#I had my feet propped against the wall and when it hit my whole body tingled | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedrito-friskito · 2 years

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give what you take - frank castle x fem!reader (hell’s angel part ii)

summary: close calls in the windy city, and frank just can’t stay away from you.

warnings: okay so I thought the first one was raunchy? uh. canon-typical violence (if you watched the show you can handle this) - oral (m and f receiving), the briefest mention of squirting, brat!kink, dom!frank, frank’s filthy mouth, fingering, cursing, more than a few soft moments in this one cuz frank has taken up residence in my heart THANKS

a/n: yeah….I really wasn’t expecting the reaction I got from head to head but then I blinked and there was a whole series idea in my head, so here is part 2! it is LONG (I make no apologies though cuz I actually think this is some of my best shit lol) - almost 11k words, but there’s actually plot??? so enjoy 🥰

| main masterlist | series masterlist | ao3 |

Location: Chicago, Illinois

You scramble up the nearest fire escape, heartbeat in your throat, slamming against your ribs like its trying its hardest to burst from your chest. Below, a gunshot ricochets off the metal, making the whole fucking ladder shake with the impact. You grip the rail tighter, biting back the whimper that crawls up your spine. Chancing a look over the side, you see your pursuer staring back at you, a shit-eating grin on his face, an unkind laugh echoing its way up to you. The gold card in his hand glints up at you, catching on the strained sunlight barely breaking through the gloomy clouds above.

It’s too fucking early for this shit.

“Can’t run forever, Angel!” he calls. “I’ll just find you again!”

You turn back, continuing up the steps until you’re on the rooftop, rolling over the edge and sprawling flat on your back on the gravel. Your arm stings something fierce; his aim was shit but he’d managed to graze your shoulder. Blood wets your palm when you grip it, squeezing the wound over your coat. Fuck. You just had the thing dry-cleaned, too.

Panting, you pull yourself up, shuffling along the roof so you remain out of sight, to make him think you’ve taken off across the skyline. With any luck, he’ll head for the streets, try and pick you out overhead and come up empty. Even so, you reach into your coat, procuring the pistol.

It’s the same pistol Frank Castle had kicked towards you that night in New York. When he’d come to dance and you’d ended up doing everything but. Part of you still genuinely wonders if he’s a good dancer. Maybe you’ll never find out.

Maybe he’ll call you from that burner you left him, and you’ll get to learn.

Curling your fingers around the gun’s grip, a memory sparks, flooding your brain and leaving your body tingling. Frank, pressed against the wall of the house you’d claimed as your own, kicking the pistol towards you, giving you a nod, his lips parted and chest heaving. The Punisher, giving you the go ahead, trusting you to take down the man gunning for him.

It quickly bleeds into another image: Frank with his tongue down your throat. Frank with his big hand wrapped around your neck, cupping your chin. Frank with his face buried in your pussy, holding your legs around his ears and making you cum on his tongue.

Another gunshot rattles you back to present day, whistling upwards and hitting the light mounted to the roof, not twenty feet from where you’re propped up. Another whimper slides up towards your teeth but you bite it back. Don’t cry, don’t cry, you do not fucking cry.

Except, fuck, you really want to. Things are not looking good.

He’d tried to grab you in broad fucking daylight.

And it was…him.

Betrayal tastes just as bitter the second time around, but here, in a city that’s not your own, that you’re not familiar with, it hurts double. And this time, he’s not just after your cash. He’s after your life. You’ll be damned if you let him have it, but it makes anxiety seep through your bloodstream, mixing with the adrenaline and leaving you queasy. Maybe you should have stayed in New York.

Maybe you should have stayed with Frank.

Shaking your head, you sink down deeper, rolling onto your stomach. The blood’s stopped flowing for now, and you army-crawl on your good arm, heading for the corner of the roof. If you can just line up a good shot, maybe you can end this here and now.

But when you finally make it to the corner, pull yourself carefully up to the edge to peer down at the street below, you find nothing but an empty alleyway. Fuck.

The sound of a door opening bursts through the too-quiet afternoon air, and you whirl, lifting your pistol. “Easy, lady!” It’s not him, which takes you a second to realize, and you lower the gun, shoulders sagging with relief as you haul ass to your feet, brush past the startled young dude you just pointed a gun at, and slip through the open door behind him.

There’s a Chinese restaurant in the lower level of the building, and you slip straight through the dining room and into the kitchen, gun still in hand, ignoring the shouts of protest and snagging a take-out container of noodles as you go, disappearing through the back door and heading straight into the next building.

The convenience store has a counter manned by an elderly woman who looks half asleep as you bee-line for the back, pushing your way into a disgusting bathroom and stowing your stolen noodles and your pistol in the pockets of your coat. You peel the sleeve off your injured arm, wincing as you go, covering the bloody skin with a wad of paper towel before pulling your coat back into place. You should send the fucker your dry cleaning bill, just for that.

You snag a chocolate bar and a bottle of gatorade, actually paying for the items — when you emerged from the bathroom, the old lady was watching you like a hawk — before heading back out. You scan the street before you step through the door, immediately crossing the street and heading into the business complex that takes up the other side of the road.

And that’s how it continues, blood pounding in your ears and your shoulder pulsing with every step, until you get…home. Or, more aptly put, the almost-shit-hole hotel you’ve been calling home for the last few weeks. It’s been nearly two months now, since you left New York, since you woke up in the arms of the Punisher and immediately knew you needed to get the hell out of dodge.

Biggest mistake of your life? It was certainly starting to feel that way.

But you’d left him that burner, the number you used most often the only one programmed in, and hoped that he’d call. You’d thought about making the first move yourself more than once since you left, but something always stopped you. And you definitely weren’t about to turn tail back to New York, not after the mess you’d left behind.

It feels like an eternity before you finally step through the door, immediately closing and locking it behind you, going to far as to drag the desk chair over and jam it under the doorknob. It’s not much, but it’ll at least give you a heads up if he decides to come knocking.

You stick the noodles in the microwave, pull your first aid kit out from where you’d stashed it under the bed, and carefully shrug out of your jacket. The paper towel from the convenience store has done a shit job of soaking up the blood, more just smearing it around your skin and getting caught in the gash. Your grit your teeth as you pull it away, reaching into your kit for supplies.

More memories spark as you clean the wound. Gauze pressed to your shoulder, Frank’s wide palm wrapped around your thigh, fingers getting dangerously close to your wet heat. His hands on your hips, pulling you down onto his cock, calling you good girl. Fingers on your chin, tracing your bottom lip, looking at you the way he did.

You really are something, sweetheart, you know that?

Your fingers shake as you stitch, and you curse, knowing it’ll leave a ragged scar, an ugly reminder of this time in your life. Tying off the thread and wrapping your arm in a bandage, your head feels heavy, the weight of the day catching up with you, the threat that seems to be following you around like a shadow — and not the sexy shadow Frank had provided — making hot tears crawl up your throat.

You turn on the TV, strip off the rest of your clothes, and perch on the edge of the unmade bed in your underwear, poking through your stolen noodles, pistol on your thigh. You haven’t had the courage to keep it anywhere out of arm’s reach lately, the cold metal a reminder that you know how to take care of yourself, that you’re perfectly capable of keeping yourself safe.

But right now? You really wish you didn’t have to.

You sniff hard, wiping wayward tears from your cheeks, and as if on cue, your phone starts to ring, vibrations shaking it across the table on the other side of the room. You all but toss the noodles aside, gun sliding into the sheets, and you pick up the phone, eyes scanning the number rolling across the screen, breath hitching in your throat.

Frank.

Sliding a shaking finger across the screen, you clear your throat hard, swallowing back the tears you’ve let fall thus far. Lifting the phone to your ear, you shove a hand through your hair. “Was wondering when I was gonna hear from you,” you drawl, masking your emotions best you can.

It earns you a husky laugh in return, one that makes you melt back onto the edge of the bed. Who the fuck is this guy, anyway? Why does he have such a hold on you, even three states away and after only one night in his bed? What the fuck?

“Woulda called sooner,” he rasps through the phone, and you sprawl back on the mattress, fisting a hand in the sheets. “Got into a bit of trouble after you left.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhm, took care of it,” he mumbles. “You still bumming around Chicago?”

“For now,” you say, sitting up, retrieving your noodles from where they’re balanced on the mattress edge. “The Punisher making an appearance in the windy city?”

“Not him,” Frank says, “but Frank Castle just might, if you’ll have him. Not hunting you this time, sweetheart, not unless you want me to.”

You hum. “That’s an enticing offer. My bed has been rather empty since I left New York.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, and the possessive tone in his voice when he whispers good sends a thrill through you, distracting your clouded mind for a moment. You let your eyes sink shut, remembering how warm his skin was, how good it felt when he pulled your hair, that satisfying fill of him inside you. You need it again, there’s no denying that.

“Can be there in twelve hours, princess,” he says, and you chew your lip at the nickname. “You gonna meet me somewhere?”

You rattle off the name of the hotel, telling him you’ll send the address to the burner. “I’ll leave a key for you at the front desk,” you say, “under…” You tell him your name then — your real name — and you don’t miss the sharp inhale on his end of the line when you say it.

He repeats it, the syllables slow but sure on his tongue, and it sends a chill down your spine.

“Just do me a favour,” you continue, “and keep calling me Angel.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “See ya soon.”

And the line goes dead.

As promised, a little under twelve hours later — yeah, he sped a bit on the highway, who gives a fuck? — Frank is in Chicago. He parks in the lot, slings his bag over his shoulder, sticks a handgun in the back of his jeans, and heads inside. He gives your name to the scrawny kid behind the counter, still silently delighting in the feel and sound of your name, and lifts a brow when the kid scrambles to find him the card, sliding it across with shaking hands. “Third floor,” the kid tells him, and Frank just nods, takes the card, and heads for the elevator.

The room is a fucking mess when he steps in the door, sheets strewn across the king-sized bed, empty takeout containers everywhere he looks, your godforsaken coat draped on the chair in the corner. There’s blood on the sleeve, and Frank tilts his head to the side. No way you would have left the thing stained for that long, and New York was almost two months ago.

He shuts the door behind him, flicks every lock and slides the desk chair beneath the handle. He tosses his bag on the bed, toes off his boots, drops his coat on the desk.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, light streaming into the otherwise dark room, steam curling around the door jamb. He nudges through the door, waving a hand through the steam, and you lift your soaked head, big eyes pinning him in place.

You’re crying, eyes red and bloodshot, and even through the wet glass, he can see the poorly stitched gash on your arm, weeping red across your skin. You say his name so quietly he can’t hear it over the pounding water, but he watches it curve across your mouth, your lip wobbling before your teeth sink into it.

In an instant, he’s stripping out of his clothes, jeans and boxers and t-shirt forming a heap on the floor, and he slides the glass door to the side, stepping into the scorching spray. He grits his teeth as it hits his skin, but you’re right there, tangible and real in front of him, not just a memory of that night in New York, not just a figment of his imagination invading his dreams during the few hours of sleep he manages to steal each night.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since that night, doesn’t know if he can stop.

You say his name again, and this time, he can hear it, your voice cracking halfway through, and it makes his chest tight. What happened to you? What happened to the crazy bitch who levelled a shotgun at his head on a dark road?

More importantly, who’s responsible?

He gathers you into his arms, turning you to the side so the water doesn’t drown you both, the heat starting to change from unbearable to comforting. “What happened, Angel?” he asks, one hand moving up the back of your head to knot in the wet strands of your hair. It’s shorter than he remembers, curling around his knuckles; you cut it. He likes it. “Tell me.”

You bury your face in his chest in lieu of an answer, hands curling into fists that rest on his pecs. You’re shaking, and worry seeps into his blood like a disease. He needs to know what happened. He needs to know who’s responsible, so he can fix it.

He has to fix it.

Tilting his head to the side, Frank grips your bicep gently, careful of the wound on your arm, and swipes his thumb across the stitches. You did a half-decent job, the stitches a little jagged and uneven, but at least it’s closed. He cups his palm beneath the water, lets it wash over the gash, over and over until the water runs clear instead of bloody.

“Who hurt you, sweetheart?” he asks, the hand still in your hair massaging at your scalp, dragging his nails lightly along it. “Who did this to you?”

Finally, finally, you lift your head, those big watery eyes looking up at him. There’s makeup smudged beneath your lashes, and he moves his hand from your hair to cup your cheek, swiping his thumb through the black smear. “You weren’t the only one with a gold card,” you say, your voice a little clearer, a little less shaky. You blink slow, leaning your face into his palm. “It was my…” You trail off, shaking your head once.

“Who, Angel?” he asks. “Tell me who hurt you. I’ll get every fuckin’ last one of ‘em, I swear to god.”

You inhale deeply, fists unclenching on his chest, nails scraping his skin. “It was my old partner.”

His brow grows hard, and you turn your head, looking away from him, hands slipping down and arms crossing over your chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

“We used to work together in New York,” you say, and he can hear the hurt slink back into your tone, a tear slipping out of your eye and down your cheek. “Before I was a regular at Sister Margaret’s, we ran jobs together. Underground shit, I don’t know. He handled all the contacts, I was usually the bait. I didn’t mind it at first, but then this one job…” You shake your head. “He was willing to let things go way too far, and I wasn’t having it, so I left. Finished the job myself, took the cash, and stayed off his radar.” You turn your head back to face him, and Frank can see the pain in your eyes. He doesn’t need any more elaboration than that. The details don’t matter to the rage bubbling in his gut. “And he didn’t like that.”

Your voice cracks and you almost collapse against the tile. Frank pulls you against his chest, holding you tightly, mouth pressed to the crown of your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs to you. “You’re safe. Nothin’s gonna happen to you, promise.”

You lift your head and your bottom lip wobbles, more tears leaking from your eyes, and Frank has both hands on your cheeks now, brushing each drop that falls from your eyes. You haven’t even given him a name yet, but his mind is already going; how many different ways can he make this fucker pay for making you feel like this? Treating a woman like that, his partner. Putting this much fear into your head, making you feel unsafe, making you scared for your life. What sort of sick, twisted shit can he force this guy to endure before he—

“Frank,” you call, your voice still wobbling, and Frank’s reverie breaks. You’re staring up at him, your hands having migrated to his hips while his mind had wandered somewhere violent, and he bites back a low groan when you squeeze lightly, thumbs digging into his skin. “Can you…” You trail off, dropping your head, leaning it against his chest.

“What, sweetheart?” he asks, moving a hand back to your hair, tugging lightly. “What do you need? Just ask.”

Slowly, you lift your head, leaning it back in his grip. “Can you wash my hair for me?” you ask, and Frank is already nodding. “I tried, but my arm—”

Frank lowers his mouth to yours, cutting off your words, the kiss soft and slow and deliberate. You taste just like he remembers, that quick mouth tinged with whiskey and salt. You come to life under his touch, and he feels it, your body reacting in ways he’s admittedly been dreaming about since he woke up alone in that bed. Your mouth slots perfectly against his — it feels right — and Frank’s mind has only one thought: keep her safe, make her feel good.

If your asshole partner tries anything while he’s with you, the Punisher might need to make an appearance, after all. But in the meantime, Frank’s attention is solely on you, on distracting you, on turning you into a pleasure-soaked mess.

You melt further into him as he washes your hair, massaging your scalp under his fingers, dipping you back slightly with a tight grip on your waist and pushing the suds away, the pads of his fingers pressed to your ribs. Your eyes fall shut, lashes plastered to your cheeks, and once the water runs clear, the soap all swirling down the drain, he leans in to close his mouth around your pulse. Your arms tighten around his neck, and he turns you from the spray again, pulls you upright and pushes until your back hits the tiles.

He drags his mouth up to your cheek, kissing it once, moving his head and nipping your earlobe. You make the tiniest noise, this mewling little whimper that goes straight to his cock, a groan slipping between his lips as your legs part around his knee, one thigh sliding up the outside of his. Frank curls a hand around it, squeezing once as he hitches your leg over his hip. “Lemme take care of you, babydoll,” he whispers, mouth dragging along your jaw. “Nobody’s gonna keep you safe better than me,” a soft kiss to your parted lips, earning him another tiny whine, “you hear me? He tries to lay a hand on your again and I’ll fucking kill him.”

Your eyes flash open, bright sparks in them now. There she is. “I missed you, Castle.”

“You missed me,” he starts, reaching for your wrist, tugging your hand between your bodies, “or you missed this?”

The words are said against your lips, which part as your fingers curl around his hard cock, sighing with satisfaction when it twitches in your grip. “Hmm,” you hum, tongue peeking between your lips to swipe across his lower one. You give him a quick squeeze, and Frank slams his other hand into the tile, palm smacking the ceramic. “Both.”

His forehead presses to yours, nose pushed into your cheek, and you do it again, fingers tight around him, your body heat and the warmth of the water almost overwhelming. You start to slither down the wall, your leg slipping out of his grip, and Frank can’t find it in him to stop you, no matter how good he wants to make you feel.

