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carnalcrows · 6 months ago

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EX MARKS THE SPOT — THANOS

pairing: plug!thanos x male!reader

synopsis: After a messy breakup, you turn to Thanos, a dangerously smooth dealer in a suit, for more than just supplies—and somehow end up making your ex jealous while questioning your life choices (and his cologne).

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, drug usage, mentions of alcohol, myung-gi is reader's ex, marijuana, drunk sex, riding, shot-gunning, breeding, creampie, myung-gi is an asshole.

word count: 2.2k

A/N: this is hands down the funniest thing i've ever written lol. enjoy!!

Texting your ex always felt like poking a bear—pointless, frustrating, and dangerous. Yet, here you were, staring at a string of messages from Myung-gi, your recently demoted ex-boyfriend, as he passive-aggressively reminded you of all the things you’d “lost” when he left.

“Good luck finding anyone who’ll put up with you. Or supply you. 😊”

The nerve. You could practically hear his smug tone through the screen, and it made you want to chuck your phone into the nearest body of water. This man had cheated on you, lied about it, and somehow still had the audacity to act like you were the problem.

You rolled your eyes so hard you swore you saw the back of your skull. Myung-gi might’ve taken his flashy car, his designer cologne, and—worst of all—his “supplier,” but there was no way you’d let him hold your good times hostage.

Still, it was hard not to get irritated. Myung-gi always had a way of making your blood boil while somehow convincing you it was your fault. He was like an evil mastermind but dumber, pettier, and with terrible taste in socks. (Who wears neon argyle with loafers? Seriously.)

You shoved those thoughts aside and scrolled through your contacts. A friend had slipped you a number a few days ago, prefaced with, “This guy’s the best in town. Professional. Discreet. Just… don’t piss him off.” You hadn’t planned on using it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

You took a deep breath and typed out a message:

You: “Hey. Got your number from a friend. Need to talk.”

The reply came almost instantly, which was mildly unsettling.

Unknown Number: “Come to 10th & Main. 9 PM. Cash only.”

Straight to the point. No pleasantries. Not even a "Hello."

You hesitated for a moment before typing back:

You: “Cool. What’s your name?”

Unknown Number: “Thanos.”

You stared at your screen, blinking slowly. Thanos? Thanos? Like the purple guy from the Avengers? What kind of name was that? Was this some kind of joke? You half-expected his next message to be something like, “Bring me the Infinity Stones,” or, “I hope you enjoy dust.”

A dozen questions raced through your mind. Should you be scared? Impressed? Concerned he might snap his fingers and wipe out half your neighborhood? You weren’t sure if you were meeting a dealer or the final boss of a video game.

After a long moment of contemplation—and a quick Google search to make sure “Thanos” wasn’t slang for something illegal—you decided to go for it. Worst-case scenario, you’d die in an alley, and Myung-gi would probably gloat at your funeral. Best-case scenario? You’d have a cool story to tell.

With a sigh, you texted back:

You: “Alright. See you then.”

Unknown Number: “Wear something cute.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he… flirting? With you? Oh, this was going to be interesting.

When you showed up at the alley, you immediately regretted your decision. Thanos was leaning against the wall, his lean frame illuminated by the dim, flickering streetlight. His head gleamed like a polished amethyst, and his piercing gaze locked onto you the moment you stepped into view.

“So,” he said, his deep voice rolling over you like a summer storm. “You’re the newbie.”

You swallowed hard, clutching the cash in your pocket. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

He pushed off the wall, his towering presence somehow even more overwhelming up close. His suit, far too nice for a back-alley transaction, clung to his broad shoulders like it was tailor-made.

“You guess?” he repeated, tilting his head with an amused smirk. “Pretty boy doesn’t know what he wants?”

Your brain short-circuited for a moment. “I’m here for… you know… the stuff.”

His grin widened, and he handed you a small bag of green nuggets. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not gonna bite. Unless you want me to.”

Your face flushed, but you tried to play it cool. “Thanks,” you muttered, already turning to leave.

“Hold up,” Thanos called out, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you even know what to do with it?”

You hesitated, clutching the bag like it was a live grenade. “Uh… yeah?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Don’t lie to me, pretty boy. Come on.” He gestured for you to follow him, and before you could protest, he was walking toward a nearby bench under the dim streetlight.

You trailed after him, curiosity outweighing your embarrassment. He sat down, pulling out a rolling tray, papers, and a grinder like he was some kind of cannabis sommelier.

“Watch and learn,” he said, his hands moving with surprising finesse as he broke down the green nuggets and ground them up. He sprinkled the freshly ground product into the paper, rolled it up with precision, and sealed it with a quick lick.

“There,” he said, holding up the perfect joint like it was a masterpiece. “Now you try.”

“I—uh—I don’t know if I can…”

“You can,” he said firmly, pushing the supplies toward you. His large hands hovered near yours as you awkwardly tried to mimic his movements. Your fingers fumbled with the paper, and you could feel his amused gaze on you the whole time.

“Here,” he said, reaching over to guide your hands. His touch was warm, steadying. “Like this. Don’t roll it too tight. You want it to burn evenly.”

You felt your pulse quicken as his fingers brushed against yours. By the time you managed to produce something vaguely resembling a joint, you were red-faced and flustered.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” he said with a chuckle, lighting your creation and taking a slow, deliberate drag before handing it to you. “See? Not so hard.”

You took a hesitant puff, coughing immediately, which earned a laugh from Thanos. “Easy there, sweetheart. No need to impress me.”

As you recovered, he leaned back against the bench, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re cute when you’re trying too hard, you know that?”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just focused on not coughing up a lung.

Thanos grinned, watching you with that same predatory confidence. “Don’t be a stranger, pretty boy. You’re fun.”

A few days later, you found yourself at a house party you didn’t even want to attend. The music was loud, the drinks were cheap, and the pool in the backyard looked way more inviting than the sweaty chaos inside. You’d planted yourself there, floating in the shallow end with a Bacardi in hand, silently regretting your decision to show up.

And then, of course, he appeared. Myung-gi . Your ex was lounging by the pool with his new girlfriend—a painfully perfect, Instagram-model type who looked like she’d never experienced a bad hair day. He was laughing loudly, probably for your benefit, his arm slung around her like he wanted to rub it in your face.

You downed the rest of your drink in one go and muttered to yourself, “Great. Just great.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

You turned at the sound of the deep, familiar voice, and your jaw almost hit the water. There, standing at the edge of the pool, was Thanos. He looked unfairly good—white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark slacks that hugged his thighs in all the right ways, and that same smirk that made you question all your life choices.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice coming out more surprised than accusatory.

He crouched down, his golden watch glinting in the moonlight. “Got invited. Seems I’m more popular than I thought. But seeing you here? That’s a bonus.”

Your face heated, and you quickly looked away. “Well, enjoy the party.”

“Not until you stop sulking.” His gaze flicked to Myung-gi and back to you. “Ah. That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“You’re sitting here like a kicked puppy because of him.” He gestured toward your ex with a tilt of his head. “Pathetic, honestly.”

You bristled. “I am not sulking.”

“Sure you’re not.” Thanos chuckled, then slid off his shoes and rolled up his pants, stepping into the pool like he owned the place. The water rippled as he waded closer, stopping just a foot away. “Wanna make him jealous?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” He leaned in slightly, his smirk downright devilish. “We could give him a little show. Something to really stew over.”

Your heart raced. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He cocked an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You glanced over at Myung-gi . He wasn’t looking now, but the idea of wiping that smug grin off his face was very appealing. You turned back to Thanos, who was watching you with an expectant look, and something in his confidence made you throw caution to the wind.

��Fine,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “Let’s do it.”

His grin widened. “Atta boy.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, Thanos closed the distance between you, one hand cupping the back of your neck as his lips met yours. The kiss was anything but subtle—his mouth moved against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, his other hand gripping your waist as if to anchor you to him.

The water lapped around you, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you lost yourself in the moment. His lips were soft but commanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp.

You vaguely heard the sound of spluttering from the side of the pool, and when you opened your eyes, you saw Myung-gi standing there, his face a mixture of shock and rage.

Thanos pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours as he murmured, “Think he’s mad yet?”

You glanced at Myung-gi , who looked like he was about to explode, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, he’s pissed.”

“Good.” Thanos grinned, pressing another kiss to your lips, this one slower, almost teasing. “Serves him right.”

By the time you finally broke apart, Myung-gi had stormed off, dragging his bewildered girlfriend behind him like a kid throwing a tantrum in a grocery store. You barely noticed, too caught up in the heat of the moment and the rush of adrenaline coursing through you.

Thanos leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “You’re welcome.”

“For what?” you managed to ask, your voice a little shaky as you tried to play it cool.

“For reminding him that he downgraded,” Thanos replied with a smirk, his thumb brushing a stray drop of water from your jaw.

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He tilted his head, his piercing gaze making your pulse quicken. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Before you could come up with a witty retort, he reached out and took your hand, pulling you out of the pool with an effortless strength that left you momentarily flustered.

“Come on,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, rich and enticing. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

You hesitated for half a second before nodding, letting him lead you away from the crowd and the noise of the party. Your heart pounded as he guided you down a dimly lit hallway, past closed doors and muffled laughter, until he pushed one open and gestured for you to step inside.

The room was cozy and dim, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. As the door clicked shut behind you, the weight of the moment settled over you, thick and electric. Thanos leaned back against the door, his smirk softening into something more genuine.

“You good?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

You nodded, your breath hitching slightly. “Yeah.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible, and as his lips found yours again, all thoughts of Myung-gi —or anyone else—faded away.

You didn’t know how you ended up in this position. Or maybe you wanted it to happen. The booze and the weed had certainly gotten to your head.

Thanos was puffing on a blunt while you rode him, bouncing up and down on his cock with fervour.

“That’s it my boy…Taking it like a champ,” he mutters, the praise going straight down to your dick.

The hand that wasn’t holding the blunt was wrapped around your waist, guiding your hips on his length. He slowly took in a slow drag of his blunt while locking eyes with you, his dark orbs stained with red from all the substance. It certainly was a sight to see.

He pressed his mouth to yours, shot-gunning the smoke straight to your throat as you inhaled. You had gotten slightly better with the weed by now, so thankfully, you didn’t start coughing all over the place.

Your pace on his dick slowly sped up, you were at the brink of an orgasm. “Fuck… cum for me baby,” Thanos groans as his grip on your waist tightens. He takes another long drag of his blunt, before handing it to you.

You feel the scent of the herb hitting the back of your throat, and with that, you climax all over the purple-haired man’s stomach with your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Thanos releases soon after, painting your insides white.

You bask in the after-glow of mind blowing sex, lazily leaning forward on Thanos’ shoulder. The click of the doorknob alerts the man, who looks at a fuming Myung-gi and his still-confused girlfriend (the poor thing).

“Rise and shine my boy, I think we have an audience~”

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innerfare · 10 months ago

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Sex Toys - Part 1

Summary: What are their opinions on and how do they use sex toys? Mostly just them using vibrators on afab!reader, mentions of a few other toys.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // lots of toys

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Luffy: Finds your vibrator while rooting through your things one day (privacy, what’s that?), has no idea what it is until you sheepishly explain it to him. Laughs hysterically, is so excited, immediately wants to use it on you. He’s pulling your panties off before you’ve even gotten over the embarrassment of him finding it; you won’t even make it to the bed, he’ll just pull you onto the floor and have at it (a common occurrence with this man). His new favorite thing is to tongue fuck you with a vibrator against your clit. He’s open to butt plugs and nipple clamps, but they’re not really his thing. Doesn’t like you using toys on him, though, claims a cock ring makes him feel like he’s wearing clothes (and Luffy hates wearing clothes).

Zoro: Initially opposed to the idea of toys, doesn’t really understand the point when you have two perfectly good hands. He doesn’t even really like the idea of you using a vibrator on your own (“What, do I not get you off enough?”). He eventually warms up to it, especially once he realizes he can have you hold it to your clit while you ride him or while he fucks you from behind. Ends up having so much fun with this. Always uses a vibrator on your clit if he puts his cock up your ass. Gets pretty into butt plugs, really enjoys seeing the girly pink one that’s shaped like a heart inside your ass while he fucks you from behind. If you propose nipple clamps, he'll happily pull on the chain between.

Sanji: Low key the sort of man to get jealous of a sex toy. That being said, he really enjoys watching you masturbate, and when you tease him with the idea of using a vibrator on yourself while he watches, he can’t get it out of his head and finally decides he just has to see for himself. Far too gentle of a lover to use any sort of paddles or clamps on you, and absolutely despises the idea of you using a dildo, though he wouldn’t be opposed to some handcuffs, granted they’re fur-lined if you’re going to be the one wearing them. You might be able to convince him to try out a cock ring, but only if you’re sure to inform him it will bring you pleasure, too.

Ace: He’s such a pleaser (service dom, 100%) and he worries deeply that you’ll get satisfaction elsewhere while the two of you are parted, so he buys you a very discreet vibrator necklace to wear. That way, you’ll never have to find another man in his stead (it doesn’t matter how many times you tell him it’s not necessary, he’s convinced he has to make you cum three times a day to keep you nice and satisfied, and if he’s not there to do it, he’ll make damn sure you have the tools to do it in his name). Expects you to tell him all about it when he gets back. This eventually turns into him watching you use it on yourself, and then you showing him exactly how you do it so he can take over. He won’t tease you with it, but he does fully expect you to say please and thank you.

Sabo: He’s a kinky little fucker, that’s for sure, and he has a little bit of a sadistic side. His absolute favorite toy is a remote control vibrator. He feels like God himself when he ramps the power up and watches you nearly crumple on the other side of the room, some members of the Army asking if you’re alright while Koala shoots him suspicious glances. Even when you’re alone, he is going to tease the fuck out of you, edging you so many times you threaten to break up with him if he doesn’t just let you cum already; naturally, bondage goes hand in hand with this. He also has a special paddle to spank you (though he does prefer his hand) and handcuffs, which he’ll happily allow you to use on him so long as you promise to suck his cock. Won’t turn down a vibrating cock ring.

Law: He actually starts out pretty vanilla, but gets progressively kinkier throughout your relationship, meaning the slow introduction of more and more toys. What starts as the two of you sharing stolen glances in the hallway turns into you making out in the lab and ends in you tied up on your stomach while Law holds a vibrating wand to your clit. He’s also such a spanker. You two basically never have sex without him spanking you at least once. Law has most definitely used his belt on you before. Likes a butt plug on occasion but not too into it, also enjoys metal handcuffs but will not submit to being the one in them. Also, he thought he would enjoy gagging you, but the first time he did, he quickly realized the only thing worse than you arguing with him during sex is you not arguing (brats, hit Law up).

Kid: Puts metal bracelets/anklets on you, uses his devil fruit ability to hold your limbs wherever he wants them, has most definitely used this to practice the range of his devil fruit ability by leaving you bound and naked somewhere on the ship and seeing how far away he can get with the metal remaining magnetized. When he uses a vibrator on you, it's a wand- none of that little bullet shit. Anytime he doesn’t have your nipples between his teeth, he has them in nipple clamps for sure. Definitely the type to put a collar on you if you’re willing, would prefer something that could pass as a choker necklace so you can wear it in public; would really like one with a bell. Literally down for any type of toy. But he does have times when he wants no toys at all, just the two of you, skin to skin.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

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jareaufiles · 14 days ago

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⸝⸝ HER PLUG, HER PLAYTHING, HER PRIZE - e.prentiss x female reader

PREMISE: "Your job is to be available. I’ll take care of the rest." You wear a plug and a vibrator to one of her fundraisers, discreetly controlled from her phone. When you get home, she doesn’t even let you speak before bending you over the kitchen counter and finishing what she started in public.

WARNINGS: established relationship, dom!older Emily Prentiss, sub!younger female reader, vibrator and anal plug control in public, remote toy play, orgasm control, overstimulation, exhibitionism (public teasing), discreet orgasm in public setting, possessive!dom Emily, size kink (size difference power dynamic), manhandling, impact play (spanking), gagging (plug used as gag), cum inspection, pussy eating from behind, face sitting implied, praise kink, degradation kink (mild, affectionate edge), filthy dirty talk, overstimulation tears, crying during sex, intense begging, soft crying, plug removal scenes, spitplay/drool licking, scissoring, rough but intimate sex, breast play (squeezing, nipple teasing), intense orgasm scenes, mutual messy creampie (fluid play implied), possessive aftercare, soft dom!Emily aftercare, emotional intimacy, subdrop implications, explicit aftercare scenes (bath, hair stroking, affirmations, dressing wounds/cleaning up), tender post-sex conversation, obsessive/possessive language (“mine,” “good girl”), implied cumplay, heavy marking (bruises, scratches, love bites), slight D/s dynamic themes, and explicit adult content throughout.

WORD COUNT: 5K

A/N: purely for my own pleasure - probs went overboard on the warnings, lmao - i miss writing for emily so send requests!

NAVIGATION

It started in her bedroom, with the low glow of the bedside lamp painting your skin in honeyed light. Emily sat on the edge of the bed in a tailored black evening gown that clung to her like a second skin, her legs crossed, a glass of scotch in one hand, her phone in the other. The way she watched you undress was enough to make your skin prickle, those dark, sharp eyes dragging over every inch of you, her gaze heavy, possessive, unapologetic.

“Come here,” she murmured, voice smooth and low like smoke, and you obeyed without question, standing between her knees, stripped down to nothing but the heat blooming in your cheeks.

Emily smiled then. Not soft, not kind. The kind of smile that promised you’d forget your own name by the end of the night. She set the glass down, reached for the small black velvet box resting on the nightstand. Opened it slow, like a predator savoring the last moments before the kill.

Inside: the slender, glass anal plug you’d worn for her once before, and a tiny silver bullet vibrator, no bigger than her thumb. Your stomach flipped at the sight of them.

“You remember your job tonight, sweetheart?” she asked, running a fingertip along your hip.

You nodded, your breath catching. “Be available.”

Emily hummed her approval, tugging you down into her lap, one hand on your throat, her other hand pressing the cool plug to your entrance. You shivered, muscles tensing as the thick glass bulb breached you, stretching you open, your ass clenching reflexively around it.

“Relax,” she whispered against your ear, her tone both gentle and cruel, her fingers teasing your pussy, already embarrassingly wet. “Good girl. Almost there.”

The stretch stung, thick and unrelenting as she eased the plug in, the pressure blooming low in your belly, making your thighs tremble. When it finally seated itself inside you, full and heavy, Emily gave your cheek a soft kiss, her hand sliding between your legs to feel the slick heat of your cunt.

“Dripping already. What am I gonna do with you?”

Before you could answer, she pressed the vibrator against your clit, rolling it in lazy circles, and then lower — slipping it between your folds, finding your entrance, pushing the buzzing toy inside your soaked, fluttering cunt until it nestled deep against that aching spot. The combined feeling of the plug stretching your ass and the steady hum inside your pussy made you whimper into her shoulder.

Emily chuckled, securing the slender strap of your panties back into place, trapping the toy inside you, then sliding her fingers down to collect the wetness leaking onto your thighs.

“I’m going to wreck you tonight.”

You barely made it through dressing. The dress she chose was obscenely short, barely skimming the top of your thighs, with a plunging neckline designed for exactly one purpose — to keep you flustered under her gaze. Emily’s eyes lingered on you as she zipped it up, brushing your shoulder.

And then you were in the car, sitting beside her, legs crossed tight, your stomach fluttering, every bump in the road jostling the toys inside you.

By the time you arrived at the gala, you were already slick, your pussy clenching down around the vibrating bullet with every careful step. The plug was worse — a constant, aching fullness that made you hyper-aware of every movement, every twist of your hips, every time you bent to greet someone.

Emily kept one hand on the small of your back as she worked the room, a glass of wine in her other hand, her phone discreetly in reach. The first time she activated the vibrator, it was so sudden you almost dropped your champagne flute.

A sharp, merciless pulse inside you, so precise you saw stars.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your thighs pressing together under the table during dinner, your body shivering with the effort it took to keep still while the toy hummed steadily against your soaked, aching walls.

