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baronessvonglitter · 3 months

Text

Getting Dirty With a DILF

Marcus Moreno x f!reader

Word count: 1.8K

Summary: the night before Father's Day you share a little fun with your boyfriend

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, established relationship, bathroom counter sex, fingering, spanking, soft dom!Marcus, daddy kink, fluff, smut, fucking in front of the mirror

Author's Note: of all the daddies in the Pedroverse, I felt like Marcus needed just a little more love and wrote this for him.

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Wearing nothing but Marcus Moreno's bedsheet around you, you traipse to the bathroom, playfully glancing behind to see he's catching up to you. Once inside, you pull him in and the sheet falls away from you at the same time that his arms wrap around you from behind as soon as the door shuts. He kisses the back of your shoulder, wearing a little lovestruck smile. "God, I'm crazy about you."

You smile, watching both of you in the mirror, naked. Your body is still flushed pink from the pleasure still coursing through your veins from moments earlier. Saturdays were your date nights, he made sure of that despite his busy schedule and his family life. Tonight you'd have him, and tomorrow he could spend time with his daughter for Father's Day.

"What are you smiling about?" Marcus smirks, nuzzles your cheek with his nose.

"I just.. think we look good together," you smile back, watching his hands roam your body. His arms wrap around you, holding you from behind as he looks at your reflection with you. He pulls you close, pressing your back to his chest.

"I like this view," he murmurs, his large hands cupping your breasts, feeling the heft of them in his palms before gently tweaking your nipples, earning a sweet sigh from you for his efforts. There's a pale ring of color around his left ring finger; he'd stopped wearing his wedding ring when he started dating you, something you would never have asked of him, but his insistence that he could let go of his past while entertaining his future was something that truly touched your heart.

"I like this view a lot," Marcus reiterates, watching your body's response to him. You tell him to keep going, and he kisses the back of your head as his hands gently squeeze your breasts. "Beautiful," he mutters. You bite your lip, savoring his delicate, reverent touch as heat flushes your skin even further. He presses a thigh between your own, separating them a little. He loves how you react to him, how a simple touch from him can make your heart skip a beat and cause goosebumps to rise on your skin. He loves knowing he has that effect on you. His lips wander your neck as he watches your reactions in the mirror, studying the furrowing of your brows, the slackness of your mouth while he kneads your flesh. He whispers into your ear, "Bend over.."

Barely able to suppress a gasp, you do as you're told, leaning over the bathroom counter, bent over in front of him as you watch him with wide eyes through the mirror. He moves forward and angles himself behind you, his hands greedily running from your hips to your thighs, feeling the heat from your drenched pussy.

Oh he needs to see it, craves to see your slippery cunt. Marcus first plants a soft kiss on your shoulder before leaning back to view your heart-shaped ass, your flower-like folds open to him, damp with your dew. He gently traces it with his finger, licking his lips when you mewl softly in want. He presses in with one finger, then two, fucking you slowly.

You move back against him, asking for more, demanding more. He removes his fingers for a moment, nearly growling to feel them covered in your thick slick, and uses them to smooth over your clit, circling and adding pressure before dipping back inside you, fingerfucking you harder than before.

Your cries ring out against the tiles of the room, your neediness almost vulgar, but to him they're the sweetest sounds in the world. "You like that, hermosa?" his voice booms over yours, and you grow even more excited to see this side of him, the beast beneath the man. "Put that pretty mouth to good use and tell me what you want, or I'll stuff it full of my cock," he grunts, slowing his movements to give you a small respite in which to get out of your brain fog.

"I want you to fuck me.." When you say it it almost sounds plaintive, but he's more than happy to oblige you.

"Only because you asked so kindly. Although I didn't hear a 'please' in there." Marcus's hand comes down to land a stinging slap on your ass, leaving a nice pink handprint. You wince, though a little of your come dribbles out, revealing the truth.

"Please!" you gasp. "Please fuck me!"

"That's better." Though he lands another spank just for good measure, and delves his fingers inside you again, leaving you unable to distinguish pleasure from pain. When you're on the verge of coming, he pulls away, giving you his fingers to lick clean. "That's a good girl," he coos, his eyes soft behind his thick square-rimmed glasses.

He lifts one of your legs, bracing it on the counter. You're completely exposed to him, cunt opened wide, pink and absolutely sopping wet. Then he positions himself behind you again. When you try to push your hips back he keeps you in place. "Stop that. Look at me."