“I’ve been dreaming about you,” you say, your voice a whisper above the sound of the shower, “every night.” You grip his hips again, nails digging in enough to leave little marks on his skin, leaning forward to drag your tongue over his hip bone. “About this, about your body. What you feel like, what you sound like.” He braces both hands on the tile, looking down at you knelt before him, sucking in a hard breath when you tilt your head back and freeze him in place with those big, shiny eyes.

He’s achingly hard now, and his hands curl into fists when your mouth drops open and your tongue peeks out, flattening along the underside of him, body arching with the movement. Your chest presses against his thighs, and Frank chokes on a breath, hands curling into fists on the wall. “Fuckin’ tease,” he grits, and you grin, leaning up slightly, drawing your tongue back into your mouth and pressing your lips to his tip, featherlight kisses that turn his blood to flame.

“You never said no teasing,” you quip, and Frank grins. There she is. There’s his Angel, that smart mouth, that somehow familiar light in your eyes peering back up at him. “Just living out my dreams, baby. Can’t fault me for that.” Another drag of your tongue, and Frank drops a hand to your hair, twining his fingers through the wet strands.

Your eyes stay glued to his as you open your mouth and take him all the way, tip hitting the back of your throat with ease. He groans, hips twitching forward, but your eyes don’t waver, nails digging in deeper. You’re just as good as he remembers, just as talented, moaning around his cock and staring up at him. He tightens his grip on your hair, curling his wrist as you bob your head, nose scraping the hair at his base. Then you pull back, one hand moving to grip his cock while your mouth closes around his tip, sucking hard enough that his eyes roll back.

“Tha’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he groans out, body starting to stutter, vision blurring at the edges as the pleasure makes a home at the base of his spine. “You looks so good with your mouth full of my cock, y’know that?” He adjusts his grip on your hair, petting a hand across your scalp. “Pretty fuckin’ thing, on her knees for me.” You just keep going, mouth sliding down to meet your fingers, one hand moving around his hip to grab his ass, squeezing his cheek. He moves his other hand from the tile, holding your head between his hands, mussing your hair over your head, his jaw dropping open as the pleasure flares like kerosene on kindling. He could get lost in this, he knows; he’s already getting lost in you.

“Fuck, Angel, I’m gonna—” he chokes out, body stuttering forward into your hot mouth. Your gaze still doesn’t waver, locked on his face, scanning his features as he cums harder than he has since that night in New York, his own fist and the memory of you no match for the real thing. It’s blinding, his head tipping against the shower wall, and he sinks into the orgasm, the feeling of it snaking up his back and spreading through his limbs and setting his nerves on fire. God, you are so fucking good.

You swallow him down, taking him deeper again, letting him paint your throat with his pleasure, groaning out sweetheart and Angel until the feeling returns to his limbs and his knees don’t feel like jell-o. He hisses when you pull off him with a quiet pop, his hands sliding out of your hair to grab your forearms, hauling you back up against him, pressing you into the tile once more. He grunts when you lick your lips, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and then sucking the pad clean.

He takes your chin in his hand, like he had in New York, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “I was gonna take care of you, babydoll,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth over yours. “Kinda rude, beating me to the punch like that, don’t you think?”

“Sorry,” you murmur back, nipping at his mouth, draping your arms over his shoulders again. “But the night’s not over yet.”

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Frank grumbles, and reaches over to turn the shower off. You gasp when he sweeps an arm behind your knees, lifts you up, and steps out of the stall with you in his arms. He sets you carefully on the ground, reaching for the fluffy towels hanging on the wall, wrapping you in one. You reach for a second, hastily drying your hair while Frank wraps a towel around his waist, tucking it in at his hip. You go to hang your second towel on the hook, and Frank grabs you again, carrying you out of the bedroom and into the main part of the hotel room.

You look so small as he sets you on the edge of the bed, wrapped in that big towel, hair curling about your face, and you stare up at him, like you had in the shower, that mischievous glint still in your eyes.

He plans to keep it there.

“I dreamt about you too, y’know,” he admits as he tugs at the corner of the towel, pushing it down your arm until your shoulder is exposed, and he leans in to kiss the scar that’s remained, the evidence of his stitch work after he pulled that shard of glass out of you. “Never should have left New York, sweetheart.”

“I’m definitely starting to believe that,” you reply, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your throat, releasing the towel so it pools around your waist. “But you know I couldn’t stay.”

“I know,” he says, and he reaches for the towel again, pulling it open, reaching a hand between your knees. “Y’know, I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.” Moving his mouth to your throat, he pulls your knees wide, fingers sliding up the inside of your thigh. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches, legs twitching wider to accommodate him. “You made the prettiest noises, Angel. Got me hard just thinking about ‘em, those sounds.” He drags two fingers through your folds, sighing heavily into your skin when he finds how wet you are.

Frank sinks to his knees in front of the bed, his own towel falling to the ground as he goes, a cushion between him and the hard floor. You whine at the loss of his mouth on your skin, but a tiny gasp falls out when he hitches your legs over his shoulders, pulling you to the very edge of the mattress. You’re absolutely dripping, glistening in the low light coming from the bedside lamp, and Frank lowers his mouth, licks a stripe up the very core of you, moaning into your pussy at the taste. He’s been dreaming about that too.

“Fuck, Frank,” you groan, hands finding their way to his hair. “God, you’re so good.”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers against your thigh, eyes flicking up to you as you stare back at him. “Use your words. I wanna hear you, yeah? Wanna know how good I make you feel.”

You nod almost violently, your whole torso shaking with the movement, and you moan his name again, head tipping back on your shoulders. He grins against you, licking again, pulling your thighs tighter around his ears as he delves into you. Your muscles go taut in his hands, warmth and wetness flooding his tongue as he sucks at your clit, gently scrapes his teeth against your pussy, prods his tongue into your sopping hole.

Your noises don’t stop, those tiny whimpers like you’d made in the shower interspersed between his name moaned lowly and god, Frank, fuck, right there, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your knees lock around his head, keeping him trapped, and Frank growls, releasing your legs to wrap one hand around his again achingly hard cock, the other sliding to the curve of your ass, where he pinches your flesh once before moving to your pussy, two fingers sliding into you with ease.

Back arching off the bed, you make the most delicious noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Oh my fucking god,” you curse, hands locked in his hair still, “you make me feel so fucking good!” Your voice climbs at the end as he curls his fingers, thrusting them deep as he closes his mouth around your clit. He strokes himself, moaning into you. He can feel it, the way you’re getting tighter and tighter, thighs trembling around his ears, your body curling forward, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, over and over.

Still thrusting his fingers, he wrenches his head back, tilting his face up to yours, releasing his cock to curl his hand around your throat. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he asks, kissing you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You take it gladly, hands scraping his back, nails leaving thick tracks he knows he’ll feel later. “Huh? You gonna be a good girl?”

Nodding dumbly, your mouth falls from his, lips making a perfect o as he curls his knuckles against that place he knows makes you see stars.

“Tell me,” he growls. “Words.”

“I’m gonna cum,” you babble, still nodding, throat stuttering in his grip. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard, Frank, I—”

“Good girl,” he says, and lowers his mouth again, still gripping your neck. It doesn’t take much more, one curl of his fingers and a soft suck at your clit, and your whole body seizes in his grip, chest heaving with each breath. He releases your throat, reaches down to grip himself again. He can’t stop, groaning when your orgasm coats his tongue, the taste making his eyes roll back, that heat in his spine taking up residence once more.

He’s lost in you.

You take everything he gives, tongue caressing you over and over until you’re cumming again, no words this time, just your open mouth falling against the top of his head, fingers locked in his hair, pulling hard. You must see what he’s doing, jerking his cock with every pulse that rattles through you, because once you catch your breath, you start to speak.

“You make me feel so fucking good, baby,” you whisper, your voice low. “You like the way I taste, huh? This pussy’s just for you, you know that?” You tug on his hair until he lifts his head, fingers still crooked inside you, making you gasp when he presses against your walls. “You gonna make yourself cum, Frank? Huh?” Your mouth glances off his temple, body going tight again as he moves his fingers again. He can feel it, and he tilts his face up, cheek pressed to yours.

“I want you to cum again, Angel,” he murmurs. “I want you to cum with me.”

You nod, skin scraping his stubble. “Yes, baby,” you reply, and one hand moves to cup his cheek, eyes meeting his. “Please.”

It’s the pleading in your voice that gets him, that pleasure-soaked tone reaching his ears. He curls his fingers again, his own jaw dropping as wetness covers your thighs and his forearm, your mouth open against his forehead as he keeps moving within you, keeps dragging his own hand along his cock, groaning loudly as his cock starts to pulse, cum coating his hand.

It’s quiet for a moment, as you both come down, nothing but the sound of you both catching your breath and the soft noise of his lips meeting yours, mouths seeking out each other. He kisses you slowly, languidly, pulling back only to kiss from one cheek to the other and back again, peppering your jaw, pushing his face into your throat again.

You whine when he pulls his fingers out of you, and it slides into a satisfied hum when he pushes them between his lips, sucking the taste of you from his knuckles, sighing at the taste. How do you taste so damn good?

He nearly topples over when you reach for his other wrist, fingers now lax around his softening cock, and you pull his hand to your mouth. He just watches, awestruck, muscles tightening as you clean his cum from his hand, tongue laving over his fingers, cleaning every last drop. “Sweetheart,” he groans, still licking your taste from his other hand, sucking at the meat of his palm. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, you know that?”

You just grin around the two fingers in your mouth and Frank groans, moving onto the bed with you.

The phone is ringing.

Your eyes shoot open, taking in the mess of your hotel room. The towels and clothes strewn across the floor, the slit of light breaking through the curtains that don’t quite close properly.

The large, scarred arm wrapped around your chest, calloused palm gripping your breast.

Frank.

Your body is aching from last night’s…exertions, and the burn is delicious as you stretch your arms over your head, arching your back and pushing your ass into his very prominent morning wood. He grumbles something unintelligible, squeezing your breast and burying his face in the pillow. You drag your palm along his forearm, feeling every ridge of muscle and scar that marks his skin.

Shit. The phone is ringing.

It’s not your burner — you’re pretty sure that’s still in your coat pocket — but the hotel phone, the red light on the base blinking brightly as you reach for the receiver. You roll back as you hold the thing to your ear, and Frank adjusts, moving himself onto your chest, planting his ear at your sternum. You can’t stop yourself from diving a hand into his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp. It makes him hum.

“Hello?”

“Just for the record,” a familiar voice says by way of hello, “I don’t want you dead, okay? This is a shitty business we’re in, okay, and there are rules for a reason.”

“Weasel?” you ask in disbelief. “How’d you get this number?”

“Does that really matter?” he throws back, and you shrug. Man’s got a point. “I don’t want you dead, all right, and when that sleaze of an ex-partner of yours showed up, asking for your card, I couldn’t say no, okay? I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Fucking stupid fucking dumb ass rules, okay?”

“I get it, Weas,” you say, almost laughing. “You don’t want me dead. I knew that already. Why are you calling, then?”

“I have a lead,” he says, faster than you’d ever heard the bartender speak before, “on the guy who ordered your hit.”

You sit bolt upright, jostling Frank from your chest, and he grumbles loudly, but you throw up a hand, pressing it to his bare chest. “Where?”

“There’s a gala at Willis Tower tonight,” Weasel continues. “Word is, he’s an investor of some sort, all dirty money and bullshit like that, but he likes to pretend he’s legit. He’s gonna be there.”

You’re nearly shaking, and Frank’s looking at you like you’ve got three heads. “You don’t have a name, do you?”

“No,” Weasel admits, and you can hear the letdown in his voice, “but I do know that wherever he goes, he’s got these two Russian thugs as bodyguards. Bald guys, crazy tattoos of bears on the backs of their heads.”

“Bears?” you repeat. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, I didn’t fucking tattoo the freaks, okay? I’m just relaying the information. You find those two, you find your guy. Take him down, and get the hell out of dodge, all right?”

You grin. “I owe you one, Weas.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” he shoots back. “Just don’t get yourself killed, okay? Like I said, I don’t want you dead, Angel.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Good, now fuck off.”

“You called me!”

And the line goes dead.

Frank’s still sprawled on the bed, head pressed into the mattress, and when you hang up the phone, he rolls onto you, hands covering your side, dragging his tongue up your spine. “We got a lead?” he asks, making you shiver as he moves his mouth down your back, pushing the blanket back so he can bite your ass.

You reach back, swatting at his head, earning yourself another bite. It feels good. “We do,” you reply, pulling at his ear, “and you’re gonna need a suit.”

Frank’s always known how to clean up okay. He knows he can, can pull off the bow tie and the jacket and the whole nine yards. He can’t even remember the last time he wore a suit; maybe senior prom? After that, it was dress blues or bust, medals on his chest and a hat tucked under his arm.

But the suit, he can pull it off. And judging by the way your eyes had gone dark and raked up and down his body in the dressing room, you think so too.

He’s been perched on the edge of the bed for almost an hour now, having gotten ready in about fifteen minutes, letting you muss with his hair until you were satisfied and disappeared into the bathroom to get ready yourself. He paced the floor for a while, even picked up the clothes and towels and takeout containers littering the ground, cleaning up best he could and retrieving the handgun from his bag to tuck into his waistband. Just in case.

You’d done a bit more digging on what the gala was for, doctored invitations for you both and printed them off at the public library after you’d bought his suit. He’d tried to follow you into the boutique where you bought your dress, but you’d shooed him off to the barbershop across the street instead, pushing a twenty into his hand with a grin.

There hasn’t been much talking since this morning. Not that there was much last night either, the passion having spoken for itself, but he can tell that you’re antsy.

“There’s a good chance he’ll be there tonight,” you’d told him when you returned to the hotel, outfits in hand. “If he tries anything, I—”

“If he puts a finger on you, I’m putting him down,” he’d told you. “Simple as that.”

There’d been a flash of something nameless in your eyes, the corner of your mouth quirking, but you said nothing.

The bathroom door creaks open and Frank shoots to his feet, adjusting his cuff links — he still can’t believe you made him get cuff links — for the millionth time. He sucks in a breath, lifts his head, and you’re…gorgeous.

It’s not a shock, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s like someone’s punched him in the gut. You look…

You look like an angel.

Lips painted a deep red, eyes lined black, shimmer catching the light along your cheekbones and collar, the tip of your nose and your cupid’s bow. Your hair piled on your head in artful curls, a strand curling at the back of your neck and around your temple.

And the dress? He’s got no words for that either. It looks like stars, black velvet dotted with silver, tight around your torso and flaring at your hips. Thin straps at your shoulders, the bodice dipping just deep enough to make his throat go dry, and when you take a step forward, he sees the high slit that bares your leg to your thigh, the strappy heels at your feet.

He’d fuck your brains out if you didn’t have to go like right now.

“So?” you prompt, reaching down to adjust the strap around your ankle. It shows him more of your leg, and Frank can feel his pants tighten. He had you completely naked in bed earlier, but this is just as sexy, if not more so. “How do I look?”

Is that even a fucking question? He realizes he’s just been staring, open-mouthed like a fish, gaping at you. “You…you look good, Angel.”

Your painted mouth quirks, eyes sparkling, and you turn. “Zip me up?”

Frank nods, closing the distance between you, gaze zeroing in on the open zipper at your back, the bare notches of your spine. He pinches the zipper, dragging it up slowly, and as he does, he leans in, inhaling the sweet scent of perfume on your skin.

There’s a tiny pair of angel wings tattooed on the back of your neck. He never noticed. “This is new,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over it. Before you answer, he leans in and presses a kiss to it, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s cute.”

“Well, you know,” you say quickly, slinking out of his grip. “New city, fresh start, that’s what girls do, right? Get stupid tattoos and run from their murderous ex-boyfriends. Sounds like a romcom.”

Frank scoffs, fiddling with his cuffs again. He can feel himself blushing, the scent of your perfume going straight to his head. “I’d watch it.”

He can feel you eyeing him, crossing to the mirror to inspect your makeup a little closer. “Y’know,” you say, meeting his gaze through your reflection, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked me, Castle.”

“Fuck,” he replies, rolling his eyes. So this is how you’re gonna play this. “Trekking across three states wasn’t enough of a clue for you?” He comes to stand behind you, hand reaching out to rest on your hip, palm sliding on the material. “I’m here for you, Angel. I said you’re safe with me and I meant it.”

Slowly, you turn under his hand, fingers knotted in front of you, lips softly parted.

“If this guy, this ex of yours, if he shows his face tonight, if he tries to hurt you,” he says, shaking his head, unable to take his eyes off your mouth. “If anyone tries to lay a finger on you, I…” He trails off, reaching up and pinching your chin in his other hand. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, do you understand that?”

You’re just staring at him, eyes wide and shiny, but Frank needs to hear it.

“Tell me, Angel,” he says, “do you understand that?”