The worst of it was when she edged you, dialing it up in carefully timed bursts, her thumb casually scrolling across her phone while you tried not to visibly shake. Your pussy was drenched — you could feel how slick you were, the wet heat pooling in your panties, probably seeping onto the seat beneath you.

And then — over dessert, of all things — she cranked it up without warning. A relentless, desperate pulse that made your vision blur, your stomach tighten, your cunt spasming around the toy. You came like that, silent and shameful, your face turned down as though admiring the rim of your wineglass, your entire body tense and trembling as you milked the tiny vibrator inside you, waves of slick wetness coating it.

Emily leaned in, lips brushing your ear, voice low and smug.

“Good girl.”

The cab ride home was unbearable.

You sat pressed against her, the city lights strobing over your skin, thighs sticky with your own slick, your muscles aching from the forced composure. Emily’s hand rested lazily on your inner thigh, fingertips stroking small circles, dipping up under your dress. The toy was still inside you, the plug still snug in your ass, keeping you open, overstretched.

“I can feel how wet you are,” Emily murmured, sliding one finger along the soaked silk of your panties, pressing against your clit, making your hips jerk. “You made a mess of yourself, sweetheart.”

When the cab pulled up to the curb, Emily tipped the driver with a cool, practiced smile and guided you upstairs, one hand tight around your wrist.

As soon as the door shut behind you, she pushed you against it.

“Off,” she commanded, and you scrambled to obey, tugging your dress over your head, panties down your legs, standing there in nothing but ruined makeup and shame.

Emily dropped to one knee.

Her fingers slid between your thighs, pushing them apart, a wicked grin curving her lips as she took in the mess you’d made of yourself. Your pussy was glistening, slick smeared across your thighs, your folds swollen and flushed, the small silver toy peeking out of you.

“Look at this pussy,” she murmured, hooking two fingers into you, the wet sound obscene in the quiet apartment. “So desperate. So fucked out, and I haven’t even touched you properly.”

You gasped as she slid the toy out, flicking it aside, and replaced it with her fingers — long, clever, ruthless fingers, thrusting deep, curling just so. The stretch made your legs quake, your ass clenching around the plug still seated inside you, a filthy little pressure that made everything sharper.

Emily fucked you slow at first, savoring it, watching your face contort, your lip caught between your teeth, your eyes fluttering. Her thumb found your clit, rubbing firm, relentless circles, and your hips bucked.

“Say it,” Emily whispered, her free hand gripping your throat, holding you still. “Who owns this pussy?”

“You do,” you gasped, your cunt clenching around her.

Her grin was feral.

“That’s right.”

She fucked you harder, the wet slap of her palm against your cunt loud in the quiet room, her fingers pistoning deep, finding that perfect, aching spot inside you. Your pussy was a mess — swollen, drenched, shining in the low light. Every time she drove her fingers in, more slick leaked out around them, a filthy, constant gush that soaked her hand, your thighs, the floor beneath you.

You came hard, with a sob, your whole body convulsing, pussy clenching down, your orgasm wringing itself out in thick, wet pulses around Emily’s fingers. The stretch of the plug made everything sharper, the pleasure almost too much.

Emily didn’t stop until you went limp against the door, tears streaking your cheeks, your thighs trembling.

And then, only then did she pull you into her arms, her lips finding your temple.

“Good girl,” she whispered, her voice rough and warm. “Mine.”

And you hummed — a breathless, needy sound from somewhere deep in your chest, equal parts gratitude and ache, already leaning into her, your hands reaching for the sleek fabric of her dress. The hunger in you was raw and consuming, no room for words now. Just need. Just the desperate urge to feel every inch of her skin against your mouth, your tongue, your fingers.

Emily didn’t stop you. She stood there, watching you through half-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling with every ragged breath as you tugged at the thin straps of her dress. The fabric slid over her shoulders, cool silk yielding to warm skin, revealing inch after inch of pale flesh dusted with faint freckles, until her breasts spilled free — full and heavy, the soft weight of them perfect in your palms.

You groaned, a filthy, adoring little sound, burying your face in the plush curve of her cleavage. The scent of her skin was clean and sharp, that familiar note of her perfume mixed with the salt of sweat and the leather of her jacket still lingering. It made your head swim.

“Mmph, fuck… so perfect,” you mumbled against her skin, lips already closing around one of her nipples. It was darker than you remembered in the dim light, pebbled tight, practically begging for your mouth. You sucked hard, a wet, lewd sound filling the space between you, and Emily let out a ragged breath, her hand sinking into your hair.

“That’s it,” she murmured, voice low and tight. “Get your mouth on me, sweetheart.”

You alternated between licking and sucking, tongue flicking over the stiff peak, loving the way Emily’s body tensed beneath your touch. The skin of her breasts was so soft, the perfect give under your teeth as you bit, just a little, pulling a sharp, breathy gasp from her throat.

“Jesus—such a greedy thing,” Emily growled, and you whimpered, rutting your hips against her thigh, the plug still nestled deep inside you making everything burn deliciously.

Your hands worked down the bodice of her dress, tugging until it pooled at her hips, leaving her in nothing but a pair of lacy black panties. You could see the dark patch of wetness already there, staining the delicate fabric, and it made your mouth water.

You didn’t ask permission — you never had to when you got like this. Emily wanted you feral, wanted you so needy you forgot your own name, and you gave her exactly that.

You slid the panties down, your knuckles brushing the coarse, damp hair between her legs. Your eyes fluttered open and you groaned at the sight. Her pussy was soaked — slick glistening in the low light, her folds swollen and flushed, her soft, neatly trimmed patch of greyed hair above it catching your eye.

It was the same shade as the streaks of silver in her hair, and something about it made you moan.

“Fuck… you’re so hot,” you babbled, dropping to your knees in front of her, your fingertips stroking the insides of her thighs, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. “God, I love your pussy — Emily, you have no idea, it’s so fucking pretty.”

She smirked down at you, her fingers threading through your hair, tugging your head back so you were forced to look up at her. That familiar, dangerous gleam was in her eyes again.

“Oh, I know, baby. Now be a good girl and taste me.”

But you weren’t ready yet. Not until you teased her a little longer.

You leaned in, dragging your tongue through her folds, slow and heavy, collecting the slick already dripping from her. The musky, heady taste of her made you dizzy, your own pussy clenching around the plug, a fresh gush of wetness slipping down your thighs. Emily’s hips twitched, a breathy grunt leaving her as you wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking lightly, before pulling back with a grin.

“You taste so good, Em,” you whispered against her cunt, your lips and chin already wet. “Could stay here forever.”

But she wasn’t having that. Emily hauled you up by the hair, crashing her mouth to yours in a filthy, possessive kiss, tasting herself on your lips. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, messy and desperate, your bodies grinding together, neither of you caring that both your dresses hung half-off your frames, your panties abandoned somewhere on the living room floor.

“Bedroom,” Emily rasped against your mouth, and you nodded, following her as she guided you down the hall, your hands never leaving each other’s bodies. Clothes fell away in careless, frantic movements — her dress dropping to the floor, your bra slipping from your shoulders, her panties left haphazardly beside the doorway.

In the dim light of your shared bedroom, you drank in the sight of her. Emily Prentiss — flushed, pupils blown wide, dark hair wild, streaked with silver, lips swollen from your kisses. Her breasts were heavy and perfect, the pale skin marked with faint bruises from your mouth, and her thighs still glistened with her arousal. The neatly trimmed grey at her mound made your chest ache with something filthy and reverent all at once.

“Lay down,” she ordered, and you obeyed, climbing onto the bed, legs spread, your cunt aching and swollen, still stretched and wet, the plug in your ass a dull, perfect pressure.

But Emily didn’t climb on top of you. Instead, she settled between your legs, her hands on your thighs, spreading them wider, and pressed a kiss to your inner knee.

You were babbling already, the words pouring out without thought.

“Love you — God, love your mouth — need you to touch me again, Em, can’t stop thinking about your fingers in me, wanna feel you — wanna cum for you, please.”

And Emily grinned, slow and dangerous.

“Then shut up and take it, baby.”

She slid her fingers back into you. Two this time, thick and perfect, immediately curling up against your tender, throbbing spot. The sound your pussy made as she fucked you was obscene, wet and lewd, and you keened, your back arching, your hips chasing every thrust.

Her thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, precise circles, and you gasped, your whole body lighting up, pleasure sparking low in your belly.

“Look at you,” Emily murmured, watching your face contort in bliss. “Such a perfect little mess for me.”

You couldn’t speak anymore, couldn’t think. You reached for her breasts again, latching onto one nipple, sucking hard, making her hiss, her hips grinding against the mattress for friction.

“God, yes — there you go, baby,” she praised, her voice breaking with pleasure as you sucked and bit and whimpered against her chest, her fingers relentless inside you.

Your orgasm crashed over you seconds later, sharp, hot, overwhelming, your pussy clenching around her fingers, slick gushing out in thick, messy pulses. You sobbed into her skin, your entire body shuddering, thighs shaking, every nerve ending lit up with raw, perfect heat.

Emily kissed the crown of your head, her voice rough and tender all at once.

“That’s my girl.”

You barely had time to catch your breath.

Your body was still quivering from the last orgasm, your inner thighs slick and trembling, Emily’s fingers shining with your slick as she withdrew them with a wet sound. You lay sprawled out on the bed, skin flushed, hair clinging to your damp face, the plug still lodged snug inside your ass, a perfect, aching pressure that made your pussy flutter every time you clenched.

But Emily wasn’t done with you.

“Turn over,” she ordered, her voice low, roughened by arousal.

Your limbs felt heavy, boneless, but you obeyed — dragging yourself onto your stomach, your cheek pressed to the cool sheets, ass high in the air, knees spread wide. You arched your back instinctively, presenting yourself like the desperate, filthy thing you were for her, and Emily made a pleased, satisfied sound in the back of her throat.

“Goddamn, look at you,” she muttered, one palm smoothing over the curve of your ass, the other parting your folds, exposing your soaked, swollen cunt. “Open, dripping… plug still nice and snug where I left it. Such a good fucking girl.”

You whimpered at her words, your hips giving a helpless little rut against the mattress.

Then — the sharp crack of her palm against your ass made you gasp.

The sting bloomed instantly, heat radiating under your skin. Before you could recover, another slap landed, just beside the first. The plug shifted inside you with each hit, sending shivers up your spine, your pussy clenching around nothing, leaking fresh slick onto the sheets.

“You love this, don’t you?” Emily growled, landing another slap. “Getting used. Staying open for me. Being my little thing to play with.”

“Yes—fuck, yes,” you sobbed into the sheets, the words slurred and desperate.

And then she reached for the plug.

Her fingers curled around the base, twisting it slowly, teasingly, making your whole body twitch, your toes curling in anticipation. She pulled it out agonizingly slow, the thick bulb dragging over your stretched rim, making your muscles spasm. You whimpered, the loss leaving you feeling empty and raw.

But Emily wasn’t done with it.

“Open,” she commanded, tapping your lips with the now-warm glass.

You did, eyes glassy, tongue out. Emily slid the slick, messy plug into your mouth like a gag, the taste of yourself thick on the glass. It filled your mouth perfectly, your lips stretched around it, drool already pooling at the corners.

“That’s better,” Emily purred, palming your ass, spreading you open again. “Quiet now, sweetheart. I want to hear how you moan around it.”

She wasted no time.

You felt her settle between your thighs, her strong hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against her mouth. The first swipe of her tongue was devastating — broad, slow, heavy — dragging from your clit to your ruined, fluttering hole. You cried out around the plug, a garbled, broken sound muffled by the gag, your whole body jolting.

Emily groaned at the taste, burying her face deeper, tongue lapping at you like a woman starved. She ate you out like she owned you, like it was a privilege to devour you in this state, ruined and raw, your pussy red and swollen, slick pouring out with every desperate moan.

The plug shifted in your mouth with every muffled sob, drool leaking down your chin, your hips jerking involuntarily as Emily’s tongue flicked mercilessly against your clit. She knew exactly how to work you — slow circles, then sudden sharp flicks, then a hard, steady suck that made your vision blur.

Your thighs trembled, muscles burning from the effort of holding yourself up, your whole body a tight, quivering line of need.

And Emily just kept going.

“God, you taste like heaven,” she murmured against you, her voice low and wrecked, the words sending vibrations through your oversensitive flesh. “Such a perfect pussy. Always so wet for me, so ready. This cunt’s mine, baby; mine to fuck, to wreck, to fill. Say it.”

You tried, you really did, but the plug kept you muffled, a helpless, high-pitched whine the only sound you could manage.

Emily smirked, rubbing your clit with her thumb while her tongue pushed deep inside you.

“That’s right, baby,” she cooed. “I know what you meant.”

Your climax built fast. Too fast. Your whole body going taut, your hips rutting shamelessly against her mouth. The combination of the pressure in your mouth, the filthy words in your ear, and her relentless tongue had you careening toward the edge.

You came with a muffled scream, body locking up, thighs clamping around her head. Your pussy spasmed around her tongue, hot, wet gushes soaking her face, the sheets, the backs of your thighs.

Emily groaned like she’d been waiting for it, drinking down every drop, her hands never letting you pull away.

You sobbed into the plug, tears pricking at your eyes from the sheer intensity of it, your muscles trembling, your body too sensitive, too overstimulated.

And still — Emily kept licking, slow now, savoring you, dragging it out until you collapsed, spent and shivering, your ass still up, your pussy a dripping, swollen mess.

She pulled the plug from your mouth with a pop, cupping your cheek, leaning down to kiss you, slick and spit mixing between your lips.

“Good fucking girl,” she whispered, her voice like a promise against your tongue. “I’ll make you cum again before sunrise.”

Before you could even catch your breath, before your hazy mind could process it, she was moving. Manhandling you the way only Emily could, strong hands gripping your hips and flipping you onto your side like you weighed nothing, then tugging you flush against her. You sobbed a little, the overstimulation making your whole body twitch, your skin flushed, chest heaving.

“Shh, baby,” Emily murmured, her fingers curling around the base of the plug still stuffed between your lips. She slid it out slowly, letting a trail of drool spill over your chin and onto your breasts. And then — she licked it. Dragging her tongue over your cheek, gathering the wetness with a filthy, satisfied hum.

“Fucking perfect mess,” she growled, and you whimpered, blinking up at her with tear-glossed eyes, your lips swollen and wet, chest heaving.

“Please,” you gasped, the word trembling out of you. “Please, Em — wanna feel you. Need your pussy on mine, need it so bad.”

And she grinned, a dark, dangerous thing.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

Emily hooked one of your legs over her hip, her other thigh sliding between yours, until both your slick, flushed cunts were lined up, swollen and desperate. The moment her wet heat brushed against yours, you both gasped, a sharp, shuddering sound breaking in the air between you.

“Oh—fuck,” Emily hissed, her head dropping against your shoulder for a beat before she lifted it again, her dark eyes finding yours. “Feel how wet you are for me? Goddamn, baby.”

Your hips jerked up instinctively, chasing that perfect, burning friction, your thighs trembling.

And then she started to grind.

The slow, deliberate roll of her hips against yours, slick-on-slick, the wet sound obscene in the quiet, tension-thick room. Both your pussies were soaked, swollen, aching and the glide messy, your clits catching perfectly with every shift of your bodies.

You sobbed again, but now it was pleasure-drunk, your head falling back, your hips rutting against hers, the heat of her cunt against yours everything you needed.

“Fuck, Em — fuck, it’s so good, oh my god,” you babbled, unable to control it anymore, your voice breaking on every syllable.

Emily captured your mouth in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, her tongue deep, claiming you, stealing every broken, gasping moan from your throat. The taste of you still clung to her lips, and it made your head swim.

Her hands slid up your sides, rough palms cupping your tits, squeezing hard enough to make you arch into her. Your nipples were painfully sensitive, the friction against her chest and her fingers setting every nerve alight.

Both of you were panting now, the rhythm between your hips growing faster, harder, wetter.

You opened your eyes just long enough to watch — both your breasts bouncing with every grind of your bodies, slick skin sliding together, nipples stiff and red. Emily’s tits were incredible, full and soft, pale flesh flushed with heat, the weight of them perfect in your hands.

You reached up, cupping them, rolling her nipples between your fingers, loving the sharp gasp she gave in return.

“Christ, baby, you feel so good,” Emily groaned, her hand slapping down on your ass, urging you to grind harder. “Love watching you fall apart for me. Look at you — crying for it.”

And you were. Tears streaking down your cheeks, your body so wrung out but still so desperate. The overstimulation made every brush of her clit against yours a burst of white-hot, sharp pleasure that made your hips jerk, your thighs quake.

Your orgasm built fast — too fast — the pressure unbearable.

Emily’s hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to force your eyes on hers.

“Cum with me,” she snarled, voice ragged. “Now. Fucking now.”

And it happened — your body locking up, a strangled scream tearing from your throat as your pussy convulsed against hers, slick gushing out between you. The wave of it crashed over you, raw and overwhelming, your hips jerking uncontrollably as pleasure wracked every inch of you.

Emily came with you, her cunt spasming against yours, a guttural, wrecked moan spilling from her lips as her head dropped to your shoulder.

“Fuckbaby .. Jesus, yes—”

The wet, frantic grinding slowed, both your bodies trembling, soaked and ruined. The sheets beneath you were a wreck — slick, sweat, drool, and tears. Neither of you could speak for a moment, just panting, chests heaving, the scent of sex thick in the air.

Emily pressed lazy kisses to your temple, your lips, your neck.

“That’s my girl,” she murmured, voice low, her palm still cupping your ass. “You’re mine. Every fucking inch of you.”

And you, barely able to lift your head, smiled, eyes half-lidded, and whispered back:

“Yours.”

Because you were. Completely.

The air in the bedroom was heavy — thick with the scent of sweat, slick, sex, and the lingering charge of everything you’d just done. The sheets beneath you were damp, twisted and clinging to your bodies. Your limbs felt leaden, trembling in the aftermath, every inch of your skin oversensitized and warm.

Neither of you spoke for a long, breathless moment. Just the sound of your labored breathing filled the room, chest against chest, the throb between your thighs still sharp, your heart pounding in your ears.

Emily was the first to move.

She loosened her grip in your hair, smoothing the strands back from your damp, flushed face, her palm warm against your cheek. You blinked up at her through tear-streaked lashes, your lips swollen and tingling, and she gave you the softest, fondest little smile.

“Hey,” she murmured, voice scratchy, wrecked, but tender. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You gave a small, dazed nod, unable to summon the words just yet. Everything ached, but in the most perfect, satisfied way. Your body felt like it didn’t quite belong to you anymore — floaty, raw, and yet grounded by the weight of Emily’s hand on your face.

She leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. Her lips tasted like salt and sweat and you. She didn’t pull away, trailing smaller kisses over your temple, down to the curve of your jaw.

“You were so good for me,” she whispered, every word a balm. “Took everything I gave you. Made me so proud, baby.”

Your throat tightened, a fresh wave of emotion rising in your chest. Tears welled up again — not from overstimulation this time, but from how safe you felt in that moment. How seen. How wanted.

Emily noticed instantly.

“Hey, hey,” she soothed, wiping your tears with her thumbs. “It’s okay, love. Come here.”

She gathered you into her arms, tugging you to lie fully against her, your head on her chest, the soft, steady drum of her heart under your ear. Her fingers traced gentle, lazy patterns along your spine, over the marks she’d left on your ass, your thighs, the small of your back. Every touch was featherlight now, reverent.

“God, you’re beautiful,” she murmured against your hair. “All wrecked and messy and mine.”

You let out a soft, shuddery laugh, your fingers curling into the swell of her breast, your face nuzzling into the warm, damp skin of her chest.

Neither of you rushed to clean up. You stayed like that for a while — tangled up, bodies still sticky and flushed, the room still dark and intimate. Emily’s hand never stopped moving, stroking your hair, your back, her lips pressing to your temple, your brow, your cheek whenever you sighed or shifted.

