#And one of them is a little feral and WILL kill a good for the other with zero hesitation not questions asked. (spoiler alert. It is not PV

[the-californicationist]

Hello🐻❤

Military!Biker!Price ?

I mean... Repaired a motorcycle, ride a biker

I love you Cali ❤🫂

I love you too @leixy and I’m so sorry for the wait!! Hope you enjoy the story 🩷🩷

MDNI

Storm Chaser

The rumble that you heard just outside of your garage may have been mistaken for thunder. The skies were gray, and as they rolled across the firmament, you knew they’d linger, soaking the ground and making the soil black with its fallen waters. But, this wasn’t a thundercall. This was a Triumph. 

A giant, hulking man, laden with muscle and black leather gear, rolled into your mechanic shop’s driveway on a blacked out, stealthy Triumph Storm GT. Its rider’s face was covered in a full helmet, and as he slowed to a stop, his heavy boot dug into the shale, catching the center of the bike and sitting up straight, killing the enormous engine.

He looked at you. You knew he was looking at you because there was no one else to look at. You saw yourself in the black mirror of his visor, and all around you were the empty fields surrounding your shop, the tall grass roiling in the wind. 

The gloves came off first, and you indulged in his hands. They seemed monstrous; a thin dusting of dark hair covered his skin, and each finger looked like it might have been wider than two of your own. His nails were clean, which surprised you for some reason, and there was a nasty scar along his right palm. 

He fiddled with his helmet, unlatching the buckle, and then yanked it over his head. 

Shit. You cursed inside of your mind. He’s hot as hell.

You’d been drooling over the bike, but the man sweetened the deal. He was ruggedly handsome, and his movements were so easy. It was like being in the presence of a magician, as if he knew all the secrets and delighted in hiding them from you. He was so certain, so sure of his tricks, and you waited on him to break the spell he’d put on you. 

“Alright, love? How’s it goin’?”

He held out his hand for you to shake, and it warmed you like a fire. His grip was firm but careful, and he let you go without a shake. You smiled,

“All good. Slow day,” you pointed upwards, “No one but you out in this weather.”

He chuckled, and you fell for him even harder. His mirth was contagious. He looked up at the darkening sky and told you,

“Aye, it was pourin’ cats and dogs a few minutes ago. Chasin’ me here, I’ll wager. Thought I’d wait it out here. Maybe get the service I’m due for.”

“This bike’s brand new,” you scoffed, “How did you put ten thousand miles on it already?”

He gave you a half-grin and admitted with a shrug,

“I like to get away.” 

You nodded, and he dismounted, unzipping his jacket for comfort. You gave the bike a once-over, checking for any signs of trouble. As new as it was, you’d already been trained on it, so you felt confident you could help him. You mentioned your plan,

“Oil, brake pads, filters. Check your sensors. My Triumph cert is up to date, so we’ll just clean her up by the book. How does that sound, mister…?”

“Price. John Price. Sounds class, love.”

“Waiting room just in there, John,” you pointed over to the tiny little sitting room you’d added to the garage, “Got a library and some coffee. Should be fresh. Just made a new pot a few minutes ago.”

“Cheers,” he smiled, and it was the most handsome one you’d seen in a while. His full lips stretched into his cheeks, and his tanned skin crinkled up to his eyes. 

The eyes themselves were a problem. They were a hue of blue you’d never seen, and they pinned you down like a wild animal, a hunter and his prey. But, all of that ferality was tied taut, held by a rope in his clenched fist, and his gnashing hungry teeth were kept from biting you, controlled by his tight-laced civility. All of that chivalry made you wonder what he was like when he was allowed a little freedom. 

As he walked away from you, you ogled him. You weren’t even ashamed to do it. He was everything you wanted in a man. Him and his bike oozed a primal sort of power that you’d been craving, and you wanted a taste of that freedom. 

His bike was his escape, that was for sure. Ten thousand mile service after only a few months of ownership was impressive. This man liked to ride long and often. There was plenty of evidence of wear and tear, but as rough as he had been with his ride, there was evidence of his love as well. The clean body, the mended tailpipe, evidence of a scuff polished away; it was all proof of his affection.

The service was easy and quick. As you were checking his sensors and finishing up the job, the first pitter patter of rain began to fall into the gravel drive. In the beginning, it was soft and sweet, just a few drops here and there. Then, over the short span of mere moments, it came down in a torrential pour, slamming itself into the ground and pummeling the pavement. 

You watched it slip and slide off of your metal roof in sheets, and you got close enough to the edge so that you could feel the cool spray from the downpour, a few droplets spitting onto your nose and cheeks. A bright blue bolt of lightning streaked across the cloudy pall, followed by a deafening roar of thunder that resonated in the hollow of your chest. 

Cleaning the oil from your hands as best you could, you went to deliver the bill to your customer. To your sick delight, he’d be trapped with you at least until the storm passed, and you crossed your fingers that he could do with a bit of company. 

He was sitting on the wide couch in the waiting room, his hands prying open a book. When you looked at the spine, you noticed that he was deep into the first few chapters of Moby Dick.

“Having fun yet, John?”

“Enjoying the rain on this tin roof of yours. Makes me want to kip down here on your sofa. Love to fall asleep listenin’ to the storm.”

“Me, too,” you admit, nodding towards the book, “Has he caught the whale yet?”

John shook his head,

“No, we barely got out of the harbor. You work fast. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me though, love. I don’t fancy a ride out in this mess.”

“No problem. Take all the time you need.”

“D’ya mind?” He dug around in his jacket and pulled out a short, fat cigar. 

You waved him on, motioning that it was alright with you, and he happily lit his stick, working an ambery, glowing tip until fiery smoke spilled from the end. You were about to turn and hide somewhere else, anywhere that you wouldn’t need to smell his burnt, woodsy scent. It was making you hungry for a puff of his cigar and a long lick of the inside of his mouth. 

A little self-control please… You begged yourself. 

He caught you as you started to leave, and the feeling of his hand on his surprised you with its warm sincerity. You looked down at him, but you didn’t pull away. 

“Stay… for a bit. I was just gettin’ to the good part,” he said with a sly smile, holding up the book as if to offer it to you. 

“Alright,” you replied, your voice sounding too small and too quiet in the small space. 

You sat next to him, worrying over your oil-stained nails as he read aloud to you, pausing every now and then to smoke his cigar or to turn his pages. Slowly, you started to relax, and as you leaned back into the couch, the sound of his voice and the drumming of the rain blended together into a soporific haze. You caught yourself looking at him — staring at him — with hooded eyes, studying the way his lips and tongue and teeth formed his words. The dark bristles of his beard giving you a clear view of every micro-movement of his face. 

He was looking at you, now, too. Staring at you. Every now and then, he’d glance back at the book, read a few lines, and then take a long pause to smoke and to meet your gaze. 

Suddenly, he seemed to make a conscious choice. He sat forward, and his huge shoulders cast a shadow over you. He held out his cigar and asked, 

“Fancy a smoke?”

You didn’t reply, but you took it from him ever so slowly, as if he might bite, and put the end in your mouth. You sucked in the smoke to taste the rich tobacco, and you let it roll around in your mouth before releasing it, letting it hit him in the chest and neck, billowing around his stoney jawline. 

Then, he said something to you in a new voice. It was one you knew, but you hadn’t heard it in a very long time. It was desire,

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you, love?”

You let his compliment wash over you like the downpour outside. It soaked through, right to your bones. You took another drag from the cigar, earning yourself a deeper chuckle and a pleased, approving grin.

“You should see me when I’m out of these coveralls,” you quipped, certain that your smudged cheeks were now a rosy shade of crimson. 

He took the cigar back from you and put the book down, leaning closer to you, positioning his knee between yours, forcing you to spread your legs. He smoked, filling the space between you, taking another drag for himself, breathing in and breathing out, trying to test the waters,

“Care to show me now?”

You met his smoldering gaze. The tip of his cigar had nothing on the glow from behind his eyes. He was poised and ready to pounce, a lion on a lamb. 

You didn’t answer him. You simply watched as he unzipped your work coveralls and let the sleeves slink down your arms. You pulled them free, revealing what was underneath. You were braless, letting your heavy tits lay unbound in the soft fabric of your ribbed tank, preferring comfort over fashion. 

His hand came up to cup your cheek, rubbing some of the smudged oil with his thumb. He leaned forward even further, breathing heavily with you, panting like he had run for miles, all for the sole purpose of brushing your sensitive bottom lip with his own, teasing you with your own taste, hungry for your body and ready to consume you in every way he knew how. 

He began to kiss you slowly, languidly, as if you were both trapped in some world of slow motion where time need not exist. You need not be bothered with the past or the future. The present was enough, and it stretched between you forever. Each kiss deeper than the last, each touch more sensual, making your breath catch in your chest. 

John pulled away from you, slowly untangling himself, looking at you as if he had been keeping some smoldering question inside of his chest. He moved so slowly, telegraphing his motions so you would know his intent. Rapt, you watched his hand drop to the hem of your tank, his thick fingers dancing along the seam, carefully pulling it away so that his warm hand could slide underneath. 

Your whole body shuddered as his palm spread across your soft belly. His callused hands were rough against your skin, and the way he grabbed at you, greedy yet slow and savoring, made you feel like he had hypnotized you. You were frozen in place, submitting to his desire. 

He looked up into your eyes, checking with you to see if you would allow him to venture further and then moving further anyway, unable to quell his lurid hunger. His fingers found the swell of your breast, the heavy flesh hanging like ripe, sweet fruit, ready to be tasted. A thumb slipped across your nipple, encouraging it to tighten into a little peak, just plump enough to fit into his wet mouth. 

Without lifting your shirt off of you, he bent his head and suckled on your taut nipple through its fabric. He wet the cloth and your skin, and when he pulled his mouth away, the dampness lingered, teasing you with the memory and lingering on you, chilling your flesh. Another swipe of his thumb and you heard yourself let out quiet little mewls, whining and needy. His immediate, chuffed grin made you blush with shame. 

So, you took your revenge. You reached your hand across the supple leather of his riding pants and found the tip of his fat cock hanging trapped and turgid halfway down his muscular thigh. You used your finger to draw tiny circles around his head, knowing he could feel it. To your satisfaction, his eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensation. 

Then, his hands plundered under your top, scrunching the fabric up to your collar, revealing your skin to him. As you messaged his heavy cock, you watched him sigh as he admired your curves, drinking you in like a desert palm, his hard root stretching towards its oasis. 

“Take me out, love. Please,” he begged you softly, kissing you between his gentle whispering words, and you knew what he wanted. 

You yanked at his button to pop it off, and you pinched at the zipper, listening to the metallic whir of its teeth as you freed him. 

He wasn’t wearing anything under his leathers, which drove you wild. He must have been so sensitive during his ride, feeling every bit of the garment’s texture and folds as he straddled his machine. 

You reached for him and he let out a dark groan. His voice became threatening all at once, and he grabbed at you with all of his might, drawing your attention with his words,

“Both hands… ungh, ahh, please. Please touch me with both of your hands, love.”

There was plenty of his length for you to comply, and even with both of your hands, his swollen, rigid girth was still a challenge to manage. You focused on his head, watching as his whole body responded to your touch.

John pulled you in for another kiss, forcing his tongue down your throat, filling your mouth with his heat, crushing you to his chest, abandoning all of his earlier tenderness in favor of lustful fury. 

As he ravaged your mouth, you felt his cock slipping through your hands on its own and you realized that he was using his hips to thrust himself through your grip. You tried to help him, matching his pace, but that only spurred on his carnal want. 

He was moaning into your mouth, and you could feel the hum of his joy against your lips. With each shameless thrust, he cried for you in that dark brimstone timbre, aching and full of longing. 

“John…” you whispered, breaking away to catch your breath, saying his name like a prayer. 

Adding to the drama, a long peal of thunder shattered the sky, killing the lights in your shop. But, you were both so worked up by one another, the shock of a blown fuse paled in comparison, and your eyes stayed locked on each other’s, bound together, unable to look away. Unwilling. 

But, he paused, staring at you, wanting something from you, something more. 

You gasped when he lifted you, rumpled clothes and all, right off the couch. He shouldered the door to the tiny room and walked quickly to his bike sitting you sideways on the seat. You braced yourself with one hand on the tank and one on the tail, waiting for his next whim. 

He was working on your clothes, peeling off your coveralls and shucking off your layers until he found your panties. When he saw the fabric, he paused. You fretted for a moment until you felt the cool, stormy wind blow across the damp gusset. Then, you knew what he was looking at. You were soaking through your panties, and there he was, transfixed on the darkening stain. 