His tone leaves you no choice, sending a thrill through you as you gaze at him through the mirror. "Don't you dare close your eyes, mi hermosa.." he warns, and with your eyes on each other's he slides into you just a little at a time.

Marcus never gets tired of that look, the way your eyes open wide, lips parted and full as he slides his cock into you, filling you up and stretching you out. You whimper, pushed forward by the force of his first thrust, and your entire body warms and buzzes with feeling. All concentration is on one area of your body. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes dark as he watches your face, his gaze drifting down to your hands that seek purchase on the countertop, fingers splayed. His grip is on your hips, keeping you steady, using slow and teasing thrusts as his tongue peeks out to slowly lick across his lips.

Each slide in feels like heaven as he slowly draws out your pleasure, teasing and testing you. "Yes..yes!" you moan with each thrust. He picks up the pace, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "You like that, corazón?"

Both your heart and your stomach flip flop as you exchange glances in the mirror. "Yes.. I love it, daddy."

In response to your pet name his grip on you tightens, a low growl escaping him. He thrusts harder, deeper into you. "You want daddy to give you more?"

Your breath catches in your throat. "God! Yes, daddy!" The sounds you make are absolutely shameless, giving back as good as you get, your flesh colliding in the most profane sound you've ever heard. Marcus loses a modicum of control with each of your sweet, needful moans, your torturously tight pussy. One of his hands lets go of your hip and reaches up, grabbing the back of your neck, bringing your head to the side enough for him to capture your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. His lips meld against yours, capturing every sound you make. When he pulls back it's only far enough to where he can press another, shorter kiss to your lips. His forehead rests against yours as he presses against that sweet spot inside you he knows makes you see stars.

You whimper, your thighs threatening to buckle beneath the pressure, but he keeps you steady. He holds your face to the mirror so you can see yourself. You're wrecked. Your hair is messy, lips red and swollen from kissing, eyes blown black with desire. Marcus has never seen a prettier sight. He gives another rough snap of his hips, watching your ass cheeks ripple with the force of it. "Fuck, I can't hold on much longer, daddy," you moan.

"Let go for me," he grunts. At his command your self-control melts. A needful cry leaves your lips as your legs quake, your pussy pulsating around him. He almost comes undone right with you, but his hands grip your hips, holding you up as he rails you through your orgasm. "My girl," he says proudly.

You're weak when the pleasure subsides, and Marcus smiles, loving to see you like this, so undone, so satisfied. He gently pulls out of you, wraps an arm around your waist and turns you around, pulling you to his chest. He kisses the top of your head and cradles you against him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you answer, finally catching your breath and breathing deep of his scent. He cradles your face in his hands, leaning gown to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then his arms wrap around you, holding you close as he rests his chin on top of your head. "Daddy didn't get to finish, did he?" you ask, taking his length in your hand, still rock hard.

His body stiffens and a hiss of pleasure leaves his lips. "Mm. No, I didn't."

You hop up on the edge of the counter, bracketing his hips with your thighs. "Let me help you with that." You shift your hips, pussy drooling in anticipation as he teases you with the first few inches. "You're such a tease, daddy," you whine.

He leans in close, resting his forehead against yours as he takes hold of your legs, letting them rest over his forearms. "And you're impatient," he says, and sneaks a peek between your bodies, watching as he pushes in, burying himself to the hilt. His heart skips a beat hearing your delicious moan. He cups your face gently, as if caring for something delicate, something precious, and kisses you, softly, deeply, lovingly. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too.." your whisper back, body buzzing with heat. "Take me how you want, Marcus."

A switch flips in his brain. You set something off. He pulls back and snaps his hips forward, over and over again. He groans when you dig your nails into his shoulders, your moaning in unison with his. He wants you to leave your marks on him. A claim. Ownership. He uses his height and strength to hold you in place as he fucks you. The sting of your scratches on his skin feels good. Later he'll look in the mirror, satisfied with the marks. He snaps his hips forward, with purpose. Hard. Forceful. Leaving you breathless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. Each sound you make, he wants to hear forever. "Just like that, just like that," he mutters, feeling you clamp around him, signaling that you're close. "I'm not gonna last much longer.."

"Neither am I," you gasp. "Don't stop.."

His grip on your thighs tightens, knowing he'll probably leave his own marks on you, but he doesn't change his pace. "Come for me, baby," he groans. "Let me feel that tight pussy milking my cock."