Eventually, she spoke again, her voice low and fond.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She eased you off her gently, ignoring your sleepy whimper of protest, and carried you to the en suite bathroom. The light was soft, and she set you down on the counter, kissing you once before turning on the taps, adjusting the water until it was perfect.

You watched her in the mirror — the flush still high on her chest, her hair mussed, her body marked with your teeth, your nails. She caught your gaze and smiled.

“In you go,” she murmured, helping you into the tub, lowering you into the warm water. It stung, a little, against your swollen, sensitive cunt, but it was soothing, too. Emily climbed in behind you, pulling you between her legs, your back to her chest, her arms around your waist.

You melted against her.

She took her time, washing you with slow, careful strokes — a washcloth over your breasts, your stomach, between your thighs, murmuring quiet praises and soft apologies when you whimpered at the tenderness.

“Did so good for me, baby,” she whispered. “Took it like a champ. Nobody makes me feel like you do.”

You tilted your head back against her shoulder, sighing as she kissed your neck.

“I love you,” you whispered, voice hoarse, raw with honesty.

Emily’s arms tightened around you.

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than you know.”

The rest of the bath was quiet; just the sound of the water, her fingers stroking your skin, the occasional soft kiss. She dried you off afterward, wrapping you in one of her old, soft college sweatshirts, and carried you back to bed.

Clean sheets. Fresh pillows. A glass of water on the nightstand.

Emily tucked you in, sliding in behind you, spooning you close, one hand resting possessively over your stomach.

And as you drifted off to sleep, boneless and sated, you felt her lips at your ear one last time.

“Mine,” she whispered, and you smiled in the dark, your hand finding hers under the blanket.

Always hers.

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theethighpriestess · 1 month ago

Text

REVISED MASTERLIST

Alrighty Tumblr loves, here's a revised version of my masterlist. As stated in the last one, I do not own the rights to any character or country names created by Ryan Coogler or Marvel. All OCs are my own & are typically chubby, black, & magical. Bold, red titles are smut. 18+ content ahead. Minors, do not interact! Banners designed by me! ☺️

HOE ASS ERIK - COMPLETED

What happens when Hennessy convinces Erik to become a male escort while they’re at MIT?Foolishness and smut galore!

MASTERLIST

CARNAL STIMULATION

Collab with @hearteyes-for-killmonger & @panthergoddessbast

O’Shea Powell is a young, successful business woman with an insatiable sexual appetite. After speaking with her boss, she’s referred to world renowned sex therapist Dr. Erik Stevens, but is she getting herself into more than she can handle?

MASTERLIST

YOUR ONLYFAN

Collab with @princessstevens

Mahari Khamisi Owens is an undergraduate biology pre-med student with aspirations of becoming a neonatologist. Reserved, and a lover of all things anime, her junior year at Oakland University takes an interesting turn when she develops a crush on the Graduate Assistant for her least favorite class. Erik Stevens is charming and charismatic, but is harboring a secret that changes Hari’s entire perspective on him and awakens a side of her she never knew existed. Can she keep this secret or will the obsession consume her?

MASTERLIST

SCREAM: A HALLOWEEN SERIES - COMPLETED

Collab with @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Erik & his girlfriend Vanity love Spooky Season, so when Erik’s friend Dominic decides to throw a Halloween party at his luxurious cabin in the woods, the couple is more than excited. What starts off as innocent role play between the couple quickly turns into a night of terror. Will they survive the night?

MASTERLIST

I’ll Take Yo Man

Carry On - From Wakanda With Love Submission

Dreams & Nightmares

When Your Plug A Girl Blurb

Kush & Anime

WHATCHAMACALLIT

Amina Brown has a one nightstand with world heavy weight champion boxer Adonis Creed. But what happens when she decides she wants more than one night?

MASTERLIST

BLOOD MONEY

Eden’s broke. Her rent’s late, her car sounds like it’s choking, and her dreams of making it as a singer in New Orleans are getting harder to hold onto. So when she sees a sketchy little ad offering big cash to be a “discreet donor,” she answers it. She tells herself it’s just money. Just blood. Just once. But the contract’s signed, the room is breathing, and Eden? She might’ve just stepped into something deeper than debt.

MASTERLIST

Light My Fire

Heathens

Sunday Dinner

Payback

A.D.I.D.A.S.

Green Goddess (written for @hearteyes-for-killmonger)

Suddenly Stevens (written for @yaachtynoboat711)

Beauty is Her Name

It’s Complicated (written for @princesskillmonger)

I’m Sorry (written for @bidibidibombaclaat)

The Great Reveal (written for @thehomierobbstark)

Neighbors Know My Name (A Continuation to On the Hotline by @hearteyes-for-killmonger)

Sacrifice (1) (2) - written for @panthergoddessbast & @blktinkerbell

The Devil Speaks Xhosa - written for @blackpantherismyish

Mile High

Trap Card

Act Up - written for @princessstevens

Let Me Smell It - written for @princessstevens

Up Late - written for @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Cam Girl: Day Dreamin’ - @nahimjustfeelingit-writes Smut Challenge submission

Boo’s Dollhouse Chapter 2: Honey - @nahimjustfeelingit-writes Kinktober Submission

#my shit #thee thigh priestess' masterlist #thee thigh commandments #black panther fanfiction #erik killmonger fanfiction #Hennessy x Erik #Killmonger x Black OC #Adonis Creed #Sinners #Sinners Fanfiction #Smokestack Twins

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ageingfangirl2 · 2 months ago

Text

Imagine Being Bonten's Receptionist (Bonten x F Reader) - Tokyo Revengers

PART 12: THANK YOU GIFTS

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN THIRTEEN

Even though a week had passed since everything was cleared up with your stalker ex, you sit at your desk scratching Bonten behind the ear, thinking that you needed to do something to say thank you to the executives for helping you out of a tough situation when they had better things to do, as criminals. Of course, you couldn’t be obvious because everyone would feel awkward; you needed to be subtle and make each gift meaningful to the executive. Paperwork and emails could wait for the day while you sought out the perfect thank-you gifts.

You know Mikey well enough by now to understand he doesn’t always respond openly to emotions, so you don’t get too sappy with him. One day, when it’s just the two of them, you hand him a small wrapped box containing a vintage toy bike keychain — something simple, nostalgic, and well-made. Attached is a short handwritten note:

‘You’ve let me feel safe without asking for anything in return. Thank you’

Mikey doesn’t say much. He just slips the keychain into his pocket and ruffles your hair as he walks away, a rare softness in his eyes.

For Sanzu, you get something unexpectedly personal: a custom lighter engraved with a fox, clever and sly. It’s sleek, sturdy — something only someone paying real attention would think to give him. When you hand it to him, you just shrug, ‘You kept me laughing when I wanted to fall apart. So…thanks, you psycho.’

He grins, eyes glinting, ‘I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended, but I do like it.’ He flicks it open right then and there, his expression a mix of mischief and something deeper he won’t say out loud.

You know Ran’s a man of aesthetics, so you gift him a pair of sleek, custom cufflinks — one shaped like a snake, the other a rose. You leave them in a small box on his desk with no note. When he finds them, he smirks, already knowing they’re from you.

Later, he swings by your desk, leans on the counter, ‘So what’s this, your way of calling me dangerous but pretty?’

You raise a brow, ‘You said it, not me.’

He chuckles, clearly pleased, ‘You’ve got taste, sweetheart.’

Rindou loves music, so you quietly put together a custom playlist on a USB — stuff he likes, mixed with a few songs that helped you through rough nights. You hand it to him on a day he’s working late, no explanation, just a muttered, ‘Thought you might like these.’

Rindou plugs it in later that night and listens all the way through. He doesn’t say much the next day, but he sets a matching pair of noise-cancelling earbuds on your desk with a casual, ‘You should add more. It was good.’

It’s his version of thank you.

To Kakucho, you give a hand-stitched notebook, its cover embroidered with a discreet phoenix motif. Inside, the first page has a single line written:

‘Because you’re the one who always brings people back from the fire’

You hand it to him one evening while you’re both cleaning up late.

He’s quiet when he reads the first page, fingers brushing the stitching, ‘...You didn’t have to.’

‘I wanted to,’ you reply softly.

He nods once, lips pressing into a rare, quiet smile, ‘I’ll use it well.’

For Koko, you give a custom pen, sleek and high-end, engraved subtly with the word ‘Anchor’

And a note inside the box which reads:

‘You always knew how to find what needed to be found. For others. And me’

You give it to him when no one’s around, not wanting to make a scene.

Koko turns the pen over in his hand, then glances at you, ‘This… isn’t cheap.’

‘Neither is loyalty,’ you reply in a split second.

He gives a soft chuckle, pocketing it, ‘Well played.’

You gift Takeomi a bottle of rare whiskey, the label elegant and minimalist, with a small tag tied to it:

‘For the weight you carry, and the things you never say. I see you’

You leave it on his desk after hours, knowing he’d hate being thanked too directly.

He finds it, reads the note once, then looks out the window for a long time before tucking it away.

The next day, he passes you in the hall, slows his steps just long enough to say, ‘...You’re a good woman. Don’t let this world take that from you.’

To Mochi, you give something simple but deeply thoughtful — a leather card holder, sturdy and cleanly designed, with a hidden pocket inside. Inside the pocket, there’s a small charm — a tiny metal tiger, representing quiet strength.

‘Because even the strong need something to protect them, too’

When you give it to him, you keep it brief, knowing he doesn’t like fuss. He takes it without a word, then gives you a small nod — a rare, silent thanks. Later, when no one’s watching, he moves his ID and keeps the charm right where you put it.

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sereia4skz · 2 months ago

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hey reia,

so the time here’s been quite the ride. The boys are super nice, and it’s been great to see lix again.

I spent time with his friends, Minho, Jisung, and Changbin, this weekend. They’re so cute, we went out to the mall. And I may have gotten to use vibrators on them.

It really isn’t my fault how much i teased them, their reactions were to die for.

We should call soon, miss you girlie!

(Congrats on 1k!! Can this be a dom!reader x brat!Minho, sub!ji and sub!changbin?? I understand if it makes you uncomfortable. Could i also be an anon?)

1k Followers Event | two's company, three's a crowd, what's four?

pairing: cat!minho x bunny!changbin x quokka!jisung x reader

genre: smut

warnings: hybrid au, vibrators, the cuck chair guys, MxM, orgasm denial, voyeurism, dom!reader, brat!minho

event masterlist: #1kShootingStars

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

Hey lovie,

Sounds super fun! Maybe you should do something about the brat Minho.

Knowing you you'll find something fun to do :P

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

The food court was packed, filled with the low roar of chatter, trays clattering, and kids screaming over the whirr of smoothie blenders. Every surface gleamed with that fake-clean mall sheen, slightly sticky if you stayed in one place too long. Overhead, fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, like a warning not to get too comfortable.

Minho looked at the long line of people queuing for boba and sighed like he’d just been asked to dig his own grave. “This is going to take forever.”

“You three go,” you offered sweetly, slipping into a plastic chair at one of the bolted-down tables. “I’ll guard our spot.”

“Don’t wander,” Minho said sharply, eyeing you as if he already knew you were going to do exactly that.

You gave him your best innocent blink. “Would I ever?”

Jisung grinned. “She’s definitely going to wander.”

Minho grabbed his ear and tugged. “Come on, snitch.”

As the boys disappeared into the drink line, you waited… for all of about thirty seconds.

Across from your table, just past the magazine and novelty gift store, a different kind of sign glowed. One you hadn’t noticed before. Black background. Metallic red letters, the kind that shimmer under the lights of the mall.

ESCAPE — Adults Only

You tilted your head. From where you sat, you could just make out a few of the displays inside, clean, tasteful shelving, walls lined with velvety paddles and chrome restraints. A mannequin wore a full harness over a sheer robe in the window. Not tacky. Not hidden. Just... waiting.

Well. Maybe you would wander. You stood up, and made your way across the wide walkway, heels tapping quietly against the tile. No one paid you any attention.

The store was surprisingly quiet inside, the heavy glass door muffling the mall noise completely once it swung shut behind you. The lighting was low and warm, casting everything in a soft, gold haze. Shelves were spaced just far enough apart for discretion but close enough to feel intimate, like the whole place was in on a secret.

You let your fingers trail over the edge of a display table. Leather cuffs. Soft, supple, well-oiled. Good stitching. You gave one a slight tug to test the give. Quality.

You wandered a little deeper. Silicone plugs in a dozen colors. Ropes dyed in deep jewel tones. Paddles with words cut into the leather. You picked one up and gave it a little flick of your wrist, light, balanced, with a satisfying swish through the air. You smiled, your imagination playing as you moved to the next aisle.

The vibrator wall. There was a whole spectrum, tiny bullet vibes, clitoral suction toys, dual-action wands, sleek remote-controlled ones you could wear under clothes. One model caught your eye: slim, matte black, curved with a gentle ridge near the tip. Not too big. Not too obvious. Discreet. Perfect.

You picked it up, turning it over in your hand just as the door behind you opened.

“Are you kidding me?” Minho’s voice was low and tight with annoyance.

You turned to see all three boys standing there. Jisung rushed toward you first, wide-eyed and breathless. “You weren’t at the table, what if something happened?! You could’ve gotten snatched!”

“I was gone for five minutes. And I'm an adult”

Minho crossed his arms and stalked closer, scolding you with every step. “You’re in a sex shop. In public. In that. With your ass basically out.”

You raised the toy you were holding just a little. “But look how cute it is.”

Changbin hadn’t said a word.

He stood at the edge of the aisle, staring at the toy in your hand with wide eyes, his lower lip caught between his teeth. His tail had gone completely still.

“Binnie,” you purred. “You like this one?”

He nodded, cheeks flushing hot pink.

“I might buy it,” you said casually, watching his ears twitch. “Might even use it tonight.”

Jisung made a little choked noise. Minho exhaled like he was using every ounce of self-control. You grinned.

“She’s gonna kill us.” one of them whispered as you went back to browsing the shelfs

⋆｡°✩

Changbin’s room buzzes with something electric tonight, nothing like its usual gentle, warm energy. The sheets still smell like fresh linen, and the salt lamp glows softly in the corner, but now it’s all undercut with heat, with tension, with need.

He sits on the edge of the bed, legs slightly spread, hands fidgeting in his lap. His tail thumps against the mattress in a slow, anxious rhythm. His ears droop low. Big, brown eyes follow your every move.

You close the door behind you with a soft click, louder than it should be in the quiet.

“Hey, Binnie.”

His head snaps up. “H-Hi.”

You take your time crossing the room, boots clicking softly on the floor. You feel his gaze travel up your legs, stalling at your thighs, catching on the little silk robe you’ve thrown on, barely tied, sheer enough to tease the curve of your hips.

“You remember that toy we saw earlier?”

He swallows hard. “The, um… the vibrator?”

You grin and reach into your bag, pulling it out slowly, matte black, freshly charged. You run your thumb over the button, and it hums faintly, just loud enough to cut through the silence.

Changbin’s thighs twitch.

“You were so quiet in the store,” you say, stepping between his knees. “I think you were imagining this.” You reach down, fingers slipping under the waistband of his sweatpants. “You gonna be good and let me play?”

He nods instantly.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes-yes, please.”

You smile and press him gently back onto the bed, straddling his lap as you tug his sweats down. He’s already half-hard, sensitive and twitching under your touch. You click the toy on again, setting it to a low buzz, and brush it along the inside of his thigh.

His hips jerk.

“You’re always so responsive, bunny,” you murmur, dragging the toy up to tease the base of his cock. “So needy.”

“I-I can’t help it,” he whispers, already breathless.

“I know,” you coo. “You don’t have to.”

You play with him like that, slowly, deliberately, testing each setting, each angle. His muscles tense every time you increase the intensity, breath catching in his throat. He whimpers when you press it flush against him, your other hand cupping his balls, rolling them just enough to make his back arch.

And just as you lean in to kiss his throat–

The door bursts open.

Minho stands there, hand on the knob, Jisung panting behind him, guilt and excitement lighting up his face.

Minho’s eyes sweep the scene. The toy. Changbin’s flushed, leaking cock. Your barely-there robe.

“Oh hell no,” Minho growls, dragging Jisung into the room by the wrist. “You think you get to have all the fun while we sit there listening through the wall?”

You blink. “I didn’t know you were listening.”

“You left the bag on the counter. That toy wasn’t exactly a mystery.”

Jisung’s already kicking off his hoodie, eyes locked on the toy like it might float his way if he stares hard enough. “We deserve to play too.”

Minho crosses the room in two strides, looming over the bed, arms folded, pupils blown wide. “You really thought you’d get away with starting without us?”

You smirk. “Deserve? That’s not really for you to decide.”

“Unacceptable,” Minho snaps.

You tilt your head. “You gonna do something about it, kitten?”

He leans in close, nose nearly brushing yours. His voice drops, sharp and dangerous. “If you’re not careful, I’ll flip this whole scene and make you the one begging.”

“Promises, promises,” you murmur, flicking the vibrator up to a higher setting, right against Changbin’s flushed tip.

Changbin lets out a strangled whine. Jisung climbs onto the bed, already kneeling, eyes wide and greedy. “C-Can I try it too?” He chokes on a breath, flushed all the way down his chest. “Please.”

You look between the two of them, Changbin already squirming, Jisung vibrating with need, and flick your eyes to Minho, who hasn’t moved, jaw clenched like he could bite through steel.

“Take off your clothes,” you order, stepping back and holding the toy up like a prize. “Both of you. Now.”

They obey instantly, fumbling with shirts, pants, underwear, until all that’s left are flushed bodies, eager cocks, and twitching ears. You settle on the bed behind Changbin, pulling him back between your legs like a big plush doll, spreading his thighs apart.

“Come lie against your hyung, baby,” you tell Jisung.

He does, eyes round and glossy. You click the toy on again, medium this time, and slide it between them, nestling it carefully between their cocks, right where their skin meets. The faint buzz starts again, and Changbin gasps, twitching in your arms.

“Now hump,” you whisper in his ear. “Grind on him like you’re in heat. You know how.”

Changbin whines, embarrassed, but you wrap your arm around his middle and give a little push.

Their hips meet with a soft, slick slide of skin-on-skin and silicone. The toy buzzes between them, catching on the underside of each cock as they rutt. Changbin’s head drops back onto your shoulder, and Jisung moans, arms clinging to his hyung’s waist like he might fall apart if he lets go.

“You look so pretty like this,” you coo. “Two needy bunnies fucking like animals. Thought Binnie was the only bunny here.”

The rhythm gets faster, messier, the toy sliding slickly between them. Jisung’s thighs shake, and Changbin pants so hard he can barely speak.

Minho still hasn’t spoken. You look up at him, he’s standing, hands clenched at his sides, cock straining against his jeans. Pupils blown. Lips parted. He looks like he might fall apart from just watching.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” you purr, voice syrup-sweet. “Jealous?”

He glares, but the tremble in his jaw betrays him. “Hannie is mine.”

“Mm. Not right now he’s not.”

You reach forward, still cradling Changbin’s hip with the other hand, and undo Minho’s fly, tugging his jeans just low enough for his cock to spring free—flushed, leaking, untouched.

“Look at you,” you murmur. “So hard just from watching. Maybe if you hadn’t been such a mouthy brat earlier, you’d be the one humping something warm right now.”

He growls, low and shaky. “Please…”

You smile. “No. You’re going to sit. Right there.” You point to the armchair. “And keep your hands on your arms. If you touch yourself, I’ll have to punish you. Understood?”

He holds your gaze a moment longer, then obeys. He sits, legs spread, cock straining up, twitching. You click the vibrator up another level.

Both Jisung and Changbin cry out.

“Good boys,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the side of Binnie’s neck, licking the sweat there. “Show him how good boys get rewarded.”

Jisung’s hips stutter against Changbin’s, the low buzz of the toy loud in the sweat-slick silence. Their cocks rub together with every desperate thrust, the vibrator pressed snug between them, both of them gasping, whining, their hands tangled in each other’s skin like they don’t know what to hold onto.