“Wanna taste you, love. Want you in my mouth…” 

John fell to his knees in a flash, his cock still free and flagging up and down, wet with his precome. You squirmed a bit, unsure of your scent and your sweat from your earlier work. 

Those gentle eyes had been replaced with a sinister warning. He pinned you with them as if to say, move away and I’ll bloody drag you back. 

He didn’t bother to kiss the softness of your belly nor your thighs. He wanted one thing, but you didn’t expect him to take you quite like this. He didn’t peel down your panties, instead eating you right through the thin cotton, sucking on the wet cloth and making lewd squelching noises, lapping his tongue over your soaking lips and sucking at your flavor with his eager lips.

“Oh, shit…” You lamented, feeling your body go slack, submitting to him and his power. 

“Fuck…” He said between bites of his meal, “You’re so sweet… Let me… ungh, fuckin’ hell…”

He used his thumb to tug the fabric aside, revealing your gleaming pink flesh. And when he tasted you, skin on skin, John became obsessed. He was pushing his strong jaw so hard into you, working you with his mouth, making you rake your fingers through his hair just to hold onto something, you were afraid the bike might tip. 

In one ruthless motion, he tore your panties from you, ripping the sides and tucking the ruined fabric into his fist. Then, he put that same hand on his cock and began to jerk himself off, rubbing your wet cloth all over his cockhead. 

With his free hand, he grabbed the handlebar of the bike, pulling it down towards him, preventing it from falling, now able to eat you with as much reckless abandon as he liked. 

His mouth moved in long, deep thrusts, fucking you with his scruffy face, suckling at the hardening body of your clit. His tongue pressed into your swollen lips, moving between them with forceful need. As he licked you, he moved lower and lower towards your wet hole, hoping to thrust his writhing muscle inside of you, wanting nothing more than to lick you dry. 

Finally, he reached it, and the tip of his tongue slipped into your pussy, pressing through your slit and fucking you like his cock wanted to. You heard him elicit a gravelly, smoldering whine when he tasted your smooth center, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, his brow furrowing in disbelief. 

Meanwhile, the rain pounded in the open garage doorway, swirling and spitting under its ebon shroud. John cared very little about it, nor did he care that you and he were nearly naked, in full view of the street. The idea that anyone could drive up and see you there, caught in his jaws, made you lose control. 

You tried to hold your voice down, but once he felt you start to come, he did everything he could to set you ablaze. His hand abandoned the handlebar, preferring instead to sink two of his large fingers inside of you, working with his tongue to stretch you open, giving him more of your ripeness to devour. 

You keened like you were on fire, and maybe you were. You thought, as the flames licked up your legs and down your arms, that maybe you would burn right up. Maybe you were a flare, ready to sear a bright scorching light through his mouth, burning his throat like whiskey, brutal and cruel. 

Your whole body had given in to the feeling as if you were an orchestra at the mercy of its conductor. If he wanted your kindling to catch, it would, and you would burn for him. You were his opus, trapped in a perpetual crescendo of his lust, an expression of his own fiery fate. 

His mouth only left your body to cry out in his own right, growling out a breathless groan as he spilled his come into your panties, smearing his cock through his own emission and mixing it with yours. 

Unable to maintain your balance, and unwilling to jeopardize his bike, you sank to the floor with him, feeling the cold concrete on your shins. John tugged you into his lap, panting into your neck, smelling strongly of your scent, his face and beard shining with it. 

You breathed together, fondling what you could reach, cradling each other as if you’d found one another again after years apart. Penelope clutching at her Odysseus, recognizing him through a sea of lesser men. 

“You alright, love?” John asked, still catching his breath, petting your cheek absentmindedly. 

You nodded, affirming your well-being,

“Mmhm. You?”

“Aye,” he smiled, laughing quietly to himself, “But, now you’ve gone and done it.”

“What?” You smiled, enjoying his joy. 

“Didn’t think runnin’ from the rain would be such a fuckin’ good time. Now, when it rains, I’ll be craving you.”

You smiled at him, letting him kiss your neck and cheek, planting his affection like little promises, deep under your skin. 

“You’re always welcome back, rain or shine.”

“How about tonight at six; dinner at my flat?” He looked up at you, hopeful. 

“As long as I get to ride this bike, it’s a date,” you teased. 

He raised his eyebrows at your challenge, and then he gave you a lascivious grin,

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve got just the ride in mind.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

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[ghouly-boiiiii]

My Name Is Cooper

Chapter 3 Of Ferals and Centaurs

<< Previous Chapter

Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul

Tags: angst, fluff, romance, humor, banter, femdom, eventual smut

In this chapter...

“In fact, while we’re on the subject…” The Ghoul said as he shifted his feet a little. “And since we gonna be spendin’ some time together, I figure I ought to tell you this now too...” He took a somber breath. “If it ever so happens that I run outta vials and collapse like that again... and I lose consciousness... you gotta shoot me before I wake up. You got that?”

Lucy blinked, then looked up at him again. “Why?” She furrowed her brow and frowned. Even though she didn’t like him very much, she also didn’t like the idea of having to kill him either. Not unless she absolutely had to, and was sure of it. "...When you wake up… would you be feral?”

He just looked at her and pressed his lips together. 

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,400

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers

No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man.

Inside the vault, there wasn’t really much of note. The place was ransacked. There were dead bodies strewn about. Some were wearing vault suits, others looked like raiders. Whatever happened here, Lucy didn’t really care. Normally, she would have wanted to know. But after everything that’d happened, her mind was in other places.

Between The Ghoul and Dogmeat, she didn’t have to do much. Dogmeat took care of the roaches, and she was rather shocked by how quickly her ghoul companion swept through each room. Like he knew exactly where to look, exactly what to look for. Although she realized she shouldn’t be surprised, she still found it impressive. And he even gave her some tips and tricks along the way.

“Check that box there.” He pointed out to her a yellow ammo container. 

Lucy went over and tried to open it. “It’s locked.”

“Mmm…” He rummaged in his pack a moment, then handed her a bobby pin.

She looked at it questioningly. “Umm… what’s this for?”

“To pick the lock.”

The former vault dweller blinked. “I’ve never picked a lock before.”

“Well… it’s a good time to learn.” He said. “Go on now. Give it a try.”

She blinked again, then took the pin, kneeled down in front of the box, and stuck it in the hole. 

After feeling around a moment she said, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ll figure it out.” The Ghoul said, then leaned against the wall casually and tilted his head as he watched her.

“Ugh… okay…” She said, frustrated but determined. As she kept at it, she had to say something to fill the dead air. Apparently, The Ghoul had gotten tired of talking, because now he was just standing there watching silently. 

“So… about your name.”

“Ahh…” 

“What if I take a guess?”

“Drop it, Vaulty.”

“Is it… John?” 

“No.”

“What about Nick?” 

“Even if you guess it, I’m not gonna tell ya.”

“Okay. What if I give you a name?”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t your fuckin’ dog.” 

“So I take it you’d be opposed to being called Rover?” She joked.

“Ugh…” The Ghoul rolled his eyes. “You want me to open that?”

“No. I’ll get it… I think I’m… getting the hang of this.” She said, furrowing her brow in concentration. 

“Ehhh…” The Ghoul exhaled. “So, Vaulty... How did you take out that Super Duper Mart anyway?” 

“Well, uh…” Lucy smiled sheepishly as she twisted and turned the bobby pin. “Actually, it was… kind of an accident.” Then her expression got sullen. “I… I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt…” 

“You’re the one that got ‘em to release all them ghouls, huh?”

She glanced over at him and he started to laugh.

“Well, ain’t you a good samaritan.”

“They were being held captive! I couldn’t just leave them there…” She huffed and looked over at him. “I mean, I got you those vials, didn’t I? Are you gonna make fun of me for that too?” 

“Well… I just hope you learned something from that experience.” He said, tilting his head down and raising his eyebrows. “You don't mess around with feral ghouls.”

“Yeah…” She said as she put her arms down a moment to give them a break. “I got that...” 

“In fact, while we’re on the subject…” The Ghoul said as he shifted his feet a little. “And since we gonna be spendin’ some time together, I figure I ought to tell you this now too...” He took a somber breath. “If it ever so happens that I run outta vials and collapse like that again... and I lose consciousness... you gotta shoot me before I wake up. You got that?”

Lucy blinked, then looked up at him again. “Why?” She furrowed her brow and frowned. Even though she didn’t like him very much, she also didn’t like the idea of having to kill him either. Not unless she absolutely had to, and was sure of it. "...When you wake up… would you be feral?”

He just looked at her and pressed his lips together. 

“But the other ones, they… they didn’t lose consciousness. They were… very awake when they…”

“Well, everyone’s different, sweetheart…” The Ghoul said. “Not everyone turns in the same way. And truth be told, I’ve never gotten that far. To where I lost consciousness, I mean. So I donno what would happen when I woke up. But that’s not a risk you wanna take, darlin’.” His tone was very serious and strangely soft. He was starting to sound like a mentor. Like the tone she would take with her students back home. “So if that happens, you either better shoot me or run as fuckin’ far away as you can, as fast as you can. Because if I do go feral, I will kill you.” 

Lucy blinked again, looked away in thought, then back. “Well… isn’t that a good reason for me to know your name...? Those other ghouls, they were… saying their names over and over again. Don’t you think it’d be good for me to know it? In case you do start going feral? So I can help, you know… remind you…”

He shook his head and scoffed. “That don’t help nobody… It’s all just sentimental bullshit... Nice try though.”

Lucy thought for a moment about her mother. She swallowed hard, then went back to the lock. “So… is it... Nate?”

“Sweetheart, if you don’t stop askin' me I swear I’m gonna…”

Suddenly, there was a click and the box popped open. “Ha!” She exclaimed in triumph. 

“Huh…” The Ghoul said, almost sounding surprised, before he strolled over to her. 

Lucy opened up the lid and looked inside, where there were several boxes of ammo, a couple stimpacks, and some rad-away. 

The bounty hunter leaned over her as she pulled out their prizes. “Well… nice job, Vaulty.”

After some time, The Ghoul decided they'd done enough scavenging. The vault was huge - as all vaults were - and they didn’t end up getting through the whole thing. But he seemed happy with what they found. Which, aside from what was in the locked box, included food, cigarettes, a bottle of whiskey, and a few other medicinals. As they headed back to the entrance, Lucy eyed something they’d passed before. It was a Mr. Handy. Broken, but it still had its fusion core. Which meant there’s a chance it could still be operational.

“Hey, Asshole.” Lucy called out ahead to him.

The Ghoul looked over his shoulder, then flashed her a smirk before he turned and started walking towards her. “You say my name?”

She smirked back. “Sure did… Come look at this.”

The old bounty hunter immediately frowned when he realized what she was pointing at. “The robot?”

“Do you think we could use it?”

“What the hell for?” 

“Well, I donno. Might come in handy .” She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, then looked up at The Ghoul to see if he got the joke.

Slowly, he turned to look at her with nothing but a blank stare. 

“Ha…” Lucy let out a brief laugh, then bit her lip and looked away awkwardly. 

The old bounty hunter kept his eyes on her a moment, then blinked and slowly shifted them back over to the robot, shaking his head a little. “Well, I hate to tell you this, Ms. Handy MacLean. But Bartholomew here appears to be kinda fuckin’ broken.” 

“That is true. But. I’m pretty sure I can fix him.”

“Well, if you want a little robot friend, you go right on ahead. I ain’t gonna stop ya.” He turned and started back down the hallway again. 

She shrugged and was about to follow when Dogmeat started to growl at something in the darkness behind them. An unsettling sound emitted from down the hallway. A low, gurgling, but almost human sounding groan. And it sounded like it was coming from something that was much… much bigger.

Lucy froze in fear, then watched as The Ghoul turned around and his eyes got wide. 

“Lucy! Get down!” He shouted and she dove for the floor as something lashed out above her, just missing her. Dogmeat barked frantically as The Ghoul pulled out his gun and started firing. She heard the gush of spilling blood and torn flesh and the creature screamed out in pain. 

In a panic, Lucy started crawling towards the Ghoul. After getting a few feet away, she flipped onto her back, grabbed her gun and started firing as well. After getting in a few shots, her eyes got wide with horror as she absorbed what she was looking at.