You nod, head bobbing in his grip, a whispered yes meeting his ears.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you.

He’s careful, that much is true, careful not to smudge your makeup too much, though he knows your mouth is a write-off now. Frank wants nothing more than to plunge his hands in your hair again, to tug and pull until you’re squirming beneath him, letting him have his way with you again. He settles for you waist, other hand joining the one already on your hip, and he squeezes lightly, nudges his nose along yours before he kisses you bottom lip, then the top, bottom again, top again. Over and over, until it’s imprinted in his brain, muscle memory.

That little mewling sound of yours reaches his ears, and he can feel his trousers tighten. Your nails drag light along his scalp, palm grazing the freshly trimmed hair at the back of his head, and he sighs, sinking into your touch.

And all too soon, you’re pulling away. You’re blushing, eyes a little watery, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to pull away completely, disappear into the bathroom again, but your hand lifts, catching his chin, rubbing lipstick from his mouth. Your gaze is glued to his jaw as you rub, perfectly filled brows pulling down on your forehead. There’s something in those eyes, something he doesn’t have a name for. Once the lipstick is gone, you turn towards the bathroom, reaching for your small purse on the counter and pulling out the tube. “I have to fix my makeup now, you jerk,” you throw over your shoulder, but the quip is halfhearted, and that unnamed emotion spreads through your features before you turn back to the mirror and reapply, lips parting softly.

There’s not nearly enough booze at this party.

You’re tucked in the corner of the room, a half-filled flute of champagne in your hand. It’s watered down, you think, especially since you’re on your third glass of the evening without so much as a slight buzz in the back of your brain.

Frank’s gone for the harder stuff, a tumbler of whiskey gripped in his big hand since you walked through the double doors. There’d been no issue with your ‘invitation’, not so much as a second glance before you were ushered into the ballroom. It’s fancy, no question, all high glass ceilings and crystal chandeliers, a damn orchestra playing quietly in the corner and waiters in tuxedos passing out caviar and what you think is a fig wrapped in cheese.

Nearly three hours in, however, and still no sign of your Russian bears.

You’ve managed to avoid conversation for most of the evening, ignoring people past a quick hello or an unenthusiastic wow, I love your dress! And Frank’s been stoic as anything, no more than half a foot from your shadow at any given moment. You’d called him on it earlier in the evening, and he’d just shaken his head, the tips of his ears turning red, and mumbled, “I don’t do parties, sweetheart, and you’re…distracting.”

You reached out and pinched his earlobe between your fingers, bumping your hip against his. You liked that you made him blush, that you hadn’t so much as moved all night without his eyes following you. You liked those dark eyes, the way he squinted a little when he concentrated, even more so when he laughed. You liked the way his ears stuck out, made slightly more noticeable by his haircut, and that big nose that suited his face so perfectly. You liked the cadence of his voice, the way he sighed a little after he said your name, how the tone would grow gravelly and low when you teased him.

You liked Frank Castle.

Fuck.

It was that realization that had you reaching for a second glass — and the third — and it’s what has you pouring the rest down your throat before plucking Frank’s glass out of his hand and tossing it back as well.

He narrows his eyes at you, licks his lips, and shakes his head once before he leans in, pushing his face into the curve of your jaw and nipping at your skin. As his teeth sink in, there double doors push open, a man in a suit stepping through, and your breath hitches, hand reaching up to grip the back of Frank’s neck, holding him against you. He keeps at it, and it’s a little more than a love bite, joined by his hand snaking from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard before he pulls away. “You want another?”

You nod, feeling your heart crawl up your throat and make a home there, trying to offer him a genuine grin. But he notices — of course he notices — and his hand returns to your hip, squeezing lightly.

“What, sweetheart?” he whispers, and you can see the darkness seeping into his features. Maybe the Punisher has come to Chicago after all. “Russians?”

You pull your eyes away from the door long enough to meet his, reaching up to push two fingers under his chin, leaning forward to kiss him once. “Nothing. I want Macallan, if they have it,” you whisper to him, lips quirking. “Two fingers.”

“Two?” he replies, mischievous smirk, tilting his head to the side. “That’s really all it takes, huh, Angel?”

Glaring at him, you shove at his shoulder. “Go, you menace, before I drag you out of here by the collar.”

The smirk widens to a grin. “You should try it, sweetheart,” he says lowly, leaning in to kiss your cheek before he pulls away completely, turning towards the bar, “I might like it.”

You roll your eyes at his back, watching the way he scans the ballroom before crossing to the bar on the other side of the room. He does look stupidly good in that suit, and you allow yourself more than an eyeful of his ass as he disappears through the crowds of people.

But then your attention prickles at something else, a shadow at your shoulder, and the wound on your arm, carefully covered by makeup, barks in response.

“Your bodyguard’s handsome,” Max whispers, his mouth suddenly right at your ear. It takes everything in you not to flinch, or reach for the knife holstered at your thigh beneath your dress. You sink your teeth into the inside of your cheek, bunching your hands in your dress. “Don’t worry yourself, Angel. You really think I’d try and take you out right here, right now? Make a scene? You don’t know me at all.” You feel his nose brush against your hair. “Besides, I know your boyfriend isn’t exactly shy about making a scene, and I’m not about to have my brains smeared across the dance floor.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” is all you can manage to spit back, and Max just laughs. Fucking asshole.

He presses his knuckle against your spine, drags slowly up, and you freeze, goosebumps rising on your skin. “Coulda fooled me,” he whispers. “You might need to get your eyes checked, baby, cuz the way he’s looking at you? I’ve seen that look before.” Max’s hand reaches the top of your neck, and you feel his thumb press into the very top of your spine, right where the wings are tattooed. “I used to look at you like that.”

Finally finding yourself, you whirl, stepping out of his grip and turning to face him. “Yeah, and then you tried to sell me like a piece of meat.” He tries to reach for you but you bat his hand away, anger flaring in your gut. “Looking at me doesn’t exactly make up for that.”

His handsome face goes feral, jaw going tight as he speaks through his teeth. You’ve seen that look before, quietly curse the girl that look used to turn you into. “I never would have let anything happen to you, you know that.”

“Says the man holding the gold card with my name on it.” You step closer, leaning up on your heels, getting in his face. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d get the fuck out of this city and leave me alone.”

Max just grins. “And if you knew what was good for you, Angel, you’d come with me.” When your gaze falters, courage snapping in half at his words, he laughs. “I’ve got snipers in the next building, all eyes on your boy over there.”

Your jaw clenches, and Max grips your forearm. You try to wrench out of your grip, but your eyes find Frank leaned against the bar, a smile on his face, talking animatedly with the bartender. “Thought you didn’t want to make a scene.”

“I don’t,” he continues, brows raising. “I just want you to take a little walk with me upstairs. For old time’s sake, hmm? You come with me, nobody lays a finger on him. Or puts a bullet in his head.” He lifts the hand not gripping your arm in an iron vice. “Scout’s honour.”

“Fuck your honour, Max,” you spit, baring your teeth. “You don’t have any. What is this about anyway, huh? What do you want from me? You want money, the price on my head? That what this is all about?”

“Maybe,” he grits, staring down his nose as you. You could break it. “Maybe I just want to see firsthand what Frank Castle does when someone plays with his toys.” Your hands curl into fists. “What, Angel, worried he won’t want you anymore when I’m done with you? When I’ve had my way with you again?”

“Please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Just put a bullet in my head now if you think I’m ever sleeping with you again.”

His grip tightens and you clench your jaw against the pain. “You come with me now, or Castle dies.”

You lift your chin. “And why should I believe you have snipers, hmm? Give me one good reason.”

“You want a demonstration? Lots of easy targets in here.” He taps his ear, turning his head to the side so you can see the earpiece sitting there.

“Fuck you, Max.”

“That’s the spirit.”

You don’t have a choice. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and you’re the mouse in the corner with a knife strapped to her leg. It’s only a matter of time, now, to see if you actually get to use it.

Frank watches from the bar. Watches him put his hands on you, watches him grab your arm and you pull out of his grip. Good girl. He watches the words exchanged, his eyesight not good enough to read lips at this distance, but the sinking look on your face is enough of a clue.

You’d given him the name, earlier in the day. Not like it mattered. Not like he really needed to know the fucker’s name. It wasn’t gonna change the outcome. But he’d watched it from his spot at the bar, watched the fear sink into your features like he’d seen it when he’d first arrived, found you crying in the shower, injured and scared.

The handgun is a welcome weight at the small of his back, and he nods to the bartender as your drinks are slid across the bar, pushing a ten dollar bill across the bar top. He downs his own drink in one gulp, snatches yours, and turns on his heel.

The fact that you’re not trying to run from Max is what has Frank worried. Something’s up, something decidedly not good, and the feeling only doubles when he sees you being dragged from the ballroom, throwing a look over your shoulder in his direction, eyes searching for him in the sea of faces.

Nobody’s gonna keep you safe better than me, you hear me? He tries to lay a hand on your again and I’ll fucking kill him.

It’s a good a promise as any, and he plans to keep it.

He skids through the door just as Max’s palm connects with your cheek, slapping you so hard you topple sideways, knees and palms hitting the marble floor, and Frank sees a drop of blood fall from your mouth. But before he can do anything more, Max has you hauled up over his shoulder, sprinting down the hallway and disappearing around a corner.

Frank takes off, stupid dress shoes skidding on the tile, handgun sliding easily out of his waistband and into his hand. He sees the flash of your dress as he rounds the corner again, and keeps going, spurred on by that fear in your eyes, and the memory of that unnamed emotion he’d seen back at the hotel. He has to keep you safe. He has to fix it.

There’s more rounding of corners, almost tripping up staircases in these stupid fucking shoes, and he loses you. He goes left when he should have gone right, ends up having to retrace his steps twice, cursing inwardly at his own mistakes, doubling back and darting up another stairwell. At least he knows you’re heading up.

He hears a door slam as he steps onto another floor, what looks like an office, and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting glass, a crackling thump that he makes him see red. Max isn’t as smart as he thinks he is, and he’s already enough of a fucking idiot for thinking Frank wouldn’t have his head for touching you. Big fucking mistake. Huge.

Rage tinging his vision, Frank barrels towards the source of the sound, your crumpled figure on the floor coming into view as he sprints for the door. It cracks open easily when he shoves his shoulder into it, lifting his gun with both hands and levelling it with the fucker’s head.

You’re curled on the floor, blood on your mouth and your cheek split open. Spitting red onto the carpet, you bare your teeth, and Frank’s gun nearly clatters to the floor when he sees the knife curled in your grip, blade smeared with crimson.

Max stumbles back against the large table in the centre of the room, clutching his throat, all gargling noises and wide eyes. His white dress shirt is a bloody mess, red spraying from the wound on his neck. Frank only blinks, lifts the gun, and puts a bullet between his eyes. The shot echoes through the empty floor. Like he said, big fucking mistake.

He drops the gun on the table, immediately on his knees and trying to help you, wiping the blood from your lips and inspecting your cheek. Not deep enough to need a stitch, but the fucker must have decked you hard. And when he glances up, Frank can see the glass wall has splintered, he assumes from you being thrown against it, and your eyes are a little foggy when you blink up at him, almost dazed. Your dress is torn, the slit riding higher on your leg, and Frank almost loses it when he sees red marks on your thigh, deep enough to draw blood.

“Are you okay?” he asks instantly, pulling his coat off and draping it around your shoulders. You’re shivering, blood-smeared teeth chattering as you stare up at him. “Did he touch you? What happened?” He glances over his shoulder, at Max’s body now slumped on the table. “I swear to fucking, God, Angel…”

You take his chin in your hand, nails digging in, pulling his gaze to yours. “I wanna go home, Frank.”

“Okay, baby girl,” he says lowly, and reaches down to pull the knife from your grip, sliding it into his pocket. He fumbles for the gun, sliding it back into the waistband, cursing the burn as it slips against his skin, but he grits his teeth against the pain. He turns back to you and collects you carefully into his arms, hauling you up, the fabric of your dress dragging against the floor as he goes. “I got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth to your temple when you sag against him. “Let’s go home.”

You wake up alone.

Back in the hotel room, your head buzzing with a combination of a champagne hangover and the impact of Max slamming you into the glass. Your mouth tastes terrible, and you blink heavy eyes open, finding your dress a pile of fabric on the floor, Frank’s suit half-laid out on the chair across from you.

Memories swim through your murky mind. Max’s hand on your thigh, clawing into your skin. He pulled the knife out, danced it under your chin, pushed the tip of it into the middle of your bottom lip. He told you how he planned to kill you, how he was waiting for Frank to show, so he could make him watch. So he could break the already broken man, the man who had already lost too much.

He hadn’t been expecting your knee between his legs, or the ease with which you’d pulled your knife from his grip and plunged it into his throat.

And then Frank was there, your knight in shining armour, pulling the trigger like it was the easiest thing in the world. Gathering you into his big, strong arms and whisking you away into the night, taking you home, wherever home happened to be.

You were starting to worry that home might look like him.

He’d brought you back to the room, cleaned the blood from your skin, tended to your wounds. Kissed you with such care and softness that it brought tears to your eyes, left your body feeling weightless, left your heart aching in your chest with the need to make him feel the same.

You’d whispered into the dark, when he laid down with you, begged him to touch you, to feel him inside you, and he’d obliged, moving so slowly against you, dragging the pleasure from your exhausted form so purposefully that the ache only grew deeper.

You know how it’d go down, if another one like Max came along, if the man who’d put out the hit on you — the man who you still knew almost nothing about — sent someone else after you, or if someone came after Frank.

If Frank stuck around, if you kept yourself glued to his side like you so desperately wanted to be, it wouldn’t end well. You’d lose him, he’d lose you; either way, the fairytale ending didn’t exist, and you’d done enough research on the Punisher’s history during your time apart to know just how devastating his past was. You’d both end up dragged through hell, him for a second time, and you couldn’t have that on your head.

Pushing the blankets off and swinging your legs over the side of the mattress, you see a hastily scrawled note on the nightstand, in what you assume to be Frank’s surprisingly legible handwriting. You’d assumed it would be chicken scratch, but you’re wildly incorrect.

Went for coffee. Didn’t wanna wake ya. Take an Advil and clean your cheek. xoxo F

You can’t drag him through hell again. Not after everything he’s been through.

So, walking slowly toward where his bag sits on the counter, you fish out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before, inhaling the manly scent of him. Pulling it over your head, your decision is made.

You have to remove yourself from the equation. To spare you both.

The room’s empty, when he walks in, coffees balanced in his hand. And fuck, if it doesn’t feel like a knife in the gut.

Your coat is there, folded neatly on the now-made bed, beside his packed bag. Bathroom’s empty, your makeup and toothbrush and your kit, all gone. No sign of you, just like the morning after the first time, when he’d woken up alone. But it feels different this time, more purposeful.

You were still asleep when he’d left initially, your face shoved in the pillow, brows pinched with a dream, but they’d softened when he leaned down to kiss you. He swore you murmured his name in your sleep.

Frank runs his fingers over the fur collar of your coat, fishes the burner you’d left him in New York out of his pocket, hits the speed dial.

The number you have dialled is not currently available. Please try again later.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the word not nearly heavy enough for the feeling in his gut. He sniffs hard, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

There’s no note this time, no explanation. Just an empty room, a fur-lined coat, and him.

—————

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

haunted house ~ billy loomis;scream

word count: 1489

request?: no

description: when his girlfriend is terrified by a haunted house, billy promises to protect her no matter what

pairing: billy loomis x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

*to celebrate the start of spooky season!*

I looked up at the abandoned building turned haunted house. I don’t know who decided it was a good idea to make a haunted house out of a place that was supposedly haunted. I definitely don’t know what possessed me to go with my group of friends to the damn haunted house either.

“Do you think we’ll see, like, an actual ghost or something?” Tatum asked as we waited in line to enter the haunted house. “What if we see an actual dead body and we just think it’s a prop?”

“What if we get possessed?” Stu added. Tatum giggled excitedly and leaned into him.

“We’re not gonna get possessed,” Randy said. “Or see any dead bodies or ghosts. The place is an old abandoned home, not a murder site.”

“Not that we know of,” Stu whispered to Tatum, causing her to giggle again.

I crossed my arms and looked up at the scarily decorated building. Not that it was something I was about to admit to my horror crazy friends, but I was terrified to go into the haunted house. I hated haunted houses, I always did. I went once as a young child with my parents and some asshole thought it would be funny to chase after a five year old with a fake chainsaw. I didn’t know it was fake at the time of course cause, you know, I was five.

Noticing my discomfort, Billy put an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “Hey, don’t listen to Stu. We won’t see any ghosts or dead bodies, it’s just gonna be a harmless haunted house.”

“Harmless, sure,” I said, trying my best to smile at him.

Stu and Tatum excitedly ran into the haunted house once we got to the front of the line. I could hear Tatum scream the moment she passed through the door, which only made my stomach turn even more.

