze of your nipple. Dripping with anticipation, you scampered away.

He took a minute to stave off his pulsing cock before standing. Your obedience was the most arousing thing he'd ever seen. To know that he'd gotten you there with nothing but some words...

Made him feel like a fucking god.

Retrieving the wrapped bundle from his desk, he stalked after you.

Just as he asked, you were lying on the bed, naked save for your bra. He could see a small pool of slick at your entrance, folds glistening with anticipation. Your hands were clean - this was just for him.

Nathan leaned down and kissed you, hands stroking your waist. You moaned into his mouth, hips undulating slowly, greedy for friction. He let you hump the air for a moment before swiftly smacking your thigh.

"Knock it off," he said firmly. You felt the change in tone, whimpering and squirming away. Nathan ran a hand through his beard and unwrapped the gift he'd brought.

You sat up curiously.

"What's that?"

He laid it between you with a flourish. It was a harness, with a small black disk and a metal cage on one end. Nathan's hand rested on your thigh.

"Listen carefully." His tone was authoritative. You shivered at the dominance, squeezing your thighs together. The slick leaking from your core was sticky and smelled strongly of lust, making his head swim.

"I'm going to get you ready, and then you're going to put this on." Nathan pointed to the chair in the corner of the room. "I'm going to sit right there and watch you get off. Your safeword-"

"Blue."

"Good."

Setting the toy aside, Nathan grabbed your legs and wrenched them apart, latching onto your clit. You moaned, louder, desperate for his attention.

Sheets twisted in your strong grip as his beard dragged coarsely along your inner thighs, adding a delicious sensation to the hot, broad strokes of his tongue.

Nathan was shuddering against the bed, groaning with pleasure. Your folds were velvety and soaking in your delectable scent, making a buzzing high flood his veins. Within moments you were gushing over his tongue. He lapped greedily, making sure to leave some for the toy.

Wrenching himself away took effort. He sucked your juices from his beard, fisting his cock to relieve the pressure. You mewled and reached out to feel him.

"Don't be bad," he snapped, swatting your hand away. You keened, eyes round with lust.

Nathan began to slip the harness around your hips. The black disk rested against your entrance, cool and hard. The cold shell was stark against your hot cunt, the aftershocks intensified.

He beckoned you to roll your hips, ensuring the cage or harness wasn't too tight.

"Color?"

"G-green," you breathed, squirming with anticipation. He slipped a small remote into his hand and backed against the chair, hand immediately going to his cock. He couldn't wait to watch you fall apart, collapsing into his hands like a doll. Like something he could control.

A small click, and your breath hitched.

The disk had begun to grow, swelling and pushing against your needy hole. You whimpered, sending a terrified look at Nathan. He watched, enraptured, as the artificial cock grew and sucked into your messy center.

"Fuck..." he groaned, hardening in his hand, "look at you, so wet for me, huh?"

Your chest heaved and you bucked, whining loudly as the remote dildo began plundering in and out, thick silicone hammering your insides. The first orgasm was of pure shock, like a dousing of ice water to your depraved system.

The added slick made the dildo slide faster, stroking every inch of your insides. It swelled more, making you choke. Your thighs trembled with the force of the thrusts. Gaze blurring with tears, you grabbed onto the bedpost for dear life, rutting hard against the wood, trying to regain control.

"N-Nathan," you sobbed, a wail tearing the thought to shreds. Hot pleasure soared through you again, dripping cum down your legs and onto the sheets.

"That's okay," he gritted out, tugging at his cock, "that's j-just right baby, ah.." His own pleasure roiled at your debauched expression.

The black rubber was rocking your pelvis with its strength, rendering your legs useless. You fell back onto the mattress, hips arching. He got the best view of his life - your puffy pink folds glistening creamily with arousal, fluttering and sucking around his prototype.

'F-fuck me," he groaned to himself, panting with need. His hips rocked of their own accord, wrist tightening.

You whined high again, a throaty sob wracking your ribs as another wave of slick coursed out of you. Your clit was dying from the constant stimulation.

Time slowed. The air felt thick and hot and damp on your shivering skin, melting every conscious thought in your head. The rhythmic punches of the cock in your stomach were all you could focus on. The feel of bedsheets beneath you was distant, unfocused.

Your body was drifting away, a blade slicing the trembling connection. Another orgasm crested, soaking you further. You shuddered as feverish pleasure rocketed up your spine.

Nathan was humping himself into his hand, groaning and huffing.