It looked like a giant humanoid mutant. But instead of having arms attached to its shoulders, it crawled on six below the waist, attached to a lower body that looked like the thorax of an insect, but made of human flesh. There were bones stick out from its shoulders where the arms should be, and around its stomach. It was grotesque, covered in tumors and pustules. And it had three long tentacles protruding from its mouth. Just the look of it made every hair on her body stand up on end.

Lucy began to scream as she continued to fire. Then, suddenly, one of the tentacles lashed out, wrapped itself around her angle and started dragging her across the floor.

“Shit!” The Ghoul exclaimed and ran towards her, dropping his pack on the ground. Dogmeat barked and gnawed at one of the monster's six arm-legs, but it didn’t seem to phase it. 

The former vault dweller kept firing until she ran out of bullets, and so did The Ghoul. But the thing was so huge it was almost just absorbing their fire. The bounty hunter grabbed his knife and jumped between Lucy and the beast, sawing and hacking at the tentacle that had a hold of her. Once he had her freed, the creature screamed out in pain, then threw its other two tentacles around The Ghoul’s face, knocking off his hat and pulling him in.

“Arrgh–!!! Mmmph!” His shout was muffled as he struggled against the mutant.

“Asshole!!” Lucy called out the only name she had for him. 

The horrifying monster was strong and pulled the bounty hunter towards it with ease, engulfing his head in its slimy, wiggling grip. Dogmeat barked and growled fiercely, tearing and gnashing at the beast flesh. Lucy fumbled to get more ammo in her gun, fearing this would be the end for her companion if she didn’t free him as soon as possible. 

With a growl, The Ghoul took the knife and started stabbing the beast in the face, over and over. Again, the creature howled in pain, but didn’t relent. Dogmeat cried out as one of the six legs got in a forceful kick, throwing her back against a wall. 

But then Lucy remembered something... 

She had a grenade.

Quickly, she reached in her pack and pulled out the explosive. Then jumped up and, after considering her options for a moment, ran around to the back end of the creature. She hesitated just briefly, then shoved that grenade right up its ass. 

Trying to ignore the shit and slime now covering her arm, she bolted back towards the front and took cover.

A moment later, the thorax of the beast exploded into a horrifying slush of red, green, brown and yellowish mush and chunky body parts. The front end let out one last gurgling death groan before finally dropping her ghoul companion and slumping to the floor.

“Gahhh…” The Ghoul growled as he picked himself up and started wiping the mucus off his face. “Motherfucker...” He cursed and spat. “Fucking centaurs.”

“What the hell was that thing!?” Lucy blurted out, still shaking as she stood up from where she had been crouching. 

“Goddamn mutant.” He said simply. “Just like them gulpers. Only uglier.”

Lucy stepped up next to him, looking down at the freakish monster in horror, but also relief.

The Ghoul searched around for his hat, then quickly retrieved it and put it back on. 

In a bit of a daze, the former vault dweller looked up at him. “You... saved my life.”

"Yeah. And you blew up its ass and saved mine.” He glanced back at her as he spoke, almost sounding appreciative, then sneered in disgust as he tried to wipe off the muck and slop that had splattered all over him. “You alright?” 

She nodded, still shaking.

He looked past her and spotted Dogmeat, then quickly stepped over to the canine and kneeled down. “Damn… son of a bitch got you too, huh?” 

Dogmeat whined as she limped closer to him, holding one of her back legs up. The Ghoul scratched her cheeks and behind her ears. “It’s alright… you’ll be alright…” 

Lucy blinked as she watched him, surprised that he seemed so concerned about the dog. 

“Hey… what time does that pip-boy a yers say it is?”

Lucy looked down to check. “It’s… almost seven.”

He stood up and exhaled, then nodded. “Might be best if we stay here tonight.”

“What? Here?? ” The former vault dweller said in disbelief. “After that? What if there’s more of those... things!?"

“Eh… if there were more, they’da already come runnin’.” 

“How can you be so sure?”

He looked over at her and tilted his head, appearing a little annoyed. “I’ve been out here a long time, sweetheart. Trust me." He reminded her, then retrieved his gun from the floor and put it back in it's holster. "But if it'll make ya feel betta... I'll do a clean sweep after we find a safe spot fer you two...” 

She blinked, then looked away, letting out a little huff. “...Okay… Fair enough.” 

“It’s always safer to stay the night indoors, if you can…" He said as he grabbed his pack off the ground and slung it over his shoulder. "Besides, Dogmeat’s gotta rest her leg.” 

“Can’t we just give her a stimpack?” 

“That’s anotha lesson you gotta learn, darlin'... Don’t waste yo stimpacks on minor injuries that can heal on they own... Ya never know when you might have a real emergency.” He turned towards the pup and she whined as he slung her over his shoulder as well. “Come on. We’ll hold up in one a them units. There’s bound to be one that ain't got somethin’ dead in it.”

To be continued…

<< Previous Chapter

[nonuggetshere]

Cringe has won today, posting PV getting smooches from my ocs

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 5

Master Kohga

*slams this down* LATE AND WITH ONE HECK OF A HEADACHE BUT I MADE IT!

Also I feel like we also need to talk about that the reason the Yiga are such doofuses usually is because they're riding the high of a full 100 years victory, and that after getting throughly kicked in the ribs they're probably gonna commit more crimes and probably return to their even more brutal roots actually, Kogah probably being the most likely one to shift to that first.

This goes out to you Warriors fans and simps, because ooh boy is he a delight to write, I think the duality of his name and status as a soldier is neat even if he's not my favorite Link.

Though the regular Linktober one will have to wait after I'm a bit more rested though so either later today or tomorrow, sorry folks.

Also uh warnings ahead?

TW:

Some descriptions of violence, specifically wrist targeted violence, kidnapping, and Reader going a little feral in defense of Warriors, nothing too big, but as this is coming from a horror fan I advise anyone who is squeamish to skip this one.

On a scale of one to ten of intimidation wrought by enemies of the Chain has faced, you’re pretty sure Kohga and the Yiga wouldn’t make even a negative ten on a normal day.

You’re not sure if it’s due to Wild’s most blase attitude about having a literal clan of traitorous, murderous Sheikah at him, a mix of bafflingly phlegmatic and elated with amused delight when talking about schemes you’d more associate to slapstick comedy than anything, the way you’ve seen any Yiga members dive for any throw bananas like a starving Wolfos pack on a lone Stalfos even if there was a cliff right in front of them with even more single minded determination than what was given to their mission, the way he’d refer to them as “Look they’re technically insane menaces to polite society out for mine and Flora’s blood, but they’re our technically insane menaces to polite society out for our blood” with a mix of bemusement and amusement or a mix of all three but according to the resident cook they truly weren’t a threat compared to, say, the cultists of Hyrule’s time whose sole goal wasn’t even to kill him but simply make him bleed, or Majora whom indirectly inflicted endless torture on Time, or Demise who literally started the cycle all of your heroes inevitably went through (because you could never blame Sky, none of you would even if it took shaking the notion into his thick skull). And they’ve apparently gone even more docile and to ground after Wild had defeated their master.

“And THEN he apparently has the nerve to go through our base and raid our banana supply! The nerve of that pesky, insistently annoying pest- Hey, are you even listening?” The sudden call made you jump, hissing as your wrist restraints dug into your skin, because apparently shackles with spikes on the inside of them are a thing and you very much would not have liked the approximate feeling of barbed wire wedged into your skin, biting into your flesh with all the viciousness and brutality that ensured you wouldn’t move your hands without feeling agony, the tone indignant as the presumably dead man stomped his foot nearby, “This is serious! First he peels me and my clan members like a banana, greatly exaggerates the rumor of my death and then THIS?!”

You school your features, trying really, really hard not to act out again as it comes down dangerously close onto Warrior’s unconscious head. Nodding along with the seriousness and solemnity worthy of a funeral, “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Such disrespect, at least you guys didn’t exaggerate about his death. And you’re supposed to be the bad guys here?”

(Well, more like you couldn’t move, really, funny thing about spikes on one’s skin and having one of your legs broken to the point glancing at exposed bone makes you want to dry heave at the gory sight, it.is.agony. Funny, how pain is an effective restraint in keeping people pinned down better than any arrow.)

You quickly revised your opinion and reassess the threat given the situation you're in now, as after your patrol on Wild’s Hyrule with Warriors you’d gotten ambushed and kidnapped through a mix of a double Silver Lynel ambush and sheer element of the surprise as bait, Warriors going down protecting you with all of the ferocity of his namesake, and choosing to risk getting a little roughed up over being separated from him.

You’re quite proud of yourself really, what with the way that you almost fully tore a chunk out of a Blademaster’s throat with your teeth and before they gave up, leg broken and with the spikes on your wrist as you woke up first with the fury of Volvagia’s fire scorching your veins, overwhelming the icy chill of terror in your veins and only instinct driving you because who knows what they’d done to him. Worth it. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you let something happen to your favorite soldier boy. At least now you’re both in the same place, even if it’s with the man running the doomsday show himself.

“I know right?! Once I get my hands on that little nuisance, I am going to kill him dead!”

It’s a bit of a pity, in a way. You’re sure that under better circumstances you’d be as amused as Wild by him and he’d be a lovely conversation partner, you doubt the Yiga would follow him if he wasn’t charismatic after all, like watching a wet cat get their head stuck in a jar you had to admit watching the man struggle and fail was just a bit hilarious.

Alas by the whims of the gods spinning the wheel of fate and making it be fully comprised of misfortune to the point you really would like to have a nice chat involving your fists and their faces and maybe one foot straight up Hylia's gash, twas not to be, but it works in your favor. You just needed to stall for as long as you could until Warriors woke up or had an opening stop feigning sleep, either works.

“I just had a thought, a truly magnificent idea worthy of someone as worthy of being the Calamity’s most trusted champion! You travel with that twerp and his companions don’t you?”, the man stilled, then swerved towards you, you contained a flinch in a sudden movement, just on the edge of cartoony, adamantly looking over his shoulder rather than the twisted, crimson eye of the cold mask of the leader of the people who joked about keeping one of Warriors’ eyes as a necklace for it worked just as well as gem, “You could work for us instead, we’d pay you quite well for the information.”

Adamantly trying not to look at Warrior’s behind him, you hummed, head tilted, pretending to think about it, then shrugging, “Eh, I’ll pass. You Yiga don’t take well to traitors no?”

The man crossed his arms, adamantly nodding, “Of course not! Any and all who forsake our god should be slowly watch as their body parts are fed to Moldugas while they’re still alive!”

Cool, cool, lovely imagery to have, you were going to have one serious talk with Wild about proper threat assement once you’re back in camp by the way. You smile a bit back, remembering Warrior’s and using it as a reason to force a grimace away. Of the way he could charm better than any prince, making people fall in love with him effortlessly for better or worse and how you or Legend would viciously defend him from the worse crowd even if it gave you both Time’s exasperation (and grief from the other Links, who are all menaces whom you wished were less perceptive at times). Of the way he amusedly shared with you he main advantage was that no one could ever tell wether he was being friendly or baring his teeth, and how he slowly let you notice wether the curve was sharp or soft as you got closer. Making a point of showing your bloody, bloody teeth from both the Blademaster and which dripped down your head from one heck of a Lynel kick, you did not have Warriors natural charisma but you’d make do with your mediocre charm. “Well, I’m not in the habit of liking traitors much either you see. Sorry to let you down on that, plus if I can turn on them I can turn on you right? Better we skip that, I can give you a banana cake and banana pretzel recipe from where I’m from as compensation though?”

(You did not, in fact, know a recipe for banana cakes and pretzels by the way, but at this point you'll say anything just to buy you more time. Nothing like the age old ancient technique of lying. Wars would be proud his lessons came in handy.)

To his credit, he didn’t flinch. You’d actually be a bit shocked if he did given his clans entire gimmick to be fair. Sliding away from Warrior’s prone form and towards the one actually open door, keeping his back to the soldier, although his attention immediately focused on you like a Guardians aim, completely missing the light twitch to Warriors’ fingers you could spot in the dim torch light, “Fair enough, though you’re missing out on a lot if you ask me. Now! Banana cake you say? Might you be a person of culture after all even with an horrendous choice of company?”

Would you look at that, looking like a horror show does have it’s advantages!

“I mean I’d write it down but you know,”, you make a vague motion with your wrists, wincing a bit at the spikes, those would be a pain to get out later, you’d much have preferred ropes or chains, “But if you get some paper or get me to a kitchen I can direct your folks how to make it? You’d be the first to get a taste of it if you’re there too.”