Changbin trembles in your arms, head lolled back on your shoulder, mouth open and panting helplessly. His thighs are tense, tail twitching erratically where it curls against your hip. Jisung clings to him like he’ll fall apart if he lets go, rutting desperately with little broken sounds falling from his lips.

You watch them for a moment, utterly entranced, two gorgeous hybrids, bodies flushed, ears low, whining and whimpering like they don’t even know they’re doing it.

Then your gaze shifts to Minho.

He sits where you told him to. His fingers dig into the arms of the chair, knuckles bone-white, chest heaving as he tries and fails to keep his breathing even. His cock twitches, leaking steadily, jumping every time one of the others moans. He looks like he might snap in half from the tension alone.

You smile sweetly. “Poor kitten. Bet your cock hurts, huh?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s too flushed, too locked in place, trembling from restraint. He’s not sulking, he’s suffering beautifully.

“Oh, Binnie,” you coo, resting your chin on Changbin’s shoulder, still guiding his hips forward with one firm hand. “Jisung feels so warm, doesn’t he? So soft on your cock. Such a good little pet to rut on.”

Jisung moans louder at that, his whole body jerking as he chases every slick drag of skin and toy and sweat. “I-I can’t–I'm close, I’m- please–”

You reach between them, adjusting the angle just enough to make the vibrations hit perfectly, direct pressure right under both their cocks. Changbin cries out, his body going taut like a bowstring.

“Ah-ah, fuck- gonna–”

“Go ahead,” you whisper, voice like velvet over glass. “Cum for me. Make Minho watch.”

They break together.

Jisung sobs, clinging tighter around Changbin’s waist. Changbin’s legs kick helplessly as they rut through it, desperate to feel every last spark of friction. Their moans echo, high and messy, and their cum slicks the toy, their stomachs, each other’s skin. You click the vibrator off with a soft snap.

“Look at them, kitten,” you purr, voice thick with heat. “Spent. Messy. So well-used. And you’re still over there. Untouched.”

Minho grits his teeth. “Please- please, I need- I'm sorry–”

You tilt your head and smile, wicked and slow. Then you stand, letting Changbin and Jisung collapse in a boneless heap on the bed, twitching and whimpering through the aftershocks.

Your steps across the room are deliberate. Each sway of your hips is a tease, measured, cruel. You stop in front of Minho, crouching between his legs. Your breath ghosts over the flushed head of his cock, he whimpers, hips twitching instinctively toward you.

But you don’t touch. He whines again, more desperate this time.

“If you really want to earn it…” you murmur, glancing back at the bed, at the slicked-up mess of your two bunnies, dazed and pliant. “Then you’re going to clean them up. With your mouth.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

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#1kshootingstars #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #poly stray kids x reader #skz imagines #poly!minsung #poly stray kids #polyship x reader #han jisung x reader #lee minho x reader #seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids hybrid au

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rinhaler · 2 years ago

Text

𝖒𝖞 𝖋𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭plug!ryusei shidou x f!reader

Genre: smut Notes: iiiiiii want him n need him desperately ♡ i made him icky, manipulative and dress like pete davidson warnings: 18+, (soft?)dom!shidou, sub!reader, dubcon, drug use (weed), blowbacks/shotgunning, reader has pubes!, ryusei has a gold tooth, virgin!reader, corruption kink, dumbification?, fingering, blowjob, head pushing ♡, male masturbation, use of nii-chan (not referring to ryusei), slight dacryphilia, shush!kink, praise, pet names, cum eating ♡, he calls your pussy 'her', slut used once. words: 7.1k

“No way am I coming over. Your big brother would kill me.”

Ryusei can’t stop himself from smirking when he can hear your attempt to conceal a whimper. And he just knows there’s a plump little pout on that pretty little face on the other end of the line.

He’s been dealing to your brother for years, they’re basically best friends if you subtract the client aspect from the equation. They smoke together, they’re always hanging out and Ryusei isn’t a stranger to the apartment you and your brother share.

“How did you even get my number anyway, darlin’? Reaaaal naughty of ya to be calling me like this. Gonna be in big trouble if I tell your nii-chan.” he tells you. And this time you hear the smirk behind his voice. He’s teasing you. He’s toying with you, but you still can’t stop yourself from becoming paralysed with fear.

“He gave me it for emergencies! Please don’t tell ‘im!” you sigh. “He’s on some weekend work trip because he’s tryna get a promotion. I’m just lonely…”

“Awe, and why is that my problem?” he asks, harshly. It takes you aback slightly though your determination doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath and try to formulate a response in your mind.

“You guys are always havin’ fun together… but you never let me join in. I wanna have fun with you too, Ryusei—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no.” he stands firm and shows no signs of backing down. He hears the little deflated exhale you release, and he licks his lips as he thinks. He doesn’t want you to be sad, but he knows fucking around with a client’s sister behind his back is a stupid fucking idea. “You’ll be alright on your own. Why don’t you invite one of your friends over.”

“W-Well… I just wanted to see you.” you tell him, honestly. “I— I wanted to try smoking with you.”

He chuckles when he hears that. It hasn’t been a discreet crush you’ve harboured since you saw him for the first time. You may have thought otherwise, but Ryusei has always known. He kisses his teeth and laughs again as he thinks about this tantalising proposition being thrown onto his lap.

“You’re really tryna get into trouble this weekend, huh? Do you always invite drug dealers over?” he wonders, knowing the answer already. He knows you’re a good girl who always does as her nii-chan says. But today you want to let your hair down. Today you can let your hair down because he isn’t here for the whole weekend. You can be a little naughty and reckless and have some fun for a change. “Are you that lonely, baby? Jus’ want some company?”

“… Y-Yes. ‘m lonely…” your lower lip wobbles as you think about being in the same apartment all by yourself for the next two days. You’re fine now, it’s only 12:30pm. But what about when it gets dark out? You’re a stupid girl who lets her mind run wild with the possibilities of ghosts and home invaders. You’ve seen one too many horror movies while your brother and Ryusei are high in the front room for no regard to your taste in genre. You hate horrors but you’ve seen so many thanks to them. And now your mind is racing. What if you got kidnapped or killed for the fun of it? “I don’t wanna be alone, Ryusei… ‘m so scared.”

He grits his teeth, resolve crumbling as he thinks about you all alone in the apartment he’s spent so many nights in. So many pointless nights where he could have been out making more money or fucking a multitude of girls who don’t hide their attraction for him. So, is he really about to sacrifice the same for you?

Lonely, frightened, you?

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? I’ll be there in twenty.”

Now that he’s here you’re not sure what you were thinking. You’ve never smoked before. You’ve not even had a sip of alcohol before! But you know drugs are Ryusei’s whole life right now. Selling, buying and occasionally consuming. He locks the door behind himself as he enters. He’s wearing a wide grin as he comes in and approaches you.

He thinks you’re just the sweetest little thing.

Your feet walk you backwards as he gets closer to you, lunging forward to grab you when you almost trip over your pink Kirby slippers that your brother got you for your most recent birthday.

“Clumsy girl.” he grins, gripping into the fat of your underarms. He leads you over to the couch and more or less throws you down onto it. He dumps his backpack on the coffee table. “What time does your brother come home, sweetheart?” he asks, not even looking your way as he takes out his belongings and spreads them out on the table.

“Uh—” you think, eyes squinting as you look up at the ceiling and try to act natural. “Monday… morning.” you tell him.

“Well, I’m sure he won’t mind if I keep you company ‘til he gets back, right?”

“R-Right…” you aren’t so sure about that, but you’re hardly going to disagree with him. Though in truth, he knows he’ll be furious. But the time he cared about your pathetic brother’s opinion has been and gone. What kind of man would he be if he left a poor defenceless thing like you all on your lonesome in such a sketchy part of town?

You watch him carefully as he pulls out a grinder, some papers, and a large baggie of weed and puts them all down on the table. Your mind wanders as he describes the effects to you, none of it is computing. And it gets even worse when he starts talking about different strains doing different things. As far as you were aware, weed was just… weed. You’d never heard about strains or effects. All of your knowledge comes from movies. Tripping, munchies, all of the cliché stuff.

He grins when he sees your dumb expression. Of course you’re not understanding anything he says. All you need to know is that you’ll be okay because he’s here to look after you. He’s here to take you through it.

You watch him as he grinds it up in a tall metallic grinder. And seeing him roll is like witchcraft to you. It’s not like it’s the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve seen it up close. Your nii-chan always exiles you to your bedroom when they’re rolling and smoking. You’re only allowed out once they’re high, though it’s never stopped you peaking from the crack of your door.

Your eyes widen in disbelief as he holds eye contact with you while he licks the paper. Suddenly you’re looking anywhere but in his direction. He’s revelling in it, making you so uncomfortable and shy. You really are sweet ‘n innocent, huh?

“Here.” he hands it to you, his voice earning your attention and you look into his pink eyes before they drop to the blunt in his hand. You look back at him, confused, and he finds himself adjusting the baggy shorts he’s wearing in hopes that you haven’t noticed the way his cock jumps when you tilt your head so stupidly. “What? This is what you wanted.” he speaks, his defensive tone surprising you.

“But… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never smoked before…”

“Never? Not even a cigarette?” he asks.

“Nothing… never smoked or had a drink or even been to a party. Nii-chan is too protective.” you pout. He wants to fucking ruin you. You’re so fucking cute and stupid he thinks he might cum in his underwear just from hearing you speak. You’re so obedient and it makes you so fucking stupid. As if you aren’t a grown woman who could get her own apartment and do whatever she wants. “Will you show me?” you speak, cutting through his thoughts.

He nods, effortlessly. He lounges back into the couch, legs spread wide as he lets the blunt balance between his lips. It’s lit instantly, and you can’t believe what a pro he is. He’s got one of those stupid lighters. The ones with the metal bit you have to spin with your thumb rather than one of the plastic ones you just push down. You can never use them. Your brother always lends them to you when you want to light a candle, but he always ends up lighting them for you.

“Get me somethin’ to use as an ashtray.” he tells you, it’s a rude demand rather than a request. But his lack of manners doesn’t stop you from immediately jumping to your feet and rushing over to the kitchen sink. You just washed your brother’s ashtray this morning. You smile happily as you hand it to him, clearly willing to do anything he asks whether he’s polite about it or not.

He takes a few more drags and flicks the ash every so often. And when he’s halfway through, he looks at you, expectantly.

“Your turn.” he tries to hand it to you again. You take it, and you flinch as he also forces the lighter into your palm. “You didn’t invite me over just to watch me smoke, did you? What, are you trying to take advantage of me?” he laughs, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. His golden canine twinkles at you, halting you from speaking for longer than you’d intended.

“It’s not like that! I just— I’m nervous, and I hate these lighters.” you explain. You stiffen as he rolls his eyes and adjusts his body, angling it to face you. His stare is harsh, bordering on agitated. It’s only fair, you think. He hadn’t planned on spending his day babysitting you or showing you how to do something so simple. “’m sorry.” you speak, it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it. Almost.

“Open up.” he commands. You’re confused at first, and before you know it his rough thumb is tugging at the fat flesh of your lower lip. “I said: open up.”

You clear your throat and angle your body in a similar way to him. Although you’re nowhere near as tall or intimidating as him. You’re like a sullen little dormouse, respecting the orders of your master. Your lips part ever so slightly as he places the blunt between them. Your lips close around it, keeping it perched firmly between them. He can see lip gloss residue smearing on the paper; his depraved mind is going into overdrive. His lewd thoughts encompassing him, he needs to break free and focus on you before you start to ask more silly questions.

He tucks your hair behind your ears and away from your face. A brief thought crosses his mind of how embarrassing it would be to get caught by your brother because he singed your fucking hair.

“Don’t just suck it, yeah? Breathe it. You wanna feel it go in your chest, alright?” he asks you, it sounds like a reminder. Like he’d already told you this and he’s making sure you are listening this time. It’s hard not to when all you can focus on is him. How he’s staring at you. How he smells like cheap aftershave and weed. The smell of weed is revolting, truth be told, you aren’t sure how you’re going to be able to inhale it without gagging.

He flicks the lighter a few times and keeps an eye on your expressions and your breathing to make sure you’re doing it right. You look terrified.

And he likes it.

Your eyes get wider and wider the more you inhale, and he’s worried they might pop out of that pretty head of yours. You suck and you breathe in as much of the earthy smoke as you can until it embraced your lungs like an invader claiming its new home. He can’t hide his laughter when you begin to choke, realising you are the good girl you’re claiming to be and absolutely have never smoked anything in your life.

“Everything hurts.” you tell him, still coughing and sputtering out lingering smoke as your eyes water. “It tastes like shit…” you continue, covering your mouth as you can’t stop yourself from choking anymore. He gets up, handing the ashtray to you to balance the blunt in and he flees the scene of the crime without a word. He returns a few moments later with a glass of water, he even added in a few ice cubes for you.

“Think you’re all grown up because you’ve had your first puff?” he wonders, “Never heard you swear before, darlin’.” he finishes as he hands the glass to you.

“I swear… I’m allowed to swear, Ryu.” you answer defiantly.

Cute, he thinks. You really are trying to sound all big and bad for him. But he’s never going to take you seriously after that little display, you’re just a little girl trying to act tough. A cute girl trying to be the cool girl.

But you both know you’re far from cool. A cool girl wouldn’t care so much about pleasing her brother and being a good girl for him. A cool girl would do whatever she wants without fear of the consequences.

At least you’re trying, he thinks.

You glug and you glug until you soothe the suffocating dryness in your chest. He’s transfixed on a droplet of water clinging to the corner of your mouth, unable to tear his gaze as it begins to run down your face. And he can’t think of a cuter sight than you still trying to be the cool girl, wiping it away with the back of your hand before he can notice despite it being much too late for that.

“C-Can I do some more?” you ask him, big wet eyes blinking at him as you hope he’s still willing to guide you.

“Think you can handle it?” he asks. “Get some more water.” he commands, not even letting you answer first. It’s probably the right call, though, you’re hardly going to be accustomed to the feeling of smoke contaminating your insides after one heavy inhale.

You follow his pathing from moments before, getting yourself some water and fresh ice cubes before returning and facing him again. You drink so much; he grabs your wrist and moves the glass away from your lips before you down the whole thing.

He lets out a heavy breath as he holds the blunt and sees how your lips immediately part for him this time without being asked. Fast learner. His thumb pulls at the metal wheel twice, each time it sounds make your eyes flicker further open.

“Breeeathe.” he demands, and you obey. You take it waaaay better this time, holding it for longer after he pulls the lighter away and takes the blunt from your lips. “That’s it, atta girl.” he smiles as you slowly exhale, only coughing a little bit. Your little hands are immediately reaching for the glass of water you set down moments before.

“I feel…” you try and think, eyes darting around the room in search of the right words to use. Your eyes close without your permission, humming happily as you embrace the feeling, a cheery smile visible on your face. “Weird…” you giggle, deeming it the only appropriate word that springs to mind.

“Is that right, baby? Feelin’ weird?”

“Mhmm.” you sigh, dreamily, letting the feeling consume you wholly. You want to melt into the couch beneath your thighs; and you involuntarily begin to lean back into the plush leather before Ryusei stops you. “My eyes are hurting, Ryusei…”

“Mm, I’ll bet. They’re all bloodshot, princess. Think you’re high.” he smirks.

“Wan’ some more.” you tell him, reaching to take the blunt from his hold. He moves his hand away. The fat, brown joint just out of your tired reach. And fuck he can’t stop his cock from twitching when you don that pout. That pretty little pout that you can’t stop yourself from displaying any time you’re disheartened. “P—lea, p-please…” your lower lip juts out further.

“C’mere.” he instructs you, his empty hand patting at his adjacent thigh. He sees the hesitation in your eyes. The little protest lodged in your throat as you think what a bad idea this could be. Why does he want you to sit on his lap? Your heart is racing with possibilities. Is he going to try and kiss you? Or is it simply an easier position for him to help you smoke? “Move, baby, now.” his voice is firm, almost scary. Your movements are slow, but you find yourself moving on his order regardless.

You go to him, but he stops you as you try and sit nicely in his lap. It isn’t quite what he had in mind. He doesn’t want to baby you like the princess you want to be for him. You’re like a ragdoll as he positions you, limbs loose beneath his touch until you realise you’re straddling him. His legs are spread wide, relaxed, and you’re hovering above him a little.

“Open your mouth f’me.” you’re like a robot, complying with each and every command he issues without hesitation.

You’re too good, too perfect. And Ryusei Shidou is quite the opposite; he’ll ruin you if you aren’t careful.

But right now, you couldn’t care less.

Your dewy lips part, wider than they had earlier until Ryusei seems satisfied. He’s relieved you’re only hovering over him, or you’d have definitely felt the way his dick twitched at the sight of your pudgy lips widening for him.

He relaxes, fully, his own eyes becoming more bloodshot as the minutes go by. Weed doesn’t affect him like it used to, not in the way it’s affecting you. But he’s calm. All of his thoughts are collected, and he feels at peace. It’s probably the reason he’s being so brazen and not giving a second thought to the consequences of being with you anymore.

While you’re waiting for his vision to be realised, while you’re waiting for the reason as to why he wants you in this position with your lips spread, he lights up the blunt once again. You watch him through a heavy-lidded stare as he takes a hefty inhale.

You sense him planning something, the cogs whirring sinfully in his mind as he looks between your eyes and your lips as he inhales the smoke deeper and deeper into his lungs. He rests his arm over the rest of the couch, harbouring zero consideration for the potential ash staining the cream carpet below.

He tries to close the distance between your bodies, and you instinctively jolt away from him, your lips clamping shut just as quickly. As much as he wants to smile, to laugh, his lips remain neutral and sealed. His empty hand holds the small of your back. His fingers drift, trailing up the column of your spine. He flattens his palm between your shoulder blades, pushing your face and body closer to his. His right hand remains between your shoulder blades, the other coming around to tug your viscid lower lip until your mouth is ajar. He leans in, closer. The closest he’s ever been to you in the entire time you’ve known him.

He's going to kiss you.

Your heart is thumping, the intense beating, hammering your heart through blood, muscle tissue and flesh. Your eyes close instinctively, and at that, he does smirk.

His eyes alternate between yours, and your gloss covered lips. And then his are ghosting yours, not close enough to touch but not far enough for you to not feel their presence. His gaze becomes heavy, lustful as he observes you. He’s fixated on how you react as he blows the smoke from his lungs into yours.

Your eyes widen as you realise he isn’t kissing you, but your mind is hazy as you realise what he is doing. His lungs shrink as he empties them, but he doesn’t move. He smiles, though, and you fucking feel it. He’s waiting patiently to see just how desperate you are for him to kiss you.

Your breathing is intense. He can hear each breath you take through your nose as you try and compose yourself. You try and calm down and hide your burning shame from him. He knew what you’d assume and chose not to correct you. Just to see you squirm.

But you want to kiss him.

You want him to kiss you.

He chuckles lightly when he sees a nervous little gulp plummet down your throat, he’s sure if he blinked he would have missed it. He wonders if your eyes always vibrate so intensely when you’re nervous.

“Did you like that?” he whispers, his lips still inching away from yours. You feel each and every breath it takes for him to speak that sentence.

“Yeah…”

“Yeah?”

“Mm… mhmm…” you nod, eagerly and yet somehow still awkwardly. “D— Can you do it again?” you whisper. It’s so meek and downright precious he can feel pre fucking ooze out of his tip.

He adjusts his position, nodding, his lips almost catching yours but not quite before he pulls away to smoke some more. Your lips part beautifully and he’s smiling sinisterly yet again. His hand travels from your back to hold the crown of your head, you can’t back away this time, not that you’d want to. He’s keeping you in place as he slowly begins to puff smoke past your desperate lips.

You moan, involuntarily, as you feel your mind cloud and your body grow wearier. But still, you can’t get enough. You can’t fully satiate your desires of intoxication. Not with drugs. Not with attention. Not with touch. You need him. More of him.

“Baby?” you hear him mumble, his lips clumsily toying with yours as he refuses to fully close the gap between them. “I think ya wanna kiss me.”