"Fuck!!" you shout, body trembling as you come. Marcus follows right after, burying his face in your neck, pressing a messy kiss to your skin as his hips jerk, emptying himself into you. You stay joined for a long while until he finally pulls away, giving your thighs a tender rub.

"Now how about that shower?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

#pedro pascal #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno #we can be heroes #ao3 smut #ao3 fanfic #soft dom!marcus moreno #marcus moreno smut #mirror sex #fluff and smut #father's day #into the pedroverse

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cum-a-calla · 3 months

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you ever buy weed from a hot, deranged, psychopathic cult leader? no? well, sugar, do ya want to?

under the cut: Kappa/“reader”. coercion/dubcon/noncon. drugs. drugged fuck. knifeplay and blood kink. religious/cultlike ideologies. possessive Kappa. a general air of manipulation and abuse. wet, absolutely unhinged, hard fucking.

“Well, well - what brings you here?”

Kappa hangs in the doorway, resting his head on the frame as he peeks out from behind the door. He’s in the same thing he wore the last time you saw him, some flowy, open-necked bohemian top, so threadbare and worn that there are patches you can see through. He smiles his lopsided little smile and opens the door further, eyes dark and bloodshot. Trying to guess what Kappa might be fucked up on at this very moment is just as fruitless as buying a lottery ticket - the chance of getting it right is comically low.

“I need to… you know, pick up. And my usual guy is out of town, so… I know sometimes you have stuff,” she says, glancing around as if they aren’t on his wide, dusty property. Somewhere off in the yard, one of his strange friends plays fetch with a very filthy, very enthusiastic dog, tongue lolling from its grinning muzzle as it chases a frisbee and proceeds to shake it from side to side.

“Gunna have to be more specific than that, my dear. Kappa has it all.”

God, right - she’d forgotten about the third-person bullshit. She smiles flatly at him and mimes smoking a bowl, to which he laughs a little and moves to the side.

“Well, who doesn’t have that, right? Nature’s medicine. Come on in, don’t wanna let all the cool air out.”

She follows him into the dim, ramshackle home. Random furniture and cluttered countertops, sinks full of dishes with a couple flies buzzing lazily around them, hoping for lunch. The house is dark; most of the light comes in through the crooked slats of the blinds, drawn shut but damaged enough that the sunlight filters through in blazing shafts, illuminating all the dust in the air. Two woman doze off on each other, half naked and intertwined on the couch. One opens her eyes, takes in their guest, and allows them to flutter back shut in her lack of any real interest.

“This is Theta, Sigma… I think you remember them? We’ve met a few times. Girls, why don’t you go lie in the back room so that my… new friend, here… can have a seat.”

Theta and Sigma stir, but mumble and whine about Kappa’s request. He raises his eyebrows and purses his lips for a moment, hands on his hips.

“… are you going to make Kappa ask again?”

He looks like a parent preparing to lay down a punishment. His voice is even and low, something about its quality shifting the air in the room. Their eyes pop open and it’s like neither of them had been sleeping at all. Alert and obedient, they rise up while holding each others’ hands and scurry past him, squeaking apologies. Kappa watches until they’re out of sight, the sound of a door shutting breaking him of his sternness. He smiles again and everything feels even more disturbing, somehow. The switch. He holds a hand out to her and takes it gingerly into his own. He brushes his lips against her knuckles in a chaste kiss, watching her with his deep-set eyes.

“Sorry about that. They got a little fucked up and forgot their manners, it seems.”

“It’s… fine, it’s fine. No big deal.”

“Go on. Sit with me.”

Lowering to the couch feels like a death sentence in some unexplainable way. It’s not unlike any other experience buying weed from the various small-time dealers in the area - dirty house, wasted buddies sleeping off a hangover, weird dudes that just want to have a chat while they sell their goods. Despite this, there’s a vibe here she can’t place. Something that makes the tiny hairs on her arms stand up, something off. She’s already anxious to leave, watching Kappa lift the top to the coffee table to reveal a hidden compartment inside. It reminds her of a much nicer version her grandparents have. She guesses confidently that their isn’t stuffed with different sized bags of weed and little jars full of dried mushrooms, of various pressed pills and powders.

Beside these goodies is a handgun and a hunting knife.

“So - what will do ya? A dub, a quarter? An ounce? We’ve got some serious couch-lock shit all the way from the U-Dub, uh… we’ve got a great Californian purp. Sort of a mid strain from Maine; yeah, real gentle stuff, in case you have a hard time handling yourself.” He smiles and leans back, reaching an arm behind her shoulders as he settles in. He offers her a little wink. “I’ll take care’a ya.”