Randy entered next, followed by an also hesitant Sydney. I was glad not to be the only one who wasn’t excited by this idea. When it came to me and Billy, I was also hesitant at first. Billy pulled on my arm slightly, finally getting my legs to move.

The minute we walked through the door, the air was stuffy from the fog. The lights were so dim that I could barley make out the figures of my friends in front of me or Billy beside me. There was a bright, blinking strobe light that showed the outlines of the bodies around us; whether they were real people or just dummies I couldn’t tell.

The first scare was some kid jumping out from a room wearing a Jason Voorhees mask wielding a fake machete. I screeched and clung to Billy’s arm as he laughed and kept walking. I could hear screaming from the other attendees and jeers from the people playing the characters.

Billy’s hand slipped from mine and my panic began to rise. I still couldn’t see very well and now the strobe lights were starting to disorient me. I just wanted to get to the end and to go home.

I had my arms around myself, as if that would protect me, when a group of kids ran past me, giggling and screaming. They startled me slightly, but not as much as one of the haunted house workers jumping out at me, a mask over his face and a fake chainsaw in his hands. Flashbacks to my first haunted house played before my eyes as I screamed and covered my face. I backed away until I hit a wall, but my attacker kept coming, chainsaw raised over his head. I began to sob in terror as it became evident that the chainsaw wielding maniac wasn’t backing away.

“Hey man! Get the fuck away!”

I recognized Billy’s voice as the chainsaw finally shut off. Through the dim light I could see Billy shoving my attacker away before kneeling down next to me.

“She’s fucking crying, alright? That means back the fuck up and leave her alone!” he snapped as he knelt down next to me. “Are you okay, babe?”

I shook my head, unable to speak due to my sobbing. Billy put an arm around me and pulled me to my feet.

“Keep your head ducked, I’ll get us out of here,” he said.

I tucked my head against shit shoulder as he led me out of the haunted house. I jumped with every scare that came at us, but for the most part I was able to avoid any further upset. Once we walked out through the exit door, I took a deep breath and savored the fresh air in my lungs.

Stu and Tatum were already out and basically dry humping on the fence as they waited for us. Tatum shoved Stu away as Billy and I approached, eyeing me specifically. “What happened to you?”

I shook my head. “I d-don’t wanna t-talk about it.”

“Man, they really got you, huh (Y/N)?” Stu asked. “Which was it? Was it the dude with his guts spilling out everywhere?”

“Leave her alone,” Billy said. “I’m gonna take (Y/N) home, I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

“Awe, why do you guys gotta be such party poopers?” Tatum asked, but Billy ignored her as he brought me to his car.

I looked at myself in the sun visor mirror. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy and my nose was as red as a tomato. I could see the tear streaks now stained on my flushed face. I looked like hell, or at least that I had been to Hell and back.

“You don’t have to drive me home, Billy,” I said when he got into the driver’s seat. “I can call my parents to give me a run home.”

“It seems like you need someone besides your parents right now,” he said. “Besides, I’m not jumping to spend the night with a sexed up couple, my ex-girlfriend, and the horror movie aficionado who would likely talk about how lame that haunted house was the whole night.”

This was enough to put a small smile on my face. Billy smiled back at me and started driving towards my house.

The beginning of the ride was silent besides the static sounds of Billy’s car radio. I rolled down the window to let the air blow on my warm face. I sighed, a sense of guilt eating away at me still for pulling Billy away from our friends.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“Not really,” I responded.

“Okay, then we don’t have to talk about it.”

It was something I appreciated about Billy. He respected my wishes and didn’t push me further than I wanted to go. There’s not a lot of guys, or a lot of people for that matter, that would do that.

“I hate haunted houses,” I said, resting my head against the seat. “My parents took me to my first one when I was a kid and I got chased by a guy who had a fake chainsaw, like the guy who cornered me back there. That shit stuck with me, I’ve never been to a haunted house since. Not until tonight anyways.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We didn’t have to go.”

“Cause you seemed so excited by it, and everyone else was going. I didn’t think it would be that bad until I lost you and had a repeat of that episode from when I was five.” I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. “God, why couldn’t I just fucking get over it?”

“Being traumatized isn’t exactly something you get over,” Billy said. “You were a kid brought into an environment where a kid should never be.”

We pulled up to my house and Billy reached over to put his hand on mine. I looked up at him and smiled. It was nearly impossible to be upset when I had such an amazing guy on my side.

“Next time, I want you to tell me when you don’t want to do something,” he said. “It’s not fair to you, especially if it’s something that will bring up old memories like that.”

“I promise,” I said.

“And I promise to always protect you, no matter what. No one will ever hurt you as long as you have me.”

“I know.”

I leaned forward to kiss him. All the upset I had been feeling just moments before seemed to vanish from my body as his lips pressed against mine. His hand was gently as it caressed my face while the other closed in around my hand.

When I pulled away, I glanced at my house to see that the lights were off, indicating that my parents were likely gone to bed.

“Park down the road and I’ll sneak you in for the night?” I asked.

Billy smiled like a kid on Christmas morning. “Deal.”

#Billy Loomis #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis x reader #Skeet Ulrich #skeet ulrich imagine #skeet ulrich x reader #scream #scream imagine #imagine #one shot #halloween #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck.

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky.

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same.

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment.

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position.

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two.

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close.

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself.

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you.

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual.

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him.

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it.

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes.

“You promise?” Conner urges.

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise.

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for.

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position.

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed.

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear.

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking.

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing.

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right.

“Why not?” Conner questions.

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast.

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable.

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it.

You answer with a snort.

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants.

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left.

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence.

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time.

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence.

Say it. Say it. Say it.

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it.

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie.

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever.

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abbatoirablaze · 2 years

Text

Daddy Issues, Chapter 4

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, bratty! Reader, Dom! Soft dark Andy, sex in a public place, smut, exhibitionism, degradation

River tried.

She really did. But nothing was making her feel any better than a few days ago. Just a few days ago she’d felt on top of the world. She had him. She was his girl. And nothing else really seemed to matter so long as he was on her arm.

“Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore, River.”

The words were like a knife to her heart, and it was such a shock to her system that she took a few steps back until her back hit the wall, “What? NO! Y-you don’t mean that, Andy.”

“I think I do,” he sighed, the sadness in his voice seeping through to his body language. He was no longer proudly standing with her. Instead, it seemed like there was much more distance between them than just the few carpeted feet of the hallway, “I-I just don’t think that we can make it work. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you-“

“I don’t care about what anyone else says about our relationship, Andy…I want to be with you,” River said quickly, cutting him off. The tears worked their way up to her eyes and down her cheeks almost faster than she could speak, “I-I don’t care about the tabloids or the magazines, Andy. I want to be your girlfriend, not someone elses. I like y-“

“River, you need to stop.”

The younger woman stopped on a dime as she looked to Andy. His tone was authoritative and angry. He’d never spoken to her like that. She watched as his jaw twitched while he stared down at her. Her throat ran dry as she thought of every single time that her father had scolded her or told her that she wasn’t doing enough. Andy was speaking to her like he always had. And it made her see red.

“Di-did my dad put you up to this. I-Is he making you break up with me?”

“No.”

But the words seem to fall on deaf ears. And suddenly, she was reminded of that as she looked at Andy, reliving every little thing; every past mistake from her childhood when her father would give her a disapproving look and a short answer. Her bottom lip warbled, “I don’t want this to end. I-I don’t want to lose you, Andy.”

“Well not everything is about you, River…” he said firmly, his voice devoid of emotion, “the world doesn’t revolve around you. And our relationship doesn’t keep going because you want it to. A relationship takes two people River…and I don’t want to be in it anymore.”

“River, maybe we should stop drinking,” a woman commented as she tried to pull the drink from River’s hands. She shot the young woman a glare and downed the drink, “Riv-“

“I don’t need your opinion Calla,” she growled, “I’m just going to drown my sorrows the way that I feel is proper. So shut the fuck up and either stand with me to hold me up when I get too drunk or leave me the fuck alone and let me fall on the floor.”

“it’s not prop-“

“You may have married my father, but that doesn’t mean we’re friends and you sure as hell aren’t my mother,” she hissed, setting the empty glass harshly on the bar, “So I’ll repeat my earlier sentiment. If you want to hang out with me at this stupid thing, great. If not, fuck off.”

“You need to st-“

“Another one, bartender,” the heiress called, looking to the bartender, “you need to loosen up, Calla.”

The bartender nodded topping her up with a fresh drink and she gave him a cute smile.

“Well look who we have here…” a familiar voice chirped huskily in her ear. Internally she groaned, having to be so close to her ex, “River…I thought you’d have gone back to London after your little escapade with that lawyer was finished. But you’re still here.”

“Dad’s having me run the US division, Ransom,” she seethed, not bothering to spare her ex-boyfriend a glance. She felt his hand place itself low on the small of her back and she shifted, jolting away from him, “now get your hands off me, Drysdale.”

“Aww come on, sweetheart…” he purred thoughtfully as he nestled himself against her back, the hand that was on her back sliding around so that it was riding low on her waist, whilst the other reached towards the bartender calling for a drink, “Manhattan. Double.”

The bartender nodded, making his way to complete the drink order and River turned around to tell him off. But when she had, she saw right past him, straight to the door where Andy had his arm around another woman’s waist. She felt like her heart broke in those moments and the world went in slow motion.

She was smiling on his arm, gripping him like he was her fountain of youth. She looked closer to his age, but confident. River suddenly felt small and insecure, even knowing that Andy once drooled over her youth; drooled over her, he was now seemingly entranced by a woman his own age, and so soon. Here he was, so close to when he’d left her a wreck, with another woman on his arm.

And while River knew there was no real comparison, she couldn’t help but feel jealous. So, before Ransom could open his mouth again, she did the first thing she could think of. She slammed her lips into his.

“God damn it, you are such a fucking brat!” he seethed into the shell of her ear as he had her bent over the sink area. Her face was pressed heavily into the glass as one hand held her head in place, while the other gripped her hips hard enough to bruise them as he slammed himself inside of her soaking wet heat. River’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she began fogging up the mirror as Andy seemed to hit the sweet spot inside of her that made her forget her words. She rolled her hips back against his, meeting his thrusts, “What? You don’t have anything smart to say now that I’ve got you up against the sink? Can’t think now that you’re being fucked stupid on my cock? Come on, River…where’s that smart mouth that I know you have?”

“I-I-“

“Shut up,” he hissed. His hand slipped away from her hips, and then a loud crack filled the bathroom as his hand left a large red mark across her ass, “this is what you wanted, isn’t it? This is why you threw that little fucking temper tantrum. You wanted to be the one on my cock instead of someone else keeping it warm, right? Well, your wish came true, you little slut. You were kissing your ex and now you’re in the bathroom taking my cock. Didn’t take you long to get back together with him, now, did it?”

“Andy-“

“I said shut the fuck up, River!” he hissed, his hand cracking loudly on her ass once more. His punishing pace didn’t stop as he did it yet again, “When I say you can fucking speak then you fucking speak! Until then, you’re just going to keep taking the fucking I give you. You’re gonna stay bent over like my own little personal slut and take it. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes!”

“YES WHAT?”

“Yes sir!” she whimpered, tears streaking down her face.

River couldn’t miss the glare from across the room if she’d tried. Andy stole her breath from her with that look once she’d broken away from Ransom’s kiss, and she knew that he was pissed. His jaw was tense, and his arm flexed beneath his suit. It sent a shiver down her spine, as the room felt like it filled with electricity, slowly zapping her nerve endings with every small move. Ransom, however, had his normal shit-eating grin across his face as he leaned in towards her, “I knew you’d come back to me sweetheart. Knew you couldn’t stay away from me or my c-”

“Fuck off,” you said, not bothering to look at him, “I did it to fuck with him.”

Before Ransom could respond you reached behind yourself and grabbed your drink, then grabbed your stepmother’s wrist, pulling her deeper into the gala, “come on, Calla. It’s time to go find our seats.”

“What the hell was that River?”

“What?” She asked with a smirk, “me kissing my cheating bastard of an ex? Or me doing it to piss off my more recent asshole of an ex that dumped me because I’m too young?”

“I-you’re crazy, River…your father was right. You’re out of control,” she whimpered nervously as she looked around. You gripped her wrist tighter as you noticed Andy leave his date behind and start towards the two of you. You dropped her wrist and started walking away, “River…where are you going?”

“You’re out of control!” Andy seethed, his pace slowing down just enough so that he could watch her being split open on his cock. Andy held back his moan, watching the young, pliant hole both stretch around his length and cling to him. It was his favorite part about fucking her. Watching how she clung to him and would break apart as her orgasm took over. He smiled as her legs shook. He continued to hold her in place, watching as her orgasm took over her entire body, her small frame shaking beneath his touch. Andy admired the red marks across her ass, and she flinched when his large hand ran over them, kneading the tender flesh, “you need to learn your place, little girl. You’re out there acting like a little slut for every man that looks at you.”

“Go to hell,” she hissed, their eyes meeting in the mirror, “Y-you don’t…get to, get to tell me that when you’re running off to fuck some old whore.”

“No,” he grumbled, his hands kneading her ass a little harder. He brought his palm back down, making her yelp as new marks appeared, “only when I’m fucking the young one into submission, right?”

She didn’t answer, and he scoffed.

“You’re un-fucking believable, River! You use people. You used me to get back at your fucking daddy because you were mad…and you used that dickhead trust fund boy to piss me off,” he seethed, his hands sliding up and down her thighs, “but you know what you’re good for? To be my fucking hole…that’s it. So that’s what you’re going to be. You’re going to be my fucking cum dumpster! My greedy, little cum slut!”

“P-please. Andy. Andy!”

“It’s daddy, you manipulative little bitch,” he growled into her ear as he continued to fuck into her, “and daddy’s got some lessons for you. Lesson 1. You take my cock anywhere I fucking want you to. No complaints. No temper tantrums. Nothing. You belong to me…Understood?”

When River didn’t answer, he bucked his hips, forcing his cock back into her all the way, until it was slamming into her cervix, “I asked you a question, you little slut!”

“Yes daddy!” she yelped, her hands desperately attempting to cling to something, anything. Andy smiled and began thrusting away once more.

“Lesson 2. You get to cum when I fucking say so!” he growled, his pace becoming erratic, “you don’t ever get to cum unless I fucking say so. And from now on, you only get to cum with me.”

Chapter 5

#daddy issues #daddy k!nk #sexy daddy #andy barber smut #andy barber x reader #dark andy barber #andy barber #defending jacob

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min-jpg · 3 years

Note

Haii! Can I request a oneshot of a adepti reader having unresolved sexual tensions with Zhongli? like the reader visits him at the parlor only to confront him about his death and the gnosis then they have rough/angry sex hehe can it also be fluff at the end? hehe sorry if its a bit confusing thank u in advance tho and have a great day! 💖

Note: no need to be sorry, anon! 💖 This was quite fun to write. I'm making the reader gender neutral since it's not mentioned. Enjoy!

---

take me whole

Characters: Zhongli x Adeptus GN!reader

Genre: smut/NSFW, established relationship, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, penetration (reader receiving), cussing, fingering, biting, size kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation (contains spoiler of Liyue's archon quest)

---

The sun began to depart. Orange and purple hues that adorned the sky will soon dissipate when night settles in. It was already closing time for Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. After Zhongli finished his delegated duties, he got ready to leave for the day.

Zhongli shuts the door behind him. As he was about to turn around, your hands slammed beside him, confining him in between. Turning fully to look at you, he donned a calm demeanor as usual. Your eyes, practically seething with anger, stared back at his gentle eyes, "How could you do this without discussing it with any of us?"

Crashing both your fists on his chest and throwing a petulant tantrum, your eyes began to flood with tears. Lowering your gaze to deter Zhongli from seeing them, "Did you think we- I wouldn't be worried? When I heard about your death, my mind went deranged. And your gnosis? What were you thinking of giving it away like a free gift?!" Your fist drums in frustration, trying to pursue after the rhythm of your ramble.

Zhongli reached out to catch your wrists, causing you to flinch and trying to wriggle them away. His gloved fingers slid up to meet yours and lacing them together, "I must honor my contract with the Tsaritsa."

"Cut the bullshit. You're just making an excuse. You're nothing but a coward." Glaring at him, you knew it was irrational to have your anger influence you when he had his reasons. But your turmoil continues to accumulate. You needed something or someone to condemn it all on. Bearing so much exasperation caused your mind to be hazy, you failed to notice that your tears began to scatter.

Zhongli leaned down, kissing away your beads of tears like they were so precious to him. He then lowered to give you a proper kiss, having you taste the lingering saltiness from your tears. He pulled away, "Have you had enough and calmed down, love?"

Grabbing his hand, your feet tread heavily to the side of the building engulfed by shadows as night descends, dragging Zhongli along with, "You're going to have to give me more than that to make up for what you've done."