You squeak, almost, a high pitch whine sounding through your nose as the uncomfortable statement surges through you. Were you so pitifully obvious the whole time? You lean in closer, attempting to close the separation between you. But he pulls away, ever the tease, and he can’t help but relish the whimper that claws its way up your throat.

“You ever even kissed anyone?” he asks, closing the gap once again. “Y’know, since you’re such a good girl.”

You feel the tips of your ears and face begin to sear with heat, embarrassment flooding through your blood. You nod, defiantly, doing all you can to assure him you’re not the big loser he seems to think you are.

“I have… ‘ve had boyfriends before… Ryu…” you tell him, though it’s still a little humiliating.

“So,” he starts, his hand holds your hip as he adjusts himself slightly. Thumb stroking your side calmly, despite his cock driving ever so gently into your core as he moves. Not hard enough to set off alarm bells, but just enough to leave a lasting impression. He bites lip and releases it just as fast as his eyes rake over you, and you feel so small under his stare, despite him being the one looking up at you. His fingers weave and comb through your hair until he gets a tight enough grip. Your noses are touching before he tilts his head, your lips barely lingering on one another’s as you each fight against fully committing. “If I kiss you right now, it’s gonna be worth my time?” he whispers.

In truth, it’s been a while since you kissed anyone. You haven’t had a boyfriend since high school and that seems like a lifetime ago now. But you don’t want to go another second without feeling his lips fully pressed against yours. So, you nod. It’s weak and unconvincing, but you nod anyway.

It’s enough for him. In truth, he wouldn’t have cared if you’d never been kissed before. He’d be more than happy to teach you, though he’s sure he’ll teach you plenty anyway. He’s going to turn you into a masterpiece; one that has been created only for him to enjoy.

His lips slot against yours and it’s like an explosion. You’ve been fucking starved for him, and you can barely remember to breathe as it intensifies. Suctioning sounds repeat as you kiss without stopping. Neither of you remember to come up for air until you’re gasping.

Your lips part divinely as his tongue pushes past them and it’s so rapturous as your little wet muscle meets his. He groans, loudly, as he licks and swipes all while you’re moaning pathetically into his mouth. He bets your soaked, he’s rock hard and leaking like a virgin getting his first hand job after all.

“Stick out your tongue.” he tells you, and like always, you do as you’re told. He licks at it, swirls his own tongue around it. He sucks it until he’s heady with lust.

His body collapses against the back of the couch, and like the perfect pet you follow him. You can’t stop making out with him now. You can’t possibly get enough. You doubt it would even be enough to crawl inside his skin and live out the rest of your days there.

You’re addicted to him.

He pushes your body down so that your crotch is fully pressed into his. The feeling of his throbbing cock almost entirely against your panty-clad mound is a surprise to say the least, you hadn’t expected it and your surprised expression gives you away instantly. But he doesn’t comment right away, instead, he grinds his crotch against yours as you carry on kissing. Your breath fans across his face, you’re delirious from the sensation of him being against you like this, you’ve never known anything quite like it.

“Feel what you��re doin’ to me?” he chuckles, parting away from you enough to look up at you again and lick his lips. But you chase him, you think you might stop breathing if you deny yourself of him. Your tongue pushes past the seam of his lips, and of course he doesn’t object. He feels your little wet muscle searching for something, and he can’t contain the amused scoff when he realises you were tracking down his gold tooth, the tip of your tongue licking it from behind all of the way to the front until you reach his gums. “Fuck… you’re filthy.” he informs you before kissing you again.

You giggle before he yanks at your hair. Flirtatious laughter being forced into a tantalising gasp, your head angled so that you’re looking up at the ceiling above. The column of your neck is almost enough to make him cum. It’s so fucking bare. So pure and untainted. He wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you. To cover you in hickeys and bite marks so that everyone knows what he fucking did to you.

But he knows, deep down, it isn’t worth it. It isn’t worth the questions and the bullshit and the drama. Not this time, anyway. Instead, he leaves gentle kisses and soft suckles against your skin. His tongue leaves fat, wet stripes over your throat and pulse point, hot breath fanning over them between kisses. You’re keening for him as his lips begin to ascend. You’re shuddering against him as he breathes heavily, deliciously, into your ear. His hand drifts to squeeze your tit over your crop top as he continues to breathe thickly into your ear canal. The intensity forcing your skin to break out in goosebumps.

You mewl, and it’s a fucking siren song as he sucks on your earlobe. He drives his covered cock up into you as he takes the cartilage between his teeth, alternating between that and sucking like he’s trying to get milk from nipple.

“Does anyone else know what a naughty little thing you are?” he talks directly into your ear, thumb rubbing over the thin material of your top, your hardened nipples unfortunately hidden behind your push up bra. “Or do you only get like this f’me?”

“Jus’ you…” you sigh, your arm wraps around his neck so that you can hold his head the same way he had yours. Tiny little fingers toy with blonde and pink tufts, he groans slightly at the comforting feeling.

“Darlin’… you know you have to pay, don’tcha?” he asks. It’s so out of the blue, you push away from him. He grins as he watches the confusion and horror take over your facial expression. You were so blissfully at peace, lost in the feeling of his lips and his touch all over your body. “Drugs aren’t free, y’know.”

“B-But…” you think, panicking, “I— nii-chan only left me enough for emergencies…” you tell him, hoping he’ll take pity on you. He offers a fake little pout, tutting at your excuse. It’s so feeble and pathetic and he loves how easy it is to mess with you.

“Awe, baby.” he offers faux sympathy, his thumb stroking over your cheek yet again. “You better do what I say then, yeah? Gonna have to keep bein’ a good girl f’me, ‘n then we can forget the whoooole thing.”

“What do you want me to—”

He thrusts his hips up, and you lose balance, falling perfectly into his arms. He tugs at your crop top, urging you to take it off. You start pulling it upwards, though it’s too slow for his liking. He yanks it over your head, getting a quick eyeful of your tits and aqua blue bra before he sucks hard into the fat flesh of your breasts.

You’re too busy moaning, rolling your hips against him to notice he has unclasped your bra with one hand. He pulls carefully at the straps, ridding you of the material covering part of your modesty. He bites his lip and breathes heavily as he ogles them. You feel the way his cock pulses against your cunt.

“S’fuckin’ pretty—” he muses. You feel different, now. You’re fully on display for him and you are completely at his mercy. Your rational mind is telling you to give him the emergency money your brother left and send him on his way. But sadly for you, your poor neglected pussy wants him to stay and have his way with you. “You’ve gotta suck my cock, baby. Now.” he demands.

Your heartrate sky-rockets. Things are moving so fast you can barely process it at all. You look down between your thighs and see the ever-growing bulge in his shorts. Can you argue with him? Reason with him? It doesn’t matter either way, you’re already sliding carefully onto the ground and getting down on your knees between his spread legs. You aren’t sure where to start. Everything you think about doing dies a sudden death with each new idea that comes to the forefront of your mind.

“Pull it out, hurry up.”

Little hands shake as nimble fingers grip onto the waistband of his shorts. You pull and you pull and he lifts his body to help in your efforts. He almost grunts as his cock springs free, pearlescent pre leaking a ton from his twitching slit.

“Mmmm…” he moans as he grips his cock at the base, shaking it a few times so that the tip hits your nose softly, soupy liquid sticking to you as he does. “Be a good girl, show me how bad you can be.”

There’s not a single universe where you’re successfully concealing your apprehension from him, though he thinks nothing of it. He thinks you’re nervous because you’ve had a crush on him for quite some time now and you don’t want to disappoint him. Your hands carry on shaking as you grab onto his length. He’s huge, both of your little hands are holding him in your grasp and there’s still more of his thickness unable to be held.

You think to start off you should clean the tip; you lick and lave over his throbbing head and your face scrunches as you register the warm tanginess permeating your tastebuds.

His body almost dissolves into the couch as you start to take more and more of him. He shoos your hands away and holds himself so that you can balance your hands on his thighs. His free hand holds your head, forcefully attempting to shove you further and further down on his length until you’re choking on him. You’re spitting and sputtering just like you had when you smoked.

“S’cute.” he moans. The light praise encourages you to keep trying for him. So, you do, try. You try to give him mind blowing head. You try to remember to use your tongue to keep him nice and stimulated as you bob up and down on his cock. You even remember one of your friends telling you that squeezing your thumbs stops you from gagging as much.

But it’s all in vain.

Ryusei hisses, flinching from an amalgamation of too much teeth and not enough spit. He snatches you away by your hair, seeing red veins stabbing through the whites of your eyes as they begin to gloss over. A watery sheen telling him of your deepest shame and embarrassment.

“Are you a fucking virgin, baby?” he wonders. His cock spills more pre as he sees tears fall from your eyes and cascade down your cheeks. The little sniffles you can’t stop are a symphony to him and he can see the way your throat is choking back audible cries. He can hear the little croaks trapped there, though, poor thing. “Never sucked a cock before, have you?”

“’m s-so sorry.” you stop fighting your losing battle as you start to cry, utterly humiliated that your secret has come to light because you did such a terrible job giving head. “I’ll— g-get my purse ‘n then you can just g-o. I’m sor—”

He leans forward, hand snaking between your thighs to cup your cunt. “Never had a cock in her, huh? What about fingers? Anybody ever ate your pussy, sweetheart?”

“N-Nothing!” you speak, almost defiantly though that wasn’t your intention. You’re feeling vulnerable and defensive. You’re embarrassed, and he has his hand somewhere nobody has ever touched you before. “Only kissed before…”

“Mmm… no wonder you’re so wet.” he speaks, though he isn’t seeking a reply. He’s simply musing to himself. He should have known, really. When would you get a chance to fuck and learn how to suck cock when your brother practically holds you hostage in this shit hole apartment? “I won’t fuck you, today. You’re not gonna suck my cock either. Come here.” he continues, he grabs both of your wrists and drags you back to your previous position with little effort. You’re above him, again, your thighs straddling his. “Stand up, actually.” he orders, you obey.

Your tits are still exposed and you’re standing in nothing but your pleated mini skirt and silk panties beneath. He twirls his finger, encouraging you to do a spin for him. You complete it, quickly, your skirt raising ever so slightly and exposing a peak of pink silk before you find a neutral position once more.

“Slower.” he tells you, so you spin again. Slower, just for him. “Stop.” he tells you when your back is facing him.

“Is something wrong, ah—!” you yelp as he ruthlessly kicks the inside of your ankles until your legs are spread apart from each other.

“Bend over, put your hands on the table.” he instructs you. You’re slow in doing so, not wanting to rush this time; though you still feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your skirt rides up, the pink silk completely covering your most precious secret. Though he grunts at the sight, unable to control himself. His jaw clenches and bubbles at the sight of brunette curls peaking from the sides of your panties. “Holy shit, fuck.” he sibilates, thick long fingers hooking into the pink silk. He wastes no time tearing them from your body, shoving them into the pocket of his hoody.

He grabs the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh under your little skirt and parting your pussy lips in the process. He’s enamoured by the sight, the way your arousal has soaked your pubic hair. It’s shimmering, he can’t help but to touch and toy with your pubes when they’re taunting him like this. He can’t remember the last time he fucked a girl with a cute bush of hair like yours. It’s always fucking waxed and landing strips and of course he won’t complain, but seeing your intimate form in all of it’s glory like this… you’re perfect. You’re fucking holy.

He pushes a single finger hastily into your wet hole. You almost fall forward; you cry out from the feeling of being stretched for the very first time.

“Never shave this fucking pussy, yeah? Leave it like this f’me.”

You don’t reply, mind spiralling from the feeling of pain and pleasure as he burrows his finger in deeper and begins to curl it when he feels that perfect little spongy spot buried deep. Your cheeks are stained with glittering tears, the overbearing living room light not offering you any courtesy in that regard. Your tear-stricken face will be exposed to him, eventually.

Will he care?

Will he show concern?

Will he be sympathetic since he is the cause?

It appears not. He holds no consideration as he pummels a second finger inside of your gummy interior. He scissors them again and again and again until you’re practically screaming. It feels worse when he pushes against the spot. That spot that blinds your fucking vision.

“A-Ah. Aaah—!” you sob, scream, anything your body can physically project in your current state. It almost feels like an out of body experience. “Ouch! Ow, R-Ryusei. Hurts! Hurtin’ me—!” you explain. He wraps an arm around your midsection, fingers still cosy deep inside. He pulls you back, your spine flush against his chest. His hand moves from your stomach to your mouth, silencing your cries and whimpers as his fingers carry on battering your g-spot.

“Shhh, it’ll feel good in a minute.” he informs you. “Rub your clit, baby, show me how you touch this virgin cunt.” your entire body becomes scalding in an instant, the lewd language and very notion that you masturbate filling you with unease. But without question, your fingers find the swelling nub between your pussy and begin to rub and rub.

He rests his forehead against your shoulder, smiling down as he hears painful cries turn to libertine moans. His smothering hand frees your airways, allowing you to send your mewling into the airspace freely. He squeezes his cock, hard, and begins to masturbate himself. A sticky, clacking sound filling the room. It’s mixing in with the sound of your squelching cunt.

Your eyes cross as he finds a perfect rhythm with you. You’re sure you look like a bona fide whore, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re balancing on the balls of your feet with your legs spread open wide, putting your cunt on full display. Your left hand digs into the leather arm rest beside you, the only form of balance you have.

You’re so fucking loud. He’s never heard anyone scream or moan as loudly in his life, though he’s one to talk. He’s on the verge of cumming after so much torment and he couldn’t be more vocal if he tried.

“D-Do you want all the neighbours to hear what a little slut you are? Want ‘em to tell your brother you got fucked stupid while he was gone?” he asks, it’s rhetorical, of course. He doesn’t care that you’re being loud. He just wants to torment you, tease you and build that unadulterated shame that you’ve had embedded in you your whole life. You are the product of repressed sexual urges. Would you have let a drug dealer strip you and play with your cunt if you weren’t so desperate and needing to be toyed with?

“’m gonna c-cum. Fuck, Ryusei! Cumming f-for you—!” you cry, your walls squeezing his fingers until they feel close to breaking. “Oh my god…” you sob. Your poor little virgin slot throbbing and pulsating around his thick heavy fingers and you continue to cum for what feels like a lifetime. His curling fingers dragging out the feeling for as long as humanly possible.

“Hah- haah- ah, fuck!” he finishes, white, gluey fluid shooting up your back. He fucks his fist until he drains every last drop from his swollen balls. He admires his work, smearing the remaining residue on your ass cheek and your skirt. He wonders if you’ll remember to wash it, God forbid your stupid brother find a cum stain on it.

He scrapes his cum onto his fingers and orders you to face him. He brings his sperm to your lips, expecting you to know what to do.

“Eat.” he says. You hesitate. He wants you to what? It’s a liquid, you can’t eat it. Does he want you to lick his fingers? Put them in your mouth? He’s sick of waiting, however, forcing them by your lips until the bitter taste coats your tongue. “Eat it.” he looks at you with venom in his stare.

You hold his hand sweetly with both of yours. He watches you as you suck his fingers, internally thinking how much better you are doing this than you are at sucking cock. He bears his teeth, the golden one glimmering in your eye once again as you continue to clean the cum from his digits.

“Thaaaat’s it, good girl. It’ll get the taste of weed out of your mouth.” he tells you. You finish sucking, releasing his fingers with a gentle pop before placing his hand back on your thigh.

He allows his fingers to lightly caress your skin. The pads carefully glide over you as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him for the final time during this encounter. But he wanted to fuck you, didn’t he? He wanted you to suck him off properly, too. He’ll let it go for today, but this certainly won’t be the one and only time you’ll bare it all for him.

You still owe him for the weed, after all.

He thinks he might set up a depraved little payment plan for you.

2K notes · View notes

syoddeye · 5 months ago

Text

the warren, part eleven - outsider

price x f!reader | series page | ao3 tags: dual pov, brief mention of missing persons, supernatural elements, firearms/gunshot, pursuit, possessive john price a/n: kyle takes you on a walk in the woods. 🔪

John stalks the woods for hours, his steps silent, his presence loud. No cougars, no wolves, no bears cross his path. Even the coyotes keep their distance. All of them scatter when they scent him upwind. Only the slivers of orange far off remain—hunters fumbling in the undergrowth, cursing as he chases their quarries off from a distance.

The predators on the mountain cut him a wide berth, instinctual or otherwise. They smell it in the air, the thing he carries, the thing he is. They must feel it radiating from the pit in his chest like a second heartbeat. All the animals know, just as the townspeople know. They sense the natural order, and they know where he sits.

At the top, enthroned, watching with an unmatched hunger.

And man and beast are the same at their core. Driven to eat, to mate, to breed. But the thing inside him, what carved itself a home there so long ago, is neither. It wants all of those things and more. It wants to bind his pretty liar to him in ways man's words and vows never could. He can taste the thought of her, of their children, and the hunger gnaws at him so fiercely his teeth ache.

He rakes his nails over the meat of his thighs as she squirms in her sleep. She's feeling it—the pull, the call that brought her here, just like MacTavish, just like all the others. It lures them in, makes them stupid, but she's different. It's different this time.

In the morning, he'll comfort her. Give it to her again. Trap her in the snare of his arms, ask about her dreams with his mouth to her neck and a few loads of his spend hot against the plug of her womb.

It's bound to take one of these days.

They've been going at it like, well.

John wraps his fist around himself under the sheets, and watches her toss and turn. She doesn't yet understand the weight of what's unfolding. But he knows. She's his. There is no leaving this place.

She will know the seasons here. The leaves will burn red and gold before falling. The frost will creep in until the bay hardens to glass. And through it all, she will be with him, bound to the land and to him. Full of him.

His pulse beats hard in his palm.