“I mean… I’m don’t need a ton, it’s just for me. Maybe the Cali stuff, just, like… an eighth is fine.”

“You wanna try before you buy?”

Textbook pickup manners dictate the sharing of the weed, so share she does. His ensuing grin shows his teeth, eagerly packing a scratched-up metal pipe with a frosty, dark bowl. He’s not kidding about quality; his home may not be kept neat, but she has zero doubts about his ability to afford the property. He must make bank. She wonders idly about his roommates and friends as she allows him to push the pipe to her lips, lighting the bowl for her. A true gentleman.

“They say weed’s a doorway; that may be true, but not in the way I see it. Smoking weed didn’t lead me to, say, coke - I tried coke before ever smoking, actually. Smoking, and surrendering to something that’s been around as long as man has walked the earth, I mean… it’s meant for us to consume. You know?”

She nods as he takes his pause, hitting the pipe himself until his chest is puffed out and he’s snorting back the urge to cough.

“Yeah, man. I agree.” Placid, easy. “Weed’s rad.”

Kappa exhales through his nostrils, thick streams of it curling to frame his face, tendrils of it sneaking from between his lips as he smiles in agreement.

“It is rad,” he amends with amusement.

It’s hard to look away from his mouth. His mannerisms and friends are off-putting, and she hasn’t made any significant effort to be around any of them in any given social situation outside of attending the same parties, once or twice on this very property. A polite greeting, a loose comment here or there. All of this to say that she had never noticed just how shapely his lips are, how the way he smirks ignites a curious little spark in her guts.

“You want more?”

“Yes,” she says quickly, and she has no choice but to suffer that knowing smirk as he once again lights her up. It’s already taking effect and doing its intended job - she feels that she could relax back into the couch and let Kappa gaze at her for longer than she’d ever wanted him to, suddenly open to this experience. His hair hangs around his face, tangled and wild and wavy. His knuckles are chapped, fingers slim as they bring the little pipe back to his own lips. He is unblinking as he watches her over the flame, over the burning little leaves.

“You seem a little more relaxed. Seemed a little off just a few minutes ago. Nerves? Are you… you wouldn’t be scared of your buddy Kappa, would you, sweetheart?”

“Not scared,” she says carefully. She shifts a little in her seat and bites the inside of her cheek. “How would you know what I’m like, anyway?”

“Human interaction is a wonderful, complex thing. The energy we give off, the smells, the sounds, the animal magnetism. Animals - that is to say, living, natural beings, blood in veins and flesh on our bones - they can sense these things naturally. I’m very intuitive. Very sensitive. It’s my gift. It’s why I feel so strongly about experiencing new things, about… sometimes teaching other people the beauty of life, of living, of taking back what’s ours. Owning what’s ours.”

“You’re losing me, Kappa,” she teases. “I might need to smoke a little more before I’m on your level.”

“You understand my basic point. I know you’re a smart girl. Open-hearted. You know, you’d really get along with us - Sigma, Theta, Epsilon. That’s who you saw outside, with the pup - Epsilon.”

“What’s with the names?”

“Mmm.” He takes another hit and finally gives her a reprieve from his intensive gaze, eyes practically burning through her flesh. Deep-set eyes. Bedroom eyes. Smoke streaming from his lungs, he nods at himself. “Well. There’s a power in identity. I, as a living being, have the inherent right to choose my path. I give and take and protect the sanctity of natural life and the furthering of that natural life. Part of my process is choosing my own name. I was given my birth-name, and eventually took a new name for myself. Nature is fickle, breakable. Give. Take. Like life. Life is given, life is taken.”

“Getting pretty deep in here.”

“That’s my pleasure as well as my duty as a man,” he muses, licking his lips. “Getting really deep. Planting seeds.”

The urge to scoff, to laugh and look away, to haul her way into a distraction, another conversation, something, knocks her on her proverbial ass. It’s all she can do to pretend she isn’t turning red. It would be easy to blame the heat, to blame the smoke… but he’d see right through that. For all of Kappa’s philosophical ranting, he’s right about his perception of others. She can feel him reading her, studying her like she’s a specimen in some laboratory.