"G-good girl, baby," he growled, "doing so g-goohshitffuck-" he gasped and choked as his release punched him in the gut, spurting over the pristine floors.

You heard Nathan's cry, suddenly reminded of his presence. Raising a hand, you shakily reached for him, struggling to sit up through the strong aftershocks. Your thighs had gone numb, and you slid off the bed into a tangled heap.

The cold floor made you mewl, arching away from the freezing linoleum. Nathan grabbed you, pulling you close to his chest. The dildo scissored harder, now twisting in a figure eight. You keened and moaned, bucking your hips against his, trying to escape the mechanical pleasure.

"No more," you blubbered, whining into his shoulder, "n-no more please ah-" It seized you again and you began to cry, fisting your hands into his shirt. Nathan watched, slack-jawed with awe.

His creation was perfect. It had reduced you to a state in minutes that would have taken him hours. You were a mess and still reached for him, craved his attention.

"Perfect," he breathed. He was a genius.

Your hand grabbed at his neck and you pulled him in for a kiss, teeth clashing and tongues lapping at each other. Arousal gripped him again, and he felt his sensitive length begin to harden.

Nathan inhaled deeply and fumbled at your harness.

"Enough, enough, no more," he gritted out, "my turn now, princess." He yanked out the dildo, squelching obscenely. The suddenness made you throb, pussy clenching and unclenching in the emptiness.

Spiking, achy pleasure pulsed under your skin. You felt feverish and on the verge of passing out. Your tongue lapped at Nathan's salty sweat, needing him.

He growled, pinning you to the soiled sheets. You thrashed away from him, aching for a break.

"Be good," he barked, smacking your ass, "ass up, baby, you know how this goes. There we go," he grinned when you complied, struggling to keep yourself upright. Your thighs trembled.

He watched your pussy quiver in anticipation, clit stiff and swollen. "Pretty thing's tired, huh? Too bad."

With one, hard push he was fully seated in you. You collapsed forward, twitching and screaming with overstimulation.

His cock was thicker than the fake one, and throbbing with need. It pulsed hot and strong inside you, pushing your already exhausted nerves to beyond the max. As he began a fast, shallow pace, you shook limply.

Like a ragdoll, you leaned into every touch, eyes empty and mouth slack, drooling over the pillows. A whine had begun to buzz in your ear, and you felt a sudden rush of vertigo. Nathan's fast thrusts and pumping hips slapped against yours, rattling your fucked-out brain.

The warm haze of earlier now felt too hot. You sucked your lip, trying to keep from crying. Something...something was wrong. It felt like you were falling in a dream, that quick rushing terror from something? Nothing? You didn't know.

Blearily, you reached for Nathan, wanting comfort. He took your hand and pressed it close to his chest, still rutting into your abused cunt.

too...too much. too much, too much, too far, we need to-

Your chest gripped with terror as you struggled to remember the safe word. uh oh, uh oh uh oh.

"Nathan," you whimpered through a moan. "N-nathan, w-wait-"

"I know, pet, I know," he growled, "taking me so well, taking it all so w-well f-fuck." His length pulsed again, and the panic gripped you tighter.

Your torn mind flailed and scrabbled at anything to focus, to think through the oppressive haze of subspace that choked you. Achy heat slurred your thoughts into a mush, but the tears were real.

Hot, bubbling and torrential tears flooded your cheeks as you urged away from his harsh grip on your thighs. Nathan hissed and yanked you closer, flipping you to face him.

He hesitated at your hiccupping sobs and wrecked expression.

The brief slowing of his hips allowed for one, shimmering moment of clarity.

Blue. Blue, blue-

"Blue," you whispered hoarsely, shuddering at another punch of nausea.

Nathan wrenched himself out of you, swearing rapidly. "Okay, okay, okay," he muttered, pulling you up and off of the wet sheets. You continued blubbering, your entire lower half throbbing in pain.

A combination of his and your slick dripped steadily out of you, puddling on the bathroom floor.

"I got you," he cooed frantically, rubbing a hand up and down your sweat-sticky back. You heaved and twitched, still spinning down from the clutches of your headspace.

Nathan turned on the shower to a warm temperature and stripped off your bra and his pants, pulling you in beside him. As you clung to him desperately, he opened a bottle of lavender shampoo and let the calming scent flood the bathroom.

it's over, it's over, good girl was pressed into your hair. His beard tickled, you thought deliriously, searching for anything to calm yourself. A cool rag passed over your shoulders and down your chest, soothing the harsh bites he'd left behind.