And if she needs convincing, he has experience.

~~~~

There's a note tucked under the corner of the mat when Kyle returns after lunch. It wasn't there this morning nor at lunch. He has half a mind to request a camera from Shepherd, contemplating a discreet mount above his door.

It's from the motel front desk, scrawled on a piece of branded note paper. An unnamed woman called and left a message for him—Grouse Bay Grocery, open til 7.

Not ominous at all.

Kyle knows the proprietor is John Price. Everyone he's spoken to knows of him, but no one has offered much more. No one seems willing to share more than the basics. In this town, the badge doesn't carry weight. It only makes people clam up, smile stiffly.

And here, it's an even harder sell. You're not from here. You're here to get people in trouble. That's what they see first.

He isn't oblivious. He understands to a degree. He's an outsider. Towns like Ponderosa and Grouse Bay don't care for being poked at, and the fact he's asking tough questions doesn't help. His real mistake, however, was assuming that someone, anyone, would want answers.

He stares at the note in his hand. Maybe it means he's found someone who does.

Kyle squints, glancing from the note to the woman behind the counter. The poorly disguised look of surprise on her face confirms she wasn't expecting him.

When he saw her through the glass before coming in, he'd felt an unexpected wave of relief. After seeing her in the passenger seat of that truck, next to the scowling man with a bad haircut, he worried his case folder would grow by one. Yet here she is, alive, but the question swims in his thoughts: who left the note, if not her?

She's with a customer, so he drifts to a revolving stand of postcards. Half of them are coated in dust. Not a popular destination to write from, apparently. Still, one catches his eye, its pun curling his lip into a dry smile: Having a bay-utiful time in Grouse Bay!

Yeah. If only.

When the bell above the door chimes, he takes the aisle that leads straight to her, making sure she sees him coming. He slips off his sunglasses and hands over the postcard.

"Two fifty."

"Two fifty?" He echoes, pushing a soft laugh and smile, thumbing through his wallet. "For a postcard?"

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Sorry, I don't set—"

"I'm just teasing," He cuts in, warm enough to smooth over her nerves. "I know you're not responsible for the price."

She smiles tight and takes the money, turning to make change at the register, and his eyes narrow.

"What happened there? Looks painful."

She stiffens, brushing over the cut on her forehead, the sheen of drying ointment catching the light. There's a delay, a loaded one he immediately recognizes and loathes.

"I fell. I live at the top of—I fell. Loose gravel."

He leaves the opportunity for her to continue or alter course. He knows she's lying. And she knows he knows.

"Right." He counters with the note when she mechanically offers his change. "Did you leave a message at a motel today?"

Her lips press into a flat line. "No?"

"Any ideas on who might have? Would've been a woman."

Her eyes flick back to his. "I don't know anything about it."

"Interesting," Kyle slides the note across the counter, tapping a finger against a corner. "'Cause despite its brevity, it seems like an invitation. And it brought me here. To you."

Her shoulders stiffen, and she glances at the door. "I don't know why anyone would…" She trails off, frowning, and when she continues, it's clear she's choosing her words carefully. "Are you—I recognize you."

"Do you?"

"I saw you. Yesterday. First, at the coffee shop, then after when I was with a friend." She pauses. "Are you here for the season or…?"

Kyle lets the silence stretch long enough for her visible discomfort to deepen. He smiles, and there's no humor in it. "No. I'm not. 'Least, I'm on a different hunt." Her gaze darts toward the door again, but before she feeds him some excuse, he takes his chance. Withdrawing his badge from the inner pocket of his jacket, he lays it out for her reference. "You met my colleague, Phillip Graves, outside The Echo Diner, isn't that right?"

Her throat bobs as she swallows, hands curling over the edge of the counter, thumbs worrying at the edge of a missing strip of plastic. When she finally looks at him, her eyes seem larger than they were a moment ago. "Am I in trouble?"

The question sets something off in the back of Kyle's mind. The meekness in her voice is different from what he's heard before from hedging witnesses. No, it's sincere, and with the cut on her forehead, it's probably in her nature to placate.

She's scared.

Not only of him, or the badge. Probably deeper than that. Of authority. Maybe men, too.

"No. You're not in trouble. I just want to have a conversation, Miss…?"

And on the third check of the door, she gives her name. Makes him wonder if Mr. Price is supposed to be in soon.

"You expecting someone?"

"No, but if a customer...This isn't a good time to talk."

Kyle nods. "I can respect that. How about after close? Seven, right?" He gestures over his shoulder. "We could meet at The Foxhole."

Her hesitation is immediate. "No. That won't work."

"Okay…What if I come back here?"

"Not here either."

He frowns and runs his tongue along his bottom teeth. He doesn't want to scare her off, but—"What's your address, then? I'll pop by. It shouldn't take long."

A piece of the laminate snaps off under her finger and catapults across the counter. She stares at the shard of fake wood.

"You're not in trouble," Kyle reassures, slipping his badge back into his jacket. "The sooner I get what I need, the sooner I can be out of yours and everyone's hair."

That tips her head up. With reluctance, she gives the address. It's up the hill. Dark red cabin, lots of cats. Can't miss it. Eight o'clock, to give her time to eat.

"Eight it is."

"Eight."

"See you soon."

Kyle feels her eyes on the back of his head all the way to the car.

She wasn't kidding about the cats. There must be at least a dozen.

He parks down the drive. The sun's dipping lower, shadows starting to stretch over the property. The woods are dense, walling in the cabin. The further in, they seem to pull the light right out of the air. He notes the woodshed and the sagging carport, but the cabin itself appears sturdy enough. Beaten up, sure. In need of care, definitely. But standing.

The lights are on. So, hopefully, she's still willing to meet.

When she opens the door, it smells like garlic, onions, and warmth, but her posture is cold, standing in the doorway like a one-woman blockade. She doesn't invite him in. Doesn't want him here at all, most likely.

So, he offers an alternative. Tosses the line and waits to see if she bites.

"Why don't we go for a walk instead?"

"A walk."

"Yeah. Explore a bit. Walk and talk."

"Aren't you worried about the wild life?"

He pats his hip. Smiles just enough to gentle her. She's close, almost in reach. Whoever made that call had a reason for him to meet her, and whatever she knows, he needs.

"We won't go far. I'm armed. I promise I won't let anything get you."

After a moment, she steps inside. A minute later, she returns, bundled in an oversized men's coat, the shoulders too broad, the sleeves shoved up past her wrists. There's a torch stuffed in one pocket, its weight dragging the fabric crooked.

She locks the door with a resigned sigh.

"Well, let's walk and talk."

Kyle doesn't bring up Graves right away. Better to let the mood settle, not risk her bolting.

The sun sinks lower, the light thinning, the temperature dropping. She crouches every few steps, picking up and inspecting rocks, brushing off dirt and moss to collect them. He's not much for the outdoors himself. Knows his way around a forest if he has to, but he's never felt the need to romanticize it.

"Tell me how you met Graves. Did you approach him, or did he approach you?"

"He came up to me outside the diner. We barely spoke then." She shrugs, one shoulder hitching under the oversized jacket. "It wasn't much of a conversation."

"'Then'. Did you meet a second time?" That's news.

"Mhm. He came by my cabin." She gestures in the direction from where they came.

"So it's your cabin?"

"No," She shakes her head. "I'm renting. Visiting."

"Yeah? Whereabouts are you from? Long trip?"

"Yeah, far." She searches the ground. It's a dodge, but he lets it sit. "I read about this place. It kind of called to me."

Kyle hums. He doesn't press. She hasn't shut the literal or figurative door on him yet.

"Not the first time I've heard that." It's the truth. Several townsfolk echoed the same refrain. Nature has that effect, he supposes. "Mind tellin' me about his visit?"

Her exhale is halfway to a groan. She picks up a pebble and tosses it into the undergrowth. "You promise I'm not in trouble?"

He smiles. "Unless you're about to confess to a crime? No."

She sighs, then leans against a tree. Another deep breath, and she starts talking.

While Graves neglected to mention his house call, her story aligns with what he shared before going AWOL. For the life of him, Kyle can't imagine what the man was thinking.

Graves was supposed to be investigating cold cases—a string of disappearances spanning decades. Perfect place for it with the forests, rocky terrain, lake, and hundreds of abandoned mining tunnels. Of course, the area was a magnet for murderers. Serial killers. Culty, domestic terrorists. Hundreds of miles of unpoliced remoteness? Fucking catnip for criminals.

Made for terrible work. A punishing non-punishment for open complaints with internal affairs and human resources. When Graves got the assignment, he and Shepherd dragged their heels for weeks until he was all but forced onto a plane.

Kyle doesn't know what he did to inherit it all. Clearly, something awful in a past life.

Phil's last official communication was cryptic at best. Notes about an accident that left three men dead. Something Kyle would brush off, but Phil didn't volunteer out of the goodness of his heart, even if a local agency asked. So why this? Why a crash that has nothing to do with the cold cases? Why knock on this woman's door, only to erase her from the report entirely?

Until, near the end, she shares quite the revealing detail—

"And then he asked me out. Kind of. I said no."

She is Phil's type.

"Sorry to hear that. He can be a bit…uncouth." Paging, Internal Affairs.

She stifles a laugh. The flashlight appears in her hand, clicking on to cast a wide beam of light at their feet. "Should we head back? It's a little too dark for my comfort."

"We should."

They walk in silence, the woods quieting down at this hour, until she asks, "Any idea what happened to Phil? I should tell you, I tried texting him once or twice to follow up. He never replied."

Another flag. This whole time, ever since Shepherd mentioned Graves's missed check-ins, he figured the guy finally lost it. Got tired of the write-ups for his sketchy, borderline-aggressive behavior, creeping out interns and agents. Maybe he used his connections to go off-grid. Bold and brainless, but his style exactly.

"Can't tell you that, I'm afraid," Kyle offers a hand as they approach a wide fallen tree. "Active investigation, y'know."

She pauses mid-step over the log, her hand in his, face partly lit by the torch. "Phil…You don't think something—"

A twig snaps somewhere off to their left, sharp enough to cut her words in half. Both their heads jerk in the same direction. The beam follows, slicing through the underbrush and landing on a wall of green. Leaves and branches part, forming a gap for a pair of glowing yellow eyes. The air turns, smelling like wet dog.

"Oh God," Her fingers crush his as she scrambles over the tree. "G-Garrick, your gun, get your gun—"

The light shakes violently in her hand. Her voice climbs into a thin, shrill note that breaks just shy of a scream. She lets go, stumbling backward.

"Stay calm," He says, though his pulse jumps. His hand drops to his hip. "Don't run. Whatever you do, don't run."

The thing in the bushes chuffs, the sound wet, almost choked, like a clogged pipe. Then, the eyes begin to shift—upward.

Shit. Wolf? No, too big. His stomach sinks. Bear?

He doesn't get a chance to confirm. The moment the thing starts to rise, the light jerks away—and she ignores his instruction completely. She bolts.

"Fuckin' hell." Kyle pulls his pistol, pivoting as he takes off after her.

Behind him, the low growl deepens, turning angrier and guttural. Then the bush explodes. The thing tears through it, branches cracking like toothpicks.

The thing gets louder, closer. Gaining ground and fast. Kyle grips the Glock tighter, trying to steady his breathing, when something barrels into his side—a blunt, dense weight, like a battering ram. His hip explodes with pain, and he staggers, slamming into the rough bark of a tree.

"Shit." He hisses through his teeth, twisting to stay upright. Leaves crunch under its feet to the left and behind him. He feels the heat of the thing's breath, the stink of its damp fur.

Ahead, the light swings back, catching him full in the face. He flinches, blinded. Over the thunder of his pulse in his ears, he hears his name. He doesn't answer.

Instead, he fires.

The shot cracks through the air, and the creature lets out a high, grating and horrid scream.

He doesn't wait to see it fall, can't with the spots in his eyes, anyway. He shoves off the tree and runs toward the light, ignoring the searing pain in his side.

"Run!"

Kyle grabs her wrist, pulling her with him. She stumbles, but he keeps pulling until she matches his pace. Everything narrows to the thud of their feet.

He keeps his head slightly turned, straining to listen, but he doesn't hear their pursuer. All he hears is a thin, high whimper, and it fades as they put distance between themselves and it. He steals a look at her as the cabin comes into view. All he sees are the whites of her eyes, wide with terror.

They cross into the cabin's clearing, rounding the corner. Kyle releases her wrist as they head for the front door. Cats cluster beneath her car, their eyes flashing orange and green.

He slumps against the wall under the cabin's light, and runs a hand over his side, wincing as his fingers skim the tender, bruised skin beneath his shirt. No warmth, no wetness—no blood, then—but the ache is deep, radiating with each inhale. Cracked rib, probably. He shifts his grip on the torch, crossing it over the Glock.

The beam reveals nothing but the branches in the wind.

Beside him, she frantically digs through her coat. "The keys…I must've dropped the keys—" She turns out her pockets, scattering the stones she collected.

Kyle spares her a glance, his jaw tight.

Fucking wonderful.

He keeps the torch fixed on the tree line. "Right. Reach into my jacket. Take my keys. We're gonna run for my car. You take passenger, alright?"

Her answer is her trembling hand slipping into his pocket, closing around the fob and key. The second she withdraws, they break into a sprint again. His side throbs with every step.

The tail lights flash, and they split around the SUV, wrenching the doors open and slamming them shut. Kyle drops a fist on the lock, immediately checking the rearview before twisting his neck to scan behind them. Nothing.

He takes the keys, holstering his gun with a grunt. The engine hums to life, a miniscule comfort, but his mind is elsewhere, thinking of the creature. Absurdity overtakes fear and leaks through the adrenaline. A trained federal agent, running from what? An animal? It's ridiculous. Still, he's not going to let some mangy, overgrown dog be the thing that ends him.

Kyle drags in a sharp breath, wiping sweat from his brow. "What the fuck was that?"

"No idea, no clue," She shakes her head, hand twitching toward him. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm alright. Got a good lick in, but I'm solid."

Her face softens with worry, adrenaline wearing off. "Thank you, by the way. I'm sorry. For running."

He licks his lip, measuring his words. "It's okay. It's instinct. Hard to overrule."

"Regardless, thanks."

Her face, and all its earnestness, makes his ribs and hip hurt more. He turns his attention away. After a few minutes, it's clear the thing either limped off to lick its wounds or its corpse is cooling. Either way, the night isn't over.

"Well, your cabin's out of the question," Kyle huffs, wincing. "Got somewhere to stay tonight?"

"My boyfriend's place."

He cuts her a look in the mirror, but she's shifting in her seat, fishing a phone from her jeans. It's old, one of those indestructible brick models. It spawns a batch of questions, but he bites his tongue. Not his business.

"And where's that?"

"Down the hill," She murmurs, barely audible over the engine, thumb hovering over the buttons. "Attached to the store, around back."

It clicks into place after a beat. Kyle freezes, unsure if he heard right. Her boyfriend is her boss? John Price? Of course. This whole day just keeps getting better.

"Got it."

It takes only a few minutes to return to Grouse Bay proper. The Fox Hole is lit up, the only place alive on the otherwise dead main drag. Kyle fishes a card from his jacket as he turns onto the drive arcing around the store.

He hands the card over without looking. "Call me if you think of anything else about Graves. Anything." He pauses. "Or if anything else is troubling you. I'm staying across the lake, but I can come to you."

She takes the card, their fingers brushing. "Okay." She stuffs it into her jacket just as the back door bangs open.

John Price steps out into the light, and he's every bit as folks described. Strong, broad shoulders fill the doorway. Tall enough to skim the frame. The lines of his face, overlit by the exterior bulb, projecting authority. His fists rest on his hips, flannel sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing forearms thick with the muscle of a working man.

Kyle watches him, assessing. He'd bet the man's never set foot in a gym. No need.

"Oh," She mutters, scrambling out. There's a tremor in her voice he doesn't miss. "Hey John."

He follows. Doesn't need to, could just drive off, but Price is on his list anyway. He's come up too often to introduce himself, potential witness or otherwise. And her reaction makes him want to hang around. Ensure she's set.

"Wasn't expectin' you tonight, darl." John's head dips in Kyle's direction, sizing him up. "Who's your friend?"

"He's–"

Kyle rounds the SUV, hand outstretched. "Agent Kyle Garrick."

Price doesn't move from his perch, and that alone stops him in his tracks. It's a short-lived standoff. John doesn't look inclined to step down, and Kyle, in turn, rests his hand above the holster.

"We had a scare in the woods." Kyle says, watchful. She moves past him, hopping up onto the porch and into Price's side. His arm snakes around her, pulling her close to drop a long kiss to the top of her head, all while keeping his eyes locked on Kyle. "Not sure what it was. Wolf. Bear, maybe."

"That time of year…Whereabouts?"

"Behind the cabin."

"Go on a night hike?" A wry smirk bends his mouth.

"I insisted."

"Ah, your mistake, then." Price's grin spreads wide enough to show teeth. "Easy one to make as a visitor. Especially one so far from home, out of their element."

What a prick. Kyle files it away—possessive, defensive. The type to need to be the biggest man in any room. He doesn't rise to it, instead parrying with a calm smile at the woman tucked under Price's arm. "Sure you're alright?"

The hand atop her shoulder flexes.

"I'm good."

"Good." Kyle shifts his weight, taking in both of them. "If you don't mind, I'll take a look tomorrow, see if I can't find the body."

"If it died." Price says casually.

Their eyes meet, and Kyle scents it then—a whiff of something ferrous and sulfuric. Strong enough to wrinkle his nose. "Yeah. If it died. I'll look for your keys, too."

"Your keys?" Price asks, gaze flicking down to her briefly.

She shrugs sheepishly. "I think I dropped them when we were running."

Price chuckles, squeezing her tight. "We can grab new ones from Kate." He brushes another kiss over her temple. "Thanks for bringing this one back to me, Garrick."

It grates just enough to stir something in his chest. He ignores it.

"My pleasure. Glad to put a face to the name, too. I'll be by for a chat, Price." With a final nod, he starts toward his car.

"Lookin' forward to it, agent."

Kyle doesn't respond. He climbs into the driver's seat, gravel crunching beneath the tires as he swings the car around. In the rearview, their figures linger, framed by the porch light. Price holds her close, fixed on the car as it passes. Kyle doesn't look away either, until he must.

His attention snaps back to the road in time to brake hard, tires skidding as a young cat streaks across the headlights. "Fucker," he mutters, swerving slightly before continuing onto the street. His chest tightens, the adrenaline resurfacing in smaller, sharper waves.

Once he's on the road, he pulls his phone and dials. The line clicks after a ring.

"Sorry for the late call," He sighs. "I need you to run two names, in addition to those plates."

#the warren #price x reader #john price x reader #price x f!reader #john price x f!reader

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sundrop-writes · 1 month ago

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hi, so.. first, i ADORE how you write.

second, can i req how would teen wolf characters react to accidentaly sending reader nudes ?

AND THIRD, happy halloween!! BOO :3

(This was from Halloween, that's why it says 'Happy Halloween' lmao. That just goes to show how long I keep requests.)

So originally, I was gonna write three or four characters with this, but I just had so much fun writing Derek's version and I got so carried away with it, so... this is just Derek. So let me know if you want me to see this same prompt with other characters. (I would love to do this with Isaac, and I almost added him to this post, but my brain pooped out and got tired, oops.) This is similar to this post I did with Allison and Stiles, but I think I would still do this prompt with them because sending someone a nude is different from walking in on someone naked. And yeah - I had so much fun with this!! I love doing quick little requests like this.

How would Derek Hale react to you accidentally sending him a nude?

Warnings: I used fem!reader for this, so the reader is described as having breasts and a vagina; also, as with most of my fics, the reader is described as being plus-sized (because that kind of just turns into my default, and I don’t really care lmao); there is implied to be an age difference between Derek and the reader (the reader jokingly calls Derek ‘old man’); Derek thinks of the reader as ‘breedable’; there is a lot of sexual tension in this and sexual themes, but no explicit smut.

...

Derek was not a fan of technology. He didn’t like carrying a phone on his person, and if he lost it or broke it - he wasn’t rushing to replace it. If someone needed to contact him, they could come and find him in person. But Stiles and the other whiny brats constantly complained about him being ‘AWOL’, so he tried his best to keep stupid phone charged and keep it on his person. Especially now that Cora was around and again - if she needed him, she was likely the only person who seemed important enough to contact him with as much urgency as a smartphone demanded.

He hated the stupid screen - it felt so fragile, it felt far too small in his hand. And often, he forgot to turn the ringer off.

So he growled in frustration when his phone pinged with a text message, hoping that it was something he could ignore, and not some stupid impending danger again. He grabbed his phone off the charger where it was plugged in on his nightstand and squinted his eyes through the darkness, trying to adjust to the glaringly bright screen.

He was surprised when he saw your name. Stiles had loaded up a bunch of contacts when he had set up the phone for Derek, and it had included you - but you didn’t text Derek often. You paid him the courtesy of speaking to him in person, like he preferred, or calling him if you truly needed something. You often joked that you knew he didn’t like texting because he was ‘an old man’.

(It was a nickname that filled him with frustration, but he knew that he couldn’t relate to you - that you didn’t see him the same way that he saw you.)

Derek opened the message, praying that you weren’t in trouble and sending him the message as a discreet way to call for help.

Holy fuck.

It was a picture - a picture of your naked body.

His brain was almost having difficult comprehending it - but yes, that was you, spread out on your floral bedspread (which he knew was yours because you had given him safe harbor in your room more than once) - your beautiful breasts, completely bare, your thighs, curved and posed to be more appealing with your hips sticking out, the lovely roundness of your stomach, your lip being bitten just on the edge of the frame.