He follows her movement as she ducks her head down, leaning forward to force her eye contact. His lips purse a little and he licks them again, his fingers crawling over her thigh to squeeze. Again, the urge to brush or even slap his hand away is at the forefront, but she doesn’t. She sheepishly meets his eye, ashamed of her own discomfort, her own utter excitement.

“Darlin’ - there is nothing wrong or immoral about these… urges, our collective responsibility as a species. Animals are meant to breed. It’s all in the blood. We’re not - we’re not machines, we’re not meant to be cold, lifeless. Purposeless. The whole fucking thing - the entire idea of these replicants, of playing God and mocking mother nature, it’s… it’s disgusting. But this - us? This is the most natural thing there is.”

In his impassioned speech, Kappa leans closer and closer, hand creeping higher on her thigh. The graceful, long line of his nose is so close she could lick the tip of it. He tilts his head and only then does he break eye contact, watching her lips. His eyes flicker between them and her eyes, pupils wide. It’s hypnotizing, the low purr of his voice floating over the warm afternoon air to caress her ears.

“Kappa…” she can barely breathe. “I - I should… this is -”

“Hey.” Kappa is murmuring, voice soft, but the underlying authority shuts her up. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches with dread as he casually takes the hunting knife into his hand. “Listen, sugar. You have a choice to make. In a second, I could get Epsilon in here and he would be more than happy to hold you down while I show you the meaning of life firsthand. I can make it very, very unforgettable for you… and you have to choose whether that’s gunna be a good thing or a bad thing. If I have to interrupt Epsilon’s time with this task, I’m afraid that’s going to make everyone upset, and that would be very bad for you. Are you hearing me, sweetheart?”

“Yes…yeah, I hear you.”

“What I really think is that you’re tethered by the morals of society. You’re stuck in a prison of the mind, you’ve been poisoned. ‘Sex is evil, trust in technology, evolve, evolve, evolve’. There’s nothing wrong with the way things have been for thousands upon thousands of years; villages of people looking out for each other and keeping the natural balance and order. It’s up to us to restore that order.”

He slowly moves in, attention flickering between her lips and her eyes. Her heart beats so hard she can feel each thump in her ears, in the tip of her nose… between her thighs. It throbs secret and hot there, his hand inching closer by the second. He’s captivating - batshit crazy, but charming in a strange way that keeps her rooted to the spot despite the alarm going off in her brain. She should leave. She should just back away and get to the door - her car’s right outside.

… but she doesn’t. She drinks in his mean little self-satisfied smirk just before he kisses her. His lips are surprisingly soft, his kiss gentle and slow. It almost makes her forget about the knife in his hand. He snakes his hand around the back of her neck and holds her firmly there, knotting those slim fingers into her hair. It hurts as he curls them into a fist. He swallows the surprised little whimper she makes, moaning in return as he becomes more aggressive, her lip between his teeth.

“Now - I’m not in the business of indecency with non-human entities. I’m sure you’re a natural being, but… my convictions are strong, and I need to be a hundred percent sure. Okay?”

“Wait, Kappa… wait. What do you mean?”

“Gotta make sure you’re not one of them. I need you to be real good for me and take off your pants.”

Kappa runs the tip of his knife lightly up her thigh, tickling her with it. He traces it up the seam, breath picking up the closer he gets to her cunt. His lips are plush, kiss-bruised and parted as he stares down at the knife. His excitement permeates everything around them, the air thick with it, his eyes wide and bright and his chest practically heaving. She should have run. She should have run before he had his hand in her hair, a knife tracing her inner thighs. He looks absolutely hungry. He looks up from under those lashes and searches her expression, taking in every detail as though memorizing her terror, tattooing it permanently into his mind for later use.

“I don’t wanna hurt you more than I already have to. And I can’t have you running,” he murmurs. His voice so low, wavering a little as adrenaline rushes through his veins. They cord his forearms, his strong hands. She can see his rapid butterfly pulse in his throat. “Make this easy on yourself, darlin’. Faster you listen, the faster I can make you feel good.”

He uncurls his fingers, allowing her space to do as he asks. Still he hovers, knife ever present and threatening. His eyes are manic, sliding over each new inch of exposed flesh as she unbuttons and pushes her pants, her panties down her hips, off her legs in a few clumsy kicks. With the knife, he motions at her shirt - up, up.

“Kappa…”

“I could do it for you, if you like. But what I’m not gunna do is ask twice… this is your last warning.”