Nathan's heart pounded, searching your face with a stricken expression. Your eyes were still foggy, but the tears had stopped. okay, okay. go slow. she needs slow. Giving you room to breathe, he lathered up the cloth again and knelt.

"Spread, honey," he said gently, tapping your legs. "Just gonna clean up, teasing is over, but you need to budge up."

Timidly you obeyed, revealing your overused cunt. He wiped as gently as he could, glasses fogging in the steam. Your folds still wept release, swollen so hot he could feel the heat radiating.

"You went far, hm?" He murmured, standing to pull you into his chest. You shivered and nodded, clutching at his wet shoulders. The clean cottony smell of his skin soothed the raw edges of your mind slightly.

Nathan shut off the water and wrapped you in a towel. "Drink," he instructed firmly, lifting a glass of water to your lips.

trying not to choke, you took a swallow and settled back against him.

Nathan picked up the cue. you needed grounding. He held you, wrapped in a thick towel. Maybe tighter than you'd usually like, but the slight squeeze helped cajole your mind into a stabler position.

"That's it," he muttered, "did so fuckin' good for me, honey. Just take a breather. In and out."

You rocked slightly, exhaustion creeping in. His chest rose and fell exaggeratedly, coaxing you to follow. A heavy quiet had fallen, drowning out the echoes of screams in your head.

The sheets were changed and lights off. Nathan drew you up onto his lap, eyes serious.

"I won't make you do that again, okay?" His tone was paced and intentional. You nodded, nibbling your lower lip. Gently, he pried it from your teeth and stroked your mouth.

'This," he gestured between you, "this is a game. I'm winning, because I'm in control, and you're tagging along. But when you think you're losing," he said, softening his eyes, "that's when the game stops. Understand?"

you nodded, eyes gentle. He slipped his thumb in your mouth, which you gladly accepted. You were still drifting in subspace, but close enough to the real world that your breath was grounded. Suckling gently on the warm pad of his finger, you drifted off, held tight against his chest.

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Seventh Time's The Charm

Rydal Keener x GN!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 1: Overstimulation

Summary: Rydal keeps asking you out.

A/N: Thank you so, so, so much @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading and helping out with this one!

Warnings: bit of a brat Rydal, overstimulation, hand jobs, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1066

Rydal had been a mess since you started. He’s asked you out a grand total of seven times in all.

The first had been a subtle, casual thing. Him leaning against the table running a hand through his hair in a manner that was causal personified but reeked of careful planning. He had suggested a date, as if he had been doing you a favour.

But had smiled when you politely declined, seeming as if he was expecting it, used to the casual ask getting a fifty percent success rate.

The second time however was more sincere, a slightly bigger thing. He put some effort into it. When you declined again he hadn’t smiled straight away. The flash of shock across his face was almost comical. He obviously wasn’t used to being turned down when he tried. 

The third had been jokey, the fourth a little mean, the fifth was showy and dramatic, and the sixth had been sweet. And you’d almost said yes.

The seventh had been whiney.

“What’s it gonna take for you to go on a date with me?” He’d pouted, trying to put a friendly jokey edge to his tone, but it didn’t work.

You had snorted, “Why are you so desperate for me to say yes?” You knew the answer already of course, he wasn’t used to being told no.

“Why do you keep saying no?” He’d retorted, crossing his arms. “I know you like me.”

“So?” You’d grinned.

“So?” He’d given you the most exasperated look you’d ever seen, his eyes narrowing slightly and, his jaw all but dropping. “So when people like each other they go out.” He’d blurted out incredulously. 

“Why?”

He’d glared at you and you’d laughed.

“Look, Rydal, you’ve got plenty of people just begging for your attention– to go on a date with you, why don’t you ask them?”

He’d sighed dramatically, “I want to go out with you, not them.”

“You’ll go out with me once and then you’ll be going out with them the next day,” you’d shrugged, there’s no anger in your voice, just matter of fact. “Just cut out the first step.”

His pout somehow became even more pronounced. “I’m not like that, that’s not what this is.”

“Rydal,” you’d given him a look, “come on, I’m not an idiot and I’m not trying to shame you or saying it’s a bad thing, I’m just saying that’s what you want.” You’d shrugged again. “I’m not so interested in it.”

“It’s not… I’m not…” He fumbled a little with his words, trying and failing to find the right one while a hint of pink brushed his cheeks. “I’m not some whore.”

You hadn’t been able to help but giggle at his turn of phrase. “I’m not saying you are.” You’d bantered lightly. 