Derek couldn’t contain the growl that he let out - his fangs began digging into his lower lip, uncontrolled and feral like when he had been a young teenager as his cock swelled to life under the covers. He knew that his eyes must have been glowing brightly in the darkness as his blood thumped through his veins. He nearly shifted completely - he had to throw his phone across the room, had to get the picture away from his view in order to regain some of his self control.

You were just so fucking perfect, so plump, so breedable -

Derek had to pull himself together. He took some deep breaths, forcing his heart rate down, forcing himself out of the shift - though when he regained control of himself, his cock was still thumping with blood and achingly hard. He had been attracted to you for so damn long. Whenever he caught a whiff of your scent in a room, whenever you smiled at him, whenever you were forced to huddle behind him for safety, clinging onto him tight - it triggered something within him.

Something that screamed ‘mate’.

And seeing you naked, seeing your gorgeous body fully on display for him - it drove his instincts wild. He walked across the room and picked up his phone - of course, the screen was now cracked due to him throwing it. Damn stupid fragile thing. He considered texting you back, asking what you had meant by sending the photo. But he didn’t like texts.

He was supposed to meet with you tomorrow anyway.

He took a long shower where he definitely did not think about all the perfect curves of your naked body.

…

When Derek saw you the next day, it was for a regularly scheduled workout that the two of you had. You wanted him to train you to fight so that you could better defend yourself, and horribly, he offered up his services because he liked the way you worked in your workout leggings. (Even fighting with Allison for your time because he claimed that he was better qualified to teach you.) And, he was a protective Alpha who genuinely wanted you to be able to protect yourself - even if it meant that you were less in need of him to rip out the throats of your enemies.

When the two of you took a water break, sweating and winded, he finally got up the nerve to pull out his phone. You had been acting a bit skittish, and your heart had been racing since you had entered his apartment, but you hadn’t mentioned the photo. So he figured that he should be the one to bring it up.

“Hey, uh, there’s something I wanted to ask you.” He said, timidly reaching across the counter to grab his now damaged phone. (He was hoping that you wouldn’t ask how the screen had become cracked, because he hadn’t made up a feasible lie in his mind yet.) You stared at him with large, nervous eyes as he unlocked the phone and opened up your text from last night - one of the first ever you had sent him. “Did - did you mean to send this to me?”

He held out the cracked screen to you, and after taking only one glance at it, you hung your head in shame.

“I’m so sorry, Derek.” You rushed the words out. “That was for someone else - I typed in the wrong name, and - I - ugh. I’m so stupid.”

You covered your face with a hand, refusing to look at him. He hated that he couldn’t tell if your racing heart was from embarrassment, or if you were lying about your intentions and now simply regretting sending it to him. If you were lying, and it had been intended for him in the first place.

“Who was it for?” He asked, his voice calm and firm, staring at you with his usual intense gaze.

You were surprised that he asked this.

You were so thrown off by the question that you were willed into spitting out the truth.

“Just - just some guy I met online.” You stuttered out, now even more embarrassed to admit it. You had been horny and scarily desperate, looking for Tinder dates just outside of Beacon Hills. “We had been talking, and-”

“You let some guy you don’t even know see your body?” Derek replied, his tone still oddly calm, with just the slightest hint of accusation.

You thought that he was calling you a slut, when in fact - he was growing possessive. You were too good for this, too beautiful.

You were his.

No random man should be allowed to look at you.

“Jeez, calm down, Old Man.” You hurled back, spitting out the nickname as a defense mechanism. “You may be a big scary werewolf, but you’re not my Alpha, so-”

The finisher of ‘so you’re not in charge of me’ was abruptly cut off by Derek’s next dangerous, possessive words.

“I should be.” He growled out, his eyes flashing that deadly red.

It caused shivers down your spine, and caused a hot tingling between your thighs.

“Derek-” You gasped out.

“Delete him.” Derek ordered sharply. “Any other man that you’re talking to - delete them. You know that I’ll give you everything they never can.”

You almost dropped your phone rushing to do so - rushing to prove to Derek that he was the only man for you.

...

If you liked this, check out the rest of my Teen Wolf Masterlist

#requests #requested #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x reader #derek hale x you #derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale fanfiction

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 months ago

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Do you have sex toy recommendations specifically vibrators? I thought you made a post about it on your other blog but I couldn’t find it and I just threw away a 40 dollar flop from amazon. Lesson learned: don’t buy shit like that from amazon lest thou clit be fried and thy orgasm be mid

i do have a post about it somewhere on my main but it’s buried so deep finding it rn would be impossible

i recommend the womanizer clit suction toy to everyone who will listen to me 💀💀 i use the classic that’s abt 129 or smth but the pro is better at 200 and imo it’s way better than a vibe 🤝 it’s also very quiet and very strong.

for vibrators / rabbits, i highly recommend / buy lelo! but honestly any vibrator from a semi reputable sex toy company will be fine. a decent vibrator is gonna cost you a pretty penny anyhow but they have a fourty percent off coupon so one of their smaller bullet vibes will be around 50-60$ rn which is pretty good! its slightly cheaper to buy from their website directly, but i get most of my sex toys from pinkcherry bc the point system. and they have discreet packaging! i don’t really care for hitachi as but the wall plug one works better than the rechargeable if you’re looking to have one. it’s a decent wand vibe but i prefer the one lelo one. strong vibe, quiet, and portable for the smaller ones. the lilly or mia ones are probably your best bet ‼️

their rabbits go by different names but they’re all the same company i think.

don’t get anything from adam and eve if you can help it bc they will send you sex ads in the mail 💀

#zero;answers #select tmi;

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lilbardrhi · 6 months ago

Text

Home for the Holiday

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader/You CW: Mispronunciation of Gaelic words; CUTE MUH-FEKKIN' FLUFF! Author's Note: Happy holidays to ME- and all of you! Thank you for reading and engaging. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season <3

For Christmas I decided to send myself "home". As in Scotland, the place I'd never been but that I was always drawn to. It always felt like home, so why not treat myself for the holidays, you know?

Somehow, my gift to myself led me to Fiona - the owner of the bed and breakfast I'm staying at - inviting me to her White Elephant party. I suppose the theme of the party helps. I don't know anybody attending so I just need to get a silly gift to (hopefully) make people laugh. Everything was fine and going smoothly... until now.

"Shit! I'm so sorry!"

I'm now on my knees on a snow-covered sidewalk and trying to scoop up my White Elephant gift after running directly into...

"Alright, lass?"

Fuck me... he's a local.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm ok," I assure him and I reach for the goofy gift.

"Is this... a..."

Before he can finish his question, I'm desperately shoving the joke gift - a Highland Cow tail butt plug with a pretty Christmas bow attached to the end - back in the bag. Why couldn't it have been in a discreet box?!

"It's for a White Elephant party," I say quickly once it's back in the bag.

Finally, I look up.

Oh, he's... painfully pretty. That just makes this worse.

"What about this guy?" he asks with a lopsided smile as he holds out the Highland cow plushie I bought myself.

"He's... for me," I say quietly and gently take the plushie back, tucking him into the top of the bag.

"Got a theme going there, lass," he chuckles.

"Figured... it might make my life a bit easier to stick to some kind of theme, y'know?" I offer softly and stand, hugging the bag to my chest.

"You sure you're alright? Didn't hurt yourself or the coo when you fell? And I'm sorry too. I wasn't paying attention."

I shake my head quickly.

"No, no I'm ok. So is the, uh, cow," I tell reassure him with a small smile and brush some snow off the cow's fuzzy head. "I should, um, get going. I'm sorry, again. And... nollag kridel."

"Nollaig Chridheil, lass," he chuckles knowingly.

"Oh my god," I whisper as my head falls and my eyes go wide. I didn't even pronounce it correctly! Without another word, I turn quickly and fast-walk away.

"You made it!" Fiona exclaims and throws her arms around my shoulders. "Get in here," she says as she pulls me into her house. It's literally just a private entrance to the bed and breakfast.

Within a few moments I'm in the building, my (wrapped) gift is under Fiona's tree, and a cute elf hat has been placed on my head. Fiona gently sets me on the couch next to- oh, no. Nonononono-

"Oh, so you're the surprise guest Fi was raving about," Painfully Pretty laughs loudly as I beg whatever higher power for a black hole to swallow me up.

"Yeah," I give an awkward laugh, "that's me. I guess."

"You two know each other?" Fiona says as she hands me a hot chocolate.

"We bumped into each other yesterday in town. And the Highland coo," he chuckles.

I should have wrapped the cow. I should have wrapped the cow. I should have-

"Oh, that adorable plushie you walked in with? I was wondering where you got 'im. Cute little Christmas sweater and all," Fiona laughs - very similarly to Painfully Pretty.

Conversation shifts off of me and to other guests who are still arriving by the minute. Soon enough, Fiona's living room is packed full of people and one dog. His name is Riley and we made fast friends. I, admittedly, have been hiding in the corner hanging out with him most of the party so far.

"Time for gifts! Johnny, help me get these piled in the center of the room," Fiona demands of Painfully Pretty. Apparently his name is Johnny.

Once all of the gifts are piled where Fiona wants them, we all migrate to the surrounding furniture. She gives us the rundown for how the gift exhcange works and we all begin drawing numbers from a Santa hat. When it's my turn, I grab a random gift and begin opening it.

It's a... Highland cow in a holiday dress and crown.

"Aw! Now your other guy's got a friend," Fiona announces excitedly.

I smile softly at the plushie and smooth out her dress.

"Yeah, I guess he does," I agree and smile at her.

"You should name them," Johnny suggests with a soft look in his eyes.

"I think I will," I nod and smile at him.

When the exchanges comes to an end, Johnny lingers in the living room with me.

"I was hoping you'd be the one to choose her," he says quietly. "Was worried she would be chosen and unappreciated until Fiona dragged you in here."

"You... brought her?" I ask, looking up from the plushie in question.

Johnny nods with a gentle smile.

"Glad the lad won't be lonely this Christmas. It was nice to meet you, officially," he says softly, lopsided smile lighting up his face.

"It was nice to meet you too, Johnny. Thank you for Christy." With a small smile, I hold up the plushie and tap it's nose to the end of his.

"Nollaig Chridheil."

"Yeah, I'm not trying to say that again," I insist with a giggle.

He laughs loudly.

"Why not? It was so cute when you said it last time."

I can feel my face warm at his words and his smirk.

This year's Christmas gift to me might turn out better than I originally expected.

Scottish Gaelic Translations (per Google Translate, apologies if incorrect!)

Nollaig Chridheil - Merry Christmas

CoD Christmas (Meet) Cuties Masterlist

#rhi writes #christmas meet cuties #soap cod #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader

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moomommyyy · 28 days ago

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consider: once tentacle pet matures to full size it gains the ability to change its size at will! that way once its done restrain-groping your limbs with its many arms and fucking you for hours and milking you absolutely dry, it can shrink back down to basically toy size so it can hide away for convenience and discreetness. maybe fully nestled in your cleavage to gently squirm and massage your tits all day, or acting like a plug you wear all day to make sure its cum doesnt leak out of you

and then it can spontaneously pop out and grow back to full size and give you the full tentacle monster experience on a whim! either your whim or its own...

Of course I'll keep my little pet close to me. Wouldn't want it to get separation anxiety, right? And just maybe I'll feel more comfortable with it always nestled on or in my body at all times too.

When the tentacles suddendly expand to pin me down in a private moment to take out all it's pent up desire. Or order it around, teach it how to be a proper tentacle monster. Now that'd be wonderful

#ask moo #tentacles #tentacle fucker

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citrusandrottefruit · 6 months ago

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Diagnosed with Hanahaki, a genetic autoimmune disease, as a child, Steve has learned to live with it. Along the way, he finds a family and falls in love with Eddie. He is never cured, but he lives.

Being diagnosed as a child meant that Steve didn’t have to tell anyone about Hanahaki, because his parents were the ones managing everything related to his health, and anyone he might want to share this information with was another child, so he had no reason to. Because of all this, Steve didn’t develop any particularly effective methods of announcing that he was sick. His parents told his teachers, babysitters, or nannies. The hospital staff just had to read his medical records.

Being Mrs. Harrington's son taught Steve to be discreet, because he learned that letting other people know could be painful and embarrassing. A show of weakness, sometimes. A part of him so intimate, so vulnerable, so shameful, so frightening that he could never even bring himself to share it with Tommy or Carol.

So when he sat down across from Wayne, a week after he had talked to Eddie and had reintegrated himself into the Munsons’ daily lives, he wondered how to do that. Eddie, who had been watching him out of the corner of his eye, seemed so nervous that Wayne began to look between them, suspicious and curious. Steve figured he hadn’t asked anything yet because he wanted to let them talk first.

He also wondered if Wayne was expecting some kind of different news.

“Wayne,” Steve called, because that was what he had been instructed to call Wayne. “I told Eddie something last week, and I thought I should tell you, too.”

“You don’t owe me anything, son.”

Despite his words, Wayne’s face showed that he wanted to know. Besides, Steve disagreed. He couldn’t just insert himself so deeply into someone’s life without alerting them to the danger he posed.

“I have Hanahaki. It’s not something new, so it’s not like I’m going to drop dead at any minute, and it’s not like I’m learning how to deal with it. I’m fine, I have access to treatment and medication, and I’m not freaking out about it all.” He said it all at once, hoping that throwing out all the information without wasting any time would ensure that Wayne wouldn’t worry.

Eddie frowned and kept casting sidelong glances at Steve, though he also exchanged deep looks with Wayne. They had that ability, a bit like Steve’s with Robin, of communicating without saying a single word.

Steve’s ears felt like they were plugged with cotton, but he heard Wayne finally speak. It felt like ages had passed.

“Steve.” He hadn’t dared look directly at Wayne yet, but he couldn’t help but do just that when he heard the crack in his voice.

After everything that had happened with Eddie just three and a half months ago, Steve was more than familiar with reading the pain and fear on Mr. Munson’s face. He hadn’t expected to be the cause of the same kind of expression.

“Are you really okay?”

“Not my best moment, but yeah. I’ve got it under control now.”

“What can I do? What can we,” he gestured between himself and Eddie, “do to help?”

“I… I guess just by being here.”

Wayne nodded silently.

Steve figured he needed time to process everything and that he would want some answers, so he let the minutes pass while he tried to organize in his mind which parts of his life he would have to expose. The truth was that he wanted to keep it all to himself and pretend that everything was fine, but the doctors had been warning him for years that there would come a time when he could no longer pretend, that it would help if he didn't worry about keeping everything so secret, and that he could only have a normal life if he had more support.

He couldn't ask for any of this with a clear conscience if he didn't clarify at least a few points.

So he told him about how his mother developed Hanahaki first and how his parents made sure he got the best treatment possible and how his father organized Steve's finances into profitable investments so that he would always have some income even if he could no longer work.

“Is that all they did?”

The question took Steve by surprise and he didn’t know how to answer. His parents weren’t with him, they barely cared, and Steve didn’t even know for sure how his mother’s health was doing, even though the two were mirror images of each other, but Mr. Harrington had made a considerable effort for him. Granted, the money invested in Steve’s name was what was always meant for him, to pay for college, and granted that his parents didn’t think it was worth it for Steve to go to college, because he wasn’t smart and wouldn’t be able to manage his studies while working and taking care of his health. It wasn’t an extra gift, but it was a lot. It was much more than most people had.

His parents weren't sacrificing or giving up what was theirs, but they never denied Steve anything, so it was okay.

They had never been good at parenting. The way things were, Steve would most likely cause crisis after crisis for his mother, angering his father so much that he couldn't handle his wife, and in return, Steve would do the same for them. They would kill each other. Being apart would provide more stability than they would have together.

Despite their fragile bonds, the Harringtons had done what they could to keep Steve alive, and he wouldn't dare complain about it.

So Steve didn't answer, because he didn't want anyone to think he was convalescing from missing his parents, and he also didn't want to lie.

But that same night, as he and Eddie sat in the backyard, with four feet between them, Steve thought, "Why not?" and he spoke.

If he was going to pursue any relationship with Eddie, Eddie needed to know everything.

“I think my dad triggered Hanahaki on my mom,” he said suddenly, his tone flat and disinterested and almost too low. Eddie listened, because he was more attentive than ever to every sound Steve made. It was both scary and exciting.

Steve took advantage of the attention and said things he had never dared to say out loud before. About how Mrs. Harrington liked to pretend everything was fine, about how his parents were tight and traveled together all year long. About how he could expect a fifteen-minute phone call every month, except sometimes it was no more than five minutes, just to check in and see if he was still alive.

Eddie was so angry and indignant to hear this that Steve was happy and allowed himself to feel like he had to defend his parents. Because this time, he didn’t have to be the one fighting to validate all the hurt his parents had caused. Eddie was doing that on his own.

“They know I’m alive because they get updates on my health all the time. Sometimes they mention a procedure I’ve had. They call to hear from me that I’m alive.”

“I don’t like your parents,” Eddie muttered under his breath. “If you were mine, I’d be with you all the time.”

Steve smiled fondly.

“You are now.”

After that, the next conversation was with Joyce and Hopper. Both Eddie and Robin had volunteered to be there, but wanting to do it alone and away from the kids, he asked Eddie to go out with them and make sure they were distracted.

Besides, as much as he wanted someone by his side, needing other people so much was exactly what he had been avoiding.

So he ended up alone in the Byer-Hopper kitchen, under the watchful eye of an anxious and worried Joyce. She kept glancing over her shoulder at Steve as she paced around for no apparent reason, under the pretense of needing to prepare dinner even though she had already said that some groceries were missing and Hopper had gone to get them.

They made small talk as Steve helped chop some vegetables and grew increasingly restless, eager to get home and hug Eddie or Robin. Then he realized he had been thinking of the Munson residence as “home” and redirected his thoughts to imagine a quiet evening watching movies or walking around town (since he had started to feel more tired and weak, Steve had gained a greater appreciation for walking than ever before).

The sound of the door opening followed by grunts and heavy footsteps caught his attention, and both Steve and Joyce turned to face Hopper. He stopped, scanning the entire room and craned his neck back toward the stairs, as alert as everyone always seemed to be after everything.

“Steve came to visit.”

“The kids are with Munson.” Hopper grunted.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you two about something I’ll talk to them about later.”

“Do they want you to ask them for something?” Joyce asked, frowning. “I’m sorry if they dragged you into any of their plans, Steve.”

“No, no, it’s something I really want to talk about, I haven’t talked to them about any of this yet.”

“Well, do it.” Hopper encouraged.

Then, in what was very similar to the conversation with Wayne, Steve told him about Hanahaki and the treatment. He wasn't surprised by the tears or the hug from Joyce, but Hopper's hand on his shoulder, her broken voice, and his hasty exit were more than Steve had expected.

“Give him some time.” Joyce asked. “He’ll be back. You still have things to say, right?”

“Sort of, but I can come back later.”

“Would you prefer this? Come back later?”

He opened his mouth, not knowing how to respond to that. What he really wanted was to say it right away and leave, but Steve also wanted to respect their space, to give them time to think.

“I can come back later.”

Joyce didn’t answer, she just kept running her eyes all over Steve’s face. Then she sighed and gave him an awkward smile.

“Or we can keep cooking, come here. Help me organize the groceries, so we can continue.”

They didn’t have much time before Hopper returned, much more stoic than when he’d left.

“So, Steve. If I understand correctly, you’ve been sick for over 10 years.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In 1983, you were already sick.” Hopper pointed out the obvious, as if he were trying to steer the conversation somewhere specific. Steve nodded. “We’ve been to the hospital several times since then, and it’s been months since everything’s been back to normal. Why are we only hearing about this now?”

“I was stable. I still am, actually, but my rate of decline, even outside of acute flare-ups, has been worse. The daily symptoms, the things I feel even when I’m fine, have been more intense.” Steve explained, measuring his words as he spoke. “If the Ups… If something happens again, I don’t think I can be someone you can trust, because I won’t be able to protect the children.”

“Oh my Gosh, Steve.” Joyce covered her mouth and looked at the floor.