In contrast to his soft, smooth voice is the undercurrent of malice. Self-assured. Not a hint of doubt in his mind, focused on his intentions and making zero room for failure or disobedience. There’s a sense of authority, of somebody well accustomed to being followed without question. He reaches into the table to fish a small glass vial out, flicking the cork loose with his thumb before he sprinkles a generous line on the dull edge of his knife. He snorts it off and gasps a little, shaking his head, wiping the white off his nostril. He hums with pleasure and does another, much smaller line, before offering her one of her own.

“I’ve never done anything like that,” she says quietly.

“I look forward to the pleasure of opening you up to all kinds of new things.”

He nods encouragingly, as if to say, bottoms up. Like feeding a child medicine, like convincing somebody to drink poison. She pleads with him for a moment with her eyes and he pets her thigh, squeezes softly. He sets his jaw and waits, unwavering. She does as asked - what choice does she have with a knife in her face? - and snorts the baby line, wincing at the way it burns fire up into her sinuses. She paws at her nose like an animal, rubbing it, wiping it to relieve the discomfort.

“It fucking burns, fuck.”

“Yeah, that will happen. You get used to it with time. Now - come on, let’s… get this…”

Trailing off, he guides her to straighten up so he can peel the shirt off her body. Defeated, she raises her arms and allows him to pull it over her head, immediately crossing them over her body once liberated of her top. He clucks his tongue and pries her arms open, taking all of her in. Every curve, every dimple, every freckle, every detail. He wastes no time in pulling her bra off the same way, and her face burns with shame as she squeezes her eyes shut.

He angles her chin with his fingers, cooing down at her to look at him, open her eyes. She does as requested and he smiles tenderly down at her.

“I promise this will only hurt a little bit. But I have to do it. It’s my will and duty to do it,” he says, and there’s a feeling in the back of her mind that he’s convincing the both of them. The thing she can’t deny about his manic, lidded eyes, the way his mouth is set in a triumphant smirk, is that it’s utterly intoxicating. He’s beautiful in some strange way. The tension in the air is thick and palpable. Suffocating.

He turns his attentions to her thighs and draws in a shaky little breath. Without ceremony, without warning or preparation, he turns the knife and draws it efficiently in a line on her inner thigh. Blood beads up almost immediately and the skin splits open as though blooming, a red, dripping little mouth. The pain is immediate and she cries out, afraid to move but unable to recoil from it. He holds her thigh down, making a sound that could have been him clearing his throat or a grunt of pleasure.

“Oh, there you are. There you are. Natural as ever.” His voice goes low, hoarse, and he presses the heel of his palm against his hardening cock. “A real woman, flesh and blood and sinew. A real woman for a real man.”

He does it again, draws the knife in a quick, shallow slash, and then again, again. Most of them aren’t as deep as the first - most of them don’t yawn open and reveal the layer of flesh underneath, but they all run blood down her inner thighs, soaking dark little spots into the cushion of his old couch. He pants until he’s practically hyperventilating, and brings the blade up to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he savors licking it clean, moaning, pulling at his shirt until he tosses the weapon back into the table’s compartment and yanks it off. The body underneath is long, milky pale.

“The taste of you - I need more of you.” He hooks his hands underneath her knees and yanks, pulling her down and spreading her legs open. He kisses her abused inner thighs, ignoring her fingers tugging into his hair as she pleads softly for him to stop, to be gentle. He runs his tongue over them, pushes inside of the deepest wound just a little, just enough for her to grit her teeth against a scream, to trap it back in her throat. “That’s it. There’s a good girl. You let Kappa take care of you, let me show you - fuck, I want all of you. Every single bit, mine.”

His flushed face is smeared with red, lips wet with it as he licks them. Her blood is on his teeth as he grins, wolfish, kissing up and up and up until he presses a soft kiss against the lips of her cunt. He drags his tongue between them, slow. Calculated.

“Kappa.”

“Tell me how much you want it. Tell me you want me to taste your blood, your cum. Tell me you’ll give me everything.”

He goes back to work, awaiting her response with all the patience of somebody used to a little insolence. It takes time to break a new one in, right? And she’s so very shiny and new, a challenge. A territory to conquer and claim, all this soft, generous flesh, all this clean mind to furrow into and spread like a disease.

“I… I want… you, I want you.”