He hums, pacing back and forth, Warriors eyes lightly crack open, the sapphire clouding with shock at your state, you can’t look at him long enough to figure out the ensuing combination of emotions, flashing, but you do see when the gems are forged into cobalt blades, you quickly mouth to him ‘Get free’ as soon as Kohga isn’t looking at you, he closes his eyes as Kohga turns towards him and nods. Though the Poe flame azure of his gaze could have probably killed the leader of the Yiga ten times over as he addresses you, “You’re an awfully generous hostage aren’t you? Though I like the way you think.”

You shrug, “I mean I’m not being manhandled, plus I’m bored so why not make some good food to kill time?”

You can see him weight his options, unnervingly staring at you beneath the mask. You adamantly don’t look at Warriors’ as he slides his boot very lightly against the wall, a small blade springing from the small compartment, thanking the Three the Yiga didn’t check either of your shoes as he twists around as silently as he can manage to cut himself free as Kogah nods, “Anyone with an appreciation for bananas should be allowed to share their wisdom, can you walk?”

You give him a flat look, you think Warriors bites his tongue to keep from making an equally indignant sound as Kohga seems to have the dots, awkwardly coughing, “That was a retorical question of course you can’t! I shall however extend you my benevolence, and call on my subordinates to carry you-“

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence when Warriors pounces with a snarl, you lurch back, hissing as the spikes make your wrists bleed and chocking down a shout at the pain that crawls through your leg like lightning, but it’s enough.

Warriors wraps the remains of his rope around the Yiga Clan Leader’s throat in a makeshift garrote, and make sure to use his momentum to slam his head against the cold, hard ground of the hideout, doing it again for good measure with all of the strength and ferocity you knew for a fact he kept as well sheathed as a hidden blade.

It all took but a second, he didn’t even scream. You doubt that killed him, but he isn’t getting back up any time soon.

You slump over, coughing blood from your mouth, it wouldn't help much but it was a start, “Welcome back to the land of the living, Wars.”

He rushes towards you as soon as he finishes tying Kohga up with the remnants of his own rope, gently wiping the blood from your sight, he was battered and bruised but the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life as he checked you over, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, relief ringing like a sword being sheathed, it would be alright. “Can’t say I’m happy to be fashionably late this time. What did they do to you?”

“Hey, none of that,” you gently touch your foreheads together, you smile, tasting rust on your lips though Warriors doesn’t mind as you lightly try to take his mind out of it, “You should see the other guy.”

He sighs, fondly exasperated as he shakes his head, you consider the quirk of his lips a win even as he pauses over your wrists, eyes flashing with rage before focusing on your leg, “I’m sure, that was a killer performance. Maybe after all this is over you should take up acting back home.”

You snort, “I mean I did learn from the best-“

it distracts you long enough for him to snap your leg back into place. And all you know is that you with pain, ripping through your throat as you finally, finally, feel safe enough to pass out.

(Warriors winces sympathetically, heart breaking a little at your pain but knowing it was the only way you wouldn’t focus on it, better than for . Holding you close and allowing you to muffle your scream into his shoulder as he wraps your leg in his scarf, guilty and fury carefully hidden behind the soldier mask, knowing that the only thing that would satisfy the flames of retribution in his chest would be to use the Yiga as kindling until they eventually burned the remnants of protective rage all away to ash.

But he could make do with taking you as gently as he could as you pass out in his arms, resolve himself to get the contraption on your wrists out as soon as you were both back at camp. And to kicking Kogah on the way out. It's not nearly enough but it's a start.

You protected him as best as you could, it’s his turn to return the favor as he can as well. Anything else can come later.)

[famderfries]

Cran + Derlin doing the "Why does Bev call you babygirl" thing to Erlin in the bag at the beginning of the campaign

[127rkives]

uhhhh idk if anyone has discussed this before but... miguel likes to eat pussy from the back!!!

like idk, every once in a while, his brain goes brrrr and something short circuits. idk chalk it up to stress but it's more like some feral, animalistic urge. he can’t really explain it. it’s almost as if someone flips a switch, his mind goes blank except for the thought of needing to be with you, under you, in you. he has to stop whatever he’s doing and go find you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

and as soon as he makes it home to find you relaxed on the couch, he's flipping you over, contorting you face down ass up, and he’s nuzzling into your clothed pussy like a dog in fucking heat. when he’s finally spent just enough time shrouded in the scent of you, he's yanking your shorts off. he’s been at this for approximately 2 minutes but there's already a wet patch in the center of your panties. that sight makes his pupils dilate before going in for the kill. his claws come out to rip your panties to shreds right before he straight up nose dives into your pussy, and granted you can feel him, the action still catches you off guard enough for you to emit a loud gasp. it’s just too much too fast. “mig- ohhh!~”

“mmm... mmmf” miguel gets so much satisfaction from tasting you that he releases moans of his own. they would be bouncing around the room and intermingling with yours except right now he can't bring himself to pry his tongue from the slick walls of your cunt. 

“oh my gosh- miguel!”

hearing you raise your voice in alarm while saying his name is enough to make miguel pause for a second. you take the moment of reprieve to look over your shoulder— huffing and puffing— only to be stunned by miguel’s animalistic look. his curls are messily hanging near his eyes which are dark, yet spacey as if he’s on another planet. his lips are parted just enough to show a peek of his fangs as he breathes heavily through his mouth after suffocating himself with your pussy, and a gleaming mixture of his spit and your slick is smothered over half of his face and all the way down to his collarbone.

“m- miggy could you just give me a few seconds?” you ask. miguel tilts his head to the side and scoffs. a curt “no” is all you get before miguel locks his arms around your thighs to drag you back to his watering mouth. you don’t have claws like miguel but if you did the couch cushions would definitely be in shreds from the way you’re gripping them. 

the wet slurps of miguel’s tongue lapping at your cunt are soon paired with two of his thick fingers easily slipping in thanks to your arousal. he scissors them for a moment before adding a third. the speed he uses to pump them in and out and the feeling of his slightly calloused fingers against your gummy walls leaves you floating in the clouds. you’re brought crashing back down, however, when a deep groan from miguel sends sparks up your spine. soon enough you feel pressure building at the bottom of your stomach, only it doesn’t feel like it usually does. in a fit of panic you try to drag yourself out of miguel’s grip.

“ohhh my go- miggy!” it’s all you can do to let out little slurred calls of his name, but it doesn’t matter. miguel’s not stopping until he’s satisfied. your escape attempts are useless, but the wiggling is enough to piss him off.

“querida. don’t move so much. be good.” but you can’t be still. the tingly feeling in your tummy is growing and all you can do let out breathy moans as you thrash around in ecstacy.

“ahh- i can- can’t help it!”

all of your moving loosened miguel’s grip too much for his liking. in less than a second, he's yanking you back towards his mouth and hoisting your hips just high enough to wrap his lips around your cute little clit. 

one hard suck is all it takes before you’re squealing at the top of your lungs. a scream of “miguel!~” is the only thing leaving your lips while your vision goes white and your breathing stops for a second. miguel is unrelenting behind you, switching to messily swiping his thumb across your clit and shoving his tongue back into your pulsating cunt in an attempt to catch every last drop squirting in to his mouth. 

even when your arms give out beneath you and you faceplant into the couch miguel is still lapping at your outer lips like he’s been saved after being stranded in the desert for a year.

and like that, it’s like the switch in his brain flips again. he smooths his hands up and down your trembling thighs and scatters kisses in a path up your back to the nape of your neck. “you okay, cariño?” a weak “mhm” is all you can muster up as you turn your head to flash miguel a floaty smirk. he smiles and chuckles, recognizing the foggy look in your eyes. covered in a sheen of sweat and high off the feeling of him is just one of the times miguel thinks you look the most beautiful.

after ghosting his hands across your skin and giving you a few minutes to calm down, miguel goes to gently move you to his lap. he buries his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling all of you. with the little strength you have, you wiggle around in his lap attempting to get comfortable but something is in the way- 

“ohh~” miguel’s breath is hot on your neck as he groans into it. his fangs graze your skin, his hands grasp onto your hips for dear life and oh...

someone flipped the damn switch again...

[zooophagous]

I'm gonna be contrarian here for a minute and rant about "cats aren't even good pest control."

Which, one study that found cats don't do well against rats is not the be all end all of reality. A cat may not go after Norway rats, which are large and aggressive, no. An adult male wild Norway rat is large enough to give almost any cat a run for its money.

But Norway rats aren't the only thing that exist and get into houses and barns. It is very cold where I live, and while I see mice and packrats and voles, I have never once seen a wild RAT. Wild RATS don't get into my garage. Deer mice do. Bushy tailed pack rats do.

And you know what fixed it?

My cat. He's not even an outdoor cat. He's 100% indoors, or in the garage but only with the door closed so he can't leave.

He single handedly removed my packrat problem. I didn't need to resort to poisons and while I did set traps, none of them had even half of his success rate. Cats were domesticated primarily because of how good they are at catching small rodents. Their success knocked other animals such as trained ferrets off the popular spot for the task. Claiming a cat is useless as pest control is just plain not true.

Cats are decent pest control WITHIN CERTAIN PARAMETERS. They're good for certain types of small pest, and cats need ro be CONTAINED. Much like poisons, you can't just throw cats around willy nilly because they'll kill a shitload of non target animals.

A barn or shop cat is a good option for long term mouse control *if* it is actually confined to that barn or shop and not free to just leave. A semi feral cat that lives in a large warehouse and is vaccinated and desexed and vetted and kills whatever tiny pests get in to chew on stuff is the best case scenario for an adopted feral.

What I do NOT get however, is the insistence that terriers are better and you should just get one of those.

A dog is not an easy animal to keep and nor is it one you should go purchase because you want long term pest control in your barn. If you want a pest control solution call an externinator. If you want a dog that's intelligent and driven and needs dedicated training and care and you're happy to put in the energy to actually focus its chaotic energy into something useful then go get a ratting terrier.

These little dogs do not fill the same niche as a barn cat and their care is quite a bit more intense in general especially if the dog is going to be a house pet as well as a worker. They're intense and destructive and can and will pick fights, often fatal fights, with other animals. Stop telling people to go get one when all they need is to get some squirrels out of a shed. Buying a dog and buying pest control are not the same thing.

You could *hire* a ratter to do a sweep, but unless you're also removing the conditions that made your property popular with rats to begin with you're going to have to keep bringing them back.

The kind of people who leave feral cats outside to roam and breed freely are the last fucking people who have any business keeping a working line terrier.

[jaebeomsbitch]

The Princess and Eggplant (E.M.)

Summary: Your boyfriend happens to be a foot taller than you...or Eddie is afraid to stick it all the way in, afraid to hurt you

Warnings: Minors DNI, size kink, pure smut

Pairings: Boyfriend!Eddie x Girlfriend!Reader

A/N: watching Sex and the City and couldn’t stop thinking about the size difference between Carrie and Aidan. As a 5'1 they/them I'm drooling. Literally finished this a while ago but couldn't find a good gif, I'm gonna start making my own banners

Like Eddie holding you up, your thighs wrapped around his waist, his big hands on your ass. His tongue in your mouth as he kisses you more and more aggressively until you can’t breath and your head is spinning. The way he manhandles you, impaling his thick cock inside you as he grits his teeth trying to control himself from being too rough. But his cock only fits half way and you’re clinging onto his shoulders moaning like a ghost in a haunted house.

You heave for air as his cock knocks the wind out of you. He lays you out on the bed, your hair fanning out as he yanks you to the edge of the bed.

“Fuck sweetheart” he groans looking at the way his cock disappears inside of you. His neck straining as he holds himself back.

“More Eddie, fuck give me more” you gasp, your nails digging into his back.

“S-shit baby, don’t wanna hurt you” he grunts, slowly pulling out and back halfway in. As he refuses to go deeper, his eyes already rolling back as your tight velvet walls grip onto him.

“Please Eddie” you whine, pressing the heels of your feet into his ass forcing him deeper into you. Your jaw slacks as you’re stretched open by your boyfriend.

“S-shit s-so fucking big” you moan pressing your chest into his.

“F-fuck you’re gonna kill me” he groans voice higher pitched then normal. He hisses, teeth clenched tightly as he tries to remain still. However you don’t give him the chance, you dig your feet deeper into his pale ass. Pushing him inch by inch slowly into you until his hips are flush with your ass.

Eddie knows that he needs to be the one to slow down, but it's hard when you feel this good - especially when you're moaning like that. He hasn’t even moved and yet you’re already cock drunk. You’re drooling and moaning incoherently as Eddie’s cock fits like a puzzle piece inside you, nice and deep.your pussy struggles to accommodate the stretch. Your walls pulse around him almost like it’s trying to push Eddie out. 