You wasted no time. After pushing him back to the wall, you stripped away your lower garment to display your eager sex that desperately pleaded for Zhongli. As you pulled down the latter's pants, "In public? Are you sure?" Zhongli placed his hand on your shoulder.

Propping one of your legs up beside his hip, you seized his cock to align it with your throbbing mess, "Shut up." You hissed as you pressed the tip up your entrance without proper preparation.

Your yearning outweighs any patience left in you to wait any longer. Jolts of pain shot up your body as your entrance strived to cater for something that large. Tears welled up again, both due to the discomfort and your neediness.

Zhongli sighs as he could no longer watch. After he helped your leg down back to the ground, he bit the end of his glove to slip it off, "Turn around for me."

You did as told, huffing that you even took orders from him. Zhongli's arm made its way around your waist to hold you firmly as you feel him lean closer, breath brushing your neck. His fingers roamed around your aching hole before inserting two in, "You should have patience. That would make the experience more pleasant for the both of us."

"Don't tell me what to do- ahh!" A gasp of pleasure is induced from you when his finger hits a favorable spot. It finally registered in your head that you stood on the streets of Liyue Harbor half-naked. Embarrassment settled in, having your hands hover to your mouth to push back the noises.

Zhongli's harden cock grinds against the back of your thigh as his fingers tortured your sensitive hole, spreading his fingers apart to loosen it up. He removed your hands away from your face, "Why are you suddenly shy now, hmm?" His low voice grumbles, sending your body shivering in anticipation. You knew he wants this as much as you do.

Your words integrated with moans that you tried to overcome, "Who said I'm-" Zhongli hindered you with his other fingers shoved into your mouth, retaining them broad open, "Then let people hear."

Before you could protest, Zhongli withdrew out his fingers from your hole before he bent you over to load you up with his erection without granting you a moment to accommodate. Whining as his full length railed into you, your lower half contradicted by clenching tightly around his girth. As pain harmonized with pleasure washing over you, gritting your teeth resulted in sinking them into his fingers instead.

As you occasionally sucked on his fingers, Zhongli worked his way to accelerate his thrusts. Your muffled moans and saliva drenched them. Zhongli groans, "Mm, you feel so good." His amber orbs glowed dimly in the dark as he watched his cock glistening with your wet arousal each time he moved in and out.

Your back arched, panting out obscene sounds and producing squelches every time he ramps his huge cock strenuously into you. Incoherently, you wailed out your frustration, "I.. hate you!" Cheeks stained with your tears.

You hear Zhongli heave a sigh of contentment behind you, "I love you."

Feeling your stomach churn with pleasure and hearing his words, your voice gradually amplified in volume, no longer caring if any citizens passing by could overhear how dirty you are, "I said, ngh, I hate you."

"Haa, your body disagrees." Your reaction was a trigger for him to exert more force in his thrusts, baring himself from any constraints of holding back.

Your body jerked forward, nails jabbing into his arm, "Wait! T-too much!" You lolled out your tongue, only able to afford for your body to convulse and succumb your whole being to Zhongli, "Fuck! I can't-"

Zhongli pressed kisses on your nape, lapping away the film of sweat and leaving harsh bites to imprint your skin, "Yes, you can."

Nearing climax, your body trembles uncontrollably with honest mewls making their way to Zhongli's ears. He was catching up as well, feeling his thrusts growing sloppy.

Grunting, he kept his cock burrowed deep in you as he ejaculated, presenting his seed inside you. Your eyes rolled back, body going through a series of spasms with the sensation of his semen warming and saturating you to the brim. His cum leaked, trickling down in between your quivering legs.

Zhongli squeezed your body lovingly with both arms, continuing to thrust into you with a fervent pace even after the both of you came, hoping to plunge his seed further inside you, "I love you." He repeats earnestly. Your body turned restless with your voice becoming hoarse, "E-enough..."

"I thought you wanted more? I'm giving you what you want until you forgive me." Zhongli had you face him by drawing your chin gently.

"Enough already, idiot. I don't actually hate you... I'm sorry." Your confidence and voice drop. Averting your gaze, your lips tightened together when he stared at you.

Giving a fond smile, he gave you a quick peck, "What say you, we continue this back at home?"

Kissing back, "Only if you promise to take care of me later on."

#zhongli x reader #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact smut

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pippytmi · 3 years

Note

16 + 4 + 2 (werewolf supercorp?)

It is not uncommon for Kara to wake up in a puddle of blood.

At this point she is immune to the shock that comes with it, really. She has adapted; knows all the best tricks to get stains out of her clothes, knows all the best laundromats that don’t ask any questions. Heck, she even has Alex’s ex-girlfriend on speed dial, just in case there is a freak chance the blood Kara wakes up in might be human (it has not happened yet, knock on wood).

But there are other parts that still take some getting used to. Like, for example, the loss of memory that comes with every night of the full moon. Because yeah, she understands why she wakes up in a pool of blood. What she doesn’t understand is why this time around she wakes up in a pool of her own blood, and in so much pain that it hurts to open her eyes.

“Ow,” Kara whispers to herself, twisting onto her side with a groan. Her clothes are gone—no surprise—but even as she is laying down on the cold, rocky forest floor, the only thing she can focus on is how much her head hurts. She’s dealt with branch scratches, sore legs and arms, the occasional plethora of bug bites, but never a headache. Her one comfort is that at least she has made it into the backyard of Sam’s cabin. It takes a considerable amount of strength to push herself up off the ground; walking is going to be much harder than anticipated.

If Alex saw her now, she'd—well first she would hit Kara over the head and yell at her about being dumb, but afterwards she would snicker. And probably hit her over the head again for good measure.

“Oh my God—!”

Okay, it’s official. Kara is now dead. Even if the stranger gawking at her is not the one who kills her, Alex definitely will.

And it’s that thought that makes Kara drop right back down on the floor, knocking the wind right out of her lungs, and she groans into the dirt pitifully.

“Oh, fuck,” the stranger whispers, almost as if to herself, scrambling to come to Kara’s side. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit. Fuck!” Said stranger belatedly claps a hand over her mouth, green eyes widening in horror. “Holy shit, are you alive?”

Kara pitifully rests her cheek against the ground and tries not to look too offended. “Uh, kind of,” she replies. (So this must not be Sam’s cabin, then.) “Sorry. Am I in your yard? It is a very nice yard. Five stars.”

“No, it’s not my—I’m house-sitting,” the woman explains, though she is giving Kara a look that says really? That’s what you want to focus on right now?

“Well, it’s still a nice place,” Kara says, because she is polite and small talk is always a good thing to fall back on when you’re naked on a pile of dead leaves. “Wait, I don’t suppose you’re house-sitting for Sam, are you? Sam Arias, super tall, has a daughter who is freakishly good at checkers?”

Stranger-who-swears-like-a-sailor frowns. “How do you know Sam?” she asks suspiciously.

“She dated my sister. It was a whole—it’s a thing,” Kara says. “You know?”

“Wait. Are you Kara? Are you Alex’s sister?”

“Yes! So you do know!” Kara would grin if her face were capable of any emotion besides mind-shattering pain. “Then you must be Sam’s friend…uh, bear with me…Lena? Or Jess?”

“Lena,” says the woman, still notably wary, so Kara makes the decision to wiggle until she can prop herself up her elbows and look less, well, like a corpse.

“Hey, got it in one!” Kara says as cheerfully as she can muster. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. And can I just—uh, say—that you don’t have to worry. I won’t die here or anything. I know you would obviously be the number one suspect for murder and it wouldn’t be nice of me to put you through that.”

“…right. Never mind that you would be dead, or anything.” Lena begins to shakily unbutton her coat like a woman possessed, as if her doubt has morphed entirely into concern now that she has confirmation the freak naked in Sam’s backyard is not an entire stranger. “Here, this is long enough to cover you. Do you—do you need help getting up?”

“No, no, I’ve got it, thank you,” Kara insists, and gradually, she manages; she shifts sideways and then tentatively onto her butt, and accepts the coat when it’s all but thrown at her face. There is blood mixed in with the leaves and general guck beneath her, and she winces at the sight. “I’ll come back and clean this later,” she’s quick to add, and Lena frowns in response.

“Are you serious? Forget cleaning, you need—stitches, at the very least. I can take you to the hospital if—”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that!” Kara blurts out, and with the adrenaline from that burst of energy she’s able to scramble to her feet. She is shaky, unsteady, but she manages to stay upright at least and she’ll count that as a win. “Shoot. I’m sorry for yelling. I just—no hospitals. I can’t do hospitals.” She has never had to form an excuse for this, and her mouth can’t quite wrap around the right words.

But Lena—green eyes wide and unsure, skin pale in the early morning light—nods, like she understands. “Okay,” she says. “No hospitals.”

“Thanks,” Kara mumbles, wrapping the coat tightly around herself. There are startling black spots in her vision and her head still feels like it was used as a piñata; she wonders what the heck her next move should be now. If Sam needs someone to house-sit, she must be out of the city. And if Sam is out of the city, Kara can’t exactly waltz into Sam’s house to wash all the blood off her body (and then call up Alex from the couch while stealing whatever ice cream Ruby picked). Sam lets her do that, sure, but that’s Sam. It would be pretty rude to do that when Lena is right here.

“Do you…” And Lena pauses, nose scrunching up as if something has just occurred to her. “I can give you a ride somewhere else, if you’d like. Back to your house?”

“No, that’s okay,” Kara hurries to decline, because how can she really explain that she lives in an apartment, and that if little old Mrs. Jensen saw her coming up covered in blood she’d finally succumb to her third heart attack? “Can I just use Sam’s phone to call my sister? Then I’ll come right back out here, I promise.”

“Why would you come back out here again?” Underneath her coat, Lena is wearing plaid pajama pants that are rolled at the ankle (Sam’s, most likely), and a tank top that is extremely fitted. Very, very well fitted. Like, you-can-tell-it’s-frigidly-cold-outside-kind-of-fitted.

Kara coughs and tries not to let on how her train of thought has twisted. “Because…I’m a stranger?” she tries. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Remember, if you die I’m going to be the first one they question,” Lena says, tilting her head expectantly in the direction of Sam’s cabin. “Come inside, warm up. Call your sister.” All things considered, she is far more concerned than Kara expected her to be—as if, somehow, ridding herself of the weirdo walking around bloody and probably concussed isn’t the very first thing on Lena’s mind.

So Kara doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth; she accepts the offer. It’s a small comfort that if she really does get murdered by a total stranger, it won’t be while cold and naked.

Lena goes right into Sam’s room the instant they go inside, already gathering a million outfits for Kara to pick through. “The shower is fickle, but it does have hot water,” she says, adding a towel to the pile in Kara’s arms when she re-emerges. “You just have to—”

“Hit the wall twice, and give it a few seconds,” Kara finishes. “Yeah, Sam reminds me every time.”

“So you…visit Sam often, do you?”

“Uh.” And suddenly, despite the long, cold night she’s had, the air indoors feels a bit warmer than is comfortable. “Only sometimes.” Once a month, Kara thinks, and Lena crosses her arms and just stares.

Really stares, dragging those sharp green eyes up and down Kara’s whole body. Squints at the scratches on her face, scrunches her nose at the way Kara awkwardly shifts from side to side. Finally Lena speaks, and it’s only to say, “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“...come again?”

“It’s you. Sam told me she’s been helping out a friend with a—furry predicament—”

If it were possible to choke on air, Kara would be dead right now. “Did she really call it furry? But she’s also—!” She has to pause, now, because she feels an urge to clarify, “Wait. Are we talking about the same thing right now?”

Lena narrows her eyes slightly. “You mean talking about how you’re a werewolf?”

“Oh!” Head lighter, Kara sucks in a laugh that makes her ribs feel like they are splintering open. “Then yes. That’s good, I didn’t want you to think I was a—anyway. I didn’t think Sam told anyone.”

“Sam and I have been friends for a long time,” Lena says slowly. A beat. “She actually ate my hamster once.”

Kara winces. “Recently?”

“No! Back in the fifth grade,” Lena frowns, like she might’ve added dumbass at the end of the sentence. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t own hamsters.”

“What? Come on, having pets isn’t just a kid thing,” Kara says. “I used to have a cat, but he…”

“Oh my God, you ate him?”

Kara’s jaw drops. “What—no! He turned out to already have an owner, so she took him back. He just liked to wander into my apartment.” She hugs the clothing pile tighter to her chest, and tries her hardest to scowl. “I’m responsible, okay? Most of the time. I’m not dangerous.”

“Except to deer, or rabbits, or whatever else you killed last night?” Lena quirks an eyebrow, but surprisingly not in a manner that’s judge-y. Just…curious.

“Right,” Kara says defeatedly, and her head throbs enough that her grip on Sam’s clothes begins to falter. “Sorry. I wasn't trying to be defensive or anything.”

“That's alright.” And stranger still, Lena reaches out to gently touch the side of Kara’s head. “So does the same thing happen to you?”

“Huh?” The proximity has scrambled Kara’s brain momentarily, and she finds herself unthinkingly holding her breath.

“Do you also black out,” Lena clarifies. “Like Sam does, every time she shifts.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s—a universal wolf thing,” Kara says.

Lena hums, and her hand retracts. “And are you a serial killer in wolf form?”

“Uh, I hope not? I’m pretty sure all this is…” Kara gestures over her body with one hand, still hugging the pile of clothes with the other. “Not human.”

“Okay.” Lena casually walks away, but pauses to throw over her shoulder, “I’ll help you clean up your head once you’re out of the shower. I’ve helped Sam a hundred times.”

“Are you—do you have some kind of healing magic, or—”

“Close. I’m an ER nurse,” Lena says amusedly, and when she smiles a dimple emerges on one cheek. “All the witches I know have fled the city, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“You joke, but Alex dated this witch once, and she hexed my sister to spill her first sip of coffee every time she went to take a drink for three weeks straight after they broke up,” Kara says, and Lena again scrunches her nose in that quizzical way.

“Seriously? Witches are real too?”

“Duh,” Kara says lightly. “What, you thought it stopped at werewolves? Please. I’m pretty sure the neighbor two doors down is a gorgon.”

“Well, it would explain her fondness of statues,” Lena says, strangely nonplussed. “I’ve never asked, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. How do you take your coffee?” As she asks, Lena deposits a few fingers of whiskey into a mug, and at Kara’s questioning look says, “Sorry, we’re all out of painkillers. This is as good as you’re going to get.”

“Maybe I’ll do better if it’s straight,” Kara says, unable to hide her grimace, while Lena shrugs a shoulder as if to say it’s your funeral.

So after Kara showers, she sits on the couch and sips gross whiskey out of a chipped mug that reads World’s Best Mom in bright pink letters. Lena has turned on the TV to the local news station—clearly she has stayed with Sam before—and a man on screen is recounting a tale of how he hit a giant wolf strolling too close to his farm with a baseball bat.

“If I had my shotgun I would’ve killed the fucker,” he swears, red in the face, and above her Lena gives a little scoff.

“What a dick,” Lena says, her hand steadily stitching up the wound on Kara’s scalp, and her voice has a hint of an accent; it’s really cute, actually, and Kara doesn’t even mind that the next poke of the needle is sharper than the others.

It is the strangest morning Kara has ever had. Drinking whiskey before eight in the morning, with a kind stranger who she’s barely met but is suturing her skin together, who smells faintly of lavender soap and strong black coffee.

“—National City is not safe when wolves are wandering close to homes—”

The scent of rich hot chocolate bubbling on the stove is beginning to fill the room, the ancient pipes are rumbling throughout the walls, and Lena’s fingers are soft against her head. Kara closes her eyes and decides that she will wait a little longer before she calls Alex to pick her up.

#i tried my best but tbh i dont know much of werewolf lore ? so i tried to go w/these two being soft #& autumn vibes of course #supercorp #supergirl #i need a fic tag #writing a meet messy is HARD idk how to make them cute !!

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drakenology · 4 years

Text

Baby, Have My Babies - Ejiro Kirishima

summary: you and your pro hero fiancé take a romantic getaway for valentines day with one thing on his mind; baby making.

author’s note: oh hai! so this baby is for the corruption event @ultimate-astridwriting and @bummie is hosting for valentines day! shout out to them for including me 🥺. check out the other works that participated and as always enjoy!

warnings: smut! (minors no peeking!), breeding kink, use of the word “daddy” in the sack, unprotected sex, soft dom!kiri, prohero!kiri (the big bulky one with the long hair), dirrrrty talk, I cuss a lot and Kiri nuts a lot. all characters are aged up!

The night Kirishima proposed was a beautiful valentine’s night to remember. There you were, at one of the most expensive restaurants anyone could sit at in the middle of Bora Bora (your dream vacation spot), head empty. Just the image of your boyfriend, now fiancé kneeling down on one knee to pop the prettiest question.