“It’s not that big of a deal, to be honest. It’s not like I’m going to die tomorrow.” He probably didn’t add. He probably wasn’t going to die any time soon. “I’m responding well to the treatment. Besides, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you two: the worry of administering Hanahaki while trying to hide it from other people doesn’t, uh, mix well with the treatment.”

“And this treatment. How are you paying for it? Do you have to have weekly sessions or something?” Hopper asked.

“No, I’m just on some medication, if any complications arise I’ll go to the hospital and find out what can be done. Other than that, I’ve been having monthly checkups for monitoring. And my parents. They’re paying for everything.”

“That’s less than the least those two could do.”

“Hop!” Joyce clapped him on the shoulder, and though he mumbled something inept that Steve assumed was an apology, he didn’t sound the least bit remorseful. He looked furious.

“Anyway,” Steve started again, “you don’t need to worry about that. I’m fine. What’s bothering you is the kids.”

Hopper looked at him, alarmed.

“The kids? What’s wrong with them?”

“I need to tell them. Since you’re Will and El’s parents, and you’re important to the Party, I know you might have. Worries? Fears? With me being around them. It wouldn’t be easy for them if something happened to me, so I understand if you want me to give them some space.”

“What are you talking about? Even if we decided to push you guys away, I’m sure they’d find a way to drag you back. They’d probably set up camp in your living room.”

“We’d never do that, Steve, because we love you too, you know that, right?” Joyce asked as she approached, pulling him into a hug he hadn’t even prepared for yet.

A knot in Steve’s chest loosened.

That night, even though he had been invited to stay and have dinner, Steve returned to the apartment alone. He called Eddie and Robin, who kept asking where he was, and when he finally felt alone and at peace, he began to cry.

Tag list | @estrellami-1 @drips-and-drabbles15 @im-sam-fucking-winchester @wonderland-girl143-blog @eyehartart

#Guys #I said there were five parts #but I lied #Actually #I didn't lie #because I thought there were five parts #But I lost control and thought it would be better to divide it into two #However #I'm going to post part 6 now #so you can read it if you want #eddie #steve harrington centric #steve x eddie

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lemonsrosesandlavender · 4 months ago

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Stretched (Part 1)

aka a filthy rolan x cleric postgame concept that I might write one day but in the meantime desperately want to get out of my brain and onto the page. EDIT: HAHAHAHA never mind, I wrote it. fuck me. Here you are, 1324 words and only part one!

ft fingering, “do assholes really work like that? we ignore it for kink reasons” and the BG3 equivalent of medical kink. Mild dubcon for "Rolan's having a great time but a healer shouldn't be enjoying fingering your asshole this much"

Rolan’s settled into the Tower; theoretically he has everything he wants. Apart from Tav, that is; he nursed a sore crush on them for a long time— ever since they saved his siblings— and has only just come to accept that they’re never coming back from Waterdeep. (… Several months after their wedding to Gale). Tav’s presence, however, awoke a very long-neglected (and repressed) part of him, and now though he thinks less often of them when he handles himself… he still handles himself often. Could it be the Archmage still needs something in his life beyond the Tower and his siblings?

He finds it, with some shame, behind the counter at Sharess's Caress. In disguise, of course; he doesn't want the city to know he's buying toys... especially not toys of this size. Rolan doesn't start with the largest ones, but as his hopes of Tav grow fainter, he finds himself seeking more and more challenge, more punishment for his aching, gaping hole. He loves to imagine them stretching him, taunting him for pining over them - claiming him as their own. And now that's receding, he still finds himself addicted to the sensation, barely able to come unless he's struggling on a cock far thicker than his own.

The figure that the cleric sees, coming through her door, is stiff with embarrassment, a violently crimson flush revealed on his cheeks as he casts off his Dragonborn disguise to show the tiefling underneath. Not just any tiefling.

‘Archmage,’ she says in recognition, keeping the note of amusement she feels hidden. She’s a professional, after all… although whatever ailment he has come to her with must be rather delicate, especially when his title makes him flush further and insist on being called by his name only. After a fair amount of evasion, and the confirmation that she is as discreet as every one of her previous clients has said, she at last pries out his problem: he fears he has stretched himself.

‘Using what implements? What are the symptoms?’

‘What other symptoms do you need?’ he hisses, before catching himself. ‘I know how it is supposed to feel.’

‘Is this immediately after use of toys, or…?’

‘I am not an idiot— I know to expect it after—but this feeling persists near-constantly.’ His voice drops, and she sees the true mortification and worry behind his bluster. It’s… more than professionally interesting. Poor man. She will make his embarrassment worthwhile.

‘Remove your trousers, and get on the bench. I need to examine the situation.'

He casts an anxious look at the door before he disrobes, and she asks if he'd like it locked; his shoulders drop a little when it is.

'Have you cleaned up, or should I—'

Rolan conjures a Prestidigitation faster than she can finish the sentence.

'Do not misunderstand,' he disclaims. 'I came prepared— I am merely being cautious—'

She can hear the irritable sound of him swallowing his nerves, and pats his bare ass gently. There's a slight hitch in Rolan's breath.

'Don't worry about it. Now.' She takes the base of his tail in his hand, and he draws another sharp intake of breath. If she had to label his affliction as anything, she would be inclined to say it was starvation. He is so hungry for her touch, that the slightest movement makes him shiver... and between his legs, his cock is beginning to stiffen.

Rolan clenches his thighs as she moves his robe out of the way, drawing his tail up so she can get a good look at his hole.

'Are you wearing this every day?' she asks, tapping the plug in his entrance.

It is rather basic, compared to the rest of him. His hair is beautifully twisted, and his elegant silk robes are drenched in expensive silverwork. But the plug is plain; not a jewel or crest in sight. Perhaps he is too ashamed of this hobby to let himself truly indulge in it. (A shame in itself, when the plug sits so prettily between his lovely, pert cheeks).

'Yes,' he admits.

'Mmm.'

'I have to!' he protests irritably. 'Otherwise, I can think of nothing else but the sensation of it. Being open—'

'I understand,' she says soothingly. 'I'll have to remove it for now.'

'Of course,' Rolan whispers, tensing his thighs even harder.

She puts a hand on one. 'Relax. Otherwise this will be more difficult.'

He lets out a choked whimper— but he does as he's told, and he keeps relaxing, with the utmost effort, until the plug is drawn from his hole.

There's no denying he's hard now. The cleric oils her fingers, presses one easily inside to begin the examination.

'One easy,' she murmurs, pushing it further up until she finds his pleasure spot. It feels healthy; in fine working order, if Rolan's gasp is anything to go by. She curls her finger a little more.

'Fuck!' Rolan whimpers. 'I mean— Zurgan— excuse me.'

‘Don’t worry about it. Just stay relaxed. I’m going to see how easily you accommodate wider objects.’

She presses another finger in, appreciating the heat inside him. Tieflings always run hotter than other humanoids. The lack of hair is very pleasing too— perfect for someone as neat and ordered as Rolan clearly is. The oil slicked on her fingers spills down his taint; she pauses for a moment, and takes a washcloth to wipe him clean.

Rolan’s asshole might be a little stretched, but she still feels it tense urgently around her. He lets out a short whimper, stifling it unsuccessfully with a cough.

‘Keep your tail up,’ she murmurs, as if she hasn’t noticed.

‘Yes— ’

Three fingers. Rolan shakes. She didn’t encounter much resistance, but clearly the act of being probed is rather stimulating for him, stretch or not.

‘Let me see.’ She gathers all four fingers, pressing them against his entrance— now, there is a little resistance— and checks to see how Rolan is taking it.

The moment he realises she’s looking at him, his cock twitches, and he panics, pulling away from her examining fingers.

‘Surely that’s enough,’ he gasps, dragging at the tails of his robe to hide his cock.

‘I need to determine the extent of the problem, if you want me to treat it properly.’

His tail flicks as he looks back at her. ‘Wretched Hells. Just how much are you going to put up there?’

The attempt at nonchalance comes out thin, breathy instead of confident. She can’t help but find him a little fascinating; easily embarrassed and yet pretending to be bold. And all over something so mild; she has treated people with far stranger ailments. Once again, she wonders if he perhaps only needs somebody else to make him feel that this is alright. Not that it matters at the present.

‘I’m going to find your limit,’ she says. ‘When it hurts, say now.’

Rolan pauses, and cedes, raising his tail once more to reveal his worked hole. His claws curl anxiously into the bench leather. ‘I am ready— ah— ah— ah— now!’

All four fingers and thumb, but not even close to the knuckle. Whatever monstrous girths he thinks he’s been stretching himself with, she is sure he could take quite a lot more— with practise and encouragement of course.

‘That’s the examination finished then,’ she tells him. ‘Let me clean you up.’

Again, she presses a gentle cloth to his skin— all the way down to his balls this time. He shivers, whimpering at her touch and not even trying to hide it this time. Too far gone, perhaps.

She notices a drip from his cock beneath him on the bench, and cleans that up too. Not the cock that it came from, though; that is his concern, even if he seems to anticipate it when she reaches beneath him.

‘Now,’ she murmurs, washing her hands off. ‘I’ll just consult my notes, and make you up a treatment salve.’

‘It is curable?’ Rolan asks.

‘Oh, certainly. I’ll explain what you have to do.’

(click here for part 2!)

#rolan #rolan bg3 #sub!rolan #rolan x ofc #cabbage writes #cabbage trash #idk man my brain is ON IT lately

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candycandy00 · 10 months ago

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The Doll House Bonus Chapter - Gojo x Reader

I was commissioned to write a bonus chapter set one year after the end of my Gojo Doll House fanfic!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Chubby Reader. Pet play. Collars/leashes. Face sitting. Oral. Anal plugs.

Any feedback is greatly appreciated!

You’re folding laundry in the apartment you share with your boyfriend when he walks into the room. Without looking up, you hold out a stack of towels for him to put away. He takes them but instead of walking over to the linen closet, simply sits the stack on top of the still warm dryer.

This gets your attention, so you stop and look at him. He’s grinning, his hands behind his back.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says.

“Oh?” you ask, half excited, half worried. Gojo’s surprises were either lovely, thoughtful gifts or ridiculously perverted sex toys. There was no in between. So you brace yourself to receive either a beautiful piece of jewelry or a huge glow in the dark dildo.

Not that you wouldn’t enjoy both.

He holds one hand out, a small, prettily wrapped package sitting on his palm. You take it, examining the shape and weight of the gift. It’s small and light. Definitely not a giant dildo. You carefully peel off the wrapping paper and open the dark colored box underneath.

What you find is a necklace, choker style, made of what appears to be soft pink velvet. There’s a small silver pendent in the shape of a heart hanging from it. It’s lovely.

You look up at Gojo to find him beaming. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you say, your fingers rubbing over the pendent. That’s when you notice something. The front of the pendent slides off with a click, revealing a heart shaped silver ring. Etched into the metal are tiny cursive letters that spell out “Bunny”.

Wait.

You look up at him. “Satoru, is this a collar?”

His grin widens. “It’s called a discreet collar, or a day collar. It looks like a choker, right? So you can wear it in public, and be reminded of me the whole time.”

You can’t deny that it makes you feel heated, the thought of wearing a collar in public, only you and your lover knowing the truth.

The two of you often have normal, romantic sex, but at least twice a month you set plenty of time aside for lengthy “sessions”. These usually involve you being collared and leashed and fucked so full of his cum that you’re leaking from every hole.

These sessions are an important part of your relationship, keeping the trust and love strong between you, and leaving you feeling desired and cherished.

“Help me try it on?” you ask, reaching him the collar and turning your back to him.

Gojo steps closer and places the collar on your neck, then fastens it at the back. His fingers are soft against your skin, making you tingle. When he’s finished, you touch the velvet material, then the silver ring. You turn to face him, and his arms quickly wrap around you.

“How does it look?” you ask.

He leans in and kisses you. “Hot enough to make my dick throb.”

You playfully slap his arm, but laugh as you go back to folding laundry. “So what’s the special occasion?” you ask.

He stares at you, the grin dropping from his lips. “You don’t know?”

You shake your head. It’s not a holiday, and it’s definitely not your birthday.

He almost looks teary eyed as he says, “It’s the one year anniversary of us becoming a couple!”

“Really?” You figured you’d been together around a year but you definitely didn’t remember the exact date. The fact that he did makes you smile. “Oh, but I don’t have a present for you. I’m sorry.”

He takes the half folded towel out of your hands and pulls you into his arms. “Silly Bunny, just letting me be in your life is a present.”

You laugh as if he’s joking, but he looks deeply into your eyes, his expression serious. “I mean it. I wanted you for so long, ached for you. Having you with me now is like a dream.”

“Satoru…”

You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, and he grins again. “I’m taking you out tonight. You go get ready and I’ll finish the laundry.”

“Okay. Give me half an hour,” you say as you head toward the bedroom. On the way out you feel something hit your ass. You look back to find Gojo holding a rolled up towel and laughing. You giggle and flip him off before going to get ready.

***************

Gojo thinks he’s seen heaven before while being with his Bunny, but she’s an absolute vision of paradise tonight as she sits across the table from him. She got all dolled up to go out with him to the high end restaurant he made reservations for. He loves how the low neckline of her dress accentuates her curves, how it draws attention to the beautiful new collar he bought for her.

Just seeing it around her neck as she sits there, knowing what he’ll be doing to her later tonight, is getting him amped up.

But most of all, he’s enchanted by the way she’s smiling and talking, how she looks so happy. With him.

When the server brings out more champagne, Gojo holds his glass up to her. “To a hundred more years together,” he says.

She clinks her glass against his, laughing as she says, “We’ll be dead in a hundred more years, Satoru.”

“You think that’ll stop me from being with you? My bones will get up and crawl to your coffin.”

“Probably bringing a collar and a vibrator,” she adds.

“Oh definitely. We’ll be the horniest skeletons in the cemetery!”

She giggles at the thought, then her eyes soften as she looks straight at him. “I love you.”

He feels his heart racing as he says, “I love you more.”

**************************

You and Gojo are already making out as you come through the door of your apartment, pawing at each other’s clothes and almost stumbling over a pair of shoes someone left on the floor.

He’s careful not to rip your dress. He said it’s his favorite, and at least twice before he’s experienced your wrath when he destroyed your clothing in his passion. But soon enough he has you reduced to nothing but the collar around your neck. His jacket and tie are gone, his black dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down, as he hurriedly pulls the leash from a nearby drawer.

This isn’t a scheduled session, but it’s not entirely uncommon for the two of you to incorporate the leash into your everyday sex. You’re giddy with excitement as he removes the silver covering of the pendent and hooks the leash onto the ring. Then he’s tugging you toward the couch, where he sits down with his legs wide apart and opens his pants.

God, he’s beautiful. He wears the most sultry expression as his hand casually slides up and down his enormous cock, already fully hard. Then he’s using the leash to urge you to your knees in front of him, pulling you forward.

“Open up, Bunny,” he says, his voice like satin. You open your lips wide, and he tugs you closer, his cock plunging into your mouth. His grip on the leash is so strong, so tight, you’re physically incapable of pulling back enough to let him slip out of your mouth. So your tongue goes to work, licking the underside of his shaft while your throat constricts around his tip. Your hands are on his thighs, clutching the soft fabric of his expensive black pants.

You look up at him, and as always he’s looking down at you as if you’re the most beautiful, incredible being on this planet. You love sucking your boyfriend off. Partly because he tastes fucking delicious and partly because it makes him look at you this way.

Sometimes you can’t help remembering how you felt about him all those years ago, when you first fell for him but thought you had no chance with him. Back then you couldn’t possibly have imagined that you’d someday be in a relationship like this with him, that he would look at you with such adoration in those lovely eyes of his.

He loosens his grip on the leash slightly, allowing you to pull back enough so that he’s barely in your mouth when he cums. Then he’s pulling you forward again, going deeper so he can feel you swallowing his seed. When finished, he rubs your head affectionately and says, “Good Bunny!”

After helping you to your feet, he leads you into the bedroom. There, lying ready on the bed, are three items: your bunny ears, your tail, and a bottle of lube. You look over at him. “You had this all planned out, didn’t you?”

He smiles, so brightly it could blind you. “Yep! I wanted our anniversary to be special. I took tomorrow off so we can stay up all night having fun!”

You suppose it’s pure luck that you already have tomorrow off. You kiss his cheek before climbing onto the bed, assuming the very familiar position by now to have your tail inserted.

He’s bought you several different tails, of varying colors and sizes. Tonight he picked a relatively large one, pastel pink and very fluffy. He preps you very carefully before putting it in, making sure nothing hurts. And once he’s done, he puts the matching pink bunny ears on your head.

You climb off the bed and give a playful shake of your ass, looking at him over your shoulder. You know this drives him wild, and the evidence is written all over his face. He looks like he could swallow you whole.

He walks over to the bed and sits down, tugging you closer to stand in front of him. He looks you in the eyes and says, “Sit on my face, Bunny.”

You freeze. This is something he brought up once before in passing, and you laughed it off like you thought he was joking. You’re not embarrassed of your body anymore, not with the way he treats it as a rare prize, but this is one act that still gives you pause.

“Satoru, I don’t know about that… I might suffocate you.”

“You’re not gonna suffocate me. I promise. You don’t think I’m that weak, do you?”

Your eyes shift to the side. “But I’m heavy.”

“You’re perfect,” he corrects. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time. The thought of your softness all around my face makes me crazy. But… if you really don’t want to, I’ll drop it. You know I don’t want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

Early in your relationship, the two of you had a long discussion about boundaries, and he’s been sure to respect those boundaries since then. You’ve had to use a safe word or gesture only twice, and both times he stopped immediately and seemed terrified that he’d hurt you. But he hadn’t. Things had just gotten a little too intense.

So you trust Gojo to take care of you, to prioritize your comfort and pleasure.

“Okay, I guess we can try it,” you say.

He looks so excited as he slips his shirt off his shoulders and lays back on the bed, then gently tugs on the leash.

“Tap my thigh if you have trouble breathing,” you tell him, still nervous about this. It’s the same thing he often tells you before sticking his cock down your throat.

“I will,” he says, grinning, looking like he just won something.

You climb onto the bed beside him, then straddle his head, still up on your knees. He’s seen you in every lewd position imaginable but this is still a little embarrassing. Slowly, you ease yourself down until you feel his nose against your slick folds. He scoots back just a little, so that his mouth is lined up just right, and you feel his tongue lick a stripe up your pussy, dipping through the flesh to find your clit.

You shudder, but maintain your position as his mouth works at your dripping cunt. The slurping sounds are making you blush, but it feels so good!

His hands move to your thighs, not tapping but softly squeezing the plush flesh, pulling you down further onto him. You hesitate at first, but then relax your muscles slightly and let a little more of your weight rest on his face. His nose is bumping against your clit as his tongue dives into your sopping hole. Your legs tremble on either side of his face, and his grip on them tightens, keeping you firmly in place.

“S-Satoru…! Ahh… ahhhh!” You cry out in pleasure, reflexively grinding your pussy into his face, feeling how slippery it’s become with your juices.

It feels too good. You can’t hold back any longer, and you cum right on his face, his lips sucking on your clit as you quiver above him.

When you have the strength to move, you slide off him and look down. His whole face is glistening, and he’s licking his lips as if he just enjoyed a delicious meal.

He raises up and wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly. “Thank you for trusting me,” he says. Then he pulls back and gives you a devious grin. “Now I need you under me so I can fuck this pussy raw.”

With that, he flips you over onto your stomach and lifts your hips up, leaving your face smushed into the pillow. You feel him push your knees apart, and within seconds his entire length is buried inside you, making you gasp. As he begins thrusting, deeply and powerfully, his hand grabs your fluffy tail, using it like a handle. The pressure of it makes your pussy clench him harder, and he grunts behind you as he twists the tail inside you.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans out, shoving in even deeper, his free hand groping your ass as the other continues twisting the tail. Ahh, he’s hitting your favorite spot, all the way inside, making your body shake and tears spring to your eyes. His cock throbs against your cervix with each thrust, making you cry out his name.

You cum again, clamping down tightly on both his cock and the tail, your pussy gushing around him. In turn, he moans out his usual babbles of “I love you” and “you’re mine” as he fills your womb to the brim.

Afterwards, he collapses beside you and pulls you into his arms as you both attempt to catch your breath.

He absently strokes your arm with his fingers. “Thank you,” he says.

You look up at him. “What for?”

He smiles. “For giving me the best year of my life.”

“We’ll have a hundred more, right?” you ask with a giggle.

He kisses the top of your head. “We’ll have a thousand more. We’ll have infinity more! Because you’re my soulmate.”

You’re not sure if you believe in soulmates, but if they do exist, then Gojo is certainly yours. You snuggle closer to him, sighing in contentment. “I love you, Satoru.”

You feel his heart beating in his chest as he says, “I love you more.”

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