His arms shake as he shallowly thrusts into you, little grunts leaving his lips. 

“Fuck Princess, so fucking tight” he whines. 

“S-shit it’s like you’re fucking choking my cock” he grunts out, looking at the slight bulge in your lower stomach every time he slides back in. The sight is enough to make him cum right then and there. 

“F-fuck fuck fuck ohhhh fuck” you moan underneath him trying to grind into him but his grip on your hips tightens. You know he’s gonna leave bruises on you but you fucking love it. Love that he’s practically whimpering “princess” under his breath like a broken record, like he needs to burn the feeling and imagine in his head. 

“More, Eddie please-” you whine, your pussy pulsing around him desperately trying to drag him back in. He shakes his head vehemently, his jaw tight as he grinds his teeth. No girl could ever take his full cock before and much less someone so petite. 

“So fucking perfect Princess. Your pussy’s taking me so fucking good. Fucking stretching out to fit my cock baby” he grunts out starting to lose his reserve. His hips move slightly faster as he feels the burn deep in his gut. 

“Made f’you Eds” you nod, eyebrows pinched together as he pulls the rubber band tighter. You flex your stomach trying to keep it together. Your moans getting louder as his his resolve starts to slack more and more. 

It isn’t long until he’s snapping his hips into yours looking like a man possessed. He’s fucking feral, hair wild, pupils blown out, neck flexed. His whole body is tense as he pounds into you fast and hard completely breaking you down. 

You’re more than cock drunk at this point. Babbling gibberish, writhing under him, pulling at the sheets, your eyes closed shut as you’re in your own little world taking Eddie’s thick cock. 

“Jesus fucking Christ” Eddie moans at the sight of you. Most girls would’ve cried in pain, he always needed at least an hour of stretching and foreplay to get half way in and yet here you are taking it.

“M’gonna cum!” You cry, stomach flexing harder, your muscles tightening almost painfully. 

“Fuck- cum on my cock, Princess,” he pants, his balls slapping into your ass, hand pressing into your stomach feeling the bulge of his cock.

“Ohh fuck- fuck- fuckkk fuckkk” you all but scream as you let go. You tremble under Eddie’s body, face contorted, jaw slacked, drool dripping down your chin. It’s like you’re high and drunk at the same time. 

“That’s it Princess milk my fucking cock. Taking me so well, begging for my fucking cum” he grunts. His eyes rolling back as he clenched his jaw and comes hard. Thick white ropes paint your velvet walls already dripping down to your ass. Your pussy too small to accommodate both his cock and cum. 

“Shit” he heaves, slowly pulling out not trying to hurt you further. 

“I’m not gonna be able to walk am I?” You groan as he nuzzles into your neck. 

He chuckles,”probably not.”

“You’re the worst” you mumble lightly nipping his bottom lip. 

“Not what you were yelling two seconds ago” he murmurs against your lips. That’s dimpled grin on his face as he presses for a kiss and another and another.  

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

👊fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[bamsara]

what are your most favorite tropes? :3c

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED:

Near death experiences

Emotional revelations due to said near death experiences

Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Mutual Pining but they believe its unrequieted

"you're my worst enemy but you're so important to me"

Drunk chapter where at least One fist fight happens

Bridal carry after someone gets injured

Slow Burn...of course

"i got you this gift because it benefits me and im not telling you how" (the benefit is seeing the other person enjoy the gift)

Force Alliances or Temporary Truces

"I don't like killing but I'll do it for you"

"I prefer to kill my problems but I won't, for you."

Or: "This person has no idea how many people I've killed in order to protect or provide for them and I'm going to keep it that way."

Mean or Villian Character is actaully a really good Sibling/Parent/Child,ect and has someone they care about

Or better, Villian character adopts child AND is a good parent

Everyone knows the pairing likes each other except for the pairing

Temporary (or non-temp)Amnesia

"I learn your favorite things because I plan to use them against you one day" (proceeds to not do that) (proceeds to get them food or items that persons likes just because they like them)

Breaking and Entering. Literally.

Person A is in love, Person B says they're not but they're 10x times worse actaully

Slip-of-the-tongue/Accidental confessions. Doesn't have to be love confessions but just "whoops i was not supposed to say that"

Biting as a love language

One is feral and bloodthirsty but is put in the position of 'protecting an idiot' because the other is also feral and has no self-preservation. Both characters must be badass, just equally stupid

Kiss on the head/cheek while the other person is sleeping

Bloodstained kiss

Heat-of-battle confession about something

Protagonist refusing to become villian or repeat villian mistakes, not in a 'owo i cant do that its bad' and more like 'fuck you you dont get to see what you wanted to make of me'

Signifier of 'this is my friend/family/lover'. Could anything between a ring, a jacket over someone's shoudlers or scent marking, anything

"if im immortal, then you gotta be too or we both dyin"

Knight x Their Charge

Human x Non-Human

Sunshine x Grump

Character that looks sooooo cute. Oh he's a little fucked up actaully

"ahhaha he's such a freak haha. i need him carnally."

They are mortal enemies. They are also best friends.

Hostage / Rescued trope plus Hostage / Doesn't get to rescue because the hostage killed everyone already

Plot info that's missing that's vital to the story and it's revealed that One of the pairing or someone in the group knew the info the entire time

"I said mean things to you because I hate you, so why am I feeling guilty now"

There was only One Bed

Really competent and scary character is really GOOD at a harmless and charming small hobby completely uncharacteristic to their public persona

Nightmares. And then sleeping in the same bed because of nightmares

Cultural differences / Language Barrier

Character gets so surprised flustered they trip over something or break something and it topples and it starts a chain reaction like a cartoon

There are more but these are some of which I can remember off the top of my head. I've written many of these myself in several of my stories and will continue to do so until the end of time, esp my faves

[bas-writes]

50 Smutty Fics Ideas

Made this for an event I haven't run in the end, but it'd be a pity to keep them hidden. I hope they'll help your creativity flow!

A and B are hiding together in a tight place, their bodies pressed close. With adrenaline running in their veins, the situation eventually gets out of control.

A and B are dancing what eventually leads to a slow, intimate dance. A gets aroused from B pressing close to them.

A has an obvious crush on B and plans to finally confess. A chickens out and tries to opt out of the situation, but B presses them to speak in a spicy way.

A is tied to an altar as a sacrifice to demon!B. More than taking their life, B is interested in taking their body.

During a visit in a sex shop A spots a weird toy. B suggests purchase as a joke. Little do they know A seriously wants to use it.

A and B are friends with benefits. A's feelings turn out to be genuine, but they don't want to ruin the balance, so they keep it to themself…until they accidentally slip a confession during sex.

A is really into a specific body type/body part and B's body looks as if taken straight out of A's fantasy. A can't hold it anymore and reveals how much B turns them on.

A and B are on a motorcycle trip. The constant movement, vibration and touching is getting them excited.

A walks on B changing. It's the first time they see them naked, and they can't peel their eyes off them.

A survives a near miss. B, worried and scared to death, doesn't want to leave their side since then.

A and B need to share bed due to circumstances. They wake up in each other's arms and it awakens something in them.

A goes down on B. B wears nothing but stockings. At some point A starts tearing them out of the way with their teeth.

A loves B's scent but they keep it secret. One day B catches A masturbating while sniffing a piece of their clothing.

The way A moans "I love you" turns B absolutely feral.

A tries to get B jealous as a part of their flirting game. B snaps way harder then A predicted.

A and B are in a dom-sub relationship. A breaks a rule and B has to again teach them how to be a good sub.

A is less experienced in kink than B. B introduces them to the world of kink with their favorite one.

A gets extra loud during sex so B has to cover their lips. Limited oxygen/fingers in mouth insanely turn A on.

A and B meet for what's not supposed to be a romantic date - but they feel so good around each other, it's suddenly 2am, and they don't really want to part. A proposes B to move the meeting to their place.

A is arguing with B. They truly can't decide whether they want to kill or fuck B more.

That was supposed to be just a make out session, but A kisses so good that B gets impossibly aroused.

A and B are about to face a dangerous situation. They want to enjoy life before it might be too late.

A celebrates a great success with B. Drinks and festive atmosphere quickly turn the matters spicy.

It's A's birthday and they find B tied to bed in nothing but very revealing lingerie.

After a soul-draining break up, A wants to get rid of remaining grief & enter a new path of life with a bang: they contact B, a professional dom.

A and B realize they are being watched during sex. They don't intend to stop.

A is in a middle of meeting when they receive a message B. It's a very explicit nude.

A puts a blade by B's throat, be it seriously or as a joke/teasing. B's reaction is…enthusiastic.

A's hands seriously distract B. Their reactions eventually clue A in: and they decide to use the new knowledge to their favor.

A and B get trapped in one small space and need to wait for emergency. If only there was a way to kill the boredom…

A uses a sexual favor to convince B to do something.

A suffers from pent-up stress and frustration. B offers their body for them to use to get rid of negative emotions.

During soft, vanilla sex A asks B to try something different/rougher.

A shoves B against the wall. Now, once they are so close, A can't stop looking at B's face/lips/body part of choice.

A has lips/tongue/nipples/genitals pierced. B is really curious how does it feel during sex.

A rolls sleeves up/takes shirt off, revealing body hair to B. B has no idea how to act normal around A anymore.

A is usually reserved when it comes to intimacy and emotions. When in public, B does something that breaks A. A pulls B close and whispers to them: "I need you. Now."

A is preparing themself to roll with their day. B walks on them wearing nothing but their shirt.

A tends to neglect their needs. B uses kink as a way of taking care of them.

It's unbearably hot and A switches to wearing short and fine dresses. B finds out they are wearing no underwear underneath.

A has a really big dick/strap, B struggles to take it. A taunts and teases them about it.

Good cock & bad cock routine with dom!A, dom!B and sub!C. A praises C while B degrades and taunts them.

A and B are in a dedicated but open relationship. C grabs their mutual interest.

A loses a bet and now has to do what B tells them.

A, B, C (and maybe more 🤭) running a train on D.

A has a dark/unusual sexual fantasy & they bring it up to their partner, B. B agrees to try it out.

After a longer break A is so needy for sex that they can't enough of B. B is a trembling, ruined mess, but A just keeps going.

A is filthy rich & B is their sugar baby. A pays B a ridiculous amount of money to try a kinky scenario out.

A is a virgin but also very curious about a certain kink. B does their best to let them try it in a safe and satisfying way.

Wedding night between A and B takes an extra spicy turn.

Please, reblog and/or credit, when you use (but don't @ me!). The divider made by @/saradika.

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan arena beasts/fighters + handler reader. Reader is an average human working at a zoo/shelters abducted and thrown into a life of caring for a galactic tyrant's playthings due to their experience with animals. Not an idea choice for the job, but with everyone who's had the job before being maimed, killed, or worse they were running out of options. Reader does the best with what they're given. They find solitude with the other captives to an extent and some of the more feral creatures remind them of stray cats and dogs they knew back home. They treat those who allow as those same poor creatures out of habit and to cope with their new life. Others are so aggressive they have to be blindfold and sedated to even get close. Reader still tries to comfort them despite the many scratches and bites they receive

A little mix up happens where a warrior meant to fight the big bad of the area had already been slain by the beast. With no alternative, reader gets sent out instead as sacrifice to appease the blood hungry masses. They cower in the corner as the beast's mask is removed, praying their battered body at least gets shipped home so they have a proper burial and their family has some clue to what happened to them. They cast their small dagger away still unable to defend themselves against what they only see as a frightened animal protecting its own skin. The beast lifts them off the ground like a ragdoll holding them high for the crowd to see as its fangs draw from its scarred lips - breaking the band around its wrist that would seal reader's victory.

The beast ties the rope around reader's neck as the announcer declares them victor by default. The crowd boos, but as the beast snaps the neck of one of the guards and throws the limb body into the arena their demands are met. Reader quakes from the sheer disbelief of the whole ordeal, and still being trapped in the beast's arms as it coos. It takes over a dozen guards to get them to separate the two. They try again with another beast reader has care for and the same thing happens. Watching the live footage closely it's clear to experts the skilled fighters allow themselves to get injured to be coddled and tended to by reader. When rations are given they try to feed reader a share of their meals. The number of casualties skyrocket when reader's taken away or new caretakers are introduced. The beasts demand their head pats and ear scratches for their winnings and they want it from one source alone.