“Will you marry me, baby?”, Crimson eyes full of love and adoration for you and only you as you gasp, your breath stolen as you watch him pull out the biggest diamond fucking ring you’d ever seen. Of course you said yes. Why the fuck wouldn’t you?

That same night you arrive at a hotel you were staying at in Bora Bora (the most romantic location to spend your valentines day). Kirishima saw to it that yours and his things would be taken up to the suite he had already reserved and decorated to surprise you.

You open the door swiftly, Kirishima’s chest swelling with pride when he hears your girlish squeal at the sight of the romantic decor (all done by yours truly). Flower pettles littered the carpet leading to the bed where countless gifts and a huge teddy bear rested. The room was covered in candles and roses and love. It smelled sweet like vanilla as a slow piano track played softly in the background. It was like a page out of a romance novel just opened up right in front of you.

Your eyes well up with tears at the wonderful gesture. Kirishima was always a romantic; his love language being gift giving and grand gestures, but he truly out did himself tonight. As you exclaim oo’s and ah’s at all of the suites glory you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.

“You like it, honey?” He asked, leaving a trail of fluttering kisses along your neck as you swoon at his touch.

“I love it. I love you, Kiri.” Gushing as you spin around on your heels to reach up and kiss him. Instinctively, He hoists you into his loving arms; your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands firmly gripping your ass as one falls to push all the teddy bears off the bed he needed you in.

He lays you carefully onto the bed and admired your body from way up there (boy is tall), drinking you in and groaning at the sight of your face looking up at him all flushed and innocent-like. God, he couldn’t wait to ruin you completely and thoroughly.

“I’ve been thinking baby..” Kiri started to say, ripping your poor dress in half with his seemingly handcrafted hands and chuckling at your high pitched squeak. “What if..” after pressing a wet kiss on your midriff, trailing the attention down just above where you wanted him. “..we tried *kiss* for a *kiss* baby..?”

You shudder at his minstrations, biting your lip as you feel him prod his thick fingers over your clothed pussy. You wince at the sound of his groan at the feeling of your wet pussy practically sticking to your panties.

“So whaddya say?” He persisted, cock growing at the burning question. You were already so drunk on him, his mouth leaving open mouthed kisses over your covered heat causing you to slowly lose focus on anything other than the thought of just being railed already.

“M-Mm-hm..” You manage, nodding your head as you feel Kirishima smirk against your panties.

“You gonna let me, baby? Gonna let me fuck that cunt? Hm?” At this point he’s slurping on your pussy as he’s talking to you with that filthy mouth of his. God yes, you wanted to say but he’s devouring so good the only thing you can say is his title.

“D-Daddy! Ughhn fuck.” You cry, nearing your end surprisingly fast as his soft lips wrap around your aching clit.

“C’mon, baby. Cum all over my fucking mouth.” He huffed against you, humming into your pussy as he reattached his lips onto the throbbing bud. You arch your back up off the bed, toes curling and eyes rolled at the back of your head as you do as you were told.

Curses leave your lips as Kirishima continues his assault on your pussy, fucking you through your orgasm and working on a second one as he now has those fingers inside you. You gasp, whimpering as he hooked his fingers just like always to drive you crazy. Works everytime.

“Daddy, p-please. S’too much!” You lament, trying to pry your poor overstimulated pussy away from the hungry beast devouring you.

Kirishima loves when you try to escape him; an ego trip floating in his mind as he watched you writhe and struggle to leave his strong grasp.

“Uh-uh baby, where ya goin’?” He teased, latching his mouth onto your pussy as he fingered you. His lips were replaced by his warm tongue, licking and sucking as he stroked your walls with his fingers. You melt under his touch, worrying that the other guests staying on your floor could hear your desperate cries for more.

“God, give it to me. Fuckin’ give it to me.” Kiri soothed, feeling your hands tangle into his long red tresses as another orgams ripped through your whole body. Your thighs clamp around his head as you shake like a leaf. He paused for a moment to take in your half-ruined body, hungry for the satisfaction completely railing you into a stuttering mess.

Kirishima sits right up and grabs your face to plant a sinful kiss, tongues tasting each other as moans exchange between the two of you.

He pulls away, slick coating his chin as he hoisted himself on top of you. He propped himself up on one arm, the other taking his bulging cock into his hand to tease against your dripping folds.

“So fucking wet, baby.” He panted, “Ready for me? Want my dick inside you? Huh baby?” He cooed, the only thing he can hear is an out of breath and whiny little baby begging for his dick.

Kirishima sat up, pulling you off the bed as he wrapped your legs around him. You mewl at his brut strength, him lifting you with such ease throwing you for a loop. You wrap your arms around his neck as he prodded himself at your soaking wet pussy, sinking your body down onto him as you both moan at the feeling.

“Gonna fill you so fucking good. You like that? You love it when I fuck you like this, dont you?” He rambled, your gummy walls felt so good wrapped around his swollen cock. His hands gripped your ass as he slammed you down onto his dick, the sudden deepness causing your nails to sink into his back.

You shriek everytime your pussy took him in, back arching as the head brushed up against your g-spot. Your legs are shaking again, watching your feet as they dangle at either side of Kirishima’s body. His thrusts are strong, purposeful as he used you like a fuck toy all while standing up.

Your pussy made embarrassing noises, Kirishima commenting as the assault continued more forcefully.

“Shiiit. I love your fucking pussy. So wet. All for me, yeah?” Your response frantic nonsense.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Yes, daddy. G-give me more.” And so he does; his grip on your hips tighten as he slams you down slower and harder repeatedly hitting your g-spot at a new angle as he hunched over with you in his arms.

He started thrusting up into you, his large hand smacking down on your ass as he pounded you into nirvana.

“Mmm, you feel so fucking good, baby. Want me to fill you? You like it when I stuff you, huh?”

There was the familiar feeling coming yet again, stomach flipping and eyes fluttering as you sob into Kirishima’s neck.

“God, yes daddy! Cum inside me please, I-I need it.” You gripe, grabbing hold of one of your breasts as you attempt to grind into his thrusts in time with him.

“You need it, baby? Oh, I’m gonna give it to you. Just cum one more time for me.” He huffed, the feeling of your sopping wet walls clamping down onto him slowly becoming too much.

You pant, your face pulling into that little fucked out face Kirishima loved as you scream his name. Your whole body ignites, curses leaving your mouth as you cream all over his dick.

“Yeahhhh. That’s it baby. ‘M gonna fill you-fuck! I love you.” Kirishima said frantically; rutting into as few times before unloading himself inside you.

You feel his cum fill you up deliciously, the feeling of his dick throbbing inside you as he oozed causing you to whine. You feel him fuck his cum inside you; eager to breed you before pulling you off of his cock with a satisfied groan.

“Fuck sake.” He gasped. You were always such a good fuck. It should be illegal for your pussy to be that good. As he pulled out of your used hole, you felt the thick liquid drip out of you as Kirishima carried you to the master bathroom which was also candlelit.

“Let’s get cleaned up and keep this going. I can’t wait to see you waddling with my baby inside you.” He manifested. You hum into his chest as he cradled you like precious cargo, running the hot water for a bath for two.

“Love you” You slur, lazily dipping a finger into the bath.

“Ditto, babe.”

#bnha smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha imagines #bnha midoriya x reader #bnha todoroki x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha #bnha kirishima #bnha kirishima smut

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dr4cking · 3 years

Text

Gift.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut | fluff |

husband!draco & dad!draco. switched 😏

y/n just got home from her girl's night out with her friends, she opened the door of her house. her eyes automatically searching for her husband and their child.

she goes upstairs when she didnt found any of their signs downstairs.

then she heard it, laughter coming from her son’s bedroom. she barged in and smiling when she saw her husband and kid playing on the bed.

she approaches them, pulling the two of them into a tight embrace.

draco smiles when she kissed his cheek before placing another kiss on scorpius’s forehead.

“how is your day?” she asked ruffling her little boy’s hair.

“it’s really fun mommy! daddy and I have been playing for a whole day!” scorpius clapped his hands cheerfully.

“yeah? tell me what is it that you played together?”

“we’ve been practicing magic and i grew some flowers in the garden mommy i’m sure you’d love it!” scorp replies making draco chuckles at his boy’s bubbly side.

“that’s great baby, i’ll see it tomorrow theyre must be really pretty” y/n said tickling her son making him squirming and laughed.

“and how about you, love? did you have fun today?” draco asked making both of them stopped and she smiles at him.

“we had so much fun bubs, do you know that pansy just found out that she is pregnant?”

“what? really? wow that’s good news to hear, can’t believe blaise is going to be a dad!” he replies with the same energy. he grins at the thought of blaise finally having his dad moments for the first time.

“draco you’re a dad too..” three of them laughed at her comments.

y/n stood straightly and stretched her back before leaning into draco whispering something into his ear.

“you better put scorpius to sleep soon. i cant wait to call you daddy tonight.” she smirks seeing him gulped and his face heated.

his eyes instantly dropped to scorpius who was still sitting on the bed innocently.

she walked out of scorpius’s room going to their bathroom wanting to take a shower.

>>>>>

few minutes passed, she came out from the shower, she smirked when an idea come to her mind. she put on a red lingerie that she knew draco loved so much.

a little gift for him might make his day better.

she stares at her reflection in the mirror, twirling around to admire the lingerie that hugged her body perfectly.

she has been craving for some touches since last week, but they have been busy with taking care of scorpius. so now would be a perfect time.

she sits in the middle of the bed, crossing her legs waiting for draco to come to their room.

her head snapped to the direction when she heard the door clicking and her huband stepped in, his eyes turned dark as he saw her.

“is he asleep?” draco nodded at her question, he walked slowly to her, his eyes scanning her body making her smirk get wider.

“good.”

“now enjoy my little show mr. malfoy” she continues, standing up and turned him around, pushing him onto the bed.

she grabbed her wand from the nightstand and quickly casted a silencing spell.

she looks at flustered draco keeping their eye contact, playing with her wand twirling it around her hair and shot him a wink making him shifted uncomfortably.

she put the wand back. her hand slowly tracing down to her body and draco’s eyes follow every movements she made.

y/n chuckles before letting her hand goes to her back and unclasping her bra, showing her tits full out in display for him.

she throws her bra at him and it landed on his crotch, he quickly grabbed it and sniffing it humming at the scent.

draco was still propped on his elbows enjoying the show his wife give to him, his eyes never leaving her body.

y/n played with the string of her panties in her fingers before taking it off slowly, showing him her bare cunt. and her panties dropped to her feet, she pretended to gasped and look him straightly in the eyes.

“oops..”

draco’s breath got caught in his throat, he wanted nothing more than to touch her but he also wanted to enjoy the show.

“fuck baby you’re a goddess..” he moaned softly, his eyes looking up at her face before going down again.

“thank you daddy” he choked out on air when she said that making her chuckle.

she hopped on his lap and straddling him, catching his lips on her, kissing him eagerly, her hands quickly making her way to the bottom of his shirt taking it off.

“daddy you’re so hot..” her kisses trailed down to his neck, leaving a few marks on it.

their bodies pressed together leaving no gap, she grinded on him making him groaned. he pulls her back for a hungry kiss his hands roaming around her body and he moans softly into the kiss when he feels her nipples rubbing his.

“fuck.. ride me mommy” she moaned at the nickname, her hands pulling down his sweatpants he helped her by kicking it off throwing it somewhere making her giggle.

she pushed his hard cock up straightly to his lower stomach and she grinding her cunt on it, petting him.

“mommy.. please..” he moans out loud at the friction, his hands squeezing her ass.

she lifts up her body lining his tip up on her entrance to lubricating both of them before sinking down on his cock, he stretched her out deliciously as her walls instantly accomodating him.

they were moaning each other at the feeling of finally being connected.

“god y/n.. you wrapped my cock so tight baby” he let her fully have the control as she bouncing up and down on his cock, her hands gripping tightly on his shoulder to steady herself.

“you feel so good inside me daddy” she bouncing faster on his cock, each time his cock somehow gets deeper inside her showing a bulge in her stomach.

“damn baby look at how deep daddy in you”

she moans when she looked at her stomach. his hand touching the bulge in her stomach pressing it softly turning both of them into a moaning mess.

“i’m close daddy..” he guided her hips to bounce faster while meeting her thrusts upwards, one of his hand rubbing her clit circling his thumb on it making her going crazy.

“cum for daddy” she collapsed on his body legs spasming as her high hit her body, her juices soaking his cock. draco followed behind at the feeling of her walls squeezing him tight.

and when y/n thought they were done, draco flipped their body so he was on top now without pulling out of her. he thrusting into her right away making her gripped the sheets.

“you dont think i’m done with you, right?” he snapped his hips harder making her body bouncing in front of him. the headboard hitting the walls over and over again.

y/n shakes her head ‘no’ to answer him. he pulls her for a kiss, his fingers twirling her hard nipple.

“good. because i’m not stopping until you filled up with my cum, i’m gonna give you so much cum until you give me another baby”

“yes! yes daddy please fuck me until i’m full with your cum..”

he wrapped one of her legs on his shoulder making him going deeper on her, his balls slapping up against her ass making loud clapping sounds filling the room.

“god.. babygirl i will never get tired of pounding into your tight pussy, it feels so good i dont wanna pull out”

y/n screamed his name louder when he hit her spot again, her eyes rolled back in pleasure as the knot in her stomach tightened and her vision went blurry.

draco noticed and pulls her by her throat reconnecting their lips. he broke the kiss pressing their foreheads.

“look at daddy when you’re gonna fall apart on his cock, babygirl” she moans louder keeping their eye contact like he said, her lips quievered as he circled her clit.

“i’m gonna cum daddy! oh fuck.. yes draco!” she let her second orgasm washed over her body, it feels so good that it sending her to the cloud nine.

“oh god.. you squirted on daddy’s cock, babygirl”

he groans louder at the feeling of her walls pulsing and clenching him so tight, his thrusts getting sloppier as his high approaching him.

“fuck fuck.. take all of me y/n!”

he gives her one final thrust before letting himself exploding all of his cum inside her, filling her womb full like he promised. his moan get louder when he feels he’s still shooting his cum into her non stop.

his body shaking so hard that he collapsed on top of his wife hugging her, burying his face onto the crook of her neck.

y/n moaned feeling so full, he lazily ride out their highs making no move to pull out.

she stroked his blonde hair softly, sweats running onto both of their body. they were still catching their breaths.

“oh my god y/n.. that was so amazing” draco said between his breaths as he rolled to the side, wrapping her in his arms.

“yes dray.. that was the best” she kissed him one more time before he gets up walking shakily to the bathroom.

he comes back wrapping y/n in bridal style carrying her to the bathroom and placing her in the warm tub before joining behind her.

“thank you for letting me went out earlier and taking care of scorpius, dray..” she looks over her shoulder, her hands playing with the bubbles.

draco captured her lips on his, his hands messaging her shoulder softly. he pulls away to answer her.

“no need to thank me, love. it was my duty too as your husband and a father.”

she chuckles splashing the water onto his face making he joined her laughter.

“i love you dray.”

“i love you more y/n.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

a/n : i once again dedicated this to @angelic-bitxh because of a deal we made for ghost pics 💀

tagging : @dracoscum @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @underappreciated-spoon-321 @silverdelirium @littlemissnoname13 @youreso-golden @dracmalf0y-dm @f4iryluvy @starstruckgranger @rylynn-m @lieswithoutfairytales @dlmmdl @yiamalfoy @black-repunzel99 @yvonnearce22 @arzfia @seriouslyinlove @alexthealexthealex

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco oneshot #draco fanfiction #draco imagine #draco smut #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco fluff #draco malfoy angst #harry potter

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sparklingchim · 4 years

Text

fiery mornings; m | pjm

pairing: jimin × reader

word count: 3k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, idol!jimin

warnings: swearing, fingering, protected sex, some breast play

summary: waking up with jimin, but add a little spice to it 🌶

a/n: hello lovely people! i didn't proof read this because it's almost midnight for me now and i'm really tired but luckily tomorrow is saturday 😴 i hope you like it! and have a good morning, day, evening or night❤ i'm heading to bed now💤

masterlist

The sun peeking through the curtains and encasing the room with crumbs of light is what wakes you up.

These stupid blinds - that you hated as soon as you slept over at Jimin's place for the first time - were not doing their job properly. The sun overflowing his room every damn morning woke up everytime. You'd like to get more sleep because - let's not lie - Jimin and you don't go to sleep very early with both your needy and touchy hands when you lay in bed at night time. However, Jimin didn't care about your aversion against the blinds - he wasn't the one waking up due to them though... - and said something about them looking cozy and domestic.

You really tried to erase the thought of just ripping them down and buying him some new ones that don't let any sunlight shine so annoyingly in the room, but you hold back. But it's really tempting...

You stretch your arm to the nightstand, tapping on your phone to see what time it is. 7 am? Oh, how bad you want to rip these blinds off.