“You implied it. Implied I was just after sex.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I–…”

“Come on– the only reason you’re so interested in me is because I’ve said no.” You’d said as you sat back in your chair, raising your eyebrows. 

“Really?” 

“That’s not true.”

“I’ll prove it.” 

You’d paused then. “Okay.”

.

He’d taken you out on a nice date, casual. Correctly guessing that you wouldn’t be overly impressed by anything unnecessarily showy.

And you’d seen the not so subtle smirk on his face when you’d agreed to come back to his, the cocky attitude when he’d opened his front door, the way he’d lent in for a kiss believing that he’d won you over completely.

But now that he was underneath you, his hands tied to the headboard with his own belt, his shirt open and his trousers and boxers shoved down to his ankles all while you were still fully dressed, his trademark self confidence was nowhere to be seen.

He squirmed, trying to buck his hips as you jacked him off quickly. “Ah, baby, fuck!” He screwed up his eyes, failing to keep his moans as quiet as possible.

You shifted your weight ever so slightly as you sat on his thighs so that you were pressing firmer on his legs, forcing him to stay still.

“Please, shit, please,” he begged, his plump bottom lip between his teeth.

Sweat beaded in his hairline, along his collarbone. Part of you was desperate to lean down, to suck and bite at his skin, but you’d contain that urge for now.

He whined your name, his eyes rolling back as he groaned and pressed his head into the pillow. His arms tense as he pulled at the belt around his wrists.

His cock throbbed in your hand, velvety soft and warm as you pushed him closer and closer towards the edge. 

You could see why he was so confident. Other than his pretty face, long lashes and low, soft voice, he had an impressive dick. Thick and weighty with a slight curve that you knew would feel just wonderful to have inside.

“Please, please, can I touch you? Please–” he swallows, gulping in air, “can, can, oh god, I’m gonna come, please, you need to-” He gasps, surprised by his sudden orgasm. His toes curl as he comes, his back arching off the mattress as he spurts all over his stomach and your hand.

His needy moans are music to your ears, high pitched and breathy as he just collapses into pleasure, lets it wash all over him like warm soothing water.

You slow your hand, but don’t stop. You pump him languidly, long strokes now well lubricated by his cum.

He hisses, squirming a little, trying to move away from your touch. He softens slightly, his cock twitching and still half hard.

“Fuck,” he breathes in a shaky breath, looking up at you with large, watery eyes. “I, oh god, you made me come so hard. You’re,” he hisses, but bucks up into your hand. “You’re not gonna stop are you?” There’s a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

You shake your head. “How many times did you ask me out?” You say softly, injecting a slight boredom into your tone. 

“I… erm… fuck…” He rolls his hips up to you, groaning as you pick up the pace.

“Seven, Rydal.”

“Seven?”

You hum an affirmative. “So I’m gonna make you come seven times, since you’re so desperate to have me.”

His eyes go wide, his cheeks flush. But there’s a smile on his lips and he nods rapidly. “Yes, god, yes please.”

Thank you for reading!

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nice

flufftober prompt - scent (day 3)

summary: You've got a very specific perfume that Nathan loves. He'd like to be around it all the time, but he struggles when you leave.

cw: none

This was the most frustrating project of his career? This, this stupid little pet project that was stupidly sentimental and not even something he cared about. Well, he did, a lot, but it was stupid.

Nathan sat crossly on the floor, an array of glass bottles around his feet. They were all open; floral, woodsy, spicy and aromas emanating from them in a powerful wave. It make the room feel almost humid, and a raging headache was pulsing behind his eyes.

He sighed, picking up the next one and taking a whiff. Woah.

Too much sandalwood.

The headache pounded, blood sloshing achingly around his sinuses. This better be worth it.

He'd tried literally everything. His android skin had a new capability for an artificial pheromone, of which could be scented with anything. The obvious choice would be your perfume. He'd snuck the bottle from your bathroom and jotted down every ingredient. Coding it had been a bitch but he got it done.

It still wasn't right.

You were out at some stupid gathering for a baby shower, so he couldn't smush his face into your neck and take a big whiff. If he could make Ava smell that way, maybe you not being here wouldn't bother him so much.

Nathan tossed down the clipboard and stalked out of his lab, snatching his boxing gloves on the way out. He needed fresh air if he hoped to get anything done.

Fuckin' impossible, he griped, sweat pooling under his chin. The thud thud thud of his gloves on the sandbag sent a satisfying ache through his shoulders. He ran through the algorithm over and over, timing the different inputs with his punches. It should have worked. He'd done a trial with some random combination of peppermint and it smelled identical.