-

The emperor is quite amused by this revelation. It perfectly masks his paranoia in the case of his pets rising against him for whatever reason and choosing the earthling as their new overlord which few have spoken of in whispers. He's torn between killing them to null his fears and befriending them to puppeteer his pets craftfully from the shadows. He decides on the latter since getting rid of them would only anger his pets. That and it would be so easy to trick the human with his charms. Few can resist the words and body of a king, after all.

"Y/n, darling, it's so good to see you! So glad you could make it. How have things been, hm?"

"I'd like to go home, please."

"Hahaha! Oh, you're so cute with your little jokes! You may enjoy your meal in due time, but I have a favor to ask of you from a friend to a king. In the case of I don't know - my pets slaughtering my entire legion and storming my castle walls to behead me and crown you ruler - would you pretty please ask them to - not do that?"

"That....sounds like it would be out of my hands."

"Right. Changing subject, you are aware I have been topless this whole conversation and my bed is right behind me. Why haven't you attempted to have your way with me by now? Not saying you could - but you can always try."

The emperor upgrades their room to one right next to his, but they hardly sleep there favoring their time caring for the others and because they'd rather stay there than see him in a state of undress on their mattress. The emperor mimics the cooing that gets wounded beasts extra smothering from their handler, but reader mostly ignores him. He grows jealous seeing them fast asleep in a cell kept warm by the body heat of the battle scarred creatures around them. He's been scarred by attempted assassinations in the past - why doesn't he get cuddles too? Combats this jealously by making a royal decree that reader has to sit with him during every battle and on his lap if they wish to stay out of his sight afterwards. Requests for reader's fredom and hand in marriage and when a champion is chosen are banned almost immediately.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Looking for a saucy medieval tradition to weave into your historical romances? Have no fear, foot-of-the-gallows marriage is here! Basically, if a man was about to be hanged and a woman stepped forward and said “I will marry this man!” he was spared because it was was seen as like “oh, she’ll rehabilitate him so we don’t have to kill him.” Now, I heard this from tiktok, so I could be wrong, and it could just be a folk tale or something that rarely happened in actuality. Either way, it’s a cool troupe I think more people should use (and I myself will be using). I think it would work really well with Orcs and Elves!

This is such an intriguing idea! I had to try it. If you end up writing it, tag me, if you are comfortable! I'd love to see what you do with it ^_^

I keep getting Orc ideas, and I can't resist them *feral invasive Orc thoughts* （￣ ｗ￣）Ψ

Orc (Saber) x GN elf reader

Word Count: 6K

TW: discussion of hanging, bad mother, sfw Orc fluff, a bit of melancholy with a happy ending, nonsexual mention of private body parts in the context of bathing

“Goodness, what’s this all about?” you grumbled, clutching your basket closer to you as you made your way through the crowd. 

The stench of rotten vegetables and too many people lingered in the air. 

“It’s a hanging,” a helpful imp beamed, hopping on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. Why people gathered all around to watch someone die, you had no idea, but more importantly, the crowd was blocking your path home. Industrious vendors selling ale and popcorn wove through the throng to collect what coins they could from the event. In the capital, everyone had a hustle, and few left the chance to make some money at the table. 

“Out of the way!” You shouted, shouldering whoever was unlucky enough to be in your way. 

The voice of the city guardsman who was reading off a list of offenses to the crowd drowned yours out, but with a few well-placed shoves, you managed to make it to the front. You were looking around, trying to figure out how to get across the plaza, when you glanced up to see a familiar face. 

“It’s you!” you blurted as your eyes locked with the brilliant chartreuse irises of the Orc standing on the gallows. 

He gave you a wan smile, lifting his tied hands to wave at you. His straight nose was up in the air as if all the rabble around him should be fortunate to have the privilege of watching him die. The thick olive locs you remembered being long had been roughly chopped short around his ears. Still, even dressed in an ill-fitting prison jumpsuit, he had a regal air about him. His barrel chest was puffed, strong muscles peaking between the frayed fabric. 

“Fifty counts of robbery…25 counts of counterfeiting gold coins…seven counts of horse theft…”

The Orc you’d met before’s name was Saber. He’d helped you get your broken cart into town one rainy afternoon…, and then he’d also stolen your necklace, which you’d realized after he’d disappeared. 

“As per the King’s edict, If any citizen pledges to save this soul from the gallows by way of marriage, please step forth.” 

Though he was handsome, no one raised their hands to save him. Instead, they all booed. Judging by the rotten vegetables hurled at him, he seemed to have robbed almost everyone in the capital. 

“Aye!” you shouted, hiking up your pants to pull yourself onto the stage. 

The guardsmen’s eyebrows shot up when you’d straightened yourself.

“I’ll marry the sorry bastard.” 

“Are you sure? He’ll most likely rob you and run off. He’s better off dead.” 

“I have business with this one,” you informed him, snapping your fingers. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” 

The guardsman shrugged and jerked the noose off of his neck, a little disappointed. The crowd wasn’t happy either, hurling insults along with their vegetables. 

“Quiet! Quiet!” the guardsman shouted after shoving Saber forward for the “ceremony.”

He took a deep breath, jerking a notebook out of his pocket.

“Alright,” he began, snorting. “State your name for the record.” 

“(Y/N).”

“Lovely elven name,” he murmured as he jotted it down. “Now then, do you (Y/N) take this here, criminal, Saber Wintermaple to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

You gave him a sharp nod. 

“I do.” 

He swung a lazy eye at Saber. 

“Do you Saber Wintermaple, take this kind elf to be your betrothed?” 

He gave you a bright smile. 

“I do.” 

The guardsman snapped the book closed, shoving Saber towards you. 

“I hereby declare you two duly betrothed under the King’s law. This Orc is your problem now, citizen. You’d better keep him out of trouble, or you’ll be up here next to him!”

He handed you the thick rope looped around the binding, keeping Saber’s hands tied, and waved you two off. The audience, bored without bloodshed, had already started dispersing, making it easy for you to tug Saber towards the road leading to the forest. 

“I didn’t know I made such a pleasant impression,” Saber said cheerfully, following you out of town.

You whirled around and jammed a finger in his face. 

“I wouldn’t describe it as pleasant. You owe me a gold necklace! Give it back, or you can work off the coin you owe me!” 

He chuckled.

“I’m fresh out of coins, little elf.” 

He scratched his chin and looked up, thinking. 

“I’m pretty sure I lost that necklace in a game of dice.” 

He shrugged. 

“You lost my only possession of any value in a game of dice?” 

You scrubbed your hand over your face, counting back from ten so you didn’t explode.  

“Maybe I should have let you die.”

Frowning, you looked over him from toe to head. 

“At least you look strong enough. I’m sure I can find something useful for you to do!” 

You stopped where the two of you stood in the middle of the trail and pulled a small charm from your basket. 

“I was going to use this on my coin purse since there was a thief on the loose, but it’s probably better applied to you!” 

You looped the charm around his neck, closing your eyes to whisper the spell. A gust of spirit wind, fluffed your hair as the magic twirled around Saber. When you opened your eyes again, there was a blue thread linking the two of you that only you could see. 

“What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on you. 

“It’s a binding spell, so you can’t run off with my stuff again,” you explained.

His eyebrows jumped, and he tugged at the little talisman around his neck. 

“It won’t come off.” 

You nodded proudly. 

“Exactly.”

He took a moment to examine you carefully, tapping his chin again. 

“Interesting,” he murmured.  

“What? What does that mean?” 

He smiled and shrugged.

“Lead the way, spouse.” 

You sighed, turning and pulling him through the bumpy trail in the woods to your little home. When you’d fled your homeland to the Capital, you’d been lucky to find an abandoned cottage outside the city walls. It wasn’t massive, with only the basic living quarters, but it must have at some point belonged to someone’s Saber’s size, as the door and counters were much too high. You’d spent much of the money you earned selling charms and ointments, buying stools and ladders to reach things. 

“You poor thing,” Saber sighed as you passed through the magic barrier you’d cast to keep your home hidden from bandits.

“You don’t need to patronize me,” you huffed. “You’re the one almost hanged and run out of town.” 

He ignored you, looking around. 

“I feel kind of bad for stealing your necklace now that I’ve seen where you live. This place is a mess.” 

You examined your home, trying to see it through his eyes. Every available surface was covered in books, alchemy equipment, or ingredients. Even the chairs were covered in cast-off scrolls, books, or charms. 

“It’d be nice to have a workshop,” you admitted. “But that’s much too expensive.”

You straightened your slumping shoulders and lifted your chin. 

“No matter, you won’t be spending much time sitting down. I’ve got loads of things that need doing.” 

He gave you a sharp nod and held out his hands. 

“You’ll have to untie me if you want me to work.” 

Pulling a small blade from your basket, you sawed through the thick binding. Free to move as he pleased, he wrung his stiff wrists as he perused your living room. Occasionally he would pick something up, then put it down again, finally crouching to examine a bucket filled with water. 

“What are you doing?” 

He peered up at the leak in the roof that was letting rainwater drip through. 

“This needs fixing, or the roof will rot out.”

Pushing off of his knees, he turned to you. 

“How long have you been living alone?” 

You blushed, embarrassed. 

“I dunno, my whole life, I guess. The elven town where I came from didn’t have an orphanage or anything, so when I was old enough, I took off toward the capital. It took a while to get here…but here I am. I thought there would be more…I don’t know…opportunity here.” 

“How has that worked out for you? Living in a house clearly not meant for you and marrying a man on the gallows.” 

You gave him an indignant snuff. 

“At least I’m not a thief!” 

He chuckled, leaning against a bookshelf, rolling a gold coin on his knuckles. Your eyes narrowed on it, and you reached in your pocket to find you’d been relieved of your day’s earnings. 

“Hey! You stole that!” 

He laughed, revealing straight white teeth, and jingled the other coins in his pocket. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t get away with it, right?” 

You sucked in a deep annoyed breath. 

“I have things to do. Make yourself useful and chop some wood. It’s going to be cold when the sun sets.” 

“Whatever you say, spouse,” he replied, giving you a sarcastic salute as you dropped your basket and hurried to the kitchen to get started on dinner. 

What had you been thinking marrying a criminal? You paused for a moment, eyes growing misty. You didn’t really think he still had your necklace, did you? You let out a sigh just short of a sob. Were you really that lonely? Maybe it hurt that he’d been so kind to you, just to trick you. You should have been happy to see him hanged, yet the lingering magic that followed all elves had whispered that you ought to save him. 

But why? You weren’t in any position to support a husband. Though you’d instructed yourself on the knowledge of various potions and charms, you weren’t the only one. The city was teaming with Academy-bred alchemists who far surpassed your skill. They had access to rare ingredients and an army of assistants. You had to scrape out a living selling your wares far cheaper than the competition even to get noticed at the market. Hustling day to day, you certainly didn’t have the time or money to pretty yourself up to find a partner. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, returning to chopping tubers for soup. 

A thick THWACK, drew your eyes out the kitchen window to Saber splitting logs across the lawn. He’d divested himself of his ratty shirt, and every thick muscle was on display as he lifted the ax over his head and dropped it down again. The logs felt apart like they were nothing more than twigs under his might. 

Your eye focused on the dark, wet slashes across his shoulder blades where his jailors had beaten him. He must have felt your eyes on him because he glanced up and waved. Blushing, you hurriedly pulled the curtains, returning to your task. 

Unable to get his injuries out of your mind, you felt bad for making him chop wood while he was hurt. When you’d plopped the tubers into your cooking pot, you gathered up some healing and numbing salves, making your way out the door. 

“Need something?” he asked, looking up from his task. 

“Sit down,” you barked. 

A thick eyebrow rose, and he tipped his head. 

“Why? Planning on lobbing my head off?” 

You wrinkled your nose at him. 

“No, of course not! You’re massive. How would I even go about burying your body? I can’t have a rotting corpse stinking up the place. Just sit!” 

He leaned his axe against the stump he was using to brace the wood and sat down on it. You dug in your basket, pulling out some cleanser to clean the wounds. Beside the big ugly gashes, Saber’s skin was a smooth, pretty green, the planes of his muscles sharp and defined. The first brush of your hand on his back made him jump. 

“S-sorry,” you muttered.

“‘Ts fine. Just not used to people touching me. Go on.” 

You spread the thick gel you used carefully over each angry line. 

“What do you mean? You’ve never had a partner before me?” 

He paused for a moment before he jerked his head. 

“I had a girlfriend once, but she left me.” 

“Why?” 

“Some noble offered her his hand and well…I couldn’t compete.”

He sighed. 

“She was happy to keep me on as her side piece, but I’ve got too much of an ego to be someone’s toy.” 

Your eyebrows jumped at his candor, but you just hummed, plastering clean wraps to his skin so the wounds could heal. His skin was warm under your fingers, making the tips tingle. When you were done, you found yourself tipping forward on your toes to peck the back of his neck. When you’d realized what you’d done, your ears burned, and you coughed loudly. 

“Sorry, ah…sorry,” you muttered, unsure what to say. “You’re…ah…going to have to sleep on your stomach, so you don’t make these worse.” 

He swiveled around to look at you, smiling. 

“Thanks, doc!”

“I’m not a doctor.” 

He shrugged. 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Ten years of special-”

You shook your head, realizing he was teasing you.

“I think that’s enough wood for tonight. Come inside. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

He grinned at you, his stomach grumbling, as he scooped up some of the wood he’d cut and tucked it under one arm. You wondered how much they let him eat in prison, worried he was starving. 

“What’d my sweet little spouse cook for me?” he asked. 

“Just some sweet potato soup. It’s not gourmet.” 

He frowned. 

“No meat?” 

You blinked at him. 

“You have all the money I made today in your pocket. How can I afford meat with those few coins?” 

He nodded, appearing to be thinking through the problem thoroughly. 

When you returned inside, you dipped the two of you bowls of soup, filling his twice as much as yours. You assured yourself it was because he couldn’t work without proper nutrition, not because you liked him. 

“So how far does this magic thingie let me go?” he asked as you sat down at the table. 

“Why, trying to run off?” 

He smirked. 

“No, why would I want to run away from you?” 

He chewed on a big spoonful of sweet potatoes before he continued. 

“I’ve got a cute little spouse who makes me dinner and kisses my cuts.” 

Your cheeks blew up in flames, and you choked on a mouthful of soup. You tried to retain your composure by quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. 

“A couple of miles in any direction.” 

“Wow, didn’t think you’d give me such a long leash.” 

You shrugged. 

“I can’t be right at your side every minute.” 

He gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. 

“You don’t want me by your side every minute of the day?” 

Unsure if he was joking or not, you jerked your spoon at his soup. 

“Let’s…stop talking for a while. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.” 

While the two of you ate quietly, you did your best to keep your eyes on your bowl. Every time you happened to glance up, he was watching you with an odd smile on his face. Almost like satisfaction. 

You were relieved when you finally finished and could turn your back on him to rinse the dishes. 

“You can take the bed if you want,” you called over your shoulder as you stood on your tip toes to return the bowls to the cabinet. As your arm stretched, Saber appeared behind you, plucking the dishes out of your hand and easily placing them where they were supposed to go. 

“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked, extending a hand to help you off of the little ladder you were perched on. 

“There’s a couch in the living room.” 

He wrinkled his nose. 

“It’s covered in stuff.” 

You shrugged, trying to hurry past him. 

“I’ll clean it up.”

You found your feet swinging in the air as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” 

“My spouse is not sleeping on the sofa. I never thought I’d have a spouse, so I’ve got to take proper care of you.” 

He patted your butt for emphasis. 

“Are you crazy?” you snapped, only not banging on his back with your fists because he was injured. “We can’t sleep together! We just met!” 

Your body bounced on his shoulder as he chuckled. 

“You weren’t concerned with that when you insisted on marrying me!” 

“They were going to kill you!” 

He flopped you down on your bed, caging you in with his big arms. His head dipped to drag the tip of his nose along the length of your neck. 

“So you do like me!” he whispered into your skin. 

“I do not,” you huffed, pushing his chest.

Though your muscles did nothing to move him, he rose so you could scoot out across the bed. You quickly scrambled into the bathroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you came back out, Saber was slipping off his pants. 

“What are you doing now?” You gasped, cheeks heating at the sight of the thick shaft hanging between his legs.  

He glanced up, a slight smirk on his face as he folded his clothes. 

“I can't sleep in these prison clothes. I'll get the sheets all dirty!” 

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. He was right. He was filthy from sleeping on dirty straw in prison. 

“Come on,” you said, flicking two fingers at him. “You need a bath. You’re probably covered in fleas! 

Fortunately, your house came equipped with one large enough to fit Saber’s big body. With a flick of your fingers, the tub was filled, and with a few whispers of a spell, the water was hot. 

“Get in,” you said. 

Making himself comfortable, he looked back at you over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. 

“You tryin’ to watch? Naughty little elf!” 

You let out a long sigh. 

“No, I’m just going to ensure you don’t get your bandages wet, or it will all have been a waste. Supplies are expensive,” you huffed, picking up the sponge. “Now, sit still!”

Saber smirked but let you lift each of his arms as you scrubbed him. 

“So how did your old girlfriend take it when you decided you wouldn’t be your affair partner?”

He glanced at you, eyes ever thoughtful. His long look brought heat to your cheeks. 

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” 

He shrugged, his jaw tightening. 

“She was rather smug. She spent her whole life wishing to elevate herself.” 

A long sigh slipped past his lips. 

“I could never make her happy. I lied, cheated, stole; whatever I could do…but she looked down her nose at all of it.”

Your mouth fell open. 

“I’m…I’m sorry. You don’t have to…”

He waved a thick hand, his warm palm gently landing on your head and lightly ruffling your hair. 

“Think nothing of it. It’s kind of nice to get it off my chest.” 

“So that’s why you're a crook? To make her happy?”

He smirked. 

“I was a crook. Now I’m a married man. I can’t get into trouble. I have a spouse who relies on me.” 

He pinched your chin. 

“Prison was difficult enough without knowing I was missing out on such a cute little face. Now, it would crush me.” 

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you jerked your head away, grabbing the nearest towel and tossing it to him. 

“Careful, don’t jostle your bandages,” you wheezed before making your escape. “Whoever lived here before left some clothes in the chest by the door. They ought to fit.” 

You were so busy slowing your beating heart that you blew out the lantern and slid into your bed without thinking Saber would soon follow. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to feign sleep, when you heard his heavy footsteps approach. He paused for a moment, doing Goddess knows what, before he carefully laid down next to you. 

The mattress dipped under his weight, and your body slid into his. You heard him draw in a sharp breath as your warm forms pressed together. 

“Mind your wounds. Make sure you sleep on your side,” you whispered into the darkness. 

You felt him adjust slightly, and then a heavy arm draped over your waist. Despite yourself, it was warm and the weight felt nice. Comforting. Now that he’d used your soap, he smelled like home. His breath brushed the hairs on your neck and another arm slid underneath you to use as a pillow. You would have pulled away, but you’d never slept so close to someone before. 

Living on the street for most of your life, left you with scars. You didn’t realize how deep they’d cut you until Saber’s large body curled around yours. You felt safe. 

When you woke the next morning, the bed next to you was empty. Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, wondering where he’d gone. Had it all been a dream? 

The pile of dirty prison clothes folded and placed on top of a chest proved that it had not. 

Breathing slowly, in the meditation you’d taught yourself, you stretched your awareness out, reaching for the blue thread. Saber was half a mile from you. You wondered what he could possibly be doing. 

“Orc things, probably,” you muttered, making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

It wasn’t like he could run off; there was nothing in that direction but trees. Through the window, you could see the sun up over the tree line, telling you that you’d slept much later than usual. 

Usually, you’d have left at sunrise to sell your wares in the Capital market, but it was far too late now. Instead, you grabbed an apple from the kitchen and started fussing with your alchemy materials. Now that Saber was living with you, you were sure you needed to straighten up so he didn’t break something. 

Walking across the room, you automatically skipped around the bucket on the floor; only the bucket was gone. You frowned, but looking at the ceiling, someone had replaced one of the boards with a fresh one. Had Saber done that while you were sleeping? 

You huffed, returning to straightening your books. At least he’s putting himself to work. 

You were trying to remember the order in which a pair of books written in ancient elven were arranged alphabetically when the bell above your door jingled. 

Since your home was hidden with magic, the bell told you someone was nearby. It was a charm you rarely used. No one had any reason to look for you. The most it had rung was when you ordered a special cauldron or tomb and happened to have the cash to have it delivered. 

Curious if a traveler was lost, you put your books down and wandered outside. 

“Morning, spouse!” 

Saber’s voice made you jump when he appeared hauling a deer on his shoulders. 

“What’s that?” 

He shrugged the creature off of his shoulders. 

“Meat!” he announced proudly. 

You nodded at him, your eyes catching on his bare chest, glazed with a sheen of sweat. 

“Where are you off to?” he asked. 

“Someone is here,” you murmured, forcing your gaze from the sharp planes of his muscles to continue down the path. 

A shadow draped over you, and you glanced up to see him looming. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m going with you. It could be someone dangerous.” 

You shook your head but continued on your way with him in tow. 

“Helloooo? Helllloooo?” 

A female voice was screaming through the trees. When you rounded the bend, your eyes landed on an expensive carriage and a beautiful fairy shouting at the top of her lungs.  Her pink hair fell in glittering curls around her shoulders, and matching wings emerged from her back.

“Damn it! Saber! Where the fuck are you?” 

“Can I help you?” you asked as you stepped through your magic barrier. 

Her eyes narrowed, but not on you. She looked directly behind you. 

“Saber! There you are!” 

She grinned, fluttering her winds and flying past you. Irritation immediately pricked your heart as the woman threw her arms around him. Turning around, you found him looking at her with wide eyes. 

“Melody…what are you doing here? How did you find me?” 

“I’m here to see you, of course. I heard you were going to be hung, but an elf saved you! I asked around the market and was told you’d been taken here. I was so worried!” 

When she cupped his chin with her delicate hand, you crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. 

“Not someone. Me.” you interjected. 

You marched towards Saber and grabbed him by the arm. 

“Saber is my husband. Who are you?” 

She wrinkled her nose at you, ignoring your question. Her hand slid down Saber’s chest despite you. 

“Is there someplace we can talk? Privately?” 

Saber’s shocked face tightened. 

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate ask in front of my spouse, Melody.” 

She scoffed. 

“You’ve been married…what? 8 hours? Saber, I think I more than deserve a little of your time. Especially as the mother of your child.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your hand pulled away from Saber. It was true, you’d only known him for a few hours, but a child was something he ought to have mentioned. 

His brow drew, looking between you and her. 

“What child?” 

She huffed, frowning at you. 

“Fine…If you must do this, this way.” 

She turned to the carriage and yelled. 

“Nora, bring the baby!” 

A maid climbed out of the carriage holding a small whimpering bundle. You gasped as the woman presented Saber with a little green newborn. 

Saber’s eyes popped, his mouth opening and closing as the maid pressed the child into his hands. 

“This…he…is mine?” 

Melody nodded. 

“Yes, and it’s time for you to take responsibility.” 

He glanced up at her. 

“You want to get back together?” 

She let out a cruel but trilling laugh. 

“Oh heavens no. I need you to take him. Dante hasn’t seen him yet. He thinks I’ve delivered his child. I had the maids tell him I was recovering for the past month so I could sneak him out. If he finds out I’ve been carrying your baby this whole time, he’ll throw me out on the street!” 

Anger roiled under your skin. 

“So what baby are you going to present to him?” you demanded. 

She snorted as if that were a foolish question. 

“I’ll get a baby from the slums. Plenty of mothers would happily give their child the life of a Lord’s son without question.”

She fluttered her iridescent wings. 

“It only need be a fairy child.” 

You could see the pain and confusion settle on Saber’s face. Stepping between the two of them, you gently pried the bundle out of Saber’s hands, looking at his cute little button nose and glossy baby curls. 

“Of course, we will take him, but on one condition.” 

She glanced at you. 

“What do you want? Money?”

You let out a tight chuff. 

“No. We never want to see you again. If he is our baby, he is ours. Don’t think you can change your mind and come running back here looking for him or Saber. The second you step foot in your carriage, this child and my husband are dead to you.” 

Her eyes jerked to Saber. 

“Saber. You can’t mean that. Of course, I want to see you…Dante, however, can’t know. You understand, don't you? This is everything we've dreamed about! You ought to support me!"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I grew up in the gutter, too," you hissed. "But I'd never treat someone the way you have treated my husband. He is too good for you and I won't tolerate you buzzing around us like a nasty fly."

She glared at you.

"He's my child! You're just jealous Saber and I have history!"

Saber's jaw locked, and he put his arm around you, giving her a disgusted grimace. 

“Have you named him?” he asked. 

She looked contrite but lifted her chin. 

“I…ah…it didn’t occur to me...” 

He nodded and glanced down at you, holding his child. 

“Then…I agree with (Y/N). You’ll never know his name. You’ll never see him grow. You’ll never return to ruin our peace.” 

“But Saber-” 

“Don’t say my husband’s name, either.” you snapped. “You thought you’d come here and drop all of your responsibilities in his lap and then keep stringing him along as a toy? It’s not going to work like that. You have your family, and we have ours.” 

You jerked your chin at her. 

“Make your choice. Either leave the child or be prepared to explain to your husband who he belongs to. Those are the only options.”

Her pretty face contorted into an ugly, wrinkled mask, and she lifted her skirt to turn on her heels. 

“Fine! It’s not like I want the child of a thief anyway!”  

Snapping at her maid, she hovered back to her carriage, and they disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. You smiled down at the little baby, who’d managed to sleep through the drama. 

“Saber, I know I shouldn’t have spoken for you…I just- He deserves better than to grow up with the knowledge his mother believes him to be less than. Can you imagine him living as her secret? Sneaking around to hide him? If she passed him in the street, she’d ignore him to preserve her status. He’d be heartbroken. I won’t let that happen. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I’m not sorry for it.” 

He dropped to his knees, eyes wet, and pushed his head into your shoulder. His big arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight.

“You said just the right thing,” he murmured, then turned his head to look at his son. “What should we name him?” 

You smiled at him. 

“Let’s talk it over over lunch.” 

The two of you walked back down the path together, both having a hard time keeping your gaze off the baby. He wriggled in his sleep, making you both see hearts.

“Maybe we should move,” you murmured. “Just to be sure…and to give him a fresh start.” 

He looked down at you. 

“You won’t miss this place?” 

You sighed. 

“No…this is just a house. We have a family now. He should grow up in a happy little town, not the capital…we’ll have to save for a few months, but I think we can do it.” 

“We don’t have to save. I have plenty of money.” 

You froze in your tracks, looking up at him.

“What? I thought you said you were broke?” 

He smiled down at you. 

“I meant I didn't have any coin on me. I didn’t just piss all of my ill-gotten gains away. I hid them. Follow me.” 

He tugged the two of you into the forest, walking quite a ways until you reached an oddly placed rock. Saber crouched down and uprooted a bush with a stiff jerk. Then he cleared the soil away, revealing a wooden chest. He turned the little dial a few ways until it clicked, and the chest opened with a creak. Your eyes widened at the hundreds of gold coins piled inside. He casually tugged the gold he’d lifted from you out of his pocket and tossed it inside with a metallic clink. 

“I think we can buy a nice place with this.” 

You were still completely confused. He rummaged around in the coins, producing the gold necklace he’d stolen. Standing, he fastened it around your neck with the nimble fingers of a thief.

“I thought you lost it gambling?” 

He shrugged. 

“I lied.” 

“Why did you keep it?” 

He gave you a long look.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. Something told me not to sell it.” 

“But…what about the rest? I thought you gave it all to Melody?” 

“I tried to…we grew up in the capital, in the same slums she wants to buy a baby from. It wasn’t ever about what I could provide her. She wanted to erase her past. She wanted a title…to be a lady, to be able to lift her nose at the very people she grew up with.

I started saving after she failed at her first attempt at seducing some highborn. At the time, I had this romantic dream that I could surprise her with a big house, start a business, and be the Lord she wanted so badly…but… as time passed, I realized I was already tainted in her eyes. She wanted the right blood attached to her money. It took me too long to be ready to pull away. Dante was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.” 

He tugged the chest from the ground, hauling it onto his shoulder before leading you back through the forest.  

“Even though I knew I wasn’t enough…I foolishly still loved her. I was a mess when he proposed. That’s why I got caught. I went on a bender that lasted most of a year…Fortunately, I never touched this. Maybe I held out hope since Melody still entertained my attention…but I got sloppy and ended up in jail.” 

His gaze dropped to the baby. 

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't have ever known about him. Anything could have happened to him if you hadn’t-”

He choked a bit, a couple of tears slipping down his cheek. You didn’t push him to finish his sentence. You knew what he was trying to say. 

“What about Arel?” you asked. 

“Arel? That sounds like an Elvin name.” 

You smiled at the little baby’s chubby cheeks. 

“It is…it means ‘treasure’.” 

He stopped, bending down to examine his son more closely. The baby’s eyes opened, and you saw that they were the same pretty chartreuse as his father’s. The two of them looked at one another in awe. 

“I like Arel,” he said, brushing a thick finger over his cheek. 

Arel’s big eyes grew wet, and he started to croon. 

Shock and worry bloomed on Saber’s face. 

“Is he okay?” 

“I think he’s hungry. I have some goat milk at home.” 

Saber straightened, and you had to almost jog to keep up with him, the two of you hurrying home to start your life as a family.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions,  and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

________________________________

“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.” 

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms. 

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3. 

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful. 

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms. 

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected. 

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care. 

It also wore off in 24 hours. 

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans. 

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach. 

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised. 

The other two were different, they had… other urges. 

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data. 

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.” 

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much. 

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long. 

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.” 

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that. 

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?” 

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased. 

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.” 

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost. 

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?” 

He nodded and held his arm out to you. 

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen. 

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.  

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him. 

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped. 

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?” 

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him. 

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms. 

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid. 

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins. 

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip. 

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this- 

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red. 

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him. 

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible. 

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time. 

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame. 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut. 

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound. 

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense. 

Almost. 

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this. 

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name. 

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect. 

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. 

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch. 

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret. 

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up. 

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once. 

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum. 

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'. 

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth. 

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist. 

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh. 

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this. 

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating. 

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release. 

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you. 

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off. 

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release. 

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating. 

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest. 

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side. 

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough. 

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second. 

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative. 

It shouldn't take long. 

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes. 

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run. 

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth. 

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work. 

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down. 

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others. 

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful. 

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back. 

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine. 

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick. 

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level. 

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful. 

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him. 

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core. 

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check. 

It doesn’t last long. 

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in. 

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on. 

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts. 

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got. 

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words. 

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper. 

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going. 

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust. 

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end. 

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change. 

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory. 

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down. 

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure. 

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade. 

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before. 

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless. 

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans. 

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you. 

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal. 

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears. 

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength. 

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips. 

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength. 

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements. 

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze. 

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes. 

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either. 

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside. 

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully. 

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control. 

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat. 

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly. 

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip. 

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him. 

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you. 

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat. 

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him. 

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in. 

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight,  his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin. 

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release. 

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily. 

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat. 

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter. 

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin. 

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly. 

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. 

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside. 

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm. 

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves. 

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second. 

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-” 

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs. 

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation. 

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you. 

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw. 

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.” 

.

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns. 

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time. 

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated. 

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” 

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down. 

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?” 

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now. 

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin. 

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath. 

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently. 

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?” 

You shake your head. “Happy to help.” 

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair. 

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand. 

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused. 

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.” 

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong. 

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation. 

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close. 

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe. 

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul. 

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.  

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered. 

You frown and shake your head, confused. 

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

[delirious-donna]

Don’t Touch [Nanami Kento]

an: a rework of a shorter piece I wrote a looooong time ago for the handsome ex-salaryman. He’s on my mind so we must all suffer.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: sensory deprivation kinda (touch), teasing, fully NSFW

Masterlist

What had started as a fun experiment, quickly devolved into a form of torture designed specifically to turn your darling husband into a snarling monster.

You thought you had been so smart; offering an offhand remark that you didn’t think he could last more than ten minutes without touching you, in an intimate moment, you elaborated with a barely stifled chuckle.

Kento’s answering arched eyebrow spoke of his confidence at proving you entirely wrong. How hard could it possibly be?

Well, at eight minutes in, he was losing his grip on sanity. Kento had never appreciated how much he relied on touch to feel close to you, and having it taken away was akin to literally chopping off his hands. Of course, he knew that being able to reach out and feel you next to him was important, but not that taking away that one sense would break him so wholly.

How could he be expected to gaze at your beautiful naked breasts and not want to cup them and feel their weight in his rough palms? How was he to remain rational when your sweet nipples pebbled without wanting to thumb at them until you strained further into his touch?

“Ken,” you whined pitifully, your grip tight against his powerful biceps as you tried to keep your seated composure. His hips had been restless these past few minutes and he had almost unseated you from your straddled position several times by jerking you upwards without warning.

Strands of his normally tame hair fell into hazel eyes now clouded with a feral lust, the lick of crackling flames leaping from popping logs evident when you lowered your face to capture his pouting lips.

“You said you’d play nice, no fair.” You nipped at his bottom lip in a poor form of punishment, not knowing that this whole scenario was slowly killing him.

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull, the sharp curve of his jaw tightening almost painfully when you traced a fingertip around his nipple. Kento groaned, the sound low in his throat and rumbling through his chest. It made you circle your hips in retaliation. Eyelashes fluttering low whilst your bare pussy, slick with thick arousal, stroked the length of his aching cock.

How much agony could one man endure? His angry cock tipped with a deep red blush lay pressed flush to his taut stomach as you slid it through your soaked cunt again and again, rutting against him with a moan each time his blunt tip passed over your sensitive clit to snag at your hood.

The hands resting above his head convulsed with the desire to reach out and grasp your hips, your soft stomach, everywhere and anywhere. You noticed the twitch of his fingers, coyly hiding your smile behind your palm.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, voice gravelly. “If I can’t touch you, then please have a little mercy and sit on my fucking dick!”

You bit down hard on your bottom lip, knowing that if you even dared to smirk—let alone laugh—it would all be over. Your handsome man rarely cursed, and the fact you’d coaxed it out of him so easily filled your chest with humorous satisfaction.

“Oh, Kento, you’re such a good boy saying please so sweetly,” you teased, ignoring his tone and the cursing. “Let me take care of you.”

Kento hissed through clenched teeth when you finally gripped him in your tight little fist, guiding him to your sopping entrance and inching down agonisingly slowly.

The overwhelmingly pleasant feeling of fullness stole the air from your lungs, his cock bottoming out with an exalted grunt of relief. He might not be able to touch you still, but at least, he could feel you in other ways.

“You’ve made it ten minutes, darling, think you could go another ten?”

[gremlingottoosilly]

Omg please more Bimbo!reader x Mafia!Konig!!! I AM FERAL FOR IT! Your writing is so good! Can you maybe do some fluff with them! If not it’s totally fine! Thank you so so so much!<3

Konig smiles tiredly as you dance around in your bikini, showing it off to him. He doesn't understand how two tiny pieces of fabric and some jewels joining them could cost this much, but he will buy anything for his princess - as long as it means she will be happy and content with him. Throwing money at the problem is the only way he knows - either this or shooting the problem, which is clearly not an option here. He just tilts his head to the side as you laugh and ask for more pina coladas - it's a good thing he hired a new bartender for this property. The last one made the mistake of trying to get the lady of the house something cheap and artificial - you were still drinking it like a part girl you are, but Konig prefers you spend his money on something good. Something shiny and expensive - like a golden necklace with little diamonds incrusted into some magic ornament. He had a rough week - a rough month, most likely, with the new, almost uncorrupted politician rising in Vienna and promising to get the criminals away from the city. It was a problem he was solving currently - getting the secretaries, getting the bodyguards, surrounding the new guy with old ones, trying to get back into the warm underbelly. Konig just needs a bit of a pick-him-up, someone who won't be questioning his every move. Someone who has no idea how hard his work is. He slaps your butt as you stroll around, and you giggle. A godlike image - you lean down to him and ask if it would be too weird if you get on his lap and make out with him. You're a bit shy in the open air, a bit self-conscious about the servants he has running around - but he grabs you by your hip and pulls you down. You smell like expensive perfume and a bit of a water-cleaning chemical from the pool, and you laugh when he kisses you. You don't ask him about the gang wars, about drugs - you don't even take those unless he gives you something fun and non-dangerous, and your latest concerns include a new dress and a massage that you wanted to try on him because you saw it on insta. Konig loves you because he can finger you on the little pool seat while you squirm and moan while his other hand is busy texting his crooks on what to do with the most recent secretary the new politician got. Poor guy is going to get tortured for information and killed in the best-case scenario, but Konig doesn't feel remotely bad. He has his pretty wife meowing and moaning on his lap as he buries two of his large fingers into her cunt, and he has the informant on his phone. Life is good.