Kappa moans and the vibrations against her send her into a new realm of pleasure. Something rhythmic, quick, powerful - whatever he gave her is slowly worming its way into her bloodstream, into her brain, making everything soft and hard all at once. Electric. Vibrant. Time both stops and speeds by, sweat beading at her hairline as she writhes under his mouth, under the sensation of his fingernails catching into a fresh wound. It all boils down to some horrible base sensation. All of it has her grimacing in pleasure - there are a hundred reasons she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this, the bright red alarms in her body screaming for her to GET UP, LEAVE, RUN, STOP, STOP, ESCAPE ESCAPEESCAPEESCAPE—

And she lay anyway, the circle of her overstimulated thoughts coming back again to Kappa’s mouth, his tongue and lips and fingers and teeth, his body the color of moonlight even though she knows the sun is blazing hot and sticky outside. Girls trapped in a room. Her trapped on the couch. Kappa trained expertly on her clit, lapping, moaning, drooling. Something about all this must make sense, it all comes together, somehow - but exactly how eludes her. She’ll remember later, maybe. She’s responsible, dependable. Smart. Maybe this is why Kappa likes her so much. Maybe he has something to share, maybe what he’s saying makes a little sense. Maybe. Maybe, maybe. The only truth is the way he eats her alive, the way he clings to her thighs and moans into her cunt like he can’t live without tasting her another second.

“Kappa,” she gasps. “I’m gunna cum.”

Kappa lifts his face and wipes this chin on the back of his hand, pupils eating into the ocean of his bright irises. It’s like a perfect eclipse. There’s something there, something in the meaning of it all; she feels on the cusp on something important, life-changing. Kappa stares so deeply into her that she can feel him reaching down into her heart, into her fucking guts, into the core of her. Squeezing. Knowing. Exploring. Everything is heightened, everything feels like some kind of milestone; how could she have missed any of this before? How did she never notice the way his hair falls into his eyes? How did she miss the exact curve of his cupid’s bow, of the way his throat curves into the cradle of his collarbones?

“I know,” he says softly. He breaks his gaze to pull his trousers down - they’re so thin, the material. He unties the front and pulls them down his slim hips, cock bouncing out, and she has to hold her breath. He’s thicker than expected. He gives her a knowing look, again, constantly - he seems to pick up so much. Doesn’t he? Is this - is this her own mind? How did she not see how he sparkled before, how smooth his skin is? How good he feels even breathing against her?

What did he make her take? And how can she feel so much, and can she feel more, can she do this more often?

Kappa smiles, and it’s so kind. He strokes her cheek with his thumb like he hasn’t drugged her, cut her open, forced her into her current position. He smiles like he’s proud, like he’s glowing and the only thing in the world, and he is. He is the only thing in the world. She marvels up at him and waits for him to speak. He must be accustomed to this. He takes his cock into his own hand and strokes lazily, rubbing himself against her, up, down.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. He lines himself up to plunge into her, and she can’t help but match his breath - panting, desperate. Sweating. He licks whatever tears remain on her face - she’d forgotten they were there. Tears, sweat, blood, cum - what’s the difference? “Oh, little lamb. Don’t worry. Kappa will take care of you.”

He thrusts into her with all the softness of a battering ram. He’s balls-deep before she can even utter the first shriek, high-pitched and whining. He breathes it in, leans down to seal his lips against hers again before they’re both taking in each other’s moans, melting together with each vicious thrust. He pounds into her, hands unable to decide what to do - to grab her by the face, to dig his fingers into her plush, aching thighs, to run them up over her chest to fondle her there. He slows his pace only to lean down and pay attention to her nipples, his tongue and lips and the threat of his teeth.

“Touch yourself.”

There’s no argument - there are barely any coherent words left inside of her. Everything is pushed out and filled by Kappa, his cock, his words. His drugs.

She reaches between her thighs and he slows his pace, the roll of his hips delicious. His hair hangs down and tickles her face. She can do nothing but rub at her clit and stare up at him, and he beams down at her, smirking. The sharp angles of his face, the traces of her own blood still present on his lips. Sweat, pulse, flesh, blood.

“You gunna cum for me, sugar? Can feel it - can feel your tight little cunt squeezing against me. Is - oh, is that the spot?” He settles into a new rhythm, the head of his cock dragging over and over the same hyper-sensitive nerves inside of her. Her breath hitches and she’s practically sobbing, begging him, nodding when words fail. Her fingers are so wet. The sounds their bodies make together seems deafening - her fingers making hurried circles around her clit, his cock relentless in filling her slippery pussy. Her whining, his soothing voice as he builds her closer and closer. It’s painful, it’s passionate. She could die right here. He could plunge that knife into her throat and she’d still cum for him.