Nathan slammed his shoulder into the bag. As he re-adjusted his stance, he got a whiff of-

hey. Whipping around, he searched the surrounding room, rubbing the condensation from his glasses. His gaze darted around the compound, hands at his sides.

Where- he knew you were there. Why weren't you coming to say hello? Scowling, he turned back to the bag and shrieked.

You grinned at him, a huge pink bear in your arms. Heart pounding, he scowled.

"Coulda fuckin' said something," he grumbled, stripping off the sweaty gloves. You wiggled your eyebrows.

"And miss that display of manliness? No way." Leaning forward, you pecked a kiss on his cheek. "Go shower, I wanna hug you."

Nathan ignored you, crushing you against his chest anyway. You groaned at the feeling of his damp shirt against your dress, attempting to shove him off playfully. He took the opportunity to mouth at your neck, drinking in the delicate smell.

Giggling, you pushed past him and nodded to the hall.

"What have you been working on?"

Nathan averted his eyes, suddenly embarrassed. "Algo," he said vaguely, rubbing his beard. You rolled your eyes.

"Duh, Einstein, I didn't expect you to take up knitting."

His lips quirked and he followed you to the kitchen. Your perfume hung everywhere, flooding his nose like a warm breeze. He loved that smell. A feeling of relief and comfort was undeniably tied to it; he'd felt soothed the moment he caught a trace.

While you prepared a snack, you chattered about the shower, discussing women he'd never met and the horrendous roster of baby names. It went all in one ear and out the other. Nathan kept his nose stuck in your neck, breathing slowly and steadily. The migraine had dulled to a mild ache, and he was content to fall asleep.

He didn't realize he'd stopped moving until you waved your hand in front of his face.

You cocked your head, poking his cheek. "Earth to Nathan? You there, baby?"

His eyes were dilated and soft, hand caught on the hem of his shirt. After a moment he nodded absently, kissing your cheek.

You watched him go quizzically. Before he reached the door to his office, he turned. "I need you for something real quick, come here."

Wiping your hands on a towel, you peeked in and saw the mess on the floor. Your eyebrows quirked. "Starting a perfumery?" You coughed at the strong odor.

He gave you a cross look and gestured to sit down. A tablet was open to a long list of code, cursor blinking. Nathan fiddled with something, humming absentmindedly. You took a moment to look around, smiling at the few pictures he had on his wall beside prototypes and old monitors. Sap, you thought fondly. Your favorite picture, the two of you on a hike, was centered on the wall with a nice oak frame.

He tugged your hair gently to get your attention.

"I need you to tell me every product you use," he said, pulling up a document on his device. "Makeup, shower, perfume, everything."

You stared.

"Why?" It was such a left-field question, so utterly out of character.

His dark gaze leveled with yours. "Shampoo?"

Wrinkling your nose at his stubbornness, you sighed. "Coconut vanilla. My conditioner has lavender and shea butter...uh, I dunno about shaving cream." He nodded, typing your answer. You shifted closer.

"What are y-"

"Next," he interrupted, blinking expectantly. Mildly affronted, you continued.

"Almond hair oil, sometimes I add dry shampoo, sometimes I don't..."

He frowned. "You smell the same every day, you always use that."

Your mouth was set to continue, but his comment made you pause. He was...huh?

"What the hell are you doing, Nathan?" your tone shifted, firmer and a little less silly. He caught it, the tips of his ears reddening.

"It's for a project," he muttered, shifting so you couldn't see his screen. Eyes narrowed in curiosity, you crept up behind him and nosed into his shoulder. He leaned in for a moment, then caught on to your plan and wriggled away. Your fingers danced under his shirt, digging into the sensitive skin of his sides.

Nathan swore around a huffing laugh, trying to escape your smothering affection. Laughing, you crept after him, fumbling to grab the tablet.

"Hey hey hey hey," he protested, tucking it under his shirt. Your hands were shaking as you cackled, flopping into his lap. The look on his face was attempting to be upset, but the glimmer in his eye was pure amusement.

"C'mon," you said softly, coming down from your fit, "what is it?"

He huffed and looked down, pretending that the floor had suddenly become interesting.

'Ava," he started, then cleared his throat. His tone shifted professionally, back into Genius mode. "Ava's chemical receptors can have...an artificial pheromone and I thought," he frowned, clearly trying not to blush, "I thought your perfume would be...nice."

"Nice."

"Yep."

He huffed again and tried to get up, but you wrapped your arms around his middle. Nathan grumbled but still buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply. A smile tickled your lips. You petted his head, feeling the raspy smoothness of his scalp.

Nathan realized he didn't want Ava to smell like you. He had you forever, he didn't need some shoddy replacement. That familiar drunk feel was churning in his chest, warming him from the inside. You met his lips in a sweet kiss, staring at him with such raw adoration that he had to duck away.

"If you miss me you can just say," you teased into his shirt, scruffing his beard with your fingers.

Fighting a smile, Nathan stuck out his tongue. "Shush, you."

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m comment to join the tags!

V .......

Vampire! Anselm x Reader thots™ up in this bitch

Some NSFW shit under the cut, enjoy the random brainrot I just got

Big mansion with heavily tinted windows, private jets with black out curtains, yachts they ride to see meteor showers together.

They have those big extravagant parties, nobody thinks anything of it. All they're doing is picking through their "associates" to see who is the one they need the least and pull them to a dark corner and drink their fill..... Or they bring in somebody who siphoned funds into their own accounts from their estate.... Makes a spectacle of draining him dry as a warning--

V!Anselm totally gets a hard on when he sees you covered in blood I don't make the rules

Even if y'all have been together for centuries or one year, the man is still a horny little shithead for you, and being alive for so long has definitely allowed his kink list to be exponentially longer than most since being exposed to the Internet.

Sometimes during those public feedings of the stupid little fuck-ups who steal from him, Anselm will ravage the shit outta you in the middle of the party (unless you're not into it, that is, you are his Queen of The Night and he would never disrespect you and make you uncomfortable, the man would rip out his own fangs, first)

Really likes it when you decide to seduce™ him. Pour a glass of wine/blood down your body and he will be on his knees to lap it all up.

Would also un-ironically dress as Dracula for Halloween-themed parties/balls.

"What? It's thanks to Bram Stoker so many people now only believe us to be pure fiction, giving us leeway to exist in the public eye. Why not honor his character? What? Yes, yes, I know he was based on Vlad Țepeș, I was there--"

"Believe it or not, I think I have a cousin who is descended from the real count... I should invite them to one of our parties."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Would totally shoot glares at you if you make him to the "Bleh bleh bleh" thing from Hotel Transylvania, but would do it just to make you laugh. Your voice is like the most addicting thing he could ever have as an immortal.

Despite being an immortal vampire, he has those scars from an assassination attempt; exposing him to the sun and permanently damaging him.

If anything, surviving the sun only served to empower his image more. A powerful man who survived the dreaded sunlight; came out scarred and killed his would-be assassins himself.

V!Anselm will occasionally hold his arm under a beam of sunlight to intimidate those in his business meetings.

He'd feel bad about it later, however, but only in private with you once you expressed your concern as you let him feed from you to replenish his strength. You always do that when he goes "overboard" as you put it; the closeness and intimacy of letting him feed from you instead of a blood bag or some useless employee helped soothe and reassure you that he was all right.

And speaking of feeding from you... It almost always winds up with him inside of you or vice versa in some way... Feeding from one another is one of the most intimate acts a loving couple could do; drinking each other's essence just reaffirms the bonds between you.

And if you guys have a little brood? Oh, the man is unstoppable.

If any children you have are half-vampire because you haven't been turned yet? If they're unharmed by the sun? A testament to the Vogelweide name; his lineage will live on no matter what.

However, if you're still human, Anselm will insist on turning you. Especially when he discovered that someone tried to wound him by attempting to slip something like poison into one of your meals. (Vampires have better senses, Anselm could smell the tainted food even if you couldn't. You never did find out exactly what happened to that guy...)

Don't get me wrong, love shaved hair (mainly as Nathan)

But there's just something about the long, dark (and GREY 😩❤️) curls that's just something else entirely

AND IN A HALF BUN OML

But idk how I feel about straight hair...

Kinda scares me.

Hamster

Squirrel

Everyone say "Thank you, Elvira <3"

And my personal favourite

Mini Oscar Isaac thigh appreciation

Arthur and Steven having some interesting interactions part 1

Arthur Haworth and Steven Grant having some interesting interactions part 2

Arthur seriously can’t stop touching on Steven can he?

When a character with a disorder caused by trauma has trauma

I AM UNWELL

Oscar Isaac photographed by Tyler Joe

This is the female gaze:

No I will not elaborate.

LOOK AT HIM GORGEOUS MAN

God bless Elvira for this once AGAIN

What Miguel looks like under the suit

Can we address Oscar’s ability to just cry one single, dramatic tear?