Nonetheless, the warmness of the sheets that you're both tucked under and Jimin's body radiating a comforting glow around you makes you stay in bed.

Jimin's arm is loosely wrapped around your stomach, his body pressed against you from the back. You glance back at him, his nose pressed against your spine and eyes still closed. Your heart softens at that doting sight, seeing him innocently sleeping. No worries in his mind, but only disguising his features in a tranquil state. Jimin is finally able to gett as much rest as he wants and needs after coming home from the tour.

You push some strands of his hair that are falling into his face away. The need to place kisses all over his puffy adorable face looms inside you, but you stop yourself from doing that, so you don't ruin his peaceful slumber that he's currently in.

Instead you could prepare some breakfast for him, so when he decides do wake up he has a delicious meal prepared for him. You think of some dishes that you could cook even though just staying in bed with him felt more enticing which also leads you to grab your phone despite your original plan to get up and start cooking breakfast. But there was no need to rush, Jimin won't wake up for approximately three more hours.

As you take your phone from the night stander you suddenly feel Jimin's grip on your stomach tighten. He lets out some displeased grunts, like a little child not pleased with something. You softly smile, rubbing soothing strokes with your thumb on his arm that's wrapped around you. Jimin nuzzles his face deeper into your back, sighing out in satisfaction.

God, he is so adorable.

You occupy yourself with your phone, checking social media and maybe salivating at some pictures from Jimin that you come across.

20 minutes pass, before you decide that it's time to start the day and prepare some breakfast for your boyfriend who still snoozes behind you, gaining all of his energy back after working so hard for months.

But then you feel something.

Eyebrows scrunched together, you try to make out what could possibly be poking you in this cuddly bed.

Oh.

Only spending a second on looking out for an answer to your oblivious question, you find the possible solution for that.

Jimin early-glory made it's appearance by being pressed against your butt, letting you feel his hard muscle.

Yeah, it was definitely about time to get up.

But when you prop myself up on your elbow, still laying on your side, you hear a muffled complaining sound behind you. To emphasize his need, Jimin's hold tightens on your belly again, just like he did before, though this time you actually attempted to leave the bed.

You squeeze his arm lightly to beguile him into letting you go. ,,I'm gonna make us breakfast, Minnie," you say whispering, tilting your head sideways, so you're able to look at Jimin. His eyes remain close, only parting is plump lips to mutter a little 'no'. You sigh out, head falling back onto the pillow. ,,It's not gonna take long," you try to convince him, even though the dishes you plan to cook would take a bit longer than normally.

,,Stay with me." Jimin's hoarse and raspy voice uttering its first full sentence this morning.

Then you seek to wiggle yourself out of his embrace, but it's pointless, because letting you go isn't even up for a debate in Jimin's mind.

,,Then there's no breakfast for you," you utter in defeat. Jimin doesn't answer, suddenly placing soft kisses over the crook of your neck. His sudden sweet kisses cause goose bumps spread all over your body, the tingling feeling automatically relaxing you, although laying in bed with Jimin is already so calming.

,,I'm only hungry for you right now," he says. Your cheeks flush at that cheesy comment, but luckily he can't see your reaction towards his words, knowing he would be smirking and teasing the shit out of you. Jimins usual cute and endearing way of waking up is vanished and instead he pulled out his charms to make you melt for him.

Jimins hand traces over your clothed stomach, heading down to you leg to stroke his fingers up to your thigh, pushing his shirt that you're wearing slightly up. His feather light touch induces shivers down your spine. The accentuating tension effects your whole composure, evoking you into pushing your ass back onto his bulge which results in Jimins body stiffening behind you. The impetuous act caught him off guard, but he relishes in the satisfying friction, coaxing him into the blissful thrill he was all too familiar with.

,,You want this?" Jimins tone was low, turning you on even more.

,,Yes, please," you beg, grinding your ass on his hard length. You both breath heavily, the pleasure building in a fast pace.

Soon your pussy burns in need, desiring to be filled with his huge cock. Your movements of his dick gliding through your clothes pussy makes your wetter by the seconds. It doesn't require much till Jimin has enough of the teasing rubbing and shoves the comforter away from your bodies.

,,I love you," Jimin murmurs, placing little kisses over your neck once again. He gently sucks at your skin, only for a brief moment though, not wanting to cause a mark on your flesh before he darts his tongue out and licks over the slightly flush skin.

,,I love you too," you reply breathless. You don't stop your ministrations. You can't desist when the sensation of his cock was getting you so riled up, brewing you into so much pleasure. Last night you were sceptical when Jimin didn't put on any clothes after your little rendezvous, but it really had its perks having him naked behind you.

Jimin hand wanders further, fingers toying with the side of your panty. Once his fingers get a hold of the thin material, he pushes them down in a swift motion. You help him to get the panties completely off and toss them away with your feet. Jimins hand lifts your leg up a bit, his hand hovering over your warmth, but not attempting to do anything yet. You fuss beneath him, craving his touch.

,,Are you sore from last night?"

,,No." You are. But not too much and your mind is too clogged up with the anticipation that builds for the pleasurable feeling Jimin is able to give you.

,,You're sure?"

,,Yeah, please touch me."

At your wish Jimins finger rubs up and down over your slit, coating his finger with my arousal. A little moan escapes your mouth. You enjoy the feeling of his digit touching your slick folds, gathering all your juices. When you feel his thumb circling your swollen sensitive bud, your legs tremble and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Jimins index finger makes it way into your entrance. Your aching walls immediately clench around it, acting as needy as ever.

,,Shit," Jimin curses under his breath. ,,You're always so ready for me, baby." How could you not when a men like that was laying next to you in bed?

You let out a strangled moan when he plunges another finger inside you, his pace slow but steady. Jimin crooks his fingers, hitting that lovely spot every time he shoves his fingers back inside your quivering hole.

,,Just like that," you pant, your hand gripping his arm between your legs. Jimins fingers pick up on speed, your moaning spurring him on.

It doesn't take a lot of time till he gets you at that certain point, the familiar knot in your stomach growing quickly. Your body chases after your high, but you desperately want to cum on his cock, so you squeeze his arm gently and Jimin slows his pace.

,,I- I want to cum on your cock," you manage to say and he stops moving his fingers, withdrawing them after. Your body instantly misses the penetration and you whine at the loss of contact.

,,Shh, I'm gonna give it to you, baby," he soothes you, propping himself on his arm to slightly hover over you. You shift your head to see his awaken state for the first time that morning.

Jimins hair hangs into his forehead again, a tired but sincere smile on his face and his eyes puffy from his sleep. A smile immediately appears on your lips at when you look into his loving eyes, his whole being radiating so much comfort and contentment.

With Jimin you felt like it was you final destination. There was nothing else in this world that could give you more than what he was capable of giving you. Nothing in this world could compare to Jimins love. His love was tightly swathed around you and never vanished since the day you both knew that the tension between you was more than just a friendship. No day would pass in which he wouldn't jostle all his adoration to you and show you how much you meant to him. Jimin could never get tired of showering you in all the devotion he has allocated for you, he loved you after all.

You lace your fingers through his soft hair and for a few seconds it stays like that, pushed back on his head, but then it falls down onto his forehead again. Jimin stays still and watches how you play with his hair, until he can't prolong his desperate need to get some friction on his throbbing cock.

,,Can your grab a condom?" he asks and pecks your forehead briefly. You nod and quickly turn to the nightstand on your side, fishing a condom out of the drawer. You hand it to him and rips the package, doing fast work in wrapping the plastic around his member and tossing the useless package somewhere behind his back.

Jimin preps a few kisses on your jawline, making his way to your lips and every so gently capturing your mouth into a tender kiss. You share a passionate and slow kiss together, savouring the moment of being together again after being apart for months. He dips his tongue in, both of your wet muscles tangling tighter.

When you both need to break the kiss, Jimin doesn't intend to go for another, but raises your leg higher and alignes the tip of his cock on your entrance.

,,Oh my God," you breath out.

Jimin slides his cock up and down your folds, gathering your arousal before he's back on your entrance, slowly pushing in. He breathes heavily, your tight walls latching onto his cock so securely. The more his thick length sinks inside your needy warmth, the presence of the soreness from yesterday night makes itself perceptible. Jimin stretches your walls till he's completely buried inside of you. He stills once he's balls deep in, giving you time to adjust to his size.

,,You're good, baby?" he makes sure, looking you in the eyes. You nod slowly, the feeling of his dick being completely in making it hard to let out any words.

When there's still no attempt of moving from Jimin, you tap his arm that has a hold of your leg in the air. ,,Go on please," you whisper, needing to feel his deep thrusts.

After he hears your wish, desperation lingering in your voice, Jimin bottoms out till only his tip is left inside, but quickly pushes back again. The longing feeling finally getting stilled with his tangy thrusts. Jimin continues his movements, his hips snapping faster and faster from behind you and you just feels so good.

,,Lift your leg for me," he instructs, before leaving his hold on your leg to slide his fingers under your - well, technically his- shirt and palms your breast. Jimin pinches and rolls your nipples between his digits, coaxing louder moans out of you. He furrows his eyebrows, you sweet tones prodding him more on. He relishes in the fact that he is the one making you feel this way, making you moan so sweetly for his hear only. Jimin lets out breathy moans, his pace rapid and hard.

Your hand wanders around his neck, tucking at his hair and he answers with soft groans. Then you push the back of his head closer to yours, pressing your lips against his plush ones and kissing him hungrily. You feel yourself getting closer, you're body reaching your high in a short span of time. Of course Jimin feels it, your walls clenching around his member and greedily wanting to milk him are way too obvious. You retract from the kiss, shutting your eyes close when all the sensations overcome you. Jimin lets go of your breast to nestle his hand between your thighs and soon you feel his thumb circling on your clit.

,,Cream all over me," Jimin murmurs.

The added pleasure on your sensitive bud makes you mewl, biting your lip really hard.

The slick sounds of your pussy getting hammered by Jimins cock and his skin slapping against yours fill the room. Combined with your moans and his breathy sound, makes you so much hornier and all you want to do is to cum around his big cock.

,,I'm- I'm gonna cum!" you warn him, the knot in your stomach getting so close to finally snap.

,,Me too," he pants, his thrusts going faster.

Jimins length kisses your cervix every time his hips shoot back into you. ,,Shit, look at me."

Your head instantly tilts to him, meeting his eyes that were already locked on your face. Your eyebrows knit together, the sharp thrusts of his body making you so close to reach your end. Jimin sinks his teeth into his plump bottom lip, never breaking the intense eye contact with you. Fuck, he looked so hot and stunning.

After a few more hard and deep thrusts, your climax approaches and your hand wanders to his shoulder, digging your nails into his skin. Your legs start to tremble and his hand that was playing with your clit, leaves the wet place to hold your leg up when you have trouble keeping it high because of all the sensations shooting in your body.

,,Jimin!" you cry, heavy pants following.

It doesn't take long for him to come undone too - only a few thrusts later he spills his cum into the condom, making you feel the way he twitches your quivering hole. Jimin groans loud and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, letting go of holding my leg up. And just like that you both lay there - breathing heavily, bodies fully spent and coming down from your high.

Jimins hand wander to your face, cupping your cheek and rubbing soothing strokes with his thumb on your flush skin. He plants a few kisses on your neck, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Your body tingles, his breath fanning over your skin creating goose bumps over it.

Ever so slowly he bottoms his now softened length out of your walls, your sensitiveness causing you to shiver.

,,It's okay baby, I've got you," he coos, giving your cheek a peck.

You turn around, now laying on your back and looking into his brown orbs. They have this beautiful glisten in them, making me feel like I'm safe when I'm with him. His eyes are full of love. And he could say the same to you.

You both exchange some more smooches here and there, being all cuddly and acting like you didn't already say I love you for a hundred of times in the past already. Your heart flutters every time he says something sweet, grazes his fingers over your skin or plasters sweet kisses all over you.

After some time Jimin stands up, discarding the condom in a bin and throws some boxers on. Then he grabs tissues and comes back to the bed, digging his knee on the mattress and spreading your legs. He tugs your shirt up to clean you and when Jimin is done with that he pushes the white fabric down again.

,,I'm definitely not gonna prepare breakfast now," you say when he turns around to get rid of the dirty tissue.

,,I can do it," Jimin answers, turning to you again. His abs were on full display and you can't prevent yourself from looking at his firm chest before looking into his eyes again.

,,Mhm, you can?" you cock an eyebrow.

,,You don't think I'm able to make the same breakfast as you?" he asks back.

,,Of course I think you can to it, babyy," you tease him and giggle after he furrows his eyebrows, an angry pout displayed on his lips.

,,I'm gonna show you," he says competitively and leaves the room, making his way to the kitchen.

And yes, he did indeed show you.

In fact, he showed you the burned rice he attempted to cook.

1K notes · View notes

hoodieofholland · 3 years

Note

Omg congrats!!! I just can't stop thinking about Tom making reader squirt for the first time and she's all embarrassed by it but tom is assuring her that it was hot af 🌷

Thank youu! Sorry for taking that long, but here we go! Also i got a little carried away, dont mind it

Warnings: SMUT (+18), dom!tom, slight degradation (name calling), fingering (f), squirting, unprotected sex, typos for sure.

You couldn't lie and say you didn't deserve what was happening right, you had been a tease the whole day with Tom, walking around the house in nothing but his t-shirt, no panties in the way, bending every now and then just to pick something you dropped on purpose, and massaging his shoulders every time you made a shitty excuse to go and talk to him while he was working.

And now there were you, head dizzy, chest coming up and down in panting breathing while you approached your high for the fourth time in a row... or maybe it was the sixth? You couldn't remember anymore. Tom was edging you for so long that all you could sense now was the wetness between your legs, the squeaky sounds it made when his two fingers entered your throbbing pussy with determination.

"Are you close, my love?", he asks, his chest vibrating against your back, his lips on your ear, bitting your skin slightly from time to time. You bite your lips, too scared of the tricky question, but still too aware that it was nonsense keeping it from him -- Tom knew when you were close. He knew your body from your head to toe.

"Yes, Tommy", you whine lowly, voice lost in between your moans and incoherent pleads for release. "Please- let me come".

"Course, darling", though his voice held nothing but sweetness, you knew it wouldn't work that easy. He took his fingers out of you and you squirmed in protest. "But only when I'm sure my girl has learnt her lesson. Do you understand why I'm doing this? Eh?"

He grips your jaw, making you look at him. You can feel his hard cock against your back, throbbing with every movement you make towards him.

"Yes", you drawl, too weak to answer something else. In front of you, there's a mirror, the one that is always standing in your shared bedroom. Tom liked to keep it that way, so whenever you both felt like it, he'd fuck you in front of it. Usually, you loved it, you loved watching yourself come undone, watching Tom take control and fuck you to oblivion. But today, today was different.

You were a mess, completely wrecked, and though you loved the fact that it was Tom who made you feel like this, you wanted to reach your high desperately.

"Everything okay?", he asks, peppering kisses along your jaw. He always made sure to ask before going back to edging you again. You nod your head, but it's not enough. "What's the word, sweetheart?"

"Green... green, you can- keep going", you respond, bitting your lips and closing your eyes and his hand slides down your inner thigh, so close to your heat. "Please, I wanna cum".

Tom gives you a harsh slap there and you jolt. "You're gonna get what I give you, brat. What is it? Did you not learn a fucking thing?"

You exhale a sharp breathe and shake your head. "I'm sorry, Tommy. I'll be good, I promise".

"You sure are", he smirks, rubbing the skin smoothly. "Cause you're my good little thing, aren't you?"

You nod and try to reach his lips, turning your head to the side. He kisses you deeply, but only for a brief moment. "You wanna take my cock?"

Before you can realise, you're whining in response, trying to grind your ass against his length. "Fuck, you're so greedy", he moans in your ear. "I'm gonna give it to you, pretty girl. C'mere".

You manage to adjust your position to align yourself with him, knees on bed as you feel your arousal slipping between your legs. Tom's eyes are fixed in your ass, teeth grazing his lower lip as his hands are gripping your waist to help you align your entrance with his cock.

He teases you a bit more, his red tip brushing your clit until you are forcing yourself down on him. This wasn't supposed to be something you'd do, but fortunately for you, Tom didn't seem to mind this time, too anxious to get your walls hugging him tightly.

"Fuck, always so bloody tight, darling", he moans, planting his feet on the mattress before starting to pound into you. "No matter how many times I fuck this hole".

You whimper, your belly already tightening as your high was close already. "Tommy, please, don't stop".

Tom chuckles between whines coming from the back of his throat, "You like begging to me, don't you, baby? Don't even have to ask, my greedy little thing".

Your head falls back and Tom gets the chance to grip your jaw and kiss you hard, lips messy and sometimes losing their contact as he thrusts his hips deeper, faster, making the sounds of your skin slapping echo through the room.

"Shit, Tom, I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum", you moan, your walls clenching around him viciously.

But before you can finally enjoy your sweet release, Tom pushes you towards the mattress, making you gasp in surprise. Your hair was all over the place, the palm of your hands laying flat against the mattress as your confused brain tries to catch on what was happening before Tom pulls out of you just to bottom out in a precise and deep thrust, the last one before he pulls out again.

"This is not how it works, sweetheart. Didn't learn anything, did you? Turn around, brat", he commands and you do as you're told, rolling on bed before he takes a hold of both of your wrists and pin your hands above your head. "You have to ask for it, love", he slaps the each one of your inner tights and you arch your back in pleasure and pain. "Thought it was pretty obvious by now".

"Fuck, fuck, 'm sorry, Tommy. Please, lemme cum", you cry out, bucking your hips towards him, but all you get is a mischievous smirk.

"You're gonna come, baby, but only after I'm finished. How does it sound, eh? Do you want my cum, pretty girl?"

You nod eagerly, licking your lips as he releases your hands. He takes a hold of his cock on one hand, lazily stroking it, and takes your hand on the other one, bringing it to his mouth. He places a kiss on the tip of your fingers, "You're gonna play with your clit f'me, alright? But you're not cumming. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Tommy", you whimper, bitting your lips as he licks your finger, spreading wetness before placing them over your bundle of nerves, and you start to give it slow circle motions, trying not to apply too much pressure to not cum before time.

"Yeah, baby, like that", he moans, fastening the movements of his hand over his length. "Oh, fuck, you're so gorgeous, 'm so fucking lucky".

You moan, breathing getting heavier as you bite your lips hard to hold yourself back.

"I'm close, darling", his shoulders fall towards you, his back curving as his high approaches violently. "Spread your legs a bit more"

"Cum on me, Tommy", you said, widening your legs, giving him enough view of your soaked core.

It took him only a few more intense strokes before he came, his white hot cum falling all over your pussy, making you clench around nothing. "Fuck, fuck", he rode himself through his high, eyes heavy as he tried to keep a look on you, on your bare pussy, your wetness and his cum painting you like a goddamn work of art. "Shit, look at you", he pants, recovering from his orgasm. "Gotta make you cum, pretty girl. Been so good to me".

You nod eagerly and jolt slightly when he slaps his hand over yours, taking it away from your clit and replacing with his thumb.

Tom straightened himself over bed, his eyes never leaving yours and he got down on you, his lips hungry and precise to make you cum as quick as possible and put and end to your suffering. You close your eyes, tilting your head back as your mouth falls open to a silent moan that gets stuck on the back of your throat.

Tom's fingers enters you and he doesn't take longer to curl them inside of you, making you whine and squirm with the closeness of your high.

"C'mon, love, you can cum now, cum on my mouth, pretty girl", he hums against your pussy lips, licking until he hits your clit, his fingers never stopping his work.

The edges, the great amount of stimulation, everything comes back to you as you orgasm hits your body, making you shiver and your body start to tremble. You moan Tom's name loudly, and he takes a hold of your hand when you starts to fist the sheets so strongly it gets your knuckles to turn white.

"Fuck, fuck, oh, my-", you let it all go away and feel the wetness of the sheets beneath you, while your hips buck towards Tom's face.

"Shit", you hear him gasp, taking his fingers out of you. You open your eyes slowly, breathing still coming in pants, and it takes a little while until you can focus on anything.

The first thing that you see is Tom's face covered in wetness, but it's not like other times he eats you out. His chin is visibly covered on it, and when you prop your elbows on the mattress to take a better look, you see his hands also covered on it. The sheets have a big stain of your cum and you can already feel your face turning red.

"You squirted", Tom said, eyes twinkling with something you couldn't recognize at first, a smirk on his face, but embarrassed as you felt, you assumed he was going to make fun of it.

"Oh, my God, I'm sorry", you whined, covering your face with your hands. "Shit, I've never- I've never done that before, I'm really sorr-"

"What?", Tom gasped, taking your hands out of your face. The smirk was still there, his brown eyes deep and bright. "What are you apologizing for?"

You blink, a bit confused at first.

"Don't you- uh, don't you think it's... gross?"

Tom scoffs, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I've ever seen", he said, eyebrows cocking. "And what the fuck, you mean, this was your first time doing it?"

You nod sheepishly and his smirk turn somehow even more cocky. "Fuck it, we need to do that again", he shakes his head un disbelief, leaning in to kiss you. You can taste yourself, "You're so fucking hot, darling, can't believe you're all mine".

You sigh in relief, easing yourself and letting yourself enjoy the kiss and the bliss you were still on after the intense orgasm. Eventually, Tom made you get out of bed, carrying you to a hot bath to take care of you and some light sores you might have gotten, but he didn't let you go get some rest before making sure you knew that was the first time, but not the last.

#hoodie 600's sleepover #tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #tom x reader #smut #tom holland smut

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ilici · 4 years

Text

that’s my sister.

Summary: Sapnap and Dream go to visit George in the UK when they go out clubbing, Sapnap has a one night stand with someone he thought looked familiar.

(There will be a male version to this one soon !)

NSFW MINORS DNI

Warnings: degrading, choking, oral (giving), sir kink, thigh riding.

Word Count: 2498

Sapnap leaned back in the passenger seat, and propped his feet up on the dashboard. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t dirty up the rental car.” Dream spoke up, glancing over at Sapnap before he turned his attention back to the road. Sapnap only scoffed, but kept his feet propped up. “I am aching Dream, we’ve been in every type of vehicle you can think of in the past 12 hours.” Sapnap whined, wanted to finally be able to relax. “Shut up, I’ve drove two of those hours, and the rest was on an airplane where you slept the entire time.” Dream said, shaking his head at his friends whinny behavior. “Yeah? So what? I was still in a vehicle.” He said, shaking his head, and looked at the passing buildings.

“How long do we have left till we even get to George’s house?” He asked, and Dream looked down at his phone that was on his lap giving him the directions. “About ten minutes.” He confirmed, and Sapnap felt relieved he only had to be inside the car for ten more minutes. “Thank God.” He mumbled, and looked over at him, “Didn’t George recently move out of his mom’s house and into his own place?” He asked, and Dream nodded. “Yeah, if he was still living with his mom we would've done been there 20 minutes ago.” He admitted, and Sapnap mentally cussed George out. “Does George live alone?” He asked and Dream shrugged, “He’s mentioned he has a sister that comes and visits a lot, so I would assume so.”

After a long ten minute drive, they pulled up to a gated house. “He seriously has a gate?” Sapnap said, and Dream looked at him, “Our house has a gate dumbass.” He said, and Sapnap laughed, “True true.” He nodded his head, as the gate opened for them. “He must’ve seen us on his camera or something.” Dream muttered under his breath as he drove up the driveway. “This house is huge holy shit.” Sapnap said, gawking at the house. “Well yeah, Brighton has better houses than Florida.” Dream said as if it were obvious, “It’s like a whole three stories.” He said, as they parked. George’s figure came into view and he excitedly waved at them. “Hey guys!” George said as he walked to the rental car, planning to help with their luggage. “Hey George.” Sapnap said, as he grabbed his suitcase and some of his duffle bags. Dream greeted George with a hug, and grinned. “I’ll show you two to your rooms.” George said, grabbing what was left.

As the three walked in, Dream and Sapnap were smacked with the smell of French toast. “Did you cook?” Dream asked bewildered, “No, my sister made food for us before she left to go home.” George explained, and the other two nodded. “She seems sweet.” Sapnap said, and Dream nodded in agreement, “She has her moments like every sibling would.” He explained, and Dream mentally agreed thinking back to his sisters. “Sapnap your room is on the second floor and to the right, Dream yours is on the third floor and to the left.” He informed them, and Sapnap instantly looked at George, “Why can’t I be on the third floor?” He asked, and George stared at him blankly, “Because I’d prefer you fall down two sets of stairs then three.” Dream laughed at this and Sapnap attempted to flip him off, straining his arm in the process from all the weight.

Walking up the stairs and into his designated room, he placed everything down and took in the room. “What the..” He whispered, seeing how clean everything was. The room was a dark grey, and had a huge window as a wall on his right, letting him see the clear vision of beautiful mountains. He found himself staring at the scenery, it took his breath away, “Sapnap?” George asked waving a hand in front of Sapnap. Snapping out of his thoughts, he blinked repeatedly and looked over to George, “Yeah?” He asked, and George scoffed. “I've been calling your name for the longest time.” He said waving his arms about, exaggerating. “Yeah yeah whatever.” Sapnap said, waving him off. “Get dressed, we are going to eat then I’m taking you to the club because Dream said you needed to loosen up from all the traveling.” He said, shocked that Sapnap wasn’t jet lagged.

Sapnap nodded and practically pushed George out of the room. Getting dressed, he put on black jeans, a corpse hoodie he received from Corpse himself with a note that said, “I apologize for not knowing you.” Slipping on his shoes, he walked out, not really caring about his appearance too much since he never really mattered to him in the first place. As they all finished eating, it was nearing 8 pm. Getting into the car, Dream made sure George didn’t drive, especially since it was night time. “Just because you got your license a month ago, doesn't mean I will trust you.” Dream said, as George sulked in the passenger side. Sapnap just looked at the scenery as they drove to the club. Feeling the car come to a halt, Sapnap looked up and he grinned, “I am going to get so wasted. I am so glad the age limit is different in the UK.” Sapnap said, and Dream laughed, “You turned 20 like two weeks ago, you’re crazy.” He said shaking his head as everyone got out.

After 4 cosmo’s Sapnap was wasted, and was now on the dance floor as Dream was drinking nothing for being the designated driver. “I hate babysitting.” Dream said, looking at George who shrugged, since he didn’t really like alcohol that much. “At least someone is having fun.” George mumbled, trying to find Sapnap in the mass amount of people. Without any luck, neither of them spotted him. Sapnap on the other hand, was now dancing with a girl who was wearing a rose gold satin dress. Her features seemed similar but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Her E/C and H/C was what threw him off, everything else seemed like deja vu.

Her pale smooth skin, and her full plump lips, that he was dying to kiss so badly. Grabbing her hips, the two were grinding on each other. He loved the way her dress clung to her curves, “You’re beautiful.” He whispered into her ear, and the girl blushed. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He asked, and she nodded, “I’m going to go tell my friends that I am leaving. My place or yours? I live with my friends, so if you live alone your place is the better option for more privacy.” He said, slurring his words a tad. “My place.” She finally spoke, and her voice sounded silky if even possible. It sounded gorgeous, grinning he lightly spanked her ass as he told her to wait for him outside. Walking in the direction of his friends, Sapnap saw them. “I’m going with a girl, you two can go home.” He said, and the other two just shot up ready to leave.

Sapnap rushed outside, calling an uber as he walked out. “Let’s go.” He said, grabbing her hand, the two stumbling about. Both were drunk, but they knew what they were doing. When the uber arrived, the girl told him her address and Sapnap couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He was either touching her thighs, or subtly kissing her neck, he felt intoxicated by her. Y/N on the other hand was growing frustrated at the touches, her sexual frustration was getting to her. “Fuck this.” She mumbled, and climbed over to straddle Sapnap, ordering the uber driver to keep his eyes on the road. “God you’re so hot.” Sapnap whispered to her, and Y/N crashed her lips on his, the two feeling intoxicated from each other.

Pulling away, Sapnap groaned, “I don’t know if it’s the alcohol in my system, but I could get drunk off your lips.” He said, biting her bottom lip and tugged on it. Giggling Y/N shook her head, and gasped when she felt her hips being rocked. Leaning her head back, she bit her bottom lip holding in a moan as she let Sapnap guide her hips on his thigh. “Someone likes thigh riding, don’t they?” He teased, and Y/N whined nodding her head too embarrassed to say anything. The fact that the uber driver could hear and see everything made her so much more excited. Speeding up his movements, Sapnap flexed his thigh and Y/N let a moan slip out. “Fuck that was hot.” He said watching her, as her face contorted into one of pleasure as she was growing close.

Speeding up once more, he pushed his leg up, and that’s what set her off. Letting out a strand of curses, she felt herself cum. Sapnap watched the sight in front of him, watching her unravel was the prettiest sight ever. Hearing a throat being cleared, the two looked to the front, and noticed they were now at her house. Y/N mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ as the two stumbled out of the car. Y/N paid the uber driver double since he had to witness everything. “Come on doll.” Sapnap said, picking her up and placed her down once they made it to her front door. Fumbling with her keys, she quickly unlocked the door. The two rushed in and in a matter of seconds, Y/N was shoved against the door, Sapnap kissing her deeply and passionately. “Off now.” He mumbled against her lips, as he unzipped her dress skillfully. Pulling away, Y/N let the dress fall to her ankles. Sapnap looked her body up and down hungrily, the matching soft pink lace undergarments made him groan.

“I can’t even wait to get into your room. I am going to fuck you, right here, right now. Understood?” He said, reaching up grabbing her neck as Y/N whimpered nodding her head. “Since I let you have your moment in the car, you’re gonna give me a reward.” He said pushing her down by the throat and Y/N licked her lips in anticipation. Sapnap eagerly took off his hoodie and shirt, throwing it across the living room. “You do it.” He said, motioning for her to unzip his pants. Nodding, she started unzipping his pants, and unbuttoned them. “Use your words doll.” He said, caressing her jawline, and Y/N bit her bottom lip, “Yes sir.” She said, and Sapnap smirked, “Good girl.” He said, and he hissed a bit when he felt the cool air hit his now free dick. Y/N looked at his dick, it was long and thick. She didn’t know if it was going to be able to fit.

“Go on.” He urged her, and Y/N nodded snapping out of her trance. Grabbing the base of his dick, she gave it a long lick and Sapnap groaned leaning his head back at the sensation. Grabbing her hair, he made it into a messy ponytail. Slowly she licked the precum off the tip, and finally wrapped her lips around his dick. Bobbing her head slowly, Sapnap let out a small moan, as he looked down at the beautiful girl. “Eyes on me doll.” He said, and Y/N looked up at him with her innocent looking eyes, which made him want to destroy her right then and there. Not wanting to waste time, he started thrusting into her mouth. Y/N on the other hand, was special as she had no gag reflex. This; however, caught Sapnap off guard completely. “God such a good little slut you are for me.” He said, biting his bottom lip.

He was amazed by her even more, she let him face fuck her, and he felt himself growing close to his climax. Shoving his dick down her throat as he felt himself cum, he slowly pulled out of her mouth. “Swallow.” He ordered, and she obediently swallowed. Picking her up quickly he shoved her against the wall, pulling her underwear down. “Are you ready Doll?” He asked, and Y/N eagerly nodded her head. “I’m ready please just fuck me.” She whined out, and Sapnap quickly thrusted into her not giving her time to adjust. Y/N let out a strangled moan, as he wrapped his hand around her throat again. “God you’re so tight.” He groaned out, thrusting up into her roughly. Y/N was a moaning mess, she kept trying to hold in her moans, but they kept escaping no matter what. Feeling herself growing close once again, Sapnap smirked, “Cum on my dick Doll.” He whispered in her ear, leaning down to add hickeys on her neck.

The way Y/N’s body was so pale and empty, it was as if she was an empty canvas waiting to be painted on. So he took it upon himself to make sure she had hickeys every where he could reach. Feeling her clench around him, he realized she had came. Pulling out Sapnap felt himself cum, and watched as it landed on her ass. Groaning at the sight, he scooped some of it up on his fingers and demanded her to lick his fingers clean. Y/N soon felt herself being picked up, and a wet substance being rubbed on her body. She assumed it was a wet washcloth, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’ she felt her upper body being covered by an oversized hoodie. Sapnap sat her on the bed, and helped her put on new underwear, he slipped on his own underwear and laid in bed. The two quickly fell asleep.

“What the hell?” Sapnap heard, and he groaned, as he slowly opened his eyes. Looking around, he finally remembered where he was. Looking over he saw her still peacefully sleeping. Growing confused at the voice, he looked around and saw nothing. Looking over he noticed the beautiful stranger also had a window for a wall showing a beautiful forest instead. He wouldn’t mind waking up to that every morning, and the girl beside of him. Slowly getting up, he walked downstairs, hearing hushed voices. “Sapnap?” He heard, and Sapnap whipped around to see a red face George, and a hysterical Dream. “I told you that was his shirt!” Dream said in between laughs. George paid no mind to him as he pointed a finger at Sapnap, “You slept with my twin sister?!” George yelled, and Sapnap chuckled. “So that’s who she reminded me of.” He said, and everyone went quiet when they heard soft pattering of feet walking down the stairs. Sapnap’s heart melted at the sight of Y/N tiredly rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “George?” She asked, and George visibly calmed at her voice, “Y/N you slept with my best friend Sapnap?” George asked, and the two looked at each other. “Y/N.” “Sapnap.” The two said at the same time, finally knowing their names.

#sapnap #sapnap imagine #sapnap x reader #mcyt smut #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #dreamsmp

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