“Kappa. Kappa, I’m so close, I’m sooo close.” Pathetic. Mewling. She hyperventilates and her body shakes underneath him, like she might come apart. His eyes are so bright. He’s so focused.

“I know. I know,” he says. “Tell Kappa what you need.”

“I - I need - I need you, I need you. Please.”

“I’m right here. You’re doing so well, look at you - trembling. Gunna cry for me? Go on - cry for me. I want all of you.”

She hadn’t realized the tears building until he brought it to her attention. As if on cue, as though her body has decided that Kappa’s word is as good as truth, they spill over her lashes and track down her cheekbones, and she’s sniffling, soft little gasps and whines as he leans down to trace those tracks with his tongue. He moans, breath hot against her face. He kisses her wet eyelids before kissing her mouth, and the feeling of those shapely lips pushes her past the edge. Every muscle in her body tightens to its limit and she’s cumming for him, finding her voice after all that pitiful whining as she moans and sinks her nails into his back.

“There. There you go, good girl, good girl, fuck! You’re so good for me.”

His pace picks up and loses its poetic, slow grind, and he’s grunting and growling like a beast, like he aims to fuck her in half. Their bodies slap together and she’s seeing stars behind her eyes, crying out when he bites at her throat and sucks her flesh between his teeth. An animal playing with its dinner. In a matter of minutes, he’s stiffening up, pace stuttering to a few deep, mean thrusts as he empties into her. There’s a part of her that thinks she can feel it, his seed hitting the tender curve of her cervix and coating her from the inside.

There’s a shared pause in which they catch their breath. He idly fondles her tits as he comes down from the thrill, careful with her. The mischievous spark is still in his eyes, but they’re softer, too. Subdued.

They re-dress in silence. She catches him staring at the cuts on her thighs as she grabs her pants, her shirt.

“I should - I should probably get these fixed up,” she mumbles. In the comedown of their act, the fear returns in a cold trickle down her spine. Her heart never slowed down - where it was hammering in the cage of her chest for what he was doing to her moments before, it now beats for what he might still do to her if she remains. She feels like an alien, realizing for the first time that she’s done something she cannot undo in a territory that isn’t her own. Unsafe. Targeted. She’s a fucking idiot - how did this happen? Her mind races with trepidation, with the drugs still coursing through her heart in the thick, viscous blood there. There’s a thought, a mental picture of him with his hands buried elbow-deep beneath her ribs, naked body smeared with blood as he prizes his fingers around her heart to pull it out. The things he would do.

“Don’t,” he says simply. He pulls his trousers up and ties them. “I want to see them next time. Want ‘em to scar up nice. No ointment, no bandages.”

“What? Wait - next time?”

Kappa flashes a grin as he straightens up, shirtless and flushed. There are red marks where she’d dug her fingers into him, on his chest, on his back.

“You don’t think you can stay away from Kappa, do you?” He narrows his eyes and shakes his head a little, wagging his finger at her like a bad pet. “You know better than that, my dear.”

The fabric of her pants scrapes against her wounds and she has to wince. The sharp, prickling pain of them is intense, throbbing. Kappa’s territory. She almost forgets to grab her bag as she fishes some bills from her purse, tucking the weed into a pocket and tossing the money to the table.

“Thanks for the… uh. Thanks. It was…” she struggles to find the words. He stalks slowly up to her, and she wants to both back away and kiss him all at once. “It was - enlightening.”

“Right. Very,” he agrees, clearly amused.

“Well, I - I’ll see you around, Kappa.”

He leads her to the door and winks at her, like sharing a secret. Across the yard, Epsilon has stopped playing with the dog. He sits in a patch of dry yellow grass and smokes a cigarette, eyeing them from a distance with interest. Kappa glances at him and back at her, taking all of her in as his eyes trace the line of her body, lewd, hungry again. He tongues the edge of a tooth and watches her fixate on his tongue, clearly pleased with himself.

“You certainly will.”

#i do have the same words with more formatting on ao3 #if you have an acct there and wanna gimme a kudos and a view i'd thank ya kindly #kappa #black mirror #black mirror beyond the sea #black mirror kappa #kappa x reader #kappa/reader #18+ mdni #rory culkin #lemme know what you think you disgusting little hellions #more to come #god i loved writing this bro fuuuuuck #kappa can GET! IT!!!#murder me madman #my